#but anyways all of this is mostly just anxiety-fueled. it's not like i very often actually even receive negative feedback or anything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wigglebox · 4 years ago

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Fandom safe spaces are important. Let people be happy.

Hello!

So for those who like to avoid fandom drama, I’ll state right off the top that maybe you want to avoid this. But I got something to say! Jen has a story!

The alternative title to this was going to be “The accidental destruction of a fandom safe space” or “The ‘oops I found myself in fandom drama’ story”

I’m writing this more as a cautionary tale and before I continue I will not wish ill on anyone that was involved.

Also, the story I’m about to say is of my personal perspective of my personal memory that took a beating in the last year because of pandemic stress. Everyone involved has their own perspective. Personal stories will always have a bias. I try my hardest not to have a bias, but it’s just how storytelling works. I honestly didn’t think I’d ever type something like this up, but, here we are I suppose.

However, I am telling this because I think it’s important to truly, honestly, pay attention to fandom safe spaces. Not out of warnings, not out of ‘cults’, but that you—you—choose your fandom safe space; you choose your blanket fort, you choose your platform of choice and the people you want to interact with to make yourself feel safe and happy. This is especially important following the end of a comfort show like Supernatural (whether it frustrated you, or you unconditionally loved it, most of you I think it’s safe to assume viewed the show as a comfort show with comfort characters).

We as a fandom need to find where we feel comforted and safe and happy.

*Also keep in mind, I’m discussing average, every day fandom spaces. There are extremes, there are people who are in fandom spaces that feel like they can harass actors, threaten others, throw insults or slurs at others.*

I don’t know what your dashes look like, but mine is full of folks posting fics, gifs, fanart, and having fun little headcanons (along with cockles lol). I often unfollow some folk, not because I dislike them, but just that I really disliked show wank and negative posts about episodes or characters. Obviously, that changed post-15x20, I do like some salt posts now and some shit posts but I think folks know I truly love this show, top bottom left right—all of it.

I specifically seek this kind of energy out because I’ve had negative experiences in fandoms before and I have a very stressful job which is pretty hard to do with untreated ADHD and an eating disorder. Fandom is my safe space, my comfort space, my happy place, and I make sure it’s something that I want to open the computer to every single day.

And I know that’s how a lot of you operate as well.

So let’s dive in! [this got pretty long lol]

Before I go into my story, I want to just like—let y’all in on a little bit about myself so you can kind of understand really where my head is at a lot of the time. I’ll try not to embarrass myself but it’s going to happen anyway lol.

First things first, I work in the news/broadcasting industry. Day to day is pretty stressful and on a personal level, it’s been exponentially more stressful this year (though, not as stressful as doctors/nurses/first responders/frontline workers/essential workers. They have my heart and soul with them).

I have been diagnosed with depression and general anxiety. I’ve been in therapy since 2011 for that. I also have been diagnosed with Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder which can lead to bouts of Anorexia (not Nervosa, just the occasion where I randomly stop eating mostly due to stress). Along with all of that, I have diagnosed ADHD and I am unable to take medication because of my restrictive eating disorder causing an already shaky relationship with hunger cues.

I’ve often had low self-esteem. I’m usually quiet but I can be loud and obnoxious sometimes, usually fueled by other peoples’ energy, sometimes I’m either overcompensating or just acting for the sake of acting. The whole ‘fake it til you make it’ thing. That loud and obnoxiousness has gotten me into trouble before because I allow myself to get lost in it because it’s not a feeling I have often.

It’s all that jumbled up, tangled mess in my head that often leads me to make rash decisions. I fall easily to adrenaline rushes, anything that stimulates me (not substances, just… things I can do), and, what I like to think is the worst of it all, I easily follow anyone who shows me any kind of love or respect. I have not had a date in over ten years because of this very problem. I am fearful of falling into bad relationships.

This is where the story essentially starts.

Some of y’all have seen me post a few times on my blog that I’m having a ‘low self-esteem moment’. Usually that comes with writing problems. But, know that I do have low self-esteem moments outside writing as well. I see groups all the time in the fandom of various blogs and, including very smart people, or writing groups that I don’t feel like I can be a part of, or fanart groups.

I once told my therapist I often feel like I’m sitting outside multiple bubbles where I can see everyone interacting and having a good time, but I can’t join them.

In the summer of 2019, I mosied on over to Twitter because Tumblr was quiet leading up to SDCC where we were expecting more Season 15 finale news.

Twitter fandom is a little… rough. And I don’t say that with disrespect, but it’s loud, quick, and harder to curate what you see on your timeline. A lot of Tumblr folks had moved there over the years. Not just with the SPN fandom, just with a lot of fandoms. I have been on Tumblr since 2008, it’s easy to count the eras more or less (you’re probably familiar with ‘2012 Tumblr’ but I raise you 2010 Tumblr lol).

So off I went. There I met people I hadn’t met on Tumblr. I’m not naming names because I don’t want this dissolving into an image of me pointing fingers at people and flinging poo around like a baboon. I’m sure you can deduce who I’m talking about and if you need names, you can message me. Needless to say, I met some folks I hadn’t before along with blogs I had followed on Tumblr and absolutely enjoyed having on my dash for the most part.

I was invited into a friend group Twitter GC for the first time in my SPN fandom life. It was a little intense for me, but it was fun watching smart people talk about things, and I really did make some friends that I still love talking to.

I was invited into other peoples’ safe, fandom spaces, and in turn, felt like I had one as well. I could talk about spoilers, meta (though I didn’t understand a lot of it), and just kinda vent about some issues, particularly in fandom. I didn’t agree with everything I came across but we’re all individual people with individual thoughts and opinions and arguments so that’s just how life goes!

There was one instance where I maybe got a little too adrenaline rush-y and was kind of ranting about someone on Twitter (we’re only human!) and was ushered aside by one of the folks in the friend group that is also a blog I enjoyed following on Tumblr, we’ll call them Person C.

There were two of these people, these Tumblr-Twitter people. I was warned by Person C to kind of not let the friend group, or the group chat, kind of pull me into anger that deep because I’m a happy blog (and I like to maintain that status as much as possible!).

I thanked them and confirmed that yes maybe sometimes that GC got a little heated or maybe I got lost in it a little bit. In retrospect, and maybe you’ll agree or maybe you won’t, but when you’re surrounded by people who agree with you on something, excited adrenaline kind of takes over and it becomes a hype game.

Remember that for later.

Life moved on and as things kept coming out about the finale and the show began airing, we all shot off our thoughts and opinions and meta and all of that good stuff.

A couple weeks after 15x07 (my episode my god I love that episode so much) aired, I received Tumblr messages from the second of the two Twitter-Tumblr people that I liked following. This is Person A. They asked me an opinion on a response to someone who also originated from the friend group, someone I didn’t know on Tumblr only on Twitter. They are Person B.

It was an easy enough assessment I told myself as I read it, like, half awake lol. I had agreed that Person B, in that chat I was shown, maybe sounded a little rude or a little too intense about things, at least in this specific conversation.

I continued talking with Person A about Person B and in hindsight, I wish I saw this all coming. I let my own personal slight annoyances with Person B get blown way out of proportion, and found that I was hyping up Person A and justifying their grievances of Person B when in reality, looking back, there wasn’t much to get so upset over.

Even my own personal annoyances weren’t earth-shattering, it’s just one of those things where you understand that not every person will enjoy another person 100% (and if you find someone you gel with 100% then you should hold onto them for dear life lol). There’s always going to be some small thing that doesn’t vibe with someone else, but rarely is it extreme. Every human being isn’t going mesh 100% with another human being.

So anyway, the conversation grew with Person A and now with Person C, the person who had warned me a couple of months prior to the ‘toxicity’ of the Twitter friend group.

