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kahaluada · 2 years

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Breakable heaven

A/N: This is a part of chapter 23 from my fanfiction A Bond do survive. It's a big chapter about 25 pages, but I'd like to share the last part (smut hehe) . Sam was initially a ReaderxDaryl, but I don't know how to write like that and she had way too much BG to be a "y/n". Context: they are fighting at his garage and things get steamy. I put the middle of the scene already, if you wanna read all, you can click here! Paring: Daryl Dixon x OFC Word Count: 4.570 Warnings: First experiences/ smut/ 18+/minors don't interact. Daryl is 18 / Graphic description / Feelings and angst

A Bond to survive | Chapter 23: Breakable heaven

.... Daryl rolled his eyes, he swear sometimes he rather be with his ass on the mud hunting a fucking coyote than have those talks. “What’s wrong with you?”

“With me? You came here, asking me to help with somethin’, and now yer’ tryin’ to turn me somethin’ I’m not!”

He hated how he sounded like Merle when his temper was winning him over.

“That’s not true at all! I’m just showing you options, you jerk!”

“It’s so ridiculous, not even you know why you are goin’ there” Sam blinked, furiously “ Don’t ya’ see ya’ have money to spend and figure out what the fuck you want and I don’t? Ain’t no option f’me! Only one!”

He shook his head, trying not to scream and feeling everything at once.

“Oh, you know so much about life, don’t you? Spending it in the middle of the woods instead of with people!” He rolled his eyes and she frowned at him. “Don’t roll your eyes at me! It’s rude and unnecessary”

“And take us nowhere!” He mocked in a high-pitched voice, the way he used when they were younger and seeing her all red. Why he did do that?

Jesus, would kill him to think before acting for once?

“What is it you want? kisses? Damn girl!! What do you want from me?!!?” He touched his temple, fuming, and went in her direction “Think of yourself for a change!”

“Fine!” She answered like the most petulant creature in the world and took her stuff. Daryl frowned “Die alone, prick!”

He clenched his jaw, almost breaking his teeth. His face was burning. Why couldn’t he just express himself like a normal person? It was so infuriating.

Daryl just wanted to tell her he wanted to be with her and not think about this stuff because it hurts! He saw her going to the door, which hurt even more.

“Please, please, don’t go!” his younger self screamed inside of him.

“Where you goin’?” He said with fear.

“Home. I don’t like when you talk to me like your brother! Have some manners!” He hated even more when she was angrily assertive with him. This means he pushed some boundaries he shouldn’t have.

“Sam.” She looked at him and Daryl frowned. “Why are we fighting?”

“I don’t know!!!” She raised her voice “But I want you to remember that I’m not a girl you are dating for a month! I’m your oldest friend!” He was unable to say a word. She shook her head and swallowed, ready to go.

“Don't let her go like that you fucking idiot!” he screamed, inwardly. He just wanted to explain things! How had this turned into this stupid argument?

Daryl watched as Sam hugged her binder and tried to leave. He couldn't let her go like that!

He took her wrist and pulled her towards him, feeling like a caveman, unable to express himself properly. He was afraid she would leave him, so he acted on impulse, snatching the binder from her arms and throwing it on the table.

“Daryl!”

“Shut up!” He murmured trying to steady his voice, taking her in his arms and kissing her. Her body melted at the same second and he never felt desire as strong as this time.

The fear and frustration vanished. Nothing felt like kissing her, nothing compared, not even being in the middle of the woods alone with himself. He pulled her to him, reassuring her they were still in love, needing to feel her, to have her, to consume all this flame and relight all over and over again.

He blindly pushed her against the table, some car tools going to the ground together with that fucking binder. His crossbow almost fell on the floor, but he pushed it out of the way.

Daryl kissed her the way he wanted and knew she liked. Using his force against her, feeling strong, he took her by her ass, lifting her up and placing her on the table.

He was rewarded with the most feminine and sexy sounds she made and her legs opening to let him between them. The way she melted against his hands, the way her legs opened to accommodate him, and how she pulled his hair and kissed him, was paradise again.

Shivers after shivers coursed through his body, making his mind foggy and sending his senses into overdrive. He was so overstimulated but it was good, so delicious.

Between heated kisses, his hands fumbled against her body.

Her skin was warm under his cold lips, he took a deep breath, his nose passing by her neck and his tongue slow and wet making a trail until his teeth took a strip of her dress down.

Sam moved against him, taken by instinct she closed her thighs on his hips and this alone made his whole body tremble.

Her nails dug into his skin making him moan, it was so good. Daryl balanced on the edge of control, kissing her neck, her lips, and her whole face. He slowed, trying to breathe, caressing her face with love.

“I’m sorry” He murmured, unable to stop touching and kissing her “Sorry for being a jerk” She nodded, frantic, kissing him back. Their lips met and she opened her mouth, Daryl let out a strangled moan when her tongue found his.

Her legs tangled around his waist, their hips touched and he felt her warm center against his erection. There was no space for shame and guilt when he was feeling such good things.

Sam pulled him to her with her knees and his hands on her hair pulled her closer, harder. His arms tingled and a wave of pleasure surged right to his cock.

“Oh, fuck!” He cried when she rubbed herself against him. Her soft low moans were his perdition. Was he really making her feel this good?

She was so welcoming, soft, and perfect under his hands. His fingers slid to her back, then played with the base of her chest, going back to her hair.

Sam moaned, frustrated as he slowed down. Daryl kissed her skin, going up to her jaw, nibbling her ear, and finally biting her bottom lip. Sam smiled against his mouth, her nails scratching his neck, making him shiver.

Warm waves of pleasure were going down his skin, concentrating inside of his pants. He grinded against her, feeling her warm fast breath on his face, their kisses getting sloppy.

He wanted her so badly.

“Sorry, sorry!” He murmured again, grabbing her face, and sucking her bottom lip.

Oh this was so fucking good!.

He was devouring her and being rewarded with her hands looking for gaps between his shirt buttons. Her frantic breath was nectar to his ears.

“S’okay” she answered fumbling with his flannel, her hands going to his arms again “Don’t you dare to stop touching me now!” She murmured with a smile.

But he did, for a second, looking at her eyes and face. Her dress was pulled up, her thighs exposed, her hard nipples against the fabric of her green dress. Gosh, she was not wearing a bra!

Daryl’s mouth watered with such a vision and he swallowed, drinking in every single detail. He wanted to go down on her nipples and suck them, but also to kiss her and do everything at once.

A deep warm feeling took all over his body and slowly he put a hand on her bare thighs, his face getting hot.

Sam nodded slowly, her brown eyes on his, her chest going up and down with anticipation. He stroked her soft thighs and she let a loud breath under his advances. Daryl went back to kissing her.

Once they kissed, his soft fingertips were replaced by a firm grab on her skin, going up and up and she let out a beautiful moan.

“I want you’’ he murmured in a shameless cry, noises of their passionate kiss and her good smell making it holy. How had she turned him into this needy mess?

Sam gave a soft laugh, her breath on his face, while her hand went into his hair. Their foreheads touched and they teased each other, going to kisses, avoiding it and back to a heated mess of tongues and needs.

He was so hard now that he wanted just to feel the heat from her pants against him. Their breaths turned frantic and kisses and hands were his allies, making her forgive him swiftly.

Like magic, everything was forgotten. When his hands were almost touching her breasts he stopped and looked at her.

“Daryl” She murmured, her soft hands covering his “Would you touch me, please?” Oh, the sweet way she looked at his eyes like she was innocent and evil, all at once.

“Yeah” He nodded, eager. “Here?” His fingertips touched the base of her breasts and Daryl uses all his power to wait for her answer. She nodded and pulled his hand up.

He touched his forehead on hers on the time his hand covered her warm skin. He felt her nipples getting hard under his palm. His erection got even harder.

Fuck, he wanted to lay her down on that table and worship her. His clumsy fingers went beneath the fabric, while she kissed him, starved for his touch.

He finally touched her nipples and saw her eyes getting clouded with pleasure. Daryl let out a low moan, no space to feel awkward. Her hard nipples under his palm were making her shiver against him.

How could she be so perfect?

Sam rubbed herself against him and he swallowed, leaning in and kissing her slowly. He squeezed her tits, feeling how soft they were against his calloused hands.

He swallowed, dying in need to taste them in his mouth. Would she moan his name? He went forward, his hands going back to her hips, squeezing them and feeling how soft she was. Then, not thinking, he just grabbed her round ass, his dick pulsed with this move and he left her lips with a “pop’

“Humn, fuck. You’re so hot!” He murmured not even on this plane of existence anymore. He was taken by desire, he loved her, he would die for her, and he would do anything to make her happy.

Sam stopped their kiss and looked at him with those fucking beautiful brown eyes. Her lips were parted, swollen and the way she blinked at him sent chills down his spine.

“You never let me touch you too” He frowned. Was this really happening? Was she asking him? He was almost coming in his pants, would she...?

“Ya’ never asked”

She blushed and pulled him for a kiss. Her tongue was so soft against his, she tasted so damn good. Sam had this thing when she was kissing him, where her body would move against him without her knowledge as if she was kissing him with her whole body. It was so subtle and so hot. The way her hand would tangle in his hair in sync with how heated the kiss was going and as if a whole pleasurable dance was taking place to make him a madman.

“Yeah, I am now” She broke the kiss with tiny bites on his lower lip, her hand going down his belly, above his shirt.

Daryl’s belly rippled and he closed his eyes, a shiver making him tremble and his hips went forward, looking for her. When his hardness touched her warm center he let out a shameful loud moan filled with anticipation.

His hands slipped from her hips to the inside of her thighs, kissing her again, feeling her tasty soft, and wet tongue against him, sending him shiver after shiver.

His fingers were slowly putting her dress up higher, exposing more of her skin.

“No.” He bit her chin, gently, looking at her with pleading eyes “Lemme touch you first. Please” He would beg, not an atom of pride in him, only the need to worship her, to show how much he adored her.

“Why?”

He held her face between his hands, looking into her eyes with confidence.

“Cause I’m obsessed with ya’ girl!” He confessed in a soft moan the exact moment her nails touched his happy trail. He trembled and she nodded, opening her legs further to accommodate him. His heartbeat was so loud now.

It was as if time had stopped only to whirl back again when her brown eyes teased him. As she did, every single inch of her dress was sliding up as her fingers tangled, nearly tearing the dark green fabric.

His eyes were following her movement and he saw her white underwear all soaked. Daryl licked his lower lip, his fevered eyes devouring her vision.

“Fucking pretty” He murmured while his grip tightened on her skin. At this point, he was completely gone, sweating, his chest rising, falling so fast and taken by desire.

He devoured her lips, his hands sliding from her legs to her hair, arms and her small back. One hand went fast behind her bare knee, a little aggressively, making Sam slide to the edge of the table. His free hand went down on the hot skin of her internal thighs.

They had never gone this far before.

Sure, they had a lot of make-out sessions, they would grind against each other and once she moaned so loud he wondered if she got off on his thigh. But nothing like this!

He could feel his tip escaping from his underwear and getting him wet with pre cum. It was possible to feel this hard, to feel this much pleasure, right? He was melting in a pool of desire.

His fingers touched her underwear and he froze. Daryl didn’t know what to do and felt panic. Was she going to laugh at him? Her vulnerable eyes were hypnotizing him.

“I can show you” She murmured while taking his hand. She was trembling as much as him “It’s ok for you?”

“Yeah” He nodded, stealing a kiss from her. With his eyes closed and his heart completely in her hands he let her guide his hand on her. First, he touched above the fabric. She was soaking wet and he felt pride and desire at how he was pleasing her. When she touched her, her rose lips opened and she threw her head a little, giving him a wonderful view.

He buried his face on her exposed shoulder, he wanted to prove all of her, he wanted to mark her body with his kisses and make sure she felt loved, wanted, and his. Because at this point, there was no doubt he was completely hers.

Suddenly all he could hear was her heartbeat and their frantic breaths. With eyes closed, blinded by immeasurable pleasure, Daryl’s breath caught when she pushed her underwear to the side, guiding him to slide his finger into her wet entrance.

Her soft hair, the warmth, he could feel her on his fingertips and his mouth was full of water, his heart aflame with desire and need. Trembling, he kissed her shoulder and moaned, out loud and slow, as a little bitch, completely devoted to her.

The feeling of her on the tips of his two digits was heavenly. She guided his now-soaked fingers up, letting him feel her clit, and showed him how she liked it.

Slowly, steady, maddening.

When he played with her clit, she squeezed her tighs and bit her bottom lip, completely gone. To his delight, his palm was getting soaked by her sweet warm pussy. She was making a mess.

“You’re dripping” He murmured in her ear and she let out a strangled moan at his provocation. Daryl smirked, biting her ear, following her moves and feeling pleasure pulses in his cock. Oh he could die happy with his hands on her right now.

He was so ready for her, still....

Daryl swallowed and raised his face from her shoulder, looking at her face. It was the most beautiful vision of his life. Sam was there, eyes closed, legs open, her dress all up on her belly, biting her lower lip, her brows together, and the most beautiful and amazing expression of need and pleasure.

He could see the red marks on her shoulder, her hard nipples against the fabric, and his hand under her pants. He wanted to see more of her. Should he ask?

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.” She opened her eyes, shy. He spread her legs, accommodating himself and letting her guide his fingers to her own pleasure.

Now she was looking into his eyes while making low sexy moans. God, he would come anytime, he could feel the pressure on his lower belly. Daryl never felt his pants as tight as now.

While moving slow firm circles on her clit, he heard, with eyes half-closed, her breathing getting fast, her chest going up and down, the amazing erotic show she was giving him.

“Is this right?” He asked in a trembling raspy voice, she nodded, fast, squeezing her eyes once he found the perfect pace.

“Yes, please. Don’t stop, Daryl.”

He had never heard a more perfect sound in his life than her moans calling his name and asking please, please, please, for him to never stop.

They fumbled, kissing, hot, maddening. It was addictive, the way her mouth moved against him, how warm and wet she was. At some point she let go of his hand and pulled his hair, kissing him with a passion they had never shared before.

She was repeatedly saying she needed him and he almost came in his pants. Sam was a wet mess under his touch and he wanted to go down and lick her, kiss her there the way he was doing with her mouth.

But he didn’t know if he should or even if it was normal.

“Daryl, please, please, I need to feel you too.” She asked between sobs of pleasure and a slow kiss. Oh, her smell was so fucking good. “Please, please, I wanna feel you so bad”

He stopped, looking at her with a red face and serious eyes. This girl would be the death of him.

“Everything ya’ want, Sam” Was all he could answer before taking her swollen lips in another kiss. How could he spend so many years without knowing how good she was with her mouth?

He let out a loud moan of frustration when she took his hand off her.

“No, no. Please” She just laughed. An evil creature trying to make him a madman. Sam fixed her posture on the table, when she did it her tits bounced and Daryl frowned in desire, wetting his lower lip. As she looked at him with those eyes all he could do was wait for her next move.

Her hand went to his pants and he almost closed his eyes, letting a low moan at the feeling of her hands taking his pants down. Daryl looked at her and Sam was looking right at his cock, making its own wet outline in his underwear.

Daryl felt shy, but at the same time, he was so horny he could only swallow and hope she would touch him. And she did. Oh, she did, so eager!

Sam let out a sexy sound of pleasure when she touched him and he saw her pants getting wetter, making her pussy almost visible to him. It was the most erotic moment of his existence.

Jesus, he was doomed. His chest was going up and down so fast that he felt like passing out. He couldn’t help but kiss her more and more. There was so much stuff he wanted to tell her, so much! But all he could do was focus on her warm hand around his dick, feeling him.

“It’s your turn to show me” She murmured and he nearly fainted in his cloud of pleasure, nodding and putting his hand over her. “Not fair. There was nothing between your fingers and me” She murmured making a pout, hand on the cotton covering his cock.