Remember what I said about an excited-adrenaline fueled hype game? That’s what it had started to turn into for me. My small little annoyances suddenly grew to epic proportions, and I ignored the fact I didn’t actually agree with what Person A and Person C were even saying half the time. My point of argument became about ‘attitude’, or, how to talk to others you don’t agree with when it came to Person B, while completely failing to understand that Person A and Person C were also not talking to or about someone with respect.

My annoyances with Person B was just sometimes how I personally read their tone online. That was it. That was the whole thing. It wasn’t a huge issue, it wasn’t earth shattering, it wasn’t life-altering.

I was never even spoken to that way. It was just a small thing that for months, I didn’t pay much attention to. But with Person A and Person C, I decided that was my central argument! ‘Why can’t you act better’, ‘why can’t you talk nicer’, ‘why do you talk like such a bully?’

I had begun to echo their talking points: Bully, bully pulpit, attack dogs, etc.

Eventually, almost exactly a year ago as I post this, it kind of all came to a head in the Twitter GC. Reportedly, Person A had gone into others’ inboxes or message chats and did the same kind of number they had done on me: Leading questions, escalating small problems into big problems, trying to get confirmation that Person A was in the right about their argument and meta. (I think I have seen one other instance of them doing this, but was told and read that there were more. Regardless, they had messaged me, and at least one other person. Hence the ‘reportedly’.)

But the fireworks had started, I said my piece, but I also watched things going back and forth and it was halfway through it I realized that I may not have judged this properly and stumbled into a situation I’ve found myself in twice before in my life. But, as it goes in the heat of ‘battle’ I guess, I couldn’t shut up, and I couldn’t shut anyone else up. Accusations also spilled onto Twitter outside the GC, discussions of the GC were also mentioned out in public as well as indications as to what was talked about there, and it also spilled onto Tumblr.

Before I realized what truly happened, the GC shattered.

A fandom safe space shattered.

By the end of it I was starting to feel that shaky crash from the adrenaline and as I spoke with a friend who also kind of felt caught in the middle, I realized just how much I fucked up. Like literally a short time later the crushing wave of guilt just poured over me.

I went to two people in the (now destroyed) GC and apologized, but the apology didn’t make me feel better, nor should it have. I did a lot of damage. Not 100% directly, but I assisted, and I hated that because not only did I shatter a safe space for many, over nothing, I had also shattered it for myself.

I allowed my own annoyances to get twisted and morphed and was selfish enough to believe that they were worthy enough to disrupt people’s safe spaces and happy places and places where they felt safe to talk to others about personal things.

I had been reinvited to the new GC after my apology but I left the morning after. I felt too horrible, and I knew that there would be some in there who didn’t trust me anymore (rightfully so). I went back to Person A and Person C who tried to carry on without the group as well and wound up listening to more grievances, but it all started to ring hollow. Sure enough, after a while communication with Person A and Person C just… stopped.

Then the pandemic hit, and I had a break down with my mental health issues triggering a hard bought with anorexia, I had guilt over being in Fandom already with what I did and then had guilt that if I enjoyed fandom now, that I would be ‘tempting fate’ with this virus. I kid you not I do not remember most of Spring.

The reason why I had outlined my issues at the beginning is to not offer an excuse, but offer a reason, and a sense of pathology as to how my brain worked in getting me to all of this. Two blogs on Tumblr I had enjoyed made me feel special like they could trust me, that they respected me, so, I went along with it even though I didn’t agree much with them and my argument was weak and selfish. I was shown attention by people I liked who I didn’t think would like me back, so I went along with what was happening without question because if I said anything to the contrary, I felt like I would lose that love and respect.

My low self-esteem issues and the desire to be part of a ‘bubble’ actually caused another bubble to pop. I did that.

The ironic thing was the annoyances I found that I had with Person B, the annoyances that grew so exponentially over nothing, were annoyances I also had with Person A. They were pretty similar.

So why am I bringing this all up now? What’s the ‘caution’?

I’m seeing talk about ‘cults’ and ‘conspiracy theory groups’.

A lot of these posts are targeting one specific person, Person B (so now maybe you know who I’m speaking about!) and their safe fandom space.

Again.

And in those voices is Person A.

Again.

And there’s this growing group of people who think their logic is irrefutable when it comes to Person B and their friends and view a fandom safe space, a happy place with people like to chat and stuff, as ‘evil’.

Again.

And this is what I really want to talk about.

It’s not okay to disrupt someone’s safe fandom space just because you don’t like them. I feel like it’s not okay in general, outside of fandom, to make someone feel like they are a bad person when they aren’t and to pin their safe spaces as bad just because you don’t like them or how they go about things.

Just because you don’t like someone doesn’t mean they are the worst a person can be. You just don’t like them. That’s it. You don’t have to like everyone.

Person A has also discussed ‘attack dogs’—

Again.

Yes, some people in these groups can be outspoken, hell maybe even rude in some peoples’ eyes, and yes that shouldn’t be tolerated. But, at the same time, not everyone is like that, and people like Person A knows that.

This is really, I feel like, a universal message across platforms, across fandoms: Do not invalidate someone’s safe and happy fandom space unless it’s causing abject harm (threatening, harassment, mortal danger, promotion of unhealthy behavior).

And before I get this comment, someone defending themselves on Twitter is not harassment, especially when someone else fired the first shot.

Harassment has been talked about a lot with Person B and this friend group and yeah, there have been arguments on Twitter but I think that’s less of a personality thing and more of a “Twitter makes debates and arguments with unpleasant people easy to engage in”. That’s a story for a different day. There is good in calling out behavior you find questionable. But, please do it respectfully. It’s easy to get lost in personal grievances, and online debates, but finding the middle ground again is beneficial for everyone. It’s a larger talk for a different day.

As for these servers of Person B that seem to be in a constant talk on some peoples’ blogs, I myself am part of two of them. I had apologized to Person B before going into them because I hadn’t acknowledged to them that my actions were inexcusable. I was allowed in, I wasn’t recruited or anything, I just saw a link on their blog several weeks ago saying people could join if they wanted. If I did not feel safe there, I could have just left the server.

One of the servers I am more involved with than the other, and I am having a blast. It’s another fandom safe space to add onto my Tumblr blog. There are some channels I don’t go into because I don’t understand the discussion, but there are other channels I just thrive on!

I enjoy speaking with people, a lot of whom also find the area to be their safe space. It’s not a ‘cult’, it’s just a bunch of SPN fans having fun, and, like any discord server, it has rules much like ‘don’t be an asshole’ and the like.

I don’t have to subscribe to any ‘philosophy’, and I don’t. I also disagree with many on said server about the SPN ending, but I’m not an asshole about it. I mostly keep finale talk on my Tumblr anyway, and I respect their viewpoints and logic.

This story isn’t about my defending every action or post or whatever of Person B, but basically to say that sometimes every slight annoyance we feel can seem like a mountain if we find others who have the same annoyances. A personal feeling over someone isn’t enough reason to try and disrupt their safe space.

So, the tl;dr?

It’s very important you have a place you feel comfortable in when it comes to fandom be it a casual consumer or someone who wants to be deeply embedded.

It’s important that you find people you feel like you can go to, to trust, to talk to, to laugh and cry with, etc. It’s important those spaces stay intact, especially post-finale of SPN, but again, I feel like this can be applied to other fandoms as well.

It’s also important to ground yourself and not get swept away in online debate. Person C with their original discussion with me about reeling it back in when I went too far was good. That was a good discussion to have with me. Twitter especially is an easy place to lose yourself. We all have opinions. We all have something to say. It’s just important to ground yourself as well.

Fandom, especially in ones as large as SPN, has lots of nooks and crannies and long twisted alleyways into other sections of fandom. It’s difficult to navigate. If someone finds a place they feel like they belong, feel safe, feel happy, then they have a right to be there. If you don’t like said person, or where that person wound up, for no other reason other than you just don’t like them, then you don’t have a right to shatter that space.

Let people find their happiness and let them stay there if they so choose. We all deserve some happiness <3

#original #text #fandom wank bl #i don't like using that tag blugh #fandom discussions #and people can even disagree with me that's 100% okay #but like #just let people be chill and stuff #and if you dislike someone that bad #that's okay because we aren't going to like everyone in our path #but it's the cult and the conspiracy theory talk that's really getting to me here #i shit you not when that thing happened last year i hadn't felt that horrible or guilty in years at that point #and if you're not like even THINKING about this stuff and just bopping along to your fandom song then A++++++ fucking do it up babeeeyyy.#that's how it should be <3 #again again AGAIN this is my OWN perspective #i am not fandom guru i do not know everything i only know what iPERSONALLY experienced #everyone involved here has their own perspective #which is totally okay #long post #drama llama #okay now i don't want to talk about this anymore but i keep seeing posts by someone who stirs that pot 'warning' others about fandom positiv #ity when in fact they helped in shatter a fandom safe space because of their own personal feelings #so that's really just kinda what spurred me on here #y'all who have followed me know idon't like talking about this stuff #this stuff being anything dramurrr related #okay back to our regularly scheduled content

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captainkirbypunch · 4 years ago

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My love has left tumblr once again.

As many of you may know, the account under the name MDZADR, has left tumblr. They felt unsafe in their fandom, and as such have deleted their tumblr and AO3 account due to the bad memories linked to them.

As a part of their departure, they have asked me to post something in their name, as follows.

If you want more details about how I came to this realization, continue to read. If not, here is your summary:

TL;DR: For the safety and health of this fandom, I wanted to spread the word that Mooping-10 is filled with people who absolutely cannot be trusted, creating a very hazardous environment for the zadr community, and MelodyoftheVoid is connected to all of those people, living a double life amongst those of us that don’t “ship zadr correctly.” She has plenty of friends her inner circle knows nothing about, and nobody on either side knows who she really is.

Full story below.

I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. Nobody did anything to me today, but this just wasn’t worth it.

My AO3 and tumblr are both gone. I didn’t say goodbye because I didn’t want to look like an attention seeker.

Here’s the thing. I wasn’t going to name drop, but you guys need to know the truth. I’m instructing my boyfriend (hi y’all) to turn asks off for his own safety after this because this is going to be a nightmare, but... allow me to tell you the full story. I’ll try to break up the text so it’s less difficult to read, but this is important. I’m sorry to air discourse so publicly, but please... I need you to listen to me.

I’ll start from the beginning, without being vague anymore about who “she” is. I request that you please read the whole thing and not skip parts of it. The whole story matters.

I finally returned to the fandom about two months or so ago. As I’ve mentioned, I don’t do well in my thoughts while left alone too long, so I posted saying I would stop messaging people I knew because I didn’t want to bother them. There were only two people I was talking to at the time, but one of them is famous so I didn’t want to message her directly saying that. Doing so would have put her in a position of feeling obligated to say “you’re not bothering me” rather than just simply being able to sigh with relief from no longer being contacted.

But the first person to contact me was the famous person, and she asked if I was okay, and told me she liked talking to me.

God, I actually cried.

But, that’s just her. Melodyofthevoid is the type of person to talk to people in the fandom, totally unaware of her demigod status. She comments on stories, interacts on posts, messages first... a pillar of kindness, so it seemed.

But let the story continue.

Over time, we were talking more often.

Mostly sending memes (cause everyone I knew, myself included, aren’t exactly great at holding conversations. No shade. Memes are a love language). I was still in the hero worship stage of our relationship, so my view of her was that that was perfect.

Now, let me bridge a connection with a new story idea I got around December 28th or so, and my thinking she was perfect.

I had recently finished watching Madoka and questioned “If I had magical powers, what would they be?” It then turned into its own story idea, basing creators’ powers around the strengths and weaknesses in creations. I actually realized “oh fuck. My stuff is incoherent. My friends’ works aren’t too different...”

Thus spawned the name “Incoherent” for the project.

What does that have to do with this? Well, here’s the thing that really fucked everything up quickly.

This was not on purpose, because originally the project (which I had told nobody of yet at the time) was all about improving your works, making platonic friends, dressing our personas in cute outfits, and writing fun magic.

While listening to music and thinking of the story one day, my brain accidentally shipped my persona with hers, and I couldn’t unsee it. And I’m lousy at keeping my own secrets (other’s are different) so she found out on probably day one or two about my weird crush because of an ask meme of all things.

She didn’t try to put me off any, which was another problem for future things to come, and so I decided that since Incoherent was finally making me feel alive again and feeling the euphoric feelings of love wouldn’t hurt anything (I figured they’d mellow out on their own eventually because that’s how infatuation works) since they helped fuel my inspiration, and then we would just continue from friends to better friends one day and this part of our lives would be over.

Besides, the forbidden is attractive somehow, and makes stories more entertaining. She’s aro/ace, so I had no chance anyway. Someone safe to crush on, in her own way.

This isn’t a story of a love betrayal however. There was no such thing. But it’s important to the story because Incoherent is where my mistakes were made, and hers brought to light.

By this time, I had a handful of people I was talking to, and I created a discord server for the project. Only my boyfriend (hi!) and I were in it at the time. I was not-so-subtly asking my friends what they’d look like if they were a magical person, what their names would be... I thought I would have had to lure Melody in to make her want to join us, but I managed to get her in very easily. Everyone was happy and excited! It was a no obligation, no time limit thing for us to enjoy, a little sandbox to play around in.

Sure there were plans to make it bigger and I was working on art to the best of my ability, but it was gonna be a fun thing mostly. No pressure on anyone.

And how things started becoming a problem was that the rest of us posted publicly about the project and interacted with each other’s posts relating to the story, but she had started to interact publicly less and less with our things, and everyone noticed it.

It wasn’t because we were greedy and wanted the popular girl to reblog our things. It’s because we had a feeling she was ashamed of being seen publicly with us. The reason we were worried before then and started making that connection was because I mentioned I was going to ask another user if they were interested in joining Incoherent. Melody was the only one that seemed uncomfortable, and I messaged her asking about it. We agreed I wouldn’t invite that person but I knew things were off about it.

That person is like me. How long until Melody didn’t want to talk to me anymore? A few days ago, the other shoe finally dropped. A member of our little group and I were talking and (let’s call them Friend for simplicity. They asked to not be name dropped here) Friend was worried they had made Melody upset by tagging her in a meme picture they drew of her persona, and the two had agreed that Friend remove the tag. This spawned an anxiety-filled conversation where Friend and I expressed our concerns about Melody not interacting with the project, or us.

So since I wanted reassurance that that wasn’t the case, I messaged Melody with my concerns. I told her I had the feeling she was ashamed of being seen in public with us because of her friends, and she didn’t refute me. She simply told me to go get some rest. I messaged back with “I’m right.”

I deleted Discord off my phone for hours and nearly deleted my Tumblr, AO3, and the server after my boyfriend helped pass messages between us. Melody confessed that was the case because her friends expressed discomfort with my works, and she was playing both sides.

Her words, not mine.

Melody told me she would be withdrawing from the Incoherent project because it wasn’t fair to us if her heart wasn’t in it.

She didn’t stand up on my behalf when they said things about me. Her friends are the type who talk behind creators’ backs for shipping zadr “incorrectly.” Worse than antis because they actually participate in the “pro-shipping” side of the fandom. I broke that day and messaged her at 3 am.