“You’re killing me” He murmured with a smirk and she smiled, teasing him, nibbling his lower lip. Daryl took a deep breath, his hand moved her hair out of the way and his lips touched her ear. “Be good to me please”

He didn’t know what had gotten him to say that, but he was rewarded with a shy moan from her after this whisper. She leaned her chest against his, almost like a cat contorting on him, moving on the edge of the table.

She was so hot!

Daryl swallowed, seeing how hard her nipples were.

“Ask me again, please” She murmured almost purring in his ear and his fingers squeezed her waist.

“Be good to me, please”

She looked into his eyes while pulling his underwear down. Sam got the courage to wet her lips, showing him she wanted to suck him. There was no other explanation for the way she looked at his cock. Only thinking on her mouth on his tip was almost making him come.

Daryl swallowed when she looked down. She was so red now. His trembling hands took hers to him. When she touched his skin he closed his eyes, he then made her squeeze and move up and down.

When she touched him the way he liked, Daryl let out a loud, long, and needy moan transforming the single syllable of her name into a sonnet of need and love.

Thinking of it later would definitely leave him in shock, but now all he could do was move his hips against her hand, holding her hair, and hide his face in the crease of her shoulder.

“Fuck, please, Sam. Please!” He had never been this vocal in his life, but if he didn’t talk he would explode, and he would die out of pleasure right there in her hands. “Yeah, babe, please, don’t stop now!”

He couldn’t just receive, he needed her to feel what he was feeling. So he kissed her, his free hand going back to her wet entrance. Sam shivered, biting his lips.

His finger slid so easily, she was dripping between his knuckles and she moved against his hand when he touched her. Pressure and pleasure were mixing on his lower belly and his cock pulsed on her hands.

They found a frantic rhythm where he was thrusting against her hand and touching her clit, making Sam call his name more than a few times.

In one frantic, sloppy move, the tip of his cock touched her wet entrance and in a bliss of pleasure Sam rubbed against his dick.

“Oh, fuck” He let out a slow, feral moan and they both stopped, looking at each other in shock.

It.was.so.fucking.good.

Sam wet her lips and pulled his hair, kissing him almost aggressively. That move unlock something on her and she held his cock right on her hand. They forgot they almost fucked for the first time in his garage because there were so many things happening now.

Anything, anything she wanted he would give her if she kept stroking his hard cock like that. Precum was wetting her hand and Daryl couldn’t stop.

“Yes, like this” he murmured when she squeezed him harder. His fingers slipped to her clit and she squeaked in pleasure and need. After some awkward tries, they found a new pace, pleasuring each other in a way he never felt his entire life.

She was his drug, she was his world, his heaven, and hell. Daryl was feeling everything at once. His face got hotter, the kisses sloppy, his hips faster against her hand, his fingers clumsy on her clit.

She called his name, low, in a sinful whisper. Daryl, feeling his palm soaking wet, trembling against her and the realization almost made him cum. He was looking at her eyes as her movements against his fingers quickened and Daryl slid his hand deeper as he felt her quivering against him, flooding his hand with hot wetness. She gasped his name, her face red, her eyes closed, fucking beautiful needy mess because of him.

That was all he needed…

The pressure was too much and explosion after explosion rocked him, everything turned white and hot. He was loud enough for anyone near that garage to hear them and he bit her shoulder, unable to control himself while hot cum was rolling over her thighs.

His softer cries were then the only sound between them. Daryl shivered, burying his face on her shoulder, showering her with kisses while they both tried to absorb what they had done.

His hands caressed her arms with love and devotion, while his lips kissed her shoulder and neck. He felt her fingers stroking his back, which only fueled his desire for her. Daryl swallowed hard, moving his lips up to hers.

They shared a slow and lazy kiss, both smiling in bliss while she helped him put his pants up. He kissed her with such passion that he felt like crying. She was so sweet and calm that he felt at peace. Finally, he cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes.

Sam was gazing at him as if he were her world and her world only. He could see a billion words reflected in her eyes, yet she simply smiled in contentment, running her fingers through his hair to clear it from his eyes.

“Daryl” she murmured a little sad and he looked at her confused. Did he cross a line? Did he hurt her? “Never fall for anyone else, please. Say you will only look and touch and kiss me like that and no one else”

He felt the emotion and insecurity in her voice. He knew he was the one to blame, fighting with her because she was taking care of him. He was such a jerk, god!

“I could never!” He confessed, kissing her. He felt her salty tears on his lips and looked at her with his heart full of love “I won't. I was afraid you would leave and….” He held his words. She looked at him, vulnerable.

He kissed her again, letting her for some seconds, looking for a clean rag to wipe her thighs. He went back to her personal space, feeling a bit bashful about how far they had gone together. While cleaning her, he looked at her with devotion, kissing her here and there with love.

She was a mess in front of him, but he couldn't take his eyes off her perfect, swollen lips. He then took her hands in his, kissing her knuckles and looking into her eyes.

"I'm all yours as long as you want me," he promised, and she began to cry. "Did I say something wrong? Did I hurt you?" he asked, concerned, his hand all over her face and his thumb cleaning her tears.

"No," she whispered, and he kissed her knuckles again before pulling her into a hug. They stayed like that for a while. "I'm just happy," she finally said, and he felt his heart racing with joy.

#hapdaryl fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl and oc #daryl x reader #daryl x you #daryl imagines #daryl the walking dead #the walking dead #twd imagine #twd fanfiction #imagines #twd fic

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mdhwrites · 2 years

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...Yeah, Fuck You Too, Wednesday

TL:DR Maybe don’t make your reimagining of a classic horror monster explicitly use harmful tropes that paint anyone with trauma or mental illness as people who are so violent that even the outcasts of the world consider them too extreme and dangerous. Go fuck yourself show. The show, not the character, to be specific. This isn’t going to be a review of the whole show either. My short thoughts on it is that it’s good when it’s more about what makes for good Addams material (warmth, creativity, inclusive, character focus) and bad when it’s trying to be Harry Potter (bigoted, plot focused, making the main character the most special thing on the planet). The only one that I want to touch on is the bigoted element though. Specifically from my perspective as a creative person who suffers from depression, anxiety and BIPOLAR. SPOILERS! Btw, just in case that wasn’t clear. Wednesday considers itself a mystery, I would argue a bad one that points out it’s bad, and this is the big twist for half of its mystery. If I haven’t made it clear, I think the twist is awful but I still thought I should put a warning. We good? Okay, let’s talk Jackyl and Hyde then. In their modern incarnation of effectively the past 50 years, it’s the movie monster where a mad scientist makes a potion that unleashes the INNER BEAST! In fact, the Wednesday version of the Hyde is obviously based visually on that interpretation. Has a similar transformation to the werewolf transformation we see and follows many of the design principals for other interpretations of the beast. This version, the potion, is... *shrug* I could see people claiming issues with DID or if you really stretch it bipolar, but it commonly comes off more as an addiction allegory. Once he takes it, he is doomed to keep taking it and each time risks his life more. That’s pretty strong and mostly unoffensive, though that depends on interpretation too. This is not the angle Wednesday goes AT ALL though. Honestly, it feels like they were trying to be clever based off of the ORIGINAL Jackyl and Hyde story which... is not a bad idea. For those who don’t know, the original version goes (heavily abbreviated) like this: Man makes a serum that transforms his appearance and lowers his inhibitions. He names this form of himself “Mr. Hyde.” HOWEVER, Mr. Hyde is not really a second person or even personality. Instead, this Victorian Gentleman with everything uses Hyde for the one thing he can’t have: Freedom. Freedom to do as he pleases, especially socially. So Hyde can steal, harass, lay about, etc. like that and feels no guilt for it and can’t bring dishonor onto the original man. HOWEVER, then Hyde kills someone and the guilt of this makes the man try to stop using Hyde but Hyde now doesn’t need the serum. He comes out on his own. This scares the man, because it means Hyde is a liability, not a sanctuary, and eventually it grows so bad that the man kills himself. Again, you could argue that folks with DID also shouldn’t like this version. However, to me, it speaks a lot more about the nature of repression, that which we give up to live in the societies we do while actually not damning the fact that we give up the ability to murder strangers in doing so, and the cost in which you bring you onto yourself when you indulge even a little in those darker impulses. A true slippery slope where you convince yourself to steal once, it can be harder to stop yourself from stealing again. It’s like how mobile games try to get you to spend a little money on a starter package because once you’ve done it once, psychologically its been proven that you’re more likely to spend again. SO. If that’s the original story, and before it the modern interpretation, what is Wednesday’s interpretation of Hydes? Well, as it is explained in the show, a Hyde must be ‘unlocked’ either through hypnotism or a traumatic experience inflicted onto them by another person. This person who unlocks them is their master and they must do their bidding. They are incredibly strong, deadly, and the show makes a point that with time the Hyde can become aware of what they’re doing and be more active in the murder they perform. Hydes are also considered outcasts amongst outcasts because they are too unpredictable and too dangerous, even to werewolves, vampires, etc. So you have a character who suffers trauma and from that trauma becomes, explicitly, an uncontrollable murder beast because they’re ALL murder beasts. Every last one of them. They are also explicitly easily manipulated into crimes and doing terrible things, even by the one that could be claimed as an abuser in this situation, and as such the show’s standing on them appears to be either to ignore them and risk them killing a LOOOOT of people or... Kill them all before they can hurt anyone. You know... The same sorts of things that a lot of people suffering from mental health have to deal with on a day to day basis as people are only now starting to be properly informed as to what we are like. And if you’re thinking I’m reading too much into the mental health allegory here, A: the red herring for the master is a therapist who practices hypnotherapy so there’s that old gem, and B: the Hyde’s mother was diagnosed as severely bipolar as a way to cover up what she was. The show ITSELF admits that mental health is the clear allegory and association with this.

And fuck that. I’m literally disabled due to my depression, anxiety and bipolar, and barely have an existence with the money it affords me, and I still have never considered hurting others or murder. In fact, like most mentally ill people, I present a threat to myself astronomically more often than other people. So yeah, seeing some of the most old school trope bullshit tied to my illnesses be presented as this clever twist? Kind of makes me sick. And I’ll be the first to say that the show struggles with other allegories that could be taken offensively but I am a straight, white dude so I’m not going to try and act like an expert on those things. I’m just going to stay on this because I have a reason to be personally pissed about it and I’ll admit it. I’ll even be kind enough to admit that the concept is not god awful, it’s a neat monster idea, it’s just the implications and the explicit parallels the show draws that makes it so disgusting.

So yeah. I am not looking forward to a S2, still gonna keep writing Wenclair because that is the best thing from that show and I hope you all have a wonderful day. Oh, but I will actually link my original books because sometime in the next six months, maybe even as early as the new year (haven’t fully decided yet) I’ll be releasing a book that features two sapphics falling in love in a Crises Recovery Center and I did my best to have an even, realistic hand when it comes to the therapy and treatment presented in the story. So, you know, if you believe me on understanding these things, maybe follow me on Amazon or here and keep an eye out for when that releases. I also in general just do a lot of character focused, fantasy romance. https://www.amazon.com/kindle-dbs/entity/author/B071ZYCZ1T

#Wednesday #Writing Analysis #Fuck this

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concupiscience · 9 months

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Critical theory has caused the west to be overly self-aware, to the extent that culture can no longer organically develop without obsessive comparison. Its tendency to dissect itself has left nothing but shards of thoughts, fragments of images that were once so tightly interwoven.

Therefore, we shouldn’t be concerned with the current popular trends, or even the forthcoming zeitgeist which is always visible over the waves of those successive trends, each obliterating the last in an endless cycle. Not now, not next, but what comes after that is our objective. What is unseen as of yet, that is our goal.

THE STARS THAT FLOG THE SEA WITH WHIPS OF LIGHT

NOT ME.

ecstatic rites of an elegant, ancient beauty

perishing under sickly skies

NEVER LOOK BACk

WHO FUCKING CARES

If u have formed some type of notion about me please just do us both a favor and just forget that shit because human beings are in a constant state of change

To taste every forbidden fruit,

松の木々を通る夕日の最後の光線寒さを逃れるために南へ飛ぶ鳥たちを照らす

You are limitless potential. You are the clay at the potter’s wheel.

Is this hell? This is definitely hell.

that dusk-tinged demigod

Industrial society operates under the presumption that resources are infinite

A triumphant, arrogant attitude may be necessary from time to time

The same moon my ancestors and descendants behold

We’re all hoes under the same blue sky

Ephemeral and fleeting as a smoke spirit

Having drunk deeply from the cup of sin

Spoiling the land with hubris and greed

Wow imagine that, In our modern society everything has to be done for money

I think you live longer when you have a good attitude. There’s cases where cancer goes into remission when a person starts believing they don't have it anymore. Likewise, there’s also cases of people dying on purpose from resigning their will to live, like those super old couples who die within days of each other. You can control your health with your mindset, at least that’s what I believe. If your mind is thriving your body is thriving. Right but we do have free will to influence our future. “The system cannot be sustained indefinitely ” Right. Like why did a religious impulse develop independently in every single ancient culture.

Media consumes us. Objects own us. Money spends us.

The flowers bloom without caring if they are observed.

Pattern-Matrix

Mass media, escapism, distraction, bread and circuses, whatever you want to call it. Recorded by studios with more money than some countries, packaged neatly for mass consumption. This is the result of capitalism working flawlessly for over a century. the spectator becomes a mere receptacle for media, they become a consumer, the same way food is consumed then comes out as waste, media consumes us. The more people are emotionally invested in fictional people and fictional worlds the easier it is to distract them from what’s happening in real life- the panopticon of modern life. Your superheroes, singers, actors, exist for one purpose only: to sell you a product. Through our complicity they buy our complacency. They have taught us to be satisfied with “what is” and not think about “what could be” because that’s just the way it is. They exist to sell us an image of what our lives and the world ought to be, and we stupidly buy into it. It’s a drug we regularly take.There’s nothing wrong with enjoying movies, TV, books, music etc but you have to realize what is illusion and what is real. When you watch anything, imagine the processes that go into its production. Could this potentially be used to manipulate people into feeling a certain way? Is this fact or does it reflect the views of its creator? All I’m saying is that if you unplug from this “machine” things seem much more relative.

we are bound to our era. we cannot escape the present.

The notion of a grand, divine scheme negates the possibility of free will. If God does have a plan for everyone, that would mean we only have the illusion of free will.

Tragic figures such as these

Traditions everywhere are dying, we must forge new ones

Wholly effaced by time

Writ large

Pastoral vibes

I believe there are multiple paths to God. The fact that religion has sprung up independently in so many places over so vast a distance is incredible. Jesus and Buddha weren’t so different in their teachings.

Some got it more right than others, obviously.

So there is actually very compelling evidence that early Christianity was heavily influenced by similar savior-centered religious sects such as Mithraism, Orphism and the veneration of Dionysus (they all belong to the subset of Rising-and-dying gods). We know for certain that in Alexandria, an extremely important centre for early Christianity, Buddhist monks taught at the library of Alexandria around the time of jesus.

Wine was central to the rituals of Dionysus, who was believed to have died and been resurrected.

The real importance is that Jesus and Buddha were real historical figures that established schools of thought that endured for millennia.

They both preached the importance of virtue and morality, sympathy for the suffering and acceptance of the transitory nature of the material world.

The library itself was mostly intact until the 260s AD when it was burned by Aurelian.

There is ample evidence of eastern thought circulating in the near east around the time of christ. Statues of hindu gods were found in Pompeii, in Alexandria itself a tombstone with the Wheel of Dharma was discovered, in the port city of myos hormos in Egypt a sail cloth of Indian manufacturing was discovered. The trade routes between judea and the east were active until the 4th century AD.

Theres a Christian tradition that the apostle Thomas died in India where the church he established still exists.