We finally spoke at 3pm. We both missed each other. I tried to understand more. I wanted it to be more like a conversation rather than an interrogation. It was only one-sided however, and she never opened up further. And I made some mistakes and poor choices of words, and we ended up parting ways permanently right there.

I nearly deleted everything, but much like a coma patient attached to many machines on a hospital bed, my blog was kept alive a little longer by people sending kind words in droves. I was briefly fuelled by spite, wishing to watch the world burn by making everyone on the "correct" side of the fandom upset by posting the worst, most vile content this fandom has ever seen.

I was also welcomed with open arms by a very kind server with fellow degenerates, all of them screaming and crying and partying when they managed to get me in their server. It was so heartwarming...

But as I spoke to others about my situation, I realized something. A disturbing pattern.

People telling me horror stories about how Mooping-10 was cult-like. How the people running it were antis. I was even told once that they have a secondary server where they go to have their talks and do their work, likely the place where the real bashing is held.

The server itself has rules against such behavior, but I suppose it's different when they do it.

One person (and this is the most unnerving part for me, personally) told me Melody actually set off alarm bells in their head without having even done anything yet, and the most disturbing part of the story was that one of the moderators was afraid and upset because they got Covid, and received basically no moral support at all. Only getting told "spoiler that. Sorry you got Covid".

I was horrified. That server has 100 people in it. How many of them are the same? They act like popular kids in school who picked up an unpopular main character and then bash others, and the main character joined in because they don't want to be left behind by their new "friends".

To put it short, back to my point:

TL;DR: I simply only wanted to spread the word that: Mooping-10 is filled with people who absolutely cannot be trusted, creating a very hazardous environment for the zadr community, and Melodyofthevoid is connected to all of those people, living a double life amongst those of us that don't "ship zadr correctly". She has plenty of friends her inner circle knows nothing about, and nobody on either side knows who she really is.

#Invader Zim #zadr #tagr #rapr #zagr #mdzadr #MelodyoftheVoid

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dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram · 3 years ago

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Hi Ralph. I’ve been catching up on your blog this morning (as one does, I highly suggest a quick perusal of the New York Times, Washington Post, New Yorker, The Guardian and … Dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram for a snapshot of what’s happening the world) and your response re: the stories we tell, and the story of intra-band relationships caught my eye. Reading your thoughts on the relationships all of the boys have with each other was really interesting and brought a lot of joy to my morning, and I agree with your thoughts in large part. Your version of Harry/Liam dynamic especially both made me laugh and struck me as incredibly true. It is exactly how I imagine their relationship, and the description of the two of them as magnets chasing each other around the table made me actually honest to god laugh out loud.

But your thoughts about Harry being someone who finds directness and messiness quite stressful and responds by withdrawing resonated with me on a personal level, and made me think back to another question you answered (at least I’m fairly certain it was you) about mental health in the boys. You said something to the effect of you personally didn’t see much anxiety in Harry/the way Harry presents himself but you know others might. I actually see a fair bit of anxiety in Harry, in ways I recognize from my own experience with anxiety. In particular I see a lot of myself in the various ways Harry responds and reacts to other people, and your thoughts about how Harry and Liam interacts is a good example of that. I’m not sure I’m going to be very successful in my attempt to put this into words, but I will try. Other people, as a general rule, make me incredibly uncomfortable and bring me a lot of stress and always have. To be clear, I am not saying this is the same for Harry, in fact I believe it probably isn’t (he seems to be someone who really enjoys interacting and connecting with a lot of people, at least on a surface level). But one of the things that most freaks me out is that other people all want or need something from me. While I have a therapist who has been indescribably wonderful in helping me understand that most of that is actually my perception of other people and not always reality, the fact still remains that in every interaction I have with other people there’s always part of me that is wondering “what do they need from me, what do they want from me, how do I give it to them, how have I already failed to give it to them, how do I fix it, can I even fix it” and on and on and on. Once again, I am not trying to say that this exact experience of mine has also been an experience of Harry’s. That would be hugely presumptuous and pretty self centered and also based on no real identifiable facts. I’m saying this mostly as background, to explain that I am a person who struggles a great deal with anxiety, and a great deal of that anxiety is fueled by my perception that other people are always wanting/needing things from me that I may or may not be able to give them. On its ugliest days, this anxiety results in me just withdrawing entirely. This is especially true when I am dealing with someone who feels emotionally volatile or unpredictable (I.e. … messy) and/or someone who I don’t feel safe making mistakes around (often these are people who tend to communicate in ways that are especially direct, but that read to me as abrupt, cold, or callous). In these situations, I feel like I am set up for failure from the jump - these people want something I am absolutely unable to give, my inability to give it will piss them off, they’ll turn all those messy emotions on me or get angry with or be cruel to me, and so it’s best if I don’t bother. I get short of breath, my heart rate increases, I become nauseous and fidgety and my response is to just leave. Just bail on the person and the situation and hide myself away. There are certainly situations where this is my brain being a bully, and there are situations where this is a valid read on the particular person or situation. But in general, for me, personally, this is a manifestation of my anxiety that I deal with almost every day. I see it pretty clearly in Harry, too. I realize I may be projecting, my perception ≠ the only possible reality, and I am not arrogant or foolish enough to believe it does. I may be totally wrong. But those are my experiences and my observations, and I was reminded of them in the context of your old ask this morning.

Thanks so much for this anon - it's really lovely and interesting and I'm sorry it took me so long to reply. I really love telling stories about the different relationships within 1D and I love hearing that they resonate. So thanks so much.

I find your thoughts about Harry really interesting. And they resonate with an anon I answered yesterday. And one of their assumptions was that Harry had never felt unloved a day in their life. I can see where they're coming from, but I don't think it's true.

That is I think, one of the interesting things about Harry is that so much confidence radiates out of him. Even just the way Dermot used to talk about him on X-factor as the most confident person he'd ever met, and it's not like anything has changed. But at the same time you get these moments and these glimpses where you realise that there is an anxiety - not necessarily underneath, but somewhere in the middle of all that confidence.

What you say about your experiences I think is really useful for Harry. I think one of the differences is that Harry has always been confident that he can give people what they want or need from him. And it's something that's got easier as he's gotten older. If you're Harry Styles it's actually very easy to make people happy. I do think he's very much figured out that being kind from a position of power is a very powerful mood (that doesn't require that much work).

But I suspect what all means that when his anxiety comes up - when he can't make people happy and give them what they want - then he's not very good at dealing with it (and he does withdraw). There is a little bit of compulsion to me in the idea that everyone must think good things about him. I think there is more in common with him and Lima than you'd think in some ways (makes sense that's why they're magnets). But Harry is much better at masking what's going on, and he's much more intuitive at making people happy than Lima is (who is always a little too literal).

Anyway I hope your life has been very good since you wrote me this anon. You seem super aware and perceptive and I really enjoy it.

#When I said that I didn't see the anxiety #I meant that pretty literally #Like I can tell it's there #but it's so different from the way I navigate the world #that it can be really hard for me to recognise #I've never been very good at becoming what people wanted from me #so the ability to do that #seems to me to be a sign of great confidence #even though intellectually I know there's a lot else going on

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enigma-im · 4 years ago

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What We Do With Shadows Pt.2

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Shadow monster x F!Human Warnings: kitchen sex, fluff, blood mention, minor violence, takes place immediatly after the first

Word Count: 3406

Pt.1

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I wake up a few hours later, glancing at the window, it’s still dark out. I rub my face into the pillow below me, taking in a deep breath. I go to sit up but I'm pulled back down.

"Why are you up," Raguel grumbles against my back. At some point in the night, we have switched to spooning. His arms are wrapped tightly around my stomach and our legs are twined together.

"Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you," I look over my shoulder. He hums before rubbing his forehead to the back of my neck.

"Its alright," He takes in a deep breath," you smell like me."

"Do I? I should probably go shower then," I try to get up again. I didn’t get to do any of my post-sex rituals, probably need to clean the sheets later today. Before I can get far Raguel pulls me back down. Turning so I'm resting on his chest.

"Don’t you ever, stay like this for a while longer or I will bend you over again," he purrs near my ear. Licking the shell as he squeezes me a bit tighter.

I blush," So you really want to do that again?"

He stops abusing my ear," Of course I do. Every day if that’s an option."

"Everyday," I yelp," are you trying to kill me?" he chuckles against me. He flips us over so he is on top, looking down at me with a wide grin.

"I could never, I promised you everything and I don’t intend to lose you anytime soon," he leans down and pecks my nose," Shall I demonstrate my dedication? I can actually take my time this go around." He leans back down for a kiss but I press against his chest.

"I think food and a shower is needed first," I try to argue. He pouts," also I need to go to the bathroom."

He huffs," fine, I shall relent this time. I need to go deal with something anyway. Meet you downstairs for some very early breakfast?"

"Yea, what do you have to deal with," I ask. Instead of answering he leans down and kisses me. He parts but leans back for another, then another. I push him away after a moment, really needing to pee. "Ok Raguel, meet you downstairs," I smile up at him, petting up his chest.

He holds my hand against himself," So beautiful, how often would you say your ex made you smile?" I notice him calling Nick my ex. Which I guess is right.

"Not enough," I answer honestly," Now let's get up, you are distracting me."

He leans down and buries his face on my neck, purring," You are no saint either, laying here naked beneath me."

"I can change if you like," I tease back.

He growls against me," I'd keep you naked here all day if I could. Actually, that sounds like a plan. I'll get us some food and you stay here."

"Raguel," I chuckle," I really need to go to the bathroom." he relents, falling to my side.

"Fine," he huffs. I get out of bed and look over at him sprawled out. He turns his head and gives me a once over, "You should leave now because this view is giving me ideas."

I quickly scurry away, feeling giddy as anyone could be. I trot down the hall, the pep in my step unfamiliar to me. It's an old feeling to be so excited, like a long lost friend. I know when I was first with Nick the feeling with always there but as time went so did the enjoyment. Chalking that up to the plateauing of our relationship. Shortly after the joy of a new relationship just vanished into anxiety and fear. Raguel brought fear but mostly of the unknown. His words brought on confliction and doubt that bloomed into self-determination.

I like Raguel, that's simple. I don't really know where we are going after this. Though he has admitted and confirmed his attraction and devotion the worry still lingers of his true intentions. He cannot be all good, there are no such things as heroes in polished armor ready to save a helpless person. That is just childish of me to assume such a thing, just like it's childish to assume he will be true and kind forever.

I trail out the bathroom in thought though a bit of satisfaction still rests in my chest. I was never one for such raunchy displays but the way Raguel claimed me in front of Nick was all too satisfying to not feel the next day. Walking into my room I immediately notice Raguel's absents. A twang of stress slithers into my brain but I cannot bring myself to fuel the flame this time.

I grab some clothes and dress casually for the day. Making my way downstairs I ponder if Raguel actually requires food. I start on a simple breakfast that’s easily made and shared amongst two people. As I watch the eggs quickly fry in the pan a pair of arms snake around my waist, pulling me flush against a body.

"Smells good," Raguel sways us. A smile forces its way onto my lips, peeling back more as his lips drag along my cheek.

"I didn't know how you would want your eggs so I made them scrambled," I glance at him from the corner of my eye," I hope that is alright."

"whatever you make I will devour it like a starving man," he answers. He snags a piece from the pan before walking away. I watch him for a moment, finally admiring him in the light. His attractiveness is just as appealing now as it was last night. Though his strangeness attempts to trump that allure, it only seems to fuel it. The swaying tail catches my attention though, remembering that curled around my thigh last night.

"See something you like," Raguel purrs. I meet his eyes, having ripped my attention from the lazy swings of his thin tail.

"I-ah-sorry," I blush. Quickly, I twist away focusing back on the food. I shift the food around embarrassed, flustered at the lude images plaguing my thoughts.

Arms curl back around my waist," Now, no need for all that, love. I want your attention constantly, especially when it's with such an open invitation." his fingers slowly slide down my sides, cupping my hips as he pulls them back. "that was an invitation," he licks up my neck," Right?"

I shutter in his arms," It is now," I mumble under my breath. His cocky chuckle brings a chill to my skin.

"Good girl," he purrs. He reaches in front of me, taking the pan off the stove before fisting the hem of my shirt. He curls the fabric slowly upwards, his other hand resting on the newly exposed skin. His warm palm gropes at my stomach, trailing upward with my shirt till he can squeeze at my chest. He growls in my ear, his teeth dimpling the skin of shoulder as he nibbles. His hips nudge my ass, requesting as well as demanding.

"Raguel," I murmur. He tweaks my nipple, brushing the pads of his fingers along the pebbled peaks. Soon his other hand runs lazily down my torso to reach my crotch. He slides under the edge of my pants, cupping my crotch swiftly. Raguel delves a finger between my folds, growling excitedly as he feels my wet heat. With only a few strokes to my begging clit does he change objectives.

As one hand palms at my chest and the other grinding against my crotch Raguel shoves my pants down. As I look down I see the faint wisps of darkness fading away, a snicker coming from behind me.

"I seem to have no patience when it comes to you," he bends me forward," it seems some practice would be in need to conquer the likes of you, temptress." I catch myself on my hands, framing the stove in front of me. The heat of the previously lit top is a completely different feeling to the heat of Raguel's cock nudging at my folds. Within a blink he shoves forward, wasting no time being buried within me.

"Oh god," I clench at the counter, my head falling forward. Raguel's body cradles me against his with a sigh of relief. His fingers flex against my crotch, his chest resting warm against my back. He chuckles, sending hot breath down my shirt.

"God? I thought I was an angel," he laughs," but I guess I like the ring of God just a bit better." I want to scoff at his ego but his retreating cock steals my breath. He forces the air back in with a sharp buck of his hips. He stills once again, sighing against the back of my neck.

Raguel's hips draw back barely a few inches then slapping forward harshly. The slow languid pull-outs are the complete opposite to the demanding bucks forward. It feels almost like he regrets pulling back to begin with, rushing to fill the space he regretfully left. His pace is torturous but words evade me more than ever now. The hand over my crotch grinds oh so well into my clit with every buck. The harsh thrusts making me hump into his awaiting palm. His slow but harsh pace is taking too long, it's becoming harder to keep quiet.

"Raguel," I sinfully groan. The command for more rests on the tip of my tongue but the words refuse to leave.

"Yes, love," he purrs so erotically in my ear. His rumbling voice makes my head turn to mush, flatling my heart as I hear the excitement in his words.

"P-Please," I spill out," please."

"What do you need? Ask your god for anything," he bucks sharply," I'm here solely for your pleasure."

My legs nearly give out at his egotistical declaration. The cocky tone mixed with his devoted words nearly undoes me.

"Faster," I say firmly," please, Raguel."

" Good girl," he growls," your wish is my command."

He pulls out slow once more before thoroughly fucking me. His hip slap against me, clapping at my cheeks loudly. I jolt with every thrust, clenching the counters in a white grip. A drawn-out groan starts lowly in my throat, my insides being set aflame with his cock. I cannot think, only feel as he ravages me. The sensation is only similar to the first time he did this. No one has come close to the way he makes me sing.