Paganism is an umbrella term for anything that isn’t Christianity, or more accurately the animistic traditions that predate monotheism.

Judaism is fascinating because we have proof it originally was polytheistic. It’s totally Canaanite in origin but over time yahweh was promoted to the status of one true god. The painted pottery from Kuntillet Ajrud Shows yahweh and Asherah (later ishtar, aphrodite) as his consort.

Religions dont appear from nowhere. They’re the product of thousands of years of tradition, thought, and self reflection.

Do you believe the bible refutes evolution?

I dont think it does either. Those seven days of creation are metaphorical. The bible says our lives are like a single breath of god. Which implies he operates on a much longer timescale than humans. So the space between the first and last days of creation could have been billions of years for all we know.

Because the second to last thing he did was to create humans. Evolutionarily, anatomically modern humans first emerged in east Africa around 100,000 years ago. The first stirrings of human culture were around 20,000 years ago. The pyramids were only built 4000 years ago. Rome was only 2000 years ago. We can’t even comprehend how early on in our journey thru the universe we are.

A mere blip in the cosmic timescale. We might not even survive another million years.

I’m tired of getting hurt

旅に病んで夢は枯れ野をかけめぐる

Falling ill on a journey my dreams go wandering over withered fields

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livingwithmyself2003 · 2 years

Text

January 13, 2023

Honestly, I’m just super depressed, I go to sleep around midnight to 2AM and then wake up around 1-3PM so I’m getting like 12 hours of sleep and sometimes more, I’m always fucking tired. I have nothing better to do right now so I’m always sleeping. My laundry is piling up and I need to clean my bedding and sheets at some point this month, and even my clean clothes are piling up because I don’t fold and put stuff away, hygiene is non-existent at this point, I take a shower maybe once or twice a week if I’m lucky, otherwise I just lay in bed and rot.

I only officially get up if my boyfriend wants to play videogames with me but even then I still feel tired. Tired and irritable, I haven’t been on top of taking my morning medication so I’m missing dosages and my back is in pain all the time now, and has been for the past 2-3 weeks and I don’t know what I did to make it hurt like this. My room is such a mess because I don’t really put things away anymore, I know I need to snap out of this, I haven’t even been working on myself lately, and I keep getting into fights with my boyfriend. I know it’s because I’m quicker to anger and I don’t know if that’s because I’m missing medication or if it’s because I’m still grieving.

On a more positive note I put in an application for a job near me and I’m just gonna hope that I get a phone call interview or even an email or something. I really need a job. I’m running out of money which is making it difficult to go see my boyfriend. It’s also bad because sometimes I just wanna go on a shopping spree and just say fuck it and spend the rest of my money but I know I shouldn’t it’s just the impulsivity and just trying to find ways to cope.

I miss my dog. We got his ashes back, and I had a dream about him a couple of nights ago, he was a ghost in my dream but he seemed very happy and we even played with him, he seemed so fuckin happy. Maybe that’s his way of telling me that everything is okay now. I really hope in whatever afterlife we have that I will be able to see him again and the rest of my family. I miss him so much. I miss my grandparents too. I miss all my other animals. Sometimes the pain of missing them hurts so much that I want to unalive myself but I wont. I know that would only lead to more pain for the rest of my family.

I’m trying to get through this but it his so damn hard. Living like this is so hard. Grieving is so fucking hard.

-Peaches

#grieving #depression #bpd #bpd blog #bpd stuff #super depressed #mental disorder #tw #tw vent #vent post

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osferth · 2 years

Text

love's a strong word - chapter two

pairing: osferth x oc

tagging: @lauwrite1225 @lannisterdaddyissues @othermoony (if u would like to be tagged/removed lmk!)

chapter one

Roseburh had been relishing the chance to have a lazy morning for a while now, but living with a hyperactive seven-year-old boy meant that could never be more than a dream. At what felt like the crack of dawn, Eadwin was shaking her awake.

“Rose!” he repeated insistently, “Rose, get up!”

Exhausted from work the previous night, Roseburh groaned. “Whatever for?”

“I want to play,” said Eadwin firmly.

His sister stared incredulously at him for a moment.

“It’s hardly dawn!” she protested, sitting up. “And from what Baldwin told me, that was all you did yesterday. You promised me you’d study.” Eadwin looked up at her in an act of convincing remorse, but she shook her head. “Don’t give me that, Eadwin, it won’t work on me anymore. Come on, out.”

But the boy persisted, determined to convince her against it. “I have a headache,” he said, changing tack.

“You shouldn’t be playing if you have a headache, then, should you?”

Eadwin scowled, clearly not having thought his strategy through. “Fine,” he muttered, sloping off to find his book.

Their mother, Eadignes, had been the youngest daughter of a noble Centish family before her marriage, and although her children did not have the same status, she had wanted the best for them. Despite their father Rowe’s initial misgivings, she taught them the basics of reading and writing, to broaden what little opportunities they had.

He had eventually come around to the idea, seeing a chance to improve the family’s social standing in the future. The only problem was that none of the children were interested in books or learning, save for Roseburh.

After Eadniges passed away, Roseburh shouldered the responsibility of teaching Eadwin, albeit without the support of her older brothers. Their priority was training; had Rowe not supported his daughter’s endeavour, Eadwin may well have been raised as a fighter too.

It was certainly not in vain - he was proving to be incredibly adept, faster than any of his siblings had been at picking things up. The only issue remaining was his interest, or lack thereof. Rowe would regularly remind his daughter to be strict with the boy to overcome this, but Roseburh sometimes found it difficult.

So much so that when his friend Derian came knocking ten minutes later, inviting Eadwin to break his fast at their house and spend the rest of the day there to play, she decided to let him leave his book on the table and go.

Of course, that left Roseburh alone in the house, and with nothing else to do, she elected to wander around the markets of Coccham, basket in hand. There was little she actually needed to buy, but she figured she would treat herself with the money she had earned the night before.

After half an hour or so, her basket remained relatively light… as did her purse. A beautiful copper necklace had caught her eye earlier, which she impulsively bought before she changed her mind. It went well with the earrings her mother had given her, she justified to herself.

Not wanting to continue spending frivolously, as Erian would put it, Roseburh moved away from the market towards the dock. Sitting on the edge, she carefully drew the necklace out from her pocket and clasped it around her neck with a little smile.

The dock was where she could enjoy the relative quiet of the morning before midday brought the bustle and noise. She much preferred being alone by the water than at home.

However, it seemed her solitude would not last for long.

The sound of wood creaking behind her snapped Roseburh out of her thoughts. Turning around, she saw with a jolt of surprise that it was the boy she had bumped into from the night before… and by the look on his face, he hadn’t expected to see her, either.

“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t know you were sitting here. I’ll just be going-”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Roseburh said quickly. “You can stay, if you like.”

The boy fidgeted with his hands for a moment before deciding to do just that. As he sat down beside her, Roseburh got a good look at him for the first time. The darkness of the previous night had cloaked much of what he was wearing, so it was only then that she properly noticed.

“Are you a monk?” she asked curiously, taking in his robes.

He shook his head. “No, Lady, not anymore. I was a novice in Winchester, but I left to become a warrior.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before. How are you finding it?”

“It’s only been a few weeks,” he admitted, “so it’s tough. But I’m learning a lot,” he added quickly. “Lord Uhtred is a good teacher… if a little hard on me.”

“Lord Uhtred is training you?” Roseburh repeated in surprise.

“Yes, Lady,” the boy said. “My uncle fought alongside him, so I went to find him so that I might do the same one day.”

Roseburh hummed in appreciation. “What’s your name?”

“Osferth. What about you?”

“Roseburh.”

“You have a lovely name, Lady,” Osferth said a little shyly.

The sweet compliment brought a small smile to her own face. “Then I would like you to use it,” she said. “I am hardly a lady, Osferth.”

“Alright, la- Roseburh,” he quickly amended. It made her chuckle, which in turn emboldened him enough to smile back.

He had a lovely smile, she thought briefly… before remembering what it was she had intended to ask. “Do you not have training today? I would’ve thought with Lord Uhtred being so strict…”

She had seen for herself once the harsh training that his men underwent, albeit in passing on her way to visit a friend some weeks before. If Osferth was here to escape it for a while, she would not blame him.

He grimaced. “Don’t remind me. By now I would’ve been on those grounds for an hour already had they not been drinking last night.”

Now that he mentioned it, Roseburh dimly remembered leaving the alehouse at the same time as several of his men entered, although he had not been with them at the time. “You weren’t there when I left.”

“You were there?” he exclaimed.

“I work there,” Roseburh laughed. “I’m a barmaid. But I had to leave to collect my brother, that’s when they arrived.”

“And that’s when I nearly sent you sprawling,” Osferth finished sheepishly, making her laugh. “You have a brother?” he added out of interest.

Roseburh grinned. “I have three. Ealdian and Erian are my elder brothers, but they’re usually off fighting. Eadwin’s the youngest, he’s seven. You’ve probably seen him running around with his friend Derian. He spends more time with him than with us, I think.”

“Is he with him now?”

“Correct,” she smiled. “But I don’t mind much. If I’m not working, it means I get a lie-in, or I can come down here before it gets busy.”

He gave her a smile of his own. “It’s lovely here. Is this your spot, then?”

“I s’pose, yeah,” she said, “although you’re welcome to join me whenever you like… or whenever you’re free,” she added, raising an eyebrow as she looked up.

Osferth’s smile faded as he realised what had caught her attention.

“So this is where ‘yer hidin’!” exclaimed the burly Irishman Roseburh recalled seeing the night before, stopping just behind Osferth. He grinned at her and raised a hand in greeting. “Good mornin’ to you, lady!” he said cheerfully.

“Morning,” she said, giving him a polite smile. He seemed nice enough, although she still sent Osferth an apologetic look when he was all but dragged away to the training grounds. “It was nice meeting you!” she called after him.

“You too, lady!”

Roseburh supposed she could forgive his slip-up just the one time as she watched the Irishman guffaw and throw an arm around him.

“Was she the girl from yesterday, then?” asked Sihtric as he sharpened his sword.

They were taking a break after an hour's training, which meant Osferth was being subjected to a thorough grilling from his friends.

“‘Course she was,” he muttered.

“He likes her,” Finan grinned.

“She’s - we’re hardly friends!” Osferth protested, although clearly in vain.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t like her.”

“Like who?”

Osferth grimaced as Uhtred appeared, his daughter Stiorra in his arms. “No one, Lord,” he mumbled.

Sihtric snorted. “What I told you about this morning, Lord.”

A look of recognition passed across Uhtred’s face. “Oh, I remember now,” he said and, much to Osferth’s chagrin, smirked. “Who is she, baby monk?”

“She’s called Roseburh, Lord,” he finally admitted. “But there is nothing of the sort that they imply is going on.”

They completely disregarded that last sentence.

Sihtric smiled. “You got her name, though.”

“Yeah, the silly bastard forgot to ask last night,” Finan supplied.

Seeing Osferth roll his eyes for the hundredth time, Uhtred decided to ease all the questioning. “You’ve relaxed long enough,” he said, handing Stiorra to a maid and grabbing his sword, “let’s continue. Come on, all of you.”

Although Osferth did not particularly enjoy the thought of being knocked on his arse by Finan for the fifth time in a row, he greatly preferred it over the embarrassment he was facing. Training would help to clear his mind, especially now that it was being filled with thoughts of the girl on the dock.

#the last kingdom #osferth #osferth x oc #my writing #finally after a million billion years : i have a chapter 2 #who cheered #tlk fic #the title is soo fuckin cheesy i hate 15 y/o me #but im never gonna change it 🤞🏽😝thisnis me

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mydogisveryadorbs · 4 years

Text

bad day | jj maybank x reader

summary: jj has a bad day and he just wants to be with you

warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of abuse, sad jj, fluffy ending (ofc)

masterlist :)

(gif credit to the owner)

3.5k+ words

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

To the outside world, JJ Maybank has a perfect life. He has the best group of friends, he parties all the time, he has all the freedom in the world, and most importantly, he has you.

To the outside world, it is practically impossible for JJ Maybank to have a bad day. How can you have a bad day when you have a perfect life?

The only person in the world that knew that bad days are actually a common occurrence in JJ’s life, was you.

When the two of you had first started dating over a year ago, you too had believed that JJ’s life was perfect. His outgoing personality and carefree nature were what initially attracted him to you and he fought hard to maintain that persona. It wasn't until three months into your relationship that you realized that the blonde boy had it so much harder than you could've possibly imagined.

Truth be told, JJ didn't open up to you on purpose. In fact, if he had it his way, you would have never had to see him break down the way that he did.

You didn't know what to do when you first found your boyfriend laying on the bathroom floor in the Chateau, body shaking with sobs. At first, you thought he had been in another rough quarrel with Rafe and his friends. But when he looked up at you, tear stains on his cheeks and the saddest eyes you had ever seen, you knew this wasn't just some run-in with a couple of kooks.

It didn't take long for you to get over your original state of shock and comfort the boy. Your younger sister had bad anxiety and experienced panic attacks often, and still, you found yourself on the less prepared side when it came to soothing the blonde you adored so much. It was hard for you to understand that the tough, wild, teenager that you had fallen in love with was simply a cover for the fragile boy inside.

You can still vividly remember sitting on the bathroom floor for hours with JJ. Despite your unfamiliarity with your boyfriend’s suffering, there was not one second that you had even remotely questioned your love for him. If anything, seeing him in such a vulnerable state made your appreciation for him grow.

JJ himself, on the other hand, did not know how to accept the comfort you had given him. He was so used to being alone every time he was feeling down. So used to hiding all of his emotions from the people around him.

The two of you went through many difficult nights of him pushing you away and trying to block you out. But just as fast as he was building up his wall, you were tearing it down.

JJ doesn't know the exact moment when he allowed himself to succumb to your solace. Still to this day, it's hard for him to believe that someone as beautiful and compassionate as you can possibly love someone like him.

The more he let you in, the harder it was to be without you and now, whenever he had a run-in with his father or was unsure of himself, his first impulse was to call you.

You never hesitated to comfort the boy, knowing that he would do the same for you. And as much as you tried to stay strong for JJ, sometimes everything got to be a little bit too much.

JJ will never forget the day you were holding him after a fight with his father and you couldn't hold it in anymore. You let out heart-wrenching sobs into his hair. The sound alone brought tears to his own eyes and the two of you held each other all night, whispering sweet nothing to one another.

JJ is having a bad day.

He should have known when he woke up this morning and you weren't in his arms. He glanced over, immediately recognizing your small handwriting on a blue sticky note which was stuck to your pillow. The note explained that your parents had asked you to come home, but that you would come back to the chateau to be with him that night.

have a great day and don't miss me too much lovie!

His heart fluttered at your sweet words. How did he get so god damn lucky? Popping open his phone case, JJ folds your note and sticks it inside, just in case he needs to read it again later.

Despite the loving feeling he got in his chest while reading your note, his day quickly went downhill.

When JJ opened the cabinets above the sink to make himself a bowl of cereal, they were empty. He brushed it off and went to work with an empty stomach.

At the hotel, a group of kids bumped into him while he was clearing a table and he dropped a wine glass on the floor, shattering it. His boss chewed him out for 30 minutes before putting him on dish duty for the rest of his shift.

After work, JJ went to the local market and used his tip money from the day to buy a sandwich and a small bouquet of your favorite flowers for you. He knew you would make a big fuss about him spending his money on you, but he loved to see the cute look of surprise on your face whenever he got you something like this. It made whatever he had gotten for you worth every penny.

On his way back to the Chateau, JJ was stopped by none other than Rafe, Topper, and Kelse on their bikes. He tried his best to ignore them, knowing that you hated when he got into fights, but as soon as Rafe mentioned a snide comment about your ass, JJ immediately threw the first punch. He didn't realize until after the fact that one of them had stomped on the flowers he bought for you.