"Eva," he murmurs against my shoulder," I need you to cum for me, fuck, please." my eyes rolls at his plead, the change in command thrilling me so. I adore what he does to me but I almost adore more what I do to him.

His fingers flex messily over my clit as he bucks and thrusts into my body. I can't hold on anymore, falling for the climax that bursts from within.

I hold the counter as my legs shake. I faintly feel a hand trail over my arm as I cry out in ecstasy. Fingers card through mine, holding them in a tight grip as I clench around Raguel's now throbbing cock. His choked grunts match with my drawn-out moans. I can feel him shoot his load inside me, adding to my already heart-stopping orgasm. We ride out our peaks, fueling the other with our erotic singing.

Before I can allow myself to think straight Raguel takes me to the floor. Slowly he settles use against the cabinets, our back resting against the cold wood. His arms stay snug around me as I sit lax in his lap. Occasionally I feel him press short peck to the back of my head, nuzzling his nose to my hair.

"We should get up and eat breakfast before it gets cold," I mumble, petting my fingertips over his arm. He hums in answer, pecking my temple with his lips.

"Just a moment longer," he grumbles.

"Don't fall asleep on me now," I tease. He huffs in amusement, swatting my thigh with his tail.

"Not my fault you’re a succubus whose sole purpose is to drain me everything I have," he jokes. I fluster easily at his accusation. I hardly assumed myself to be 'sexy' or 'alluring' enough to be titled as a succubus.

After a moment of cuddling on the floor, we get up. I pull my pants back on as Raguel heads for the cabinets. He grabs two plates and two cups, setting them on the counter. I help out, reaching for a plate to fill with the breakfast I made. Before I can reach it his tail wraps around my wrist and tugs me away.

"No, I got this. Go sit down," he scolds, pointing towards the table. I watch him confused, meals are my job. Nick never wanted to busy himself with such feminine tasks.

"but-," I try to convince him otherwise.

"No," he interrupts," you drain my balls, I serve you food. That’s the deal." I fluster immediately, squirming as I focus on the feel of him still inside me. I want to retort with something, anything, but words fail me. He grins, walking over to peck me on the lips. "Go sit," he whispers. I just nod, turning and walking to the dining table.

Raguel swiftly decorates the plates with an assortment of food then places them on the table. We feast in relative silence, passing flirty glances once in a while. Everything feels so carefree this morning, not a stroke of tension to be found. It's strange in its own right to be so happy when yesterday I was being so blank for what feels like my whole life. Nick took so much out of me that it felt normal to be so out of touch. Only having Raguel in my life for a day has changed so much.

I watch Raguel for a moment, seeing him finish off his sides of berries. He catches my eye as he pops a blueberry into his mouth, he gives me a toothy grin.

"Thank you," I smile back. He leans forward to rest his head on his propped up hand.

"Whatever for, love," he asks. I watch him for a moment more, capturing this scene as vividly as possible in my mind.

"Thanks for being here and… god, for everything really," I shrug. There aren't enough words to capture how I feel at this moment. To have nothing then to have everything is too fulfilling to put into mere sentences.

Raguel's playful grin twists into such admiration it feels like cupid shooting an arrow into my heart. He sits up from the table, rounding it to crouch next to me. He grabs the edge of my seat and jerks it to face him. Then he crawls between my legs, pushing my knees away so he fits perfectly.

Raguel reaches up and cradles my face," I have been in this house for years, haunting these grounds out of boredom more than demand. I have seen a lot in my time, seeing more than you could ever know. Those years have been nothing compared to the past 24 hours. To finally feel your lips against mine, to have your body expertly molded against mine, it's a dream come true. The cherry on top is putting that scum bag ex in his place. I've watched you for some time and last night is when I knew I loved you. Eva, I love you so damn much that it feels like I'm going to burst with it. Thank you, thank you so much Eva for accepting me into your life so easily. I will repay that in full for the rest of my life."

I can't even begin with how touching his words are. My heart aches in my chest with the swelling of emotions, quick to burst at any moment. I have to grab, I have to pull him close and kiss that cocky, arrogant face.

"to the rest of our lives," I smile into the kiss.

"To the rest of our lives," he grins back.

the day turns into a close as Raguel admires the gift resting in his arms. He knows that everything in his life should warn him against having something so special like her. Yet his wants can't be denied, what he wants he gets. That is the way of life, anything worth fighting for is also worth dying for. Not that the threat looms over him but the threat to her still exists in some capacity and that will never sit well for Raguel.

Raguel watches Eva for a moment longer than intended, just too captivated by the human to sneak away. The ideas of his task begin to take hold of his imagination to the point that he can finally turn away from her. With a sigh he forms into a mist, drifting out of the room with ease.

He drifts swiftly through the hall and down the stairs, seeping through the floorboards into the cellar. The dark dank room only has the sounds of dripping water as Raguel converges back into himself. With a flick of his hair, he casually walks into the barely lit room ahead. As he creaks open the door a sharp inhale is heard from beyond.

"Good evening, nick," Raguel grins, meeting the eyes of the exhausted man.

"Please," Nick weeps," I won't tell anyone, just let me go." Raguel crosses the room swiftly, admiring the wet, bleeding man strung up before him. The cruel lacerations decorating his chest brings a thrill to Raguel. The blood that has streamed down his torso is long dried after this morning. It's perhaps time to make some new ones.

"Now why would I let you go," Raguel tilts his head," we have only just gotten to know each other." wisps of smokes spread across the floor, lazily trailing towards Nick. The teasing path leaves enough time for Nick to notice, panting, and writhing against his confines.

"No, please," Nick begs. The tendrils of smoke crawl up his body towards his chest, coalescing against his cuts. They thread through the wounds, expanding once they enter. The reopened lashes pool with blood, drops running down his chest once more. Nick whimpers in pain as Raguel snickers in delight.

"I had a fantastic day with Eva," Raguel starts as he paces the room," she cooked breakfast, which is so nice of her, and we made love on your kitchen floor. I had her screaming my name, I wouldn't be surprised if you didn’t hear it. She even called me god, how fulfilling."

"stop," Nick pleads," you can have her, I won't bother you two again. I swear!"

Raguel tosses a blank look at the man, crossing his arms behind himself as he walks forward. He towers over the injured man with such superiority that Nick would cower if he could.

"Do you believe I need your permission? Do you assume you have some semblance of power here that you can freely give and take choices," Raguel quickly grabs at Nick's chin, forcing his focus on solely him," You do not plague this house with your filth any longer! You had your chance and now I have mine. Eva belongs to me, not because I demand it but because I earned it. Now, remember your place because you have surely earned it as well." Raguel shoves Nick away, his nails biting into the man's cheek before he departs.

As Nick sulks against the far wall Raguel walks over to a corner. He investigates the items in front of him, grabbing a suitable object. He carries it behind his back as he walks back towards nick.

"I'm feeling quite joyful this evening so tell me, Nick," Raguel twists the gardening fork to his front," what're your thoughts on landscaping?"

The cries of pain cannot be heard through the house, not a soul knows about the reckoning happening just below.

As Raguel finishes playing he cleans up and heads back into bed. As he settles under the sheets Eva twists to grab at him, curling into his side swiftly. With a smile, Raguel kisses the crown of her head, pulls her in close, and falls asleep. Both feeling content and safe as a deviant soul clings to life below.