As much as he hated it, the blonde boy knew he needed to go home to get a fresh pair of clothes. He could always ask you to get a pair from the drawer of his clothes you had in your room, but that would require telling you what had happened and he didn't want to be a bother while you were with your family.

He knew he was screwed when he arrived at his “house” and saw his father's truck parked in the dirt outside. JJ hoped that he would be able to slip by without being noticed, but his horrible luck from the day continued.

His father was in the stage of his drinking where he was drunk enough to be angry with his son, but not drunk enough for JJ to outrun him.

JJ’s cheek throbbed on his walk back to the Chateau and he was sure that he was sporting a fresh black eye. His ribs were sore as hell and the only thing that kept him moving was the thought of seeing you.

When he arrived at John B’s house he instantly took note of your missing car. He prayed that you had simply walked and that he would see you laying on the couch when he entered.

There was someone sitting on the couch, but it was not the person JJ was looking for.

“Dude,” John B said when he noticed JJ’s figure standing in the doorway. “What happened to your face?”

“Where's (Y/N),” the blonde asked, ignoring John’s question.

“She called and said she wasn't sure if she would make it,” Kie said, drawing JJ’s attention to where she was standing. “Her friend Carlee’s boyfriend cheated on her, so she went to comfort her. She said she tried to call you, but it went straight to voicemail,” the curly-haired girl explained.

Glancing down at his phone, JJ noticed it was dead. His shoulders slumped. All he wanted was to see his girl after a shit day, was that too much to ask? He knew first hand your dedication to your loved ones, and he knew it wasn't fair of him to want all of your comfort and love for himself, but he couldn't help it.

You were too nice, he decided. But that's why he loved you so much, wasn't it?

“So what happened to your face,” John B asked again, taking a sip of his beer.

JJ glowered at his best friend. “What do you care,” he snapped. He knew he shouldn't take his frustrations out on John B, but you were his coping method and he didn't know what to do without that.

John B raised his hands in defense, standing up to grab another beer. “Jeez, dude,” he said, “Just asking.”

“Well maybe you should mind your own goddamn business,” JJ yelled.

The brunette boy halted his actions and turned to face JJ. “What the fuck, man?” he asked, voice rising. “You really want to do this.”

“Yeah, I do.” He definitely didn't. “You know,” JJ snapped, “Maybe if you spent time with your actual friends instead of your fucking kook girlfriend, you would know what was going on in my life.”

John B scoffed “That's rich coming from the guy who spends every waking moment trying to impress a girl who's way out of his league,” he yells.

JJ knows he's right. You were too good for him. But you chose him anyway. Why?

“Fuck you,” JJ sneers, shoving past his best friend and walking out the back doors. He needed space.

You were getting ready to leave your friend's house when Kiara called you.

Carlee was a sweet girl, and her douche of a boyfriend definitely didn't deserve her so you told her exactly that. But this wasn't the first time something like that had happened between them and based on previous occurrences, you figured Carlee would go a week before she decided to get back together with him.

It was times like these where you really thanked your lucky stars that you had found a boy like JJ. The two of you had your moments like any healthy couple, but you knew in your heart that he would never do anything to purposely hurt you.

You smiled when you saw Kie’s contact. “Hey girl,” you answer in a country accent, giggling at the end.

“(Y/N),” she said and your smile dropped, immediately understanding that there was something wrong. “You need to come to the Chateau right now.”

Your feet skid to a stop and you feel your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. “What happened? Is JJ okay?” you ask her in a rushed tone.

Kie’s voice is shaky when she speaks. “He came over today with a black eye and a bruised cheek and when John B asked about it JJ kind of freaked out,” she explains. “They are screaming at each other right now. (Y/N), you gotta come quick,” you could hear yelling in the background.

“I'm on my way,” you assure her, hanging up. You run to your car, heart twisting in worry. It wasn't like your boyfriend to act like this so you knew something had to have happened.

You drove to the Chateau faster than you ever have before, getting there in under five minutes. The second your car pulled up to the house. You were flying out of your car and running inside the screen door.

“He's outback,” John B says upon seeing you enter.

Your eyes snap to him and they soften at the sight of his distraught face. “You alright, JB?” you ask.

He nods slowly. “I've never seen him like that, (Y/N),” John B tells you, his voice laced with worry. “You gotta help him.”

You nod your head, walking outside to find your boyfriend. You don't have to go far, spotting his hunched over the figure on the porch steps.

Slowly, you make your way towards the boy, and despite the fact that it's the middle of summer he is shivering violently.

You place a hand on his shoulder and he immediately flinches away from your touch. Your heart breaks at his reaction. “JJ, love, it's me,” you tell him softly, crouching down next to his body.

Hearing your voice, JJ lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are red-rimmed and filled with tears and the skin around the right one is hidden by blue and purple. Your eyes scan his face and you take note of the bruise on his cheekbone and his split lip. Your hands itch to remove his shirt, knowing that there are more hidden underneath.

The sound of JJ’s choked sob brings your eyes instantly back to his.

“Oh, J,” you say sorrowfully, opening your arms for him. “C’mere.”

The blonde boy instantly falls into your embrace and you cradle his body tightly. He sobs into your shoulder and you feel a wet patch grow in your shirt. “I needed you, I need you,” he cries into your shoulder.

Softly shushing him, you run your fingers through his hair. “I'm here, J, I'm here,” you tell him, your heart aching for the boy in your arms. You don't know exactly how long you sit there, his hands clutching the back of your shirt tightly.

Slowly, his sobs die down before he is only sniffling every few seconds.

You pull back slightly, tenderly cupping his face in your hands. “Can we go inside?” you ask, gently brushing back the blonde curl that had fallen over his forehead.

JJ nods slightly and you stand up on the porch, helping him do the same. You bite your lip when you notice his subtle limp on the way inside. You notice how quiet the Chateau is and silently thank John B and Kiara for giving JJ the space he needs.

Leading him into the bathroom, you help JJ sit on the counter and you quickly grab the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink.

Opening it, you grab a cotton swab and an alcohol wipe to clean his lip and cheek, wordlessly realizing how many times you've had to do this.

“Why are you here,” the blonde boy asks abruptly. If you weren't paying attention you would have missed his small voice.

“What'd you mean, J?” you ask, continuing your work.

JJ sighs. “Why are you here?” he asks again, slightly louder, but still quieter than you are used too.

“Well, I was leaving Carlee’s house and Kie called me and told me that you-” JJ cuts you off, pulling away from your grasp slightly.

“No, (Y/N),” his tone is harsh but you can hear the brokenness laced behind it. “Why are you here? With me instead of with your friends? Or better yet another guy that can buy you nice things and doesn't have emotional trauma? A guy who's not broken?” he says the word with such hatred that it shakes you to your core.

“JJ,” you gasp, hurt flashing across your features. How could he think that? JJ instantly wants to take it back, but he wants even more to know your answer. “You are not broken, you hear me?” you say, honesty clear in your voice. “Your flaws are what make you, you. I don't need fancy gifts or expensive jewelry to make me love you! I love every single thing about you, JJ Maybank. From your head to your toes. I love you just the way that you are and there is nothing you can do to take that away from me. Ever.” Your voice is strong and serious. You leave no room for argument as you continue to patch up his face.

JJ doesn't speak again letting the words sink in, scared that he will break down for the second time that night. His eyes fall to the floor and he lets you tend to his cuts.

When you are satisfied with your work on his face, you tap the boy's arm lightly and his eyes snap to yours. “Lift your shirt so I can see,” you ask him, not making eye contact. When he doesn't move, your eyes lock with his. “Please, J,” you beg, in a quiet voice, “I need to see.”

The blonde knows he will never be able to say no to you, especially when you ask him that way, so he gingerly lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side and wincing when he moves the wrong way.

JJ expects you to pity him. To tell him you're sorry the way everyone does. But you simply stare at his injuries, eyes welling with tears. And this, JJ decides, makes him feel infinitely worse.

Your hand reaches out to trace the large, purple-black bruises. JJ shivers at the touch of your soft hands on his skin.

He grabs your hand suddenly, pulling it up to his lips. “I'm sorry,” he says, voice cracking. “I'm sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” you say, using the hand not in JJ’s to run through his hair. “None of that, okay? I'm here because I want to be. And I will always be. No matter how many times you try to push me away.”

You feel hot tears on your hand and you quickly slide between his legs, pulling him back into your chest, careful of the bruises on his ribs.

“I love you,” JJ cries into the crook of your neck. “I love you more than anything else in this fucked up world.”

“Shh,” you say softly. “I know, lovie, I know. I love you too. Endlessly.”

JJ pulls back at your words, just enough so that he can look into your eyes.

You used to think your favorite color was purple. When you were ten you painted your entire room purple and even bought purple bedding. But the moment you looked into JJ’s cerulean eyes, it instantly became your new favorite color.

JJ looks from your eyes to your lips before leaning forward to kiss you.

The kiss was soft and passionate explaining every emotion the two of you were feeling. No matter how many times the two of you kissed, your heart raced like it was the very first time.

Pulling away for air, JJ rests his forehead on yours.

“What happened today, J?” you ask in a quiet voice.

JJ bites his lip, leaning back slightly. His first instinct is to tell you that nothing happened and that he's okay, but JJ knows you wouldn't believe him for a second. So he recalls his day, telling you every detail. Just knowing that you know, makes JJ’s heart feel a little less heavy. “A-and I bought you these flowers from the florist on main, y-y'know the ones you love, and I couldn't even bring them to you,” he says sadly.

You caress his cheek. “Love, I don't care about the flowers, all that matters is that you're okay,” you assure him, honesty evident in his voice. “And as for your father, you are staying here or at my house from now on and the next time I see that son of a bi-”

JJ cuts you off, grabbing your hands. The last thing he ever wants is his father hurting you. “(Y/N), no,” he says, the vulnerability in his voice evident. “You need to promise me that you won't confront him. I don't want you getting hurt.”

You sigh, knowing how important this is to the blonde boy. “Only if you promise not to go back there unless I'm with you,” you compromise with him.

He nods, kissing your forehead gently. “Can we please go to bed,” JJ asks and you can hear the sleepiness in his voice. Nodding, you help JJ off the counter and the two of you walk to the spare room in the chateau. The two of you climb into the bed. You are still in your clothes from the day, but that is the last thing on your mind.

JJ moves his arms to wrap around your middle but you gently push his shoulder back. “Turn around, J,” you tell him quietly. You know that JJ secretly loves to be the little spoon and you secretly love to be the big spoon. He would never openly ask you to spoon him, but you can read his body language like a book.

He rolls to his other side and you wrap an arm around his bare middle, careful not to hit any of his bruises. You nuzzle your nose into the back of his tanned shoulder, breathing in his scent deeply.

“I love you (Y/N)” your boyfriend whispers, his hand reaching to hold your hand that is tracing his chest. “Thank you for being here.”

You press a soft kiss to his shoulder blade. “Always, JJ,” you tell him earnestly. “I love you more than anything.”

The blonde boy falls asleep in your embrace, feeling truly safe for the first time that day.

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

masterlist :)

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greenygreenland · 3 years

Text

Date: Jean Havoc x Reader (w/ Big Brother Roy Mustang)

REQUESTED

-PRETEND ROY IS YOUNGER FOR THE SAKE OF THIS ONE-SHOT (say, like 20-ish) -sorry this took so long. I had an internship and it got a little crazy

-idc about the timeline because this is a one-shot and i’m not gonna use my big brain lmaooo

Summary: Overprotective Roy? Yes. You’re dating Jean Havoc and your bro watches your first date from the shadows.

Nervous. That was the first emotion you felt when you stepped out of the front door. Today was a big day, maybe more so than you’d like to believe. The sun shimmered overhead, where the sparse clouds drifted lazily across the sky. “Bye, Roy,” you called. “I’ll be back around sixteen o’clock.”

Roy was your elder brother by four years. If a guard dog had a human personification, it would definitely be him. For all your life, he wrote himself off as the responsible sibling. He acted like his grades were better than yours, like he was the one to take out the trash, or finish all the dishes before cockroaches decided to make home in them.

Anyone would have thought that to be true. After all, Roy was young and rose up the military ranks at an alarming rate. But you knew better, along with his close colleagues. Roy was stupid, overprotective, and impulsive. He would do anything that interested him, and if it didn’t, he’d pay no mind to it.

You prayed your brother would pay no mind today.

The front door slammed open with a creak. “Where do you think you’re going?” Roy inquired. He squinted at you as if you were about to do something stupid. “And what are you wearing? I hope you have shorts under that.” You rolled your eyes and adjusted the purse slung over your shoulder.

This sun dress was a gift from Jean for your (age) birthday. The skirt flowed in the passing breezes like a flower, illuminating all the vibrant colours under the rays of sun. It was a beautiful dress. If Roy thought otherwise, you’d make him understand. “It’s called a dress, doofus.” you sarcastically replied. “Not like you’d know when you only see Riza in the Command Centre. Poor you. Haven’t gotten the chance to see her in a skirt, huh?”

Roy averted his gaze to the sky with a haughty huff. “What are you talking about? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Heat rose up his cheeks. “If you’re implying I harbour romantic feelings for my First Lieutenant, then you’re--”

“A hundred percent correct.” you stated with a smug smirk. “I’ll be back around sixteen o’clock. Don’t burn down the house.” If Roy accidently did, you wouldn’t be surprised. He was the Flame Alchemist, and above all, your stupid big brother.

“Where are you going (Y/n)?” Roy called. You flung your hair over your shoulder with a bright smile that could have blinded even the sun. “A date, of course.” Okay, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to rub salt in a wound. What Roy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. But then you saw look on his face. Nevermind, it was totally worth it to rub in his face: jaw agape, eyes as wide as saucers, and shoulders hunched down.

Ah, it was good to be you.

The city bustled with life. With the sun shining, and the beauty of living in your palms, you trotted down the street. There was nothing that could ruin your date.

"Jean!" Your tone was light as a laugh escaped your lips. "It feels like I haven't seen you in a while."

Cherry red dusted his cheeks. He stuffed the unlit cigarette into his pocket and offered you a hand. In his other, he placed a single (f/c) flower between your hairclips. "I saw you yesterday," he said with a bashful smile. "What do you mean it's been a while?" You bumped shoulders playfully and intertwined your fingers together. "Hyperbole, Jean."

"Well, it's one hyperbole too many." He remarked with a grin. "Do you want to have sandwiches today or a hot meal?" You shrugged, leaning against his shoulder. It was comfortable to have him hold you like this as you made your way down the street. He always had this secure way of linking your arms with his.

Off to the side, Roy couldn't say the same. It wasn’t like he planned on following you. Curiosity just swept him out of the house. And besides, what you didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt, right? Right.

Roy wished Jean didn’t hold you like you were some stuffed animal. For all he knew, Jean was just playing you. It wouldn't be the first when he had over fifteen other girls in the past four months. If Jean broke your heart, he'd be sure to fry the man up to a crisp. "Damn him," Roy grumbled. He pulled down his fedora and adjusted the glasses over his nose. "What makes him think he can touch (Y/n) like that?"

You suddenly laughed loudly at some joke. “Stop!” you cried, playfully smacking his arm. “That’s the worst one I’ve heard all week!”

Roy slinked out of the shadows with a low huff. He shouldn't have worn such a thick jacket. It had to be over twenty something degrees today. But that was no matter because you were being whisked away to the park--by Jean! Roy hurried down the street. Since when did you get lunch? And what was Jean going to do to you?

"The park's a good place." you noted. “Let’s go there.” The bag from Sally's Sandwiches hung from Jean's arm. It swung back and forth as he happily pranced along the street with you hand in hand. "Good thing I remembered to bring a blanket this time. We can sit under that tree."