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Did y’all know Raguel is actually a bad dude? When I made him I wanted him to be cocky, arrogant, but a little sweet. With Eva is gentle and patient, if not a little insecure. He has never had to attract someone and he wants Eva to like him. he will protect and love her but to do that he will straight up kill a man. so he is mean and violent, even losing his tempers at times, but with Eva he is sweet and gentle. i like him for that. God, i would love to do a character ask with him, he has so much to him that i haven’t written.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#shadow monster #handsome shadow man #exophilia #monster boyfriend #Enigma-IM #what we do with shadows #fluff #Eva x Raguel #raguel

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the-omni-princess · 5 years ago

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Toys and Flowers

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary: Insecurities and some badly written jokes can hurt, especially when they come from family. (Intrusive thoughts TW)

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.2K (It got away from me whoops)

Prompt:

“I am not a toy you can play with when you’re bored or lonely or horny. I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of the movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me.” - Scandal

Warnings: Angst, Insecure reader, language, intrusive thoughts, unintentionally negative comments, Avengers kinda acting like dicks but they didn’t realize it, also a splash of anxiety, a happy ending I promise, Fluff

A/N:

A little bit of self-fulfillment whoops. Still new at this so please tell me what you think.

This sorta thing comes from my own experience with these thoughts, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t quite fit someone else’s. Anyway, if you’re having negative thoughts, like our dear reader, please go speak to someone. I made this way more angsty than I originally intended.

Prompt is bolded.

Written for @sunmoonandbucky

and their #1.5kconstellationswritingchallenge :D

[Read on Ao3!]

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You were fed up. This had been going on for too long, going around and around in circles for too long. Jokes you could deal with. Insecurities brought to the forefront, teasing, crude one-liners, snide comments. When they came from strangers or from people you never necessarily liked you could deal with them. But when they came from the people you considered family? They hurt, and they hurt severely. Every comment, every glance, every joke sent a searing pain down your chest.

You knew it was most likely in good fun, after all, the Avengers were known to always toss quips at each other. They called Sam and Clint Birdie, teased Steve and Bucky about being old, and there was always some form of ribbing against Vision when he didn’t understand a meme despite being the literal embodiment of the internet. Yet despite all that, every joke that was aimed at you hurt you more than you care to admit.

Thwack. Thump. Every hit of your fists against the punching bag did little to help the anger in your chest, the anxiety, the hurt. Fighting back tears, you tried to block out the voices in your head reminding you of every joke you heard the others say as you kept hitting the bag. You thought you were overreacting, but then another jest meant to just be a poke in the ribs felt like a knife made of fire being pushed into your heart.

Sweat rolled down your back, it prickled at your neck, and you weren’t sure if the wetness on your cheeks was tears or sweat anymore. Sniffling, you paused, wiping your hot face with a towel, and downed half of your remaining water bottle. You sighed, fanning yourself with the towel, not that it helped the sweat clinging to your grey t-shirt or your gym shorts very well.

More comments swirled in your head, anxiety that you weren’t good enough to be an avenger started to creep back into your head, so you tossed the bottle and towel back to the ground and resumed punching. The comments were bad, but they were manageable. At least you thought so. Until a certain super-soldier, who you most definitely had a crush on, started to join in. You were happy he was starting to open up, but when his teasing started to join Sam’s the pain in your chest grew, along with the wall you built around yourself.

Burying yourself in paperwork, reports, and training, you did everything you could to not be in the Compound’s living room when you knew everyone else was there. You even tended to your outhouse garden more often than usual. Those thoughts are what brought you here, to the gym, to punch the shit out of a punching bag for the third time that day, instead of upstairs eating dinner with the rest of the team. It was too late to be out in the garden, your fairy lights you recently bought not fully installed yet, you were weeks ahead of paperwork, and there hadn’t been a new mission to report recently so your last hope was the gym.

Natasha was the first to notice your absences after you repeatedly started to miss dinners with the team and refused to say anything to her about it. “Has anyone seen Y/N today?” She suddenly questioned in the middle of dinner that Friday night, another dinner you were spending in the gym. Eyes all looked towards the redhead, as they started to realize you weren’t there again.

Tony was the first to speak up, sipping away at his drink “Passed by her on the way here, said she was heading to the gym.”

Steve was the next person to speak, hands fiddling with his fork, “But I saw her this morning at the gym, it was really early, and she seemed to tire herself out, why would she go back there so soon?”

Wanda then spoke up, “Her mind has been clouded recently, she blocks me out mentally, but she is blocking us all out as well.”

Sam gave her a confused look, unaware of what was the problem, “Why would she do that?”

“Because you idiots keep making fun of her,” Natasha snapped. She had seen the way you closed yourself off from a conversation the second a joke landed a low blow in your self-esteem. An off comment that maybe the new gal needed more training after she missed a shot during a mission. A quip about something new you were trying. Natasha noticed that not every joke had sent you spiraling, that most you were used to, and some truly were funny enough that you didn’t care, but she also noticed how close you had been to tears as you quickly excused yourself to your room after Bucky teased you the day prior.

Wanda looked up from her plate towards Natasha, the gears in her head practically visible as she connected the dots. “The boys’ comments and jokes about her fuel her anxiety!” She suddenly declared, and the room quickly silenced.

Sam’s eyebrows lifted, almost comically, “But she knows we are just having fun, right? We don’t mean any of it seriously, after all we make fun of the Olsen Twins for their age all the time, and Tinman for being slow.”

“Doesn’t mean the comments don’t hurt,” Bucky put his head in his hands, his own mind quickly filling in the blanks, finally noticing that the emotions in your face as you shuffled out of meetings and movie nights after a joke was betrayal and pain. He was quite acquainted with what pain looked like, and still he managed to miss it in you, though in hindsight he saw it now. The light leaving your eyes as Tony aimed a joke at you, your responding smile never reaching your eyes, your laugh sounding almost fake and forced before you practically sprinted towards your room muttering some excuse about being behind on mission reports.

“From what I’ve been noticing, not all the teasing seemed to affect her, but perhaps you were being a bit harsh on her when you said she needed more training after that mission last week Sam, or the comment about shirt yesterday Bucky,” Clint finally spoke up, having quietly observing everything from his spot on the windowsill couch.

“I was trying to compliment that shirt!” Bucky tried to defend, only to have Natasha snicker.

“’That’s an interesting choice’ is not a compliment,” Natasha glared at him, making him groan as he realized he had been acting like an ass towards you this entire time. “You know this all explains a lot, especially how she looked like she was seconds away from crying when Buckaroo here made some joke at her.” The man in question looked up, equal parts confused and upset. He had made you cry? Why would some joke, one that Sam had already said that didn’t elicit a response, get such a negative one when it came from him? Natasha snickered again, this time because Bucky looked like a kicked puppy. “You haven’t noticed oldie? Poor girl has had a crush on you practically since the moment she met you two years ago.” His heart stopped, then promptly dropped down into his stomach. He was making the girl he liked miserable and he didn’t even know it.

“You didn’t notice Bucky?” Wanda expressed almost remorse as she saw clouds of regret swirling in his head. “The extra cookies she hides away specifically for you, the coffee always ready for you in the morning, the small blushes when you look at her, the smile that lights up her face the second you actually compliment her?” The redhead was listing off the reasons he started to fall for you. The sweet girl, way too good for the world, for him, and the fiercest warrior out on a mission. You had missed that shot because Bucky’s cover would have been blown if your aim had been true. You had taken metaphorical bullets for him multiple times, always the first to defend him whenever someone came after him, especially whenever Ross or some Hydra goon started to monologue him on his past.

Shoving himself from the table, Bucky quickly stood, “I have to go fix this,” he muttered, mostly to himself, already rushing to the gym to find you.

“She’s stubborn, it’s not going to be that easy Bucky!” Steve tried calling out to his best friend, well aware of how Bucky felt about you. His comment fell on deaf ears and Bucky sprinted to the gym where you were still trying to lose yourself to your moves.