Oh, what was Jean going to do to you? Roy couldn't stand the thought of you walking with him like that. There had to be an ulterior motive to this 'date'. Maybe Jean wanted to leech off you for money, or maybe he would try seducing you in the park? Roy shook his head. No, no.

Jean wasn't a bad guy. Maybe Roy was thinking too far ahead. But what if he wasn’t? What if Jean pulled some sneaky plan?

You crossed the street just as a car wildly swerved. Its tires screeched against the road like nails on a chalkboard, grinding against stone until it came your way. Roy frantically popped out of his hiding space. "What kind of idiot would--"

Suddenly, you slammed a hand into the ground. The stone transmuted, blocking the car from any unnecessary collisions. It smacked straight into the wall, smoke and steam rising from its engine. "(Y/n)!" cried Jean. "Are you okay?" He frantically placed a hand on either of your shoulders and looked you up and down. A smile rose to your lips. "I'm fine. Not even a scratch."

A sigh escaped Jean's lips. "That's good. I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt." You placed a gentle hand to his cheek and pecked it (Roy wanted to gag). "I'm an Alchemist. It'd be a shame if I went down by a car."

"Don't joke about that," Jean chastised. He hooked his arm with yours again and led you away from the screeching onlookers and police. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Roy blinked. Did he hear Jean right? 'I don't know what I'd do if I lost you'? What was that supposed to mean? “Look at them, being all lovey-dovey...” Roy continued after the couple. They passed through a field of forest green grass, where flowers bloomed in straight, uniform lines all around. It was a beautiful spot to have a picnic.

You swung your arm, hand in hand with Jean. The sun kissed your heads from the Heaven’s, illuminating a bright happiness Roy couldn’t look away from. Urgh. He wanted to kick something, or better yet, set a tree on fire. How could you two look so perfect? You were only (age) and that was far too young to be dating.

Besides, you had a career in the military. If your little ‘relationship’ was sealed with a ring, you’d be separated. “Did they even think that through?” Roy grumbled to himself. He gritted his teeth together and ducked behind a bush.

“Excuse me sir.”

Roy glanced over his shoulder with a false smile. “Ah, what is it?” A little boy ball up and down in his hand. The glare on his face could have been intimidating, but Roy was Roy Mustang. He wouldn’t let some kid look down upon him. “Are you lost?”

The kid clutched the rock so tightly his knuckles turned white. “My mama said to watch out for creepy people. I think you fit well, Mr. Pervert.” He took a step back and launched the ball at Roy’s head. “Take that!”

“What are you talking about?!” Roy exclaimed. He jumped out of the bushes and brushed the leaves from his jacket. Boy, it was getting terribly hot in the sweltering heat. Poor Roy found himself losing what little patience remained. “I’m not a creep, kid! Where are your parents? If I was a creep, you would have been kidnapped already. I’m just trying to make sure my sister...!”

At that very second, you so happened to come to a stop. At that very second, you so happened to stare. At that very second, you so happened to recognise a face among strangers.

Roy was royally screwed.

The little kid pointed at Roy as if he were the most wanted criminal in all of Amestris. “Lady!” he screeched. “I saw this guy watching you since you got here! He’s a creep! Call the cops!” Jean squinted at Roy. At first, he actually believed the kid was telling the truth. What kind of normal person wore a winter coat, a fedora, and a pair of sunglasses if not to deal drugs in the alleyways?

“Hold up...” Jean blinked owlishly. “Colonel, is that you?!”

You released Jean’s arm. “Oh, it’s him alright.” A menacing glare rose to your face as you cracked your knuckles. What was Roy supposed to do? The wrath of his sister was not something he could brace himself for, especially when she could be just as impulsive as Edward Elric.

Roy waved his arms in denial. “I don’t know what that kid’s talking about. I just happened to pass by, and in the process, I ended up dropping my wallet, which turned out to be in the bushes, so--”

“Save it.” You cracked your knuckles and pulled on a glove. “It’s time to crank up the heat, because we’re having fried Alchemist tonight.”

Anger. That was the only emotion you felt as you chased your big brother around the park. Today was supposed to be a big day. You planned to walk around, maybe go shopping, and spend the night wandering around with Jean for a whole day. But no. Your stupid, idiotic, big brother had to be the creepy party crasher.

#FMA #fma fanfiction #fmab fanfiction #fmab roy #jean havoc #Roy Mustang #fma x reader #Fullmetal Alchemist #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #Fullmetal Alchemist x reader #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood x reader #x reader #fanfiction #anime #fmab x reader

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akabane-yum · 3 years

Text

OTP Asks - All Of Them (9-16) <- Part One

For @toorumochi assass :P

For the Angst

9. Have they made each other cry?

Short answer: Yes

Long answer:

Karma knew that Gakushuu would be a difficult person to live with and that he was sensitive despite his hard exterior, but that didn’t mean he didn’t get annoyed too sometimes.

That night they were arguing about who knows what, saying things they didn’t mean, when the insults became half truths and eventually full truths that became insults. Karma said something along the lines of “Oh, and it’s not my fault your dad didn’t raise you right but it your fault that you’re becoming exactly like him, don’t ask me why I’ll need therapy more than twice a week after this.”

If it hadn’t already clicked to Gakushuu that they were fighting fighting before then, now he got the message. He ran out of the room without another word and Karma had to pace to cool down. Karma decided to sleep on the couch that night and only realized Shuu went off crying the next morning, when the air was cold and rigid and Shuu had tear stains under his eyes. Karma didn’t say anything though, he didn’t really know how to fix it. They ended up spending that whole day apart and eventually had a long talk.

———————

Gakushuu made Karma cry when he told him they’d probably end up breaking up. Karma was joking about meeting Shuu’s mom and Shuu just laughed saying he didn’t think they’d make it that far. That messed with Karma’s perception of permanence and what he thought they were. He thought they were gonna get married some day and that they were going to live together and... what? He tried to ask Gakushuu why he thought they wouldn’t make it and Shuu seemed unbothered. He said something about how they were incompatible in many ways and how they were both handfuls and how life would get harder and how Karma probably wouldn’t be able to handle all the weird changes in Gakushuu’s life because of how the businesses was booming. They said goodnight after that and Karma found himself outside at 3am taking a walk. He didn’t realize he was crying till he came home and Shuu asked him why he was crying. His first instinct was to say he was doing drugs but that would get them nowhere. Instead he said he didn’t want to talk about it, and they went to bed. He could think about permanence another day. And he did, they talked about both that and their insecurities going forward to try to salvage their relationship. (I can imagine that this is a few years into their relationship.)

10. Write a ~300 word argument scene for them.

In another post !

11. What causes them to fight?

The lighthearted answer would be: anything and everything. They fight over how many pillows they need but always laugh about it in the end.

Another answer would be: the fact that at the beginning of their relationship they were insecure about themselves. You know you really shouldn’t get into a relationship until you love yourself enough, at least in most cases. But for them I’m guessing that the mutual attraction was enough for them to get together, which isn’t always bad b u t for them they had a lot to unpack. It’s surprising and maybe even kinda toxic that they stayed together after the first part of their relationship but now they’re happy. I can imagine that they’re happier as adults at least, and that they still do fight over small things like the TV volume but those fights don’t even count as fights. It’s just a little conversation to keep them going yknow?

12. Do they have differing political opinions?

Kinda? Gakushuu is a businessman and probably took a course called “creating capitalism” so we can assume he’s pro capitalism, and on the other hand Karma joined the bureaucracy in Japan (and Japan is, if I’m not mistaken, a socialist country) so he’s probably at least pro socialism.

I just want to comment on how this is cool because Gakushuu being pro capitalism is a solo player as the CEO with the most shares of his corporation. Whereas Karma who we assume is pro socialism works as a bureaucrat for the government. Which is cool because capitalism is more about individuals climbing the corporate ladder and whatnot whereas socialism is more of a government intervention thing where the government has control and places limitations. (There’s way more to it but I tried to badly summarize.) So they’re both doing very well in their respective economies. That being said, we could go into the capitalist tendencies in Japan but we won’t! AHEM THE MAIN QUESTION WAS ABOUT POLITICS BUT I WARPED IT SORRY THEYRE PROBABLY BOTH MORE LIBERAL BUT I WONT GO INTO THAT.

Anyways to finish off explaining the “kinda” I answered with, I said kinda because I don’t think they feel strongly enough about their own (preferred) economies to argue about it. Though maybe Karma will complain about some of the disparity in wealth he sees between Gakushuu and others but honestly I don’t see them caring much, since they have the luxury of living in their own bubble of karushuu happy fun. I hope this blurb made sense.

13. Name something they would never do for the other person

Gakushuu would never give up his ambitions to be with Karma. Sounds sad but after letting go of some of those insecurities that were there at first, he’s found his self worth and won’t give up all his hard work for anyone. Is that selfish? Personally I don’t think so, because it would be selfish for someone to ask him to let go of his dreams for them. Karma would never do that anyway, so. By give up his ambitions for Karma I mean like if Karma were to ask Gakushuu to drop his work or him, he’d be dropping Karma.

Karma would never settle down entirely because Gakushuu asked him to. This is similar to the first one but I don’t think he wants to calm down and live in another tropical country and retire young just because they have enough money you know? Not like Gakushuu would ever ask him to slow down but if he did then Karma would still probably work a few jobs because of how boring life would be without something to do. This is basically like Gakushuu’s but I feel like Karma’s is less intense and he wouldn’t break up with Gakushuu right away because of this.

Take that as you will ^^

14. What would be a dealbreaker

This is the same as the last one I think. Telling the other to slow down and pick between their passions (for work lmao) or them. Since it’s the same ish for both of them I don’t think there would be that much of an issue though. Maybe if Karma killed Shuu’s cat then that would be a dealbreaker, who knows.

15. What are traits they dislike in one another?

Karma dislikes how Gakushuu is a workaholic and Gakushuu hates how Karma is taller than him :P also how quick he is at making impulsive decisions. HmMm maybe also how Karma snores- that’s not even a trait i- anywayyyyssss

16. If they broke up, what would be their opinions of each other.

Oh boy. I’ve thought about this for not karushuu things too so here’s my take on this:

Karma would consider Gakushuu as an addition to the toxic people in his life. First his parents, then some of his teachers, and now his first boyfriend. He’d remember the happy moments they had together but quickly try to replace them with the sadder memories. He’d try his best to paint Gakushuu is the worst lighting, he’d villainize (not a word but shh) him so he could go on thinking he didn’t do anything wrong and it was Gakuhsuu’s toxicness that tore them apart.

Gakushuu wouldn’t think of Karma. Not after a bit of time, not because Karma never came to mind again after the breakup, but because any thoughts of Karma would be illegal. Honestly I can see him thinking that his time with Karma was an era of weakness. He can’t go back to that weak state, not even in his memories, so he doesn’t. (Well maybe in the middle of the night some days he does but he’d never admit to that.) I hope my grammar here was bearable lmao.

I’m sorry I’m tired lmao I can’t proofread but yk :))) next part up soon!

#asano gakushuu #assassination classroom #karushuu #karma akabane #karma x gakushuu #shoe #akabane karma #otp #ask otp #angst #breakup #headcanon #otp headcanons #asks #yoit #anyways

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

Note

A very happy birthday month to you! I’m a fan of your Stony fics. If you’re still taking prompts, could you do one with a Las Vegas backdrop? Maybe Steve’s first time there with Tony for some reason? I was supposed to have my first trip there ever but Covid cancelled it. Maybe at least they can have a happy ending there. 🙂

Thank you! I’m glad you’re enjoying the Stony fics!

So sorry your Las Vegas trip was cancelled, that’s really awful. I sort of went to Vegas once (it was a layover in the airport). The only thing I remember about the whole thing was the 5 bajillion slot machines in the airport terminals

Since I know so little about Vegas, I ended up going with the getting married in Vegas trope instead of something about the casinos. I also hope you don’t mind that I used this for my bingo square, but I saw the happy ending part in your ask and got inspired for my happily ever after square (details below the cut)

Here’s to Las Vegas

The day after Steve gets married, he wakes up in a Las Vegas hotel with a ring on his finger and Tony Stark snuggled up beside him.

Most days, Steve wakes up the second his alarm goes off, alert and ready for his run. This day, however, he drifts into wakefulness slowly, comfortably lying on his back. He’s warm and there’s a heavy weight on his stomach and chest, pressing him down into sheets that feel so much nicer on his bare skin than the ones he has at home. That’s the second thing he notices: he’s not wearing any clothes, not even the boxer-briefs he normally wears in lieu of pajamas. And the third thing he notices is that there’s something soft tickling his chin.

He slowly blinks his eyes open. He’s somewhere with high vaulted ceilings and an expensive-looking chandelier, which means it’s not Tony’s place (he thinks chandeliers are tacky) and it’s definitely not Steve’s (he can’t afford a chandelier). Whatever it is on his chest shifts and Steve looks down. Tony is draped across him, the top of his head tucked under Steve’s chin, their arms and legs tangled together. He’s breathing deep and even, still asleep even though sunlight is pouring through the window.

Steve smiles at the sight and raises his head enough to kiss Tony’s curls. He doesn’t often get to wake up with Tony. Steve lives in Brooklyn and Tony lives in Manhattan and they’re both so busy—Tony with SI’s R&D and Steve with his teaching—that they decided early on in their relationship that spending every single night together was a bad idea because one of them would always end up late to work. So this makes for a nice change.

Tony stirs, inhaling deeply. Steve brings his hand up to stroke over Tony’s hair, the way he likes it when they both have a rare day when neither of them have to be anywhere so they can spend the night. That’s when he sees it.

The ring.

The one that’s sitting on the ring finger of his left hand, exactly where it should be—except he’s not supposed to be wearing it for another week.

In the sleepy haze of waking up, he’d forgotten what they’d done last night but the memories are filtering in. Flashes of Tony excitedly talking him into finding a chapel and wrangling a couple witnesses from off the street and filing the marriage license a whole week early because both of them were more than tired of the wedding planning, the swell of emotions he’d felt at hearing Tony declared his husband and sweeping Tony off his feet and back to their hotel, kissing the whole way and probably scandalizing their Uber driver.

He groans and tips his head back against the pillows. Tony makes a low sound and yawns widely before slowly opening his eyes. He looks a little like an adorable kitten and Steve can’t resist kissing the top of his head again.

“Wuzzgoinon?” Tony mumbles sleepily.

“What’s going on,” Steve says, “is that your mother is going to kill us. No, she’s going to kill me, because you’re her darling angel who can do no wrong and she’s never once thought I’m good enough for you.”

“No, you’re better,” Tony says around another yawn. “Why is my mama going to kill you?”

Steve picks up Tony’s left hand and waves it in front of his face. Tony goes cross-eyed trying to make out what’s different about his hand. “Oh,” he says eventually and lays his head back down on Steve’s chest.

“Oh?” Steve asks. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“If Mama didn’t want us to elope, she shouldn’t have sent us to Vegas by ourselves to pick up the rings,” Tony says, as though he’s pointing out something reasonable, even though this is the most absurd thing that’s ever happened in Steve’s entire life—and his best friends are Bucky and Sam. Those two are the very definition of absurd. “Everyone knows what happens in Vegas.”

“This is your fault,” Steve informs him. “If you hadn’t insisted on this particular jeweler—”

“Hmm maybe I was planning this,” Tony hums, closing his eyes again.