Jaws clenched, you kept swinging at the bag in front of you. You were tiring out, your exhausted mind probably catching up with your fatigued body. The gym door behind you swung open, making you jump, wide eyes locking onto a frantic looking Bucky. He looked disheveled, and you noticed his erratic breaths as if he ran here.

Suddenly hyper-aware of your own dishevelment, your body sweaty and tired from working out, you tried to make yourself smaller; quickly turning back to the bag, you swung at it again with new found energy. “What’s up, Buck?”

You could practically feel his eyes burning holes into the back of your head. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was soft, and, dare you to say it, pained. Your hands fell from the punching stance you had them up in, turning to face him with a puzzled look.

“Whatcha mean Bucky? What didn’t I tell you?”

“The intrusive thoughts Y/N… how much my comment about your shirt actually hurt you, really how many of the comments or jokes I made towards you hurt you.” Your body froze, completely caught off guard by him cornering you.

Feeling a bit petty and standoffish, you mustered your best death glare, though it no doubt probably did nothing towards the ex-assassin, “Why would I tell you?” Swiftly turning to grab your discarded water bottle and towel you muttered under your breath, “Why would I tell any of you?”

“Because we’re your family Y/N/N” he responded softly. Damn super soldier hearing. Chancing a glance towards him, you could see his hunched shoulders, his hands fidgeting with the end of his shirt.

His anxious body behavior only fueled you on, suddenly wanting to get out of this conversation as fast as possible yet wanting to confirm every negative thought in your head, you practically snarled at him. “Family don’t hurt each other… they shouldn’t hurt each other.” You whispered the last part, unexpectedly frozen where you stood.

You couldn’t look up at his face, fully aware he probably had some cute puppy dog look aimed your way. You couldn’t stand those looks, you knew your resolve would melt instantly if you looked towards them. His silence somehow hurt more than you thought it would. Your body finally getting with the idea of running from this, you turned away again, heading towards the door.

“Doll…” Bucky started, clearly, about to go on some tangent, you stopped him.

“No doll Bucky. I’m used to the comments… strangers, co-workers even, definitely kids when I was younger… I just thought they would stop eventually, along with these thoughts in my head, guess that was naive of me to think that.”

“Y/N please don’t do this, please, just let me explain. Fuck I didn’t mean those comments like that, Y/N, I tried to say it as a compliment. God, I really like you, and I’m terrible at speaking whenever you come around, and I didn’t mean it like the way it came out doll,” You didn’t hear him move, you just abruptly felt his hand around your wrist.

Pulling it back towards your body as if his touch burned you, you spun on your heels to face him. Rash and hotheaded as always, your words came out like venom aimed straight towards the man in front of you, “I am not a toy you can play with when you’re bored or lonely or horny. I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of the movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me.” You were too quick with your harsh words to realize the full weight of his words, only reacting blindly to the hatred your mind had been building towards yourself and lashing it out towards Bucky. He looked as if he had been slapped in the face by your words. The truth was, you did like the pet names, especially from him, especially when they were on the back end of his praise for you when training or after a particularly good mission. However, your need for a punching bag or the need for these thoughts to not be focused on you for once, made you throw them at the one person in this entire compound you wanted to hurt the least.

You scrambled towards the door, trying to bite back your tears and keep your resolve. You didn’t look back as you rushed towards your room, knowing that if you took one look at the heartbroken man you left standing at the gym, you would sob at his feet. You shut the door behind you promptly sliding to the floor in your room, your back against the door. “FRIDAY, don’t let anyone in. For anything.” You called out, knowing the AI would catch it.

“Are you sure Ms. Y/L/N? My sensors are indicating your elevated heart rate and erratic breathing, it is recommended for me to contact Mr. Stark or the Med Bay.” The AI dutifully replied, making you cry out. You put your head in your hands, feeling the wetness of your cheeks, making you realize you were already crying. When did that happen?

“No! Please FRIDAY, please don’t let an-anyone in… Please. I don’t want them to see me like this.” Your speech slurred faintly, sniffling as you tried to get a hold of yourself. You just felt weak, too drained to shower or eat or even pull yourself from the floor you currently were residing. As your thoughts finally slowed you exhaled shakily, the anxiety and intrusive thoughts gone, leaving a blank mind except for a startling realization to what Bucky said before you snapped. “God, I really like you.”

You weren’t sure when you had fallen asleep, but considering the light hitting your eyes from the window, you figured it must have been a while ago. You shuffled to get comfortable in the sheets around you, desperate for a few more minutes of the nothingness of sleep. Wait… when did you go to bed? Hadn’t you fallen asleep on the floor? You sat up quickly, ignoring the burn in your eyes at the sudden light change as you surveyed the room. “FRIDAY? How did I get to bed last night?” You asked carefully, truthfully scared of the answer.

“Mr. Stark used his override code to enter your room shortly after you fell asleep. Sergeant Barnes put you in bed before returning to his own quarters.”

Groaning as you got out of bed, you realized you were still in your work-out clothes from the previous night, at least Bucky didn’t try to change you last night. Well, why would he? Your mind started to think as you headed for the bathroom to shower, suddenly grateful you woke up in your bed instead of on the floor. You suddenly froze, halfway to the bathroom door as you remembered one small detail of last night: “God, I really like you.”

Pushing away from the thoughts in your head, you quickly showered and got dressed. Going through routines helped the thoughts in your head from swirling around so much. You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a cereal bowl as you ignored how quiet it suddenly got when you walked in. Pouring all the necessary (and frankly colorful) ingredients and sitting down, you paused, spoon halfway to your mouth as you noticed most of the Avengers staring at you. “What?” You said it defensively, the simple word carrying a small amount of venom behind it.

Sam spoke up first, eyes locking with yours, “Y/N I’m sorry- no, no interrupting, eat your breakfast and let me say it, no running away Y/N/N” he spoke carefully, gentle yet clearly concerned. You gave him a wary look before starting to eat your cereal. Sam took that as an invitation to speak again. “I’m sorry, no, well yes, but we are all sorry. We didn’t realize the jokes we said were hurting you, and we hope you can forgive us and open up to us again. Y/N/N we miss seeing you around here. Your family but you’re avoiding us, we didn’t even realize what we said was causing you pain and behalf of all of us, even though most of it was my jokes, we are all sorry for making you feel like you weren’t a valuable part of this family.” You winced, hearing the guilt in his voice, conscious everyone was probably looking towards you as you stared at your cereal. “Because you are a valuable member of this family Y/N, and we miss seeing you happy.” That was the nail in the coffin, the tears that were bubbling in your eyes suddenly, but thankfully quietly, spilling down your face.

Sniffling, you looked up at Sam and the rest of the team, your view starting to get a bit blurry as tears clouded your vision. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys,” your eyes making a point of looking at Bucky. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night, hair mussed, his hand most likely running through it several times throughout the night. You quickly looked away before your resolve to finish your thoughts crumbled. “I thought I could just get past the thoughts, the words, the jokes, I was probably just hoping it would go away… thanks for being there, I know I can be kind of a mess, I’m not always perfect, but I’ll try to actually talk through these thoughts, and… feelings.” A few heads nodded, the tension dissolving in the room.

“Now, with the messy stuff outta the way, when you finish your breakfast, someone is requesting your presence at your garden kid,” You looked up at Tony, confused as you tried wiping your tears, happy you were talking through things for once instead of being rash. He shook his head, “No details coming out of me kid, just relaying the message.” He was quick to leave the room.

Your face must have looked perplexed still because Steve spoke up as he headed out as well, “Just trust us Y/N/N, you have a surprise waiting for you down there,” Steve knew how much you adored the greenhouse garden you had practically begged Tony to help you install when you became an Avenger. It had been the only thing you have ever asked