And that’s… that’s actually entirely possible. Ever since they got engaged, Tony has been complaining about the big white wedding Mrs. Stark wants them to have and threatening to steal Steve away to the courthouse to elope. Steve had thought he’d calmed down about the whole affair after Mrs. Stark’s tearful outburst about her just wanting her baby to have the perfect wedding (Tony is nothing if not his mama’s boy), but maybe he’d been planning on this instead. He had thought it odd when Tony had insisted on a small-name jeweler in Las Vegas who wouldn’t ship to New York, thereby forcing them to travel to pick up the rings, but if Tony had been planning this all along…

“Did you?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Tony stares up at him for a long moment, blinking. Then he dryly says, “Yes, Steve. I, who has never made a decision that wasn’t impulsive even once in my entire life, somehow managed to both plan out a trip to Vegas to get married and keep it a secret from the love of my life who knows everything I’m thinking before even I know it.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Steve says, grinning at him. What they’ve just done hits him and he laughs giddily. He sits up, pulling Tony up with him to give him a closed-mouthed good morning kiss. “We’re married.”

Tony smiles happily and kisses him again. “Yeah, we are. Good morning, Mr. Stark-Rogers.”

He likes the sound of that. He really likes the sound of that. Another kiss. “What are we going to tell everyone?” he asks.

“Hmm. How about we got so caught up in the thrill of picking up the rings that we abandoned all reason and got married here? It’s not like the big white wedding my mama wants even really matters in the grand scheme of things. It’s the marriage license that counts.”

“She’s still going to want it.”

“Undoubtedly. And we’ll give it to her. But this is nice, isn’t it?” Tony peers up at him anxiously. “No fuss, no caterers with ten different meal plans for all the restrictions, no Great-Auntie Mildred who shouts for the minister to speak louder. No stress at all.”

Steve leans back against the headboard, thinking about it. Tony’s right. They dealt with a lot less stress by getting married this way. But it isn’t just Great-Auntie Mildred that they left behind, it’s their friends too. It’s hard to know how he feels about that.

But then he starts thinking about the wedding picture the photographer had handed them before they left the chapel last night. Steve had tucked it into his wallet for safekeeping, and he reaches over to the bedside table to grab it, pulling the photo out so he can look at it. It’s a picture of their kiss. They’re holding onto each other so tight he’s not sure a piece of paper would fit between them, smiling so broadly that it’s barely a kiss at all. And he thinks about the engagement pictures Mrs. Stark had sent out in the announcement and wedding invitations: poised and perfect and not a smile to be seen anywhere.

“Yeah,” he says eventually, pulling Tony against his chest. Tony snuggles in, warm and beautiful and all Steve’s. “This was pretty damn perfect.”

Tony sighs contentedly and presses a kiss right over Steve’s heart. “Good.”

“But your mother’s still going to kill me.”

“We just won’t tell her,” Tony replies dismissively. “We’ll get married again and we won’t have to worry about the wedding because we’ll know we’re already married.”

“She’s going to notice the rings.”

“Not if we spend the whole week here.”

Steve stills. He hadn’t thought of that. It would solve a lot of problems, not least that Mrs. Stark would finally have free reign to do whatever she wanted with the wedding without any input from either of them. She was doing anyway, but at least now, they don’t have to hear about how their small family affair has turned into the society event of the year.

Tony continues in a wheedling voice, “Call out all our friends, treat it like an extended bachelor party—or our first honeymoon, take your pick.”

Steve stops him right there with another kiss, lingering this time. “And what are we going to do on our first honeymoon?”

“Blow all our money on slot machines. Count cards at the poker table. Go see some really truly ridiculous shows,” Tony says with a shrug. “What everyone does when they’re in Vegas.”

“Hmm somehow I don’t think counting cards is what everyone does.”

“I suppose everyone didn’t grow up with Ana Jarvis,” Tony muses. Steve laughs because it’s true. Howard might think that Tony is a troublemaker all on his own, but everyone knows that Tony learned it from the best.

He’s distracted out of his thoughts by Tony picking up his hand and gently kissing his wedding ring. “It’s the first day of the rest of our lives, darling,” Tony murmurs. “We can do whatever we want.”

Details for @tonystarkbingo

Title of Fill: Here's to Las Vegas Collaborator: iam93percentstardust Card Number: 4012 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676711 Square Filled: A3 - Free Square Ship/Main Pairing: Stevetony Rating: T Major Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Established Relationship, Fluff, Marriage Summary: The day after Steve gets married, he wakes up in a Las Vegas hotel with a ring on his finger and Tony Stark snuggled up beside him. Word Count: 1558

#alle writes #alle answers #stevetony #if you like please consider reblogging #mistyendings #tsbmiv

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ayatakami · 3 years

Text

Lover Is A Day P4

»»————--—————-Ch4 Wilt——--————————-««

⇒ Series: Intro, 1, 2, 3, 4 ⇒ My Hero Academia ⇒ Dabi x Reader, Toya Todoroki x Reader ⇒ AU where Toya yoinked Shoto and they ran away from Endeavor’s abuse. The story is under cut! (Toya is 17, Shoto is 7) ⇒ 1k words ⇒Btw I have a playlist for each chapter if anyone's curious! Each chapter is based on a song I listen to while writing it. (Though it's rock)

The answer was right in front of him. To getting by with scraps, getting money, and getting Sho back. Though if you knew, you would protest greatly. Telling him those actions are those of a villain's. To be frank, he didn’t care anymore. If he was a bad guy in your eyes, in Shoto’s eyes. He just wanted to feel something. Something to get rid of the guilt that was suffocating him.

He approached the shopkeeper, an older man whose nose was delved inside a weekly newspaper. “Hey, old man.” With his right hand, Toya ignited the blue flames from his fingertips. The shopkeeper looked at him in horror, a sight Toya will never forget or get enough of. ‘So this is what sick kicks the old man gets.’ “Give me all your cash, I’m sure you don’t want your establishment to be incinerated.” The old man opened the register with shaky hands, tossing the cash in Toya’s direction. “P-Please don’t hurt me.”

Toya’s eyes glowed as bright as the flames. “We’ll see about that.” Taking a quick glance behind him, to make sure no heroes were nearby patrolling, he grabbed the old man’s arm. “Why don’t you throw in some free food too?” Toya’s arm tightened around the shopkeeper’s arm, adding heat to cause his skin to burn but not too severely. “O-Of course!” He handed Toya a disposable plastic bag with a smile on it. He let go of the old man to walk down the aisle and shove a ton of food into the bag. Bottles of water, some meds, and ready-to-eat food.

“W-Who are you?” The old man stayed shaking in the corner from behind the counter. Toya sent him a skin-crawling smile. “Dabi.”

Your phone rang off the hook, alerting you that a crime has happened. You immediately shot up and unlocked the cell phone, praying that you wouldn’t hear any news about Toya’s death or a fight he got caught up in. Instead, you were shocked to find out a nearby convenience store was burned to ashes, and the old man who attended it was hospitalized with severe burns. Something inside you tense up and made you feel like throwing up. ‘It can’t be Toya…’ You throw on your hero costume and jogged down to the crime scene.

Smoke and soot flew around like black snow, a sight that made fear rise inside of you. There was nothing left of the building, save for it’s metal structure. The air stung your lungs, but you kept moving until you saw police officers and other heroes. “Hey kid, you shouldn’t be here.” An older Pro-Hero patted your back. Their eyes were downcasted and set with frustration at the scene in front of you.

“I’m just here to learn about what happened. I live nearby.” The group raised an eyebrow at you, but nonetheless, they told you what happened. “According to bystanders, a man went inside and threatened the shopowner. Some sick robbery. No apparent motive besides money and food.” You nodded, jotting down the information on your phone. “Did anyone see what he looked like?” They all shook their heads. “Nothing, except the fact that he had some sort of fire quirk to burn this place down.”

After the discussion, you returned back home going over the information you had received. The signs could possibly point at Toya, but you refused to believe it. Not until you saw him with your own eyes. ‘Besides, they didn’t say anything about blue fire.’ You hoped with all your heart that it was just a coincidence.

Several more pyro-related incidents came up and they dubbed the villain the name ‘Dabi’, from what they had heard. You kept notes about every specific event. Armed robbery, breaking and entering, even murder. You had heard some information regarding Dabi’s appearance. Which you had jotted down with your board of the events. ‘Black hair, burnt skin, raggedy/torn clothing. Facial piercings.’ It didn’t sound anything like Toya which you thanked whatever forces there was.

But that didn’t stop your search for Toya either. You were just one more semester from graduation so you could spend way more time in the two investigations as an independent hero. Although you didn’t like the fact that Toya’s been gone for a few weeks, what could you do besides what you were already doing?

You tossed yourself onto the couch, sighing out loudly. Nowadays you barely got any sleep. Instead, you paid close attention to the news and alerts. Updating your investigations surrounding the pyro villain Dabi, and your missing friend Toya.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of the flowers wilting away in the glass vase. They were white roses that Toya had gotten for you before your ‘fight’ happened and he left. With a gentle hand, you grabbed one of the roses which their petals crunched between your fingers. You let them fall freely onto the carpet, as well as a few tears.

Your breakdown session was cut short as an incoming call lit up your phone. An unknown number. You picked up, wondering who it could be. “Y/N? This is Endeavor.” Your heart stopped in your chest hearing the too familiar voice. “E-Endeav-” “I want to speak with Toya. It is urgent.”

“How did you get my number?” The #2 Pro-Hero sighed before repeating himself. “I want to speak with Toya. Put him on.” “He’s not here.” “Then where is he?” “I don’t know!” You ended the call tossing your phone.

The cell phone shattered against the wall, causing a dent to form. Instantly, you smacked yourself for acting on impulse. The screen lit up, an alert coming through. You stood up, already being in your hero costume, and put on your mask. Grabbing your phone, you decided you could get it fixed on the way phone since it was only the screen that was mainly broken. Making the contents of the alert unintelligible.

Still, your mind went back to the phone call. How did Endeavor find your number? And if he found that, could he also find where you were? There was no doubt about it, knowing him. You wouldn’t be surprised if you got a visit from the big man himself. Especially since you just told him you didn’t know where his son is. ‘It’s your fault we’re in this mess.’ You clutched the phone in your hand, as your jaw tightened.

This was no time to point the blame, however. You had to get Toya back and make things alright. Then the two of you could go and get Shoto after your graduation, as you have been saving up money for that day. ‘I’ll find you, I promise Toya. I’ll make things better.’

#dabi x reader #toya x reader #lover is a day #kaninabunny #kanina bunny #mha dabi #bnha dabi #mha dabi x reader #bnha dabi x reader #todoroki x reader #toya todoroki x reader

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suite43 · 3 years

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(summary: starscream and bumblebee have an argument, and turn to trusted friends for some advice. or: several long and winding paragraphs about love, redemption, and what we are worth. alcohol warning.)

"Be honest with yourself," Starscream sneered. "If we hadn't been forced together, do you really think you'd give a scrap about me?"

"Why does it matter?" Bumblebee shot back.

"Because, Bumblebee, you're wrong. You think you care, you think you're in love with me, but you're not. You were forced to be around someone you hated and you had to find some way to be okay with it because you're a good little autobot and you overcompensated. You're a victim of proximity. We both are. But y'know what? You're free now, so go ahead and run along back to your life and your friends and people you actually give a shit about beyond finding the moral high ground and leave me alone."

"Unbelievable," Bumblebee muttered. "You're unbelievable! Do you know how to do anything except wallow in denial? What is your fucking problem?"

"My problem at the moment is that someone was deluded enough to think he could squeeze millions of years of monstrosity out of me by telling me he loved me."

"Primus, Starscream, if you're not interested just say so! If you're angry, if you're scared, fucking say it! But you don't ever get to tell me how I feel!" Bee was screaming up at Starscream, pain and frustration radiating from him. "I don't know where I'd be if things were different and I. Don't. Care. I like my life, Starscream. Despite everything, I'm happy with it and I'm glad you're in it! Apparently you aren't, and if that's true you can leave! You've always been free to go whenever you fucking feel like it! But you haven't! So pardon me for assuming you had something going on in that thick fucking head of yours!"

"Oh, please-"

"No! Shut up! I'm not done and for once you are going to listen to what I have to say! You try so hard to convince everyone that you've got some black heart, that all you are is violence and malice, and I know that's not true! Whether you want to believe it or not I've seen what you're capable of! I know you, you let me know you, and I decided that I fucking love you and I'm willing to keep loving you even when you're a cruel, stubborn bastard. If you really want to leave, leave! Go! But don't run because you're afraid, or because you think I don't know what I'm getting into."

Starscream didn't say anything, just stewing. Bee tried to collect himself, mentally urging Starscream to just fucking say something.

"You don't know me."

"For fucks sake, Starscream," Bumblebee sighed and decided fuck it and gave into his impulse, pulling Starscream by his collar down into a kiss. He was frustrated and Starscream was caught off-guard, so it was messy and clumsy and awkward, but after a beat Starscream grabbed his helmet and pulled him into it harder and Bee nearly forgot he was ever angry in the first place.

It felt like a million years had passed when they finally pulled apart and Bee let his heels fall back into the ground. Starscream stared down at him, face unreadable.

"Sorry," Bee said, barely even whispering, hands settled on Starscream's chest. "I just. How do I prove to you that I mean it?"

"You can't," Starscream responded, pulling away from Bumblebee's touch. Bee just watched him go.

He sighed. Starscream would be back when he was ready. Or he wouldn't. Either way, Bee would be here.

///

"Are... Are you okay, Starscream?" Thundercracker asked, peeking out the door to the balcony.

"I'm fine."

"Um... Why are you on my roof?"

Starscream was sitting cross-legged on the roof of Thundercracker's apartment, staring off into the distance, one hand held over his mouth in thought, fingers idly tracing his lips as he couldn't drag his mind away from flittering fancies of Bumblebee and kisses and love. Thinking about dozens of late-night conversations and well-meaning gifts of cheap high grade and the way he laughs and the way he looks beautiful even when he's angry and- hm.

"You know about things, don't you, Thundercracker?"

"Most people generally agree the answer to that question is 'no', but. Maybe? What kind of things?"

"What does it feel like to be in love?"

"Oh. That kind of thing. Uh," Thundercracker climbed onto the roof awkwardly, pulling himself up next to Starscream, legs kicking where they dangled off the edge. "You know I don't really mess with all of that, right? Dating and stuff. I don't do it."

"But you know things," Starscream said. "You're better with feelings then anyone else I know."

"Not true," Thundercracker said. "You know Bumblebee!"

"That's exactly the problem, Thunders."

"Oh. Oh." Starscream could almost hear the gears turning in Thundercrackers head as he connected the dots. "Are you in love with Bumblebee?"

"No. Yes. I don't know. If I knew I would know what to do about it and I wouldn't be here asking you for romantic advice now would I?"

"I suppose."

"So then how am I supposed to know?"

"If you're in love?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I've never been in love. I don't know. But, in the movies, it's like... Usually two people kind of get stuck together in some kind of situation, y'know, they meet and they don't really like each other much at first. But then you think about them all the time. And then you keep running into them, and even when you think they're annoying, something about them is still kind of endearing. They make you happy. And then there's some big fight or misunderstanding or somebody gets scared or has to leave and it looks like nothings going to work out, but eventually they decide that they like being around each other enough that it's worth working out whatever they fought about or giving up whatever's keeping them apart, and then, happily ever after, I guess."

"Just like that, huh?"

"Only in the movies. There's no end credits in real life."

"So what happens next, then?"

"I guess just what happens with every other kind of relationship. You keep being happy and working and then fighting and deciding its worth trying again over and over until you give up or somebody dies."

"Unfortunately I don't think death is a viable reprieve for my situation."

"Oh yeah, I guess not. Sorry."

"No, it's okay. He's easier to tolerate when one of us is dead."

"I guess the question, then, should be, is he worth it to you? Are you going to get off the plane to Santa Fe or New York or Chicago and run back to him, or are you gonna go be a well-respected but no-fun businesswoman in the big city forever?"

"What?"

"Sorry, I think I got lost in the metaphor," Thundercracker laughed, a big, booming thing, clumsy and well-meaning and earnest, just like the mech it came from. "Something in there was probably good advice, though. You should ask me things more often."

"I really should," Starscream sighed, leaning over and laying his head in his trinemates lap. Thundercracker didn't stop him, and let one hand fall to rest on Starscream's midsection, just to say I'm here when you need me so Starscream can reply I know, Thank you, I'm sorry by taking that hand in his and squeezing it lightly. They watched the stars twinkle across the horizon as lazy clouds sauntered by, and Starscream started to wonder about what he was worth.

///

Bumblebee trudged into Maccadam's, his normal sunshine dampened by how just miserable and unfair everything seemed. He took his usual spot at the bar and ordered a drink, half as strong as usual so he'd have to spend twice as much money if he wanted to do something stupid, letting his thoughts brew around as he sipped.

"Hey, bigshot! How did it go?" Wheeljack slung his arm around Bee's shoulder, energetic as ever, but Bee just groaned and slammed his head into the bar.

"Terribly."

"Weelllll," Bee could practically feel Wheeljack trying not to say 'I told you so'.

"He's just. Agh!" Bee said. "He was just himself, y'know, determined to be as difficult as possible and allergic to his own happiness. And I yelled at him, which I probably shouldn't have done, and then I kissed him, which I definetly shouldn't have done, and now he's probably never going to even look at me again."

"Well, y'know what they say, fortune favours the bold and all that!" When Bee gave Wheeljack a skeptical, dont-try-to-make-me-feel-better kind of look, Wheeljack just doubled down, squeezing his shoulders. "Seriously, you shot your shot! That's all you can do, and if he didn't want you that's his loss!"

"He was scared, Wheeljack. I know him, I know that that's his fucked up defense mechanism or whatever and I knew he was gonna try to drive me away. Why did I let him drag me into that?"

"Because you care, Bee. You care a lot. You aren't the kind of person who can see somebody struggling and just leave them to it. You're like, literally incapable of not lending a hand. Especially when you love somebody."

"So then why the hell did I have to fall for the hardest to love cybertronian there is?"

"Oh, I'm sure there's been worse.I mean, Nova-"

"Not really the point."

"Oh. Because you have horrible taste?"

"That's more like it," Bee grinned. "Cheers?"

"To shit taste!" Wheeljack agreed, clinking their drinks together.

"Absolutely."

They left the bar a bit later, neither of them really drunk so much as in the zone, as Wheeljack liked to put it. It was right before you got too drunk to really do anything sensible but drunk enough that you didn't overthink things, and it was just the right level of alcohol consumption to go for a walk and talk about life.

"So, what're you gonna do then?" Wheeljack asked after the conversation had trailed off.

"About what?"

"Starscream. Y'know, I don't think he's very good for you."

"I dunno," Bee shrugged. "And i know. I know nobody thinks he's a good person but he tries, Wheeljack. He really does! He just, he's scared. All the time, I think, of everything. He doesn't trust me, or you, or anyone at all, and I hate it. I hate that he feels like he can't trust me, even after all the stuff we've been through. It makes me mad! Not even mad at him, just mad at- at- I dunno, at the universe, at the war, at Megatron, at every shitty thing that ever happened that made him feel like he needs to be afraid all the time. I want him to be safe. I want to make him feel safe. But I dunno how and he won't tell me, and how can I tell him my stuff if he won't tell me any of his, and if we never tell each other anything then it's not all that much of a relationship."

"I mean, what do you even want from someone like that? He's not got a lot to offer. I mean, he's kinda hot if you squint, I guess, but other than that?"

"I think 'kinda hot' is the understatement of the century, Wheeljack. But... I dunno, I just. Want something. I want him to be able to tell me he cares about me. I know he does. But I want him to say it. I want it to be real."

"Why? You're a good person, Bee, it's not like you don't have options."

"Because I'm happy when he's around. I feel more like myself. I feel like my life is better when he's in it. For better or for worse, he's got a perspective nobody else does, and he always comes up with things I'd never even think of. He's smart and observant and funny just as much as he's a wise-ass and a smug bastard. For every inch of him that's irritating there's another bit that's incredible. And a lot of that incredible feels like our little secret, like he only lets me see those parts of him, and I like that too. And, I dunno, I get to be angry and there's nothing wrong with it. He's never mad that I'm mad, he never tells me that getting pissed is a waste of time or energy, he just lets me be. He argues, but he doesn't try to stop me or make me be polite and friendly because he doesn't need or want me to coddle him. I like the idea of taking care of him because it's less actually taking care and more just. being there, and letting him do the rest. I share my input and he gives his, and eventually he comes to the answer on his own and I get to see him being better. He gets better because he wants to, not because I'm forcing him to."

"I guess I just don't get how Starscream becomes a better person without you dragging him into it."

"People are fundementally good, Wheeljack. Don't look at me like that! It's true! Everyone wants to be loved, and really we all want to do good so we feel worthy of being loved, but it's about opportunity. When your needs aren't met, it gets harder and harder to do good. When everyone around you treats you with cruelty, it gets harder. When everyone believes you're a monster, why even bother trying to prove them wrong? All it takes is one opportunity, one chance to do the right thing, one person to say I know you know what's right for someone to take a step in the right direction. I didn't do anything to him, I just. I tell him what I know, which is that he doesn't enjoy who he became any more than the rest of us, and I give him space to know that even when it's scary and even when he loses everything, I'm on his side. Even the worst of us can improve given the chance. I really do believe that. I mean, you were at Megatron's trial. He opened the matrix. If that guy, given the opportunity, decided to turn himself around, why can't Star?"

"Did you kiss him and then yell at him or yell at him and then kiss him?"

"What?"

"Earlier, when you said you guys fought. Was it all like 'oh im in love with you' and then you kissed and then you fought afterwards? or was it like 'oh we're fighting by the way I love you' and then you kissed?"

"Uh, neither. I told him I was in love with him and he told me I wasn't and that made me really really angry, and I'm not even sure why honestly. And then I kissed him, to uh, prove I meant it, I guess? Not my best idea."

"Maybe you're just tired of being told what to do."

"I think I just don't like other people telling me what I am. I know what I am. I'm Bumblebee!" He took a deep breath and started yelling. "I'M BUMBLEBEE! I'M ALIVE AND I'M IN LOVE! AND I KNOW WHO I AM!"

"HELL YEAH!" Wheeljack threw his arms up, just enjoying the act of making noise as they wandered back to Bee's apartment, and eventually the two of them devolved into pointless hollering and whooping, until someone somewhere through a little chunk of metal and bonked Bee right in the back of the head with a SHUT THE FUCK UP! and the two of them just started laughing, both trying to shoosh the other as they eventually made it into Bee's apartment and Wheeljack settled on the couch, barely sparing a muffled g'night buddy before passing out, leaving Bee alone to stare out the window and think about what he wanted.

///

Bee rolled out of bed the next morning to the sound of a knock at the door, rubbing at his eyes, wincing at the too-bright sunlight. He wandered past where Wheeljack was snoring on the couch, muttering a yeah, yeah, I'm coming, to the door as the knock came again, less sure of itself this time.

He wasn't really sure who he expected to be at the door. But it both was and wasn't a surprise to see Starscream standing there.

"Bumblebee." He said plainly.

"Uh, good morning," Bee responded. "What's, uh, what's up?" Ah, that felt like the lamest possible thing he could've said. Nice one, Bumblebee.

"I... I want to apologize."

"You... what?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered, hands clasped in front of him, not meeting Bee's eyes. "I. For everything. I'm sorry I'm impossible. I'm sorry I'm cruel. I'm sorry I'm petty. I'm sorry for my ego and my selfishness and for how I only drink the most expensive wines, even when you buy me the cheaper ones. I'm sorry because I know that none of this is going to go away and I'm going to have to keep apologizing over and over and it's going to get old. I'm sorry for doing every possible thing I can to drive you away and I'm sorry you're not stupid enough to fall for it because your life would be a hell of a lot easier if you would. This isn't easy. And I could stand here and apologize for hours and I still wouldn't hit everything, but, but. You're... I'm missing my train for you, okay?"

"Uh. You lost me on that last bit."

"Thundercracker's advice only comes through rom-coms, so, sorry for that too, I guess."

"It's okay. Uh. Thank you for apologizing. And I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry that I'm stubborn, I'm sorry for yelling, I'm sorry that I'm touchy and pushy and too much in all the ways you aren't. I'm sorry I always have to feel like I'm winning, I'm sorry about all my moral grandstanding, I'm sorry for all the ways I make you feel like a bad person. I'm sorry for the days that I don't have the patience, and I'm sorry for the days I have too much and it makes you mad, and I'm sorry I thought I could make you love me in the way I wanted just by pulling hard enough."

"It's okay. It's... It's okay."

"Are we... are we okay?"

"Yeah. I think so. For now. And if we aren't later, then I think we can figure it out." Starscream let his hands seperate, and Bee reached out to take them in his own, intertwining their fingers.

"Okay."

"Only if you want to. I know I'm not easy."

"Neither of us are easy. But that's okay. I meant what I said. I know what I'm getting into. If you think we can figure it out, I'd like to try, at least."

"I think I can do that. I can try."

"You wanna start by kissing me properly?" Starscream's face flushed bright pink.

"That sounds as good a place to start as any."

#red.doc #starbee #sorry for still not properly posting things to like. a website. this is the best ur gonna get beloveds #anyways. this was much much shorter and then i added the TC segment and got carried away #the tc bit is my favourite bit btw. its good.

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haworthiaace · 3 years

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I’ve recently discovered that writing may be a little bit fun so. Here’s something for @shadeswift99 ‘s ghostbusters au (this post right here) :]

Tango didn’t believe in ghosts.

Why would he? There had never been any reputable, scientific evidence, and despite what his friends have told him countless times, ‘feeling a presence’ didn’t count as scientific evidence. However, his conviction didn’t seem to deter Zed and Impulse at all, who regularly barged into Tango’s apartment with their latest ‘discovery’.

“Tango, guess what?” The sound of his poor, battered door slamming open once again and Zed’s excited voice disrupted the peaceful silence that had dominated the room for the past few hours.

“Hi Zed, Impulse, good to see you guys too.” Tango didn’t have to look up from his laptop to know that Impulse was standing right behind Zed, too polite to barge in without some sort of invitation. Not polite enough to stop Zed, unfortunately.

Zedaph didn’t even acknowledge the greeting, continuing his thought the second he flopped down into a worn armchair. “Impulse and I were talking, and then we got on the topic of those guys who visit haunted places and hunt ghosts, and then I said ‘Well why can’t we do that?’” He sat up, eagerly looking at Tango, who could not for the life of him figure out what the man wanted from him.

Impulse, in his infinite kindness, noticed his friend’s confusion and filled in the gaps Zed had left in his excitement. “Zed and I want to start a ghost hunting business, and we need you to join us because you have a car.” He sat down much more gracefully than his companion, holding a small bowl of chips stolen from Tango’s kitchen.

The room was silent for a moment. “Hold on, what?”

“We-“

“No, I heard you, I’m just not exactly sure why you would think to ask me.” Tango never went on their other adventures no matter how many times they asked. After all, he had better things to do than chase wind and broken air conditioning, and it was dangerous to set a precedent. “You’re the ones who believe in all that fancy mystical stuff, not me.”

Zed stopped bouncing, and Impulse quickly brought forward the second, more practical half of their pitch. “We know you don’t believe in any of this, but even if ghosts aren’t real-”

“Which they are!”

“Right. A lot of people believe they are real, and will pay good money for some help handling them.”

Tango pondered this for a moment, making A Face for effect that made Zed giggle. Impulse had a good point, as was often the case unfortunately. Tango didn’t have a stable source of income at the moment, and an actual business could help quite a bit with groceries, especially if Impulse was going to keep stealing his snacks every time he came over. And working with friends would certainly be a bonus.

“What the hell, I’m in. Worst case scenario nothing happens and I laugh at you two.” Zedaph lit up like an over ambitious Christmas tree, resuming his bouncing with even more enthusiasm than before.

Impulse just grinned, “And best case scenario you finally figure out the truth.”

“In your dreams, Impy.”

Tango opened his eyes, and found himself lying prone on the floor. What was I doing? The dark, musty room plus Impulse and Zed looming over him struck a bell in his head.

They were on a job, as was the case most nights. Why Zed and Impulse insisted they do this at night was beyond him, but that was an argument for another time. A nonsensical ventilation system and a questionable foundation caused strange happenings in the home, and the trio had been called in. But even Tango had to admit this house was strange, and different from the others. The moment he entered, the hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he felt a chill. Their whole visit had been shadowed by a sense of wrongness.

“...Tango? Is that you?” Impulse’s voice broke the silence, with a hint of uncertainty that shouldn’t have been there.

“Yeah dude, of course it’s me. What happened?” Tango groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head spun, but he forced himself to stand.

Zed raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, I know this is going to sound really strange, but we think you got possessed?”

Tango stared blankly at his two friends, and finally through the fog in his head realized they were dead serious. “Really guys? Come on, I know you believe in ghosts and all but isn’t possession a little bit much?”

Impulse started wringing his hands, and Zed spoke up, quieter than before. Neither one would make eye contact. “You… you weren’t yourself Tango. You looked angry, and kept throwing things.” Huh. Well that explained the broken furniture scattered around the room, and why Tango was so sore. “You knocked over a salt shaker, then suddenly passed out when the salt touched you.”

Tango was fairly certain he had never done that before. He was unnerved by the gap in his memory, but he tucked that into a corner of his mind to unpack later. Right now he had to convince these two knuckleheads that he wasn’t possessed.

“I haven’t eaten today, it was probably that.” They gaped at him, but whether it was because of his adamant skepticism or his poor eating habits Tango couldn’t tell. “It might be like… a low blood sugar thing.” Tango tried his best to be nonchalant, but his friends didn’t look relieved.

Zed stood up, the worry in his face replaced with anger as he crossed the room in long strides towards the door. “I really can’t believe you. Here we are, worried for your life and soul, and you call it low blood sugar.”

That wasn’t meant to happen. Tango rushed to fix his mistake. “I- I’m sorry man. I know you guys are worried, but I’m fine now! Whatever it was, it seems to be gone.” A small smile crossed his friend’s face, and Impulse moved to stand behind Tango, clapping a hand on his back.

“All that matters is you’re alright. Anyway, I think the salt scared the ghost off, so how about we head home, get some post mission pizza for that low blood sugar of yours?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Tango grimaced at the disaster that he had apparently made. “How about we tell the homeowners that the ghost did this?”

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The ironic thing is that he wasn’t even on a mission at the time.

Tango was on his way home, cradling a bandaged hand that he would surely have to explain the second he walked into the apartment he shared with his business partners. His mind repeated the events of the past hour as he made his way down the sidewalk.

He had been browsing a thrift store, searching for a new pair of boots after his old pair wore out. He loved them dearly, but when the sole ripped off for the third time, Impulse drew the line and sent him off to find a new pair. His wandering/ moping brought him to One Man’s Trash: a rickety, rundown looking thrift store that was absolutely perfect. In Tango’s experience, all the good stuff got snatched up too fast at more popular stores, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with this place other than its appearance.

He delicately pushed the door open, greeted by a dusty smell mixed with cleaning supplies, and a loud, clear bell that was hung above the doorway. The interior walls were plastered with peeling, faded orange wallpaper that Tango guessed was at least 50 years old. They were decorated with dozens of picture frames containing vintage photos and postcards, each with its own price tag. The grey, carpeted floor complained where he stepped, and it was covered in tables with items for sale. It seemed people donated plenty, but never shopped here. Nobody was attending the front counter, which wasn’t a surprise for a place that probably only saw one customer a month, so Tango began his quest for the perfect pair.

After spending a good hour searching every nook and cranny of the disorganized sales floor, he found a sturdy pair of black leather boots hidden underneath a table, almost knee high with a one inch heel. They were covered in buckles and looked like they would be featured in a suburban parent’s nightmares. In the entire time he was there nobody had come out of the doorway in the back of the room, which Tango admitted was a tad strange. He even checked the sign in the front window to be sure, but the word ‘open’ was still lit up in neon just as it had been when he entered. He tapped the bell next to the cash register, but after a minute still nobody had arrived. He rang it again, and once more after that, still with no answer.

“Hello?” He tried, walking towards the only other doorway in the room, searching for a break room or something where the cashier might be. Maybe they fell asleep. “Is anyone here? I’ve got this pair of boots I want to buy.”

Still no answer.

He felt awful about invading the back room like this, but he was growing concerned. What if something had happened to the cashier? What if someone was in trouble? So, he pushed open the door, and found himself staring up at someone; a man with frazzled black hair and a brown suit that looked about as old as the wallpaper.

Except he could also see the break room. Through the man’s chest.

He blinked rapidly, trying to process what was certainly just a trick of the light. It was obviously just a shadow on the fabric that looked like a couch behind him. A very detailed couch, covered in a floral pattern with two overstuffed pillows on either end. The strange man didn’t say a word, simply staring at Tango with an increasingly malicious grin, watching his mind try to wrap itself around what he was seeing.

Then, without warning, he snatched Tango by the wrist, spinning him around and leaving bleeding scratches where the man’s claw-like nails had torn into Tango’s skin. Before he could even register the pain, the man charged at him and Tango braced for impact, but felt a deep chill instead. It was the coldest he had ever felt, as if every winter from the next hundred years had come to take out their wrath on one man.

It passed half a second later, leaving Tango shivering and clutching his bleeding hand. The man was gone. “How did he- oh shit.”

Sometimes, there comes a time when a person must accept defeat. When they’ve lost the battle, and are left with nothing but their pride. As Tango kneeled on the carpet, frozen to his core and holding his bleeding hand, the boots long forgotten, he could only see one logical explanation for… all of this.

“...Ghosts are actually real.”

So it turned out that the shopkeeper had to step out for a few hours due to an emergency, and also that ghosts exist and haunt thrift stores.

The cashier was really quite nice about the whole ordeal, offering Tango some first aid and the boots he found for free as an apology for their otherworldly roommate’s “antisocial habits.” As Tango walked home, boots in his uninjured hand, he had another revelation, albeit not as earth shattering as the first. He didn’t actually have to tell Zed and Impulse what happened while he was out. It would keep them humble to have someone constantly denying the validity of their work, and Tango may or may not have found it a little, tiny bit funny. He was doing them a service, really! Tango grinned to himself, delighted by how much his friends would appreciate* his help**.

*they did not appreciate this, and were in fact greatly annoyed

**this was not remotely helpful to anyone

Tango woke up, finding himself on the floor as he now did more often than most people would consider normal. Then again, most people weren’t an optimal vessel for otherworldly entities. This time though… something was wrong. More wrong than usual.

He was cold, despite the thick summer air, and he felt like his lungs had shrunk to a quarter of their size, his breath coming in short puffs. He noticed that he was in the same room from before he lost consciousness, and that it was in the same condition he had left it in, which didn’t happen often. Usually ghosts took advantage of corporeal hands to do some property damage, but this time the modern, expensive looking couches were thankfully unbroken, same with the family pictures on the walls.

... What was on his face? Tango felt a liquid slowly running down his cheek. Had the ghost been crying? That was a first. He reached a hand up to wipe away the tears and saw a flash of red. There was a smudge of blood on his left hand, but no injury.

He felt dread settle in his stomach, and slowly reached up with his clean right hand to touch what he had assumed was tears.

Sure enough, his fingertips came away red. “What the hell?” He asked, to nobody in particular.

“Tango! Oh my god, are you alright? Of course not, why am I asking that?” Zedaph burst into the living room, seemingly invited by Tango’s outburst. He grimaced at the floor and Tango followed his gaze to see a concerningly large pool of blood surrounding Tango. This would certainly explain why he felt so much worse than usual. “It threatened you and forced us to leave but then I didn’t leave and I snuck some sage into the room and then I heard a thud and-”

“Zed, slow down.” Tango groaned, holding his spinning head in his hands. “I can’t process a word you’re saying right now.”

Zed seemed to remember his friend’s recent blood loss, looking sheepish. “Right, my bad. It’s a long story, but we need to get you to a hospital or something. Not to be rude, but you look awful.”

“It’s alright, I feel awful so at least I match on the outside.” Zed started to walk across the room, trying not to step in the puddle whilst also trying to help Tango up.

Eventually he managed to pull Tango up by the hand, holding him steady when he started to sway.

Impulse greeted them with relief when they made it out to the car, Tango leaning on Zed’s shoulder, but he looked horrified once Tango’s face came into view. “Oh my god!” He covered his mouth with both hands, then immediately dropped them as though he had been rude. “Oh man, sorry about that, it’s just- your eyes…”

Tango shrugged, “Yeah, they seem to have sprung a leak.”

“Well I knew about that, but…” His eyebrows furrowed as even he, a believer in almost anything supernatural, was confused about whatever disturbing thing this ghost had done. “They changed colour? They’re red now. Like, the whole eye, even the white bit.”

“Cool.”

Zed piped up from his position under Tango’s arm. “‘Cool’? What do you mean ‘cool’?” He did his best to make air quotes without dropping his friend, who had clearly gone mad. “You literally got possessed and started bleeding from your eyes, and now they’ve changed colour, how is any of that cool?”

Tango, in his noble quest to annoy his friends, just shrugged again. “Probably burst a blood vessel or something, and it got in my eyes. Man, why is it always ghosts with you two?”

A Look came across Impulse’s face. Probably Zed’s too, but Tango couldn’t exactly see him. It was a Look that meant Tango had completely baffled them with his supposed obliviousness, which had only happened a few glorious times.

“Ok he’s clearly delirious, we should take him to the hospital.” Impulse pushed himself off the hood of the car and opened the back door, placing a towel on the seat. After all, this was Tango’s car and Impulse figured he probably wouldn’t appreciate blood all over the back seat.

“I mean, regardless of his bullshit he definitely needs to see a doctor, there was a lot of blood on that floor.” Zed quickly followed, helping Tango into the backseat then sliding in next to him. Tango supposed it was to keep an eye on him, which was great because he felt ready to pass out again.

On the bright side, he caught a glimpse of his eyes in the rear view mirror and they did in fact look cool as hell. Of course, Zed and Impulse later disagreed because it could have been a ‘serious medical issue,’ but that was their problem.

At the end of a very long and very strange day, the trio sat around on a variety of couches and chairs in their living room, four half eaten pizzas scattered about the room. Although, they weren’t exactly a trio anymore - a new member had decided to join them regardless of what Tango, Zed, and Impulse had to say about it. An entity (for he surely wasn’t human) known only as the Beetlejhost sat cross legged in an armchair, looking completely at home despite only having been there for about two hours.

If asked, none of the ghost hunters could precisely recall how the Beetlejhost had joined them. One moment they were on a job like any other, the next they were being insulted up and down by a ghost in a black and white striped suit. After that first encounter he hadn’t left them alone, despite their efforts including but not limited to: every ghost busting method they had ever heard of, and others that they hadn’t.

Impulse sat up straight for no discernable reason, smacking the arms of his chair and startling everyone except for, of course, the Beetlejhost. He turned to Tango with a shit eating grin, which was absolutely a cause for concern.

“Hey Tango?” Uh oh. If the grin wasn’t bad enough, the singing tone in his voice solidified that whatever thought just entered his mind was truly devious. That or incredibly embarrassing. Maybe both. “It seems like our new roommate has a few… strange qualities. Supernatural, one could say.” He looked expectantly at Tango, that awful grin never leaving his face.

Uh oh.

Tango supposed that the jig was up. It had been a good run, he supposed. “Yeah, whatever. Ghosts are real, you happy?”

Just because he was busted didn’t mean he couldn’t sulk, so he crossed his arms and sank into his chair, completing the look by sticking out his bottom lip like a child who was just told ‘no.’

Zed piped up from where the others had assumed he was napping, not bothering to remove his face from where it was planted on the couch. “Absolutely.” The word was muffled, but it got his point across. Meanwhile, Impulse was smugly eating another slice of room temperature pepperoni pizza. Vindicated at last, after over a year of exasperated arguments and comical obliviousness.

“I hope you know I’m only admitting it because I’m afraid of what the Beetlejhost would do to convince me.” Tango gave up on his sulking and walked across the room to the box of cheese pizza precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table. The man (or ghost? I suppose one can be both.) in question was looking off into the distance, lost in assuredly horrible thoughts. “And for the record, I figured the whole ghost thing out months ago, I just really liked annoying you guys.”

“Months ago?” Impulse held his pizza inches away from his mouth, the grin wiped off his face. “Are you telling me that when a ghost literally put you in the hospital and you still denied it, that was all just to annoy us?”

Now it was Tango’s turn to be smug. “It worked, didn’t it?”

So no, Tango didn’t believe in ghosts. But after everything he’d seen, he sure as hell believed in them now.

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #tangotek #impulsesv #zedaph #joe hills #technically?#my writing #tw blood #tw possession #tw ghosts #ask to tag because theres a lot here #tango is being an asshole and its great #im not exactly sure what to do with the breaks between scenes #if anyone has a better way of doing that please help

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pp-research · 3 years

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Thirteen Principles of Think and Grow Rich: Must read

Principle 1 – Desire The first step in attracting what you want is to cultivate a desire for it. More specifically, a burning desire. You have to viscerally want it, and then create a vision of your life where you have it. The desire has to be strong enough to sustain you even when things get rough (see Principle 8). By coupling longing, vision, and persistence, you can start to attain your objective. Principle 2 – Faith Once you have your desire, you need to have faith in the process. Faith is what Napoleon Hill calls an ‘eternal elixir which gives life, power and action to the impulse of thought.’ It transforms your ordinary thoughts into a spiritual force, which powers your communion with Infinite Intelligence. A weak expression of faith holds little power. If you want to attract more wealth, but you only believe in yourself and this process a little bit, than Hill argues that you’ll only attract a little wealth. Principle 3 – Self Suggestion If you want to maximize your faith, then you need to monitor your self-talk. Self-talk is the words and mental scripts that you tell yourself, whether it’s, “I struggle for money and I’ll never be wealthy” or, “I attract plenty of money with ease.” Your self-talk starts in your conscious, thinking mind; but if you repeat a certain phrase in your head enough times, it seeps into your subconscious. Hill calls this process ‘autosuggestion’. The subconscious is the fertile, creative aspect of your brain; and the words that it uses to describe you affect how you see yourself. By consciously shaping our self-talk, we can control what transpires in our lives. Principle 4 – Knowledge The fourth of the thirteen principles of Think and Grow Rich is that, contrary to popular thought, knowledge is not power. Knowledge attracts abundance when it is organized and intelligently directed through practical plans of action. An action plan built on knowledge is necessary, but not sufficient. You also need to have faith that your plan will produce the outcome you desire. Hill differentiates specialized knowledge (knowledge organized and used for action) from general knowledge (knowledge that’s not organized and used for action, essentially just trivia). Specialized knowledge can help you to become wealthy, whereas general knowledge is useless. Principle 5 – Imagination One of the most famous Napoleon Hill quotes is “whatever the mind of man can conceive and believe, it can achieve.” If you want to attract abundance, start with an idea. The ability to use your imagination to see a picture in your mind of what you want starts the process of creation. What you want can be anything, from a big house on the beach to a job that lights you up every morning. Go ahead and dream big and have complete faith that Infinite Intelligence will do everything possible to make manifest your most vivid imaginings. Principle 6 – Planning When you decide to take a road trip, the first thing you do is put your destination into the navigator system. Perhaps you’ll consult a map and decide on a route to follow to reach your destination. Having a well defined plan of how to achieve your goals is just as important as knowing what roads to take on your drive. But just like on a road trip, sometimes you’ll take a wrong turn and deviate from the right path. That’s why it’s important not just to make a plan before you begin, but also to course-correct when things go wrong. The sooner you course correct, the faster you reach your goal. Principle 7 – Decision A vague wish is the opposite of a definite decision. Everyone wishes to have more money, free time, and love. But when you only have a hazy idea of your desire, you can’t tap into the storehouse of power available from Infinite Intelligence. People without a clearly defined purpose procrastinate and put off achieving their goals, because you can’t hit a target you can’t even see. Set a target—whether it’s $100,000 per year, enough money and free time to spend a week in the Bahamas, or something else—and make a decision to aim for that target. You’ll need a

certain state of mind to employ this principle. One of the first decisions you’ll need to make is to be mindful of your thoughts and feelings. That is one of the requisites for benefitting from this philosophy. Principle 8 – Persistence Like a roller coaster ride, we all have ups and downs. Some days you’re flying high like a bird. Other days you’re the statue. Sometimes it seems like the latter is more common than the former. The easiest and most common thing to do when faced with difficulty, temporary setback, or rejection is to quit. Instead of giving up, when you’re feeling low is the time to double down and persevere. The most successful people aren’t the ones who never take a hit, they’re the ones who know how to take a hit without giving up. Principle 9 – Mastermind You must do it yourself, but you can’t do it alone. Sounds paradoxical doesn’t it? No-one ever scales the ladder of success without other people playing a role. If you want to succeed, then you’re going to need help. But you shouldn’t just ask for help from random people. Instead, Napoleon Hill recommends creating a mastermind with other talented entrepreneurs, so that you can work on problems together. When two or more people join their talent, knowledge, and effort to achieve a definite purpose, Hill argues, it’s almost as though a third mind enters the room, one with more wisdom and experience than any individual member has. Principle 10 – Transmutation Here lies another one of the secrets hidden within this success system. There are certain emotions that evoke a mental state that allows access to Infinite Intelligence. Every feeling has a vibration, and for you to come into harmony with the universal mind, you must be resonating on the same frequency as what you want to receive. That means that if you want the Infinite Intelligence to give you more money, start feeling abundant now. Use powerful positive emotions to make your mind oscillate on a higher frequency, so that you can be in a position to ask for and receive what you really want Principle 11 – Subconscious Mind The subconscious mind is the power center of your mental activity. It has dominion over every vital function taking place in your miraculous body and brain. Always on the job, the subconscious mind processes material, energy, and thought and transforms it into living tissue to maintain life. The subconscious is also the part of the mind that transmutes ideas, plans, dreams, and desires into material form. When you visualize abundance, your subconscious is the part of your mind that draws on the force of Infinite Intelligence and manifests abundance for you. Principle 12 – The Brain Hill asserts that the brain is similar to a radio. Just like a radio, your brain operates at specific set frequencies. In the case of your brain, these frequencies are emotions: love, hate, despair, fear, confidence, and more. A radio can only provide sound when the transmitter and receiver are set to the same frequency. In the same way, if you want your brain to provide wealth, then you have to make sure that your emotions reflect that frequency. If your brain is set to a frequency of despair and poverty, then that is all that you will be able to manifest via the Infinite Intelligence, because that’s the only signal that the Infinite Intelligence sends that you will be able to pick up. But when you set your brain to a frequency of love, confidence, and feeling abundant, then you will naturally manifest those things. When we adjust our mental frequency, we have the ability to communicate, not just from one finite brain to another, but to the mind of Infinite Intelligence as well Principle 13 – Sixth Sense This is where the entire philosophy of Think and Grow Rich culminates. Achieving a complete understanding of the other twelve principles prepares you to receive guidance from an infallible source. Namely Infinite Intelligence. When you’re receiving guidance from this source, it’s almost as though you develop a sixth sense that guides you, with unerring accuracy, to take the steps

needed to manifest your desires. Napoleon Hill introduces the idea of a “secret” in Think and Grow Rich, that once discovered and applied will literally sweep followers of this system on to success Read these principles and never forget it - read, learn and implement

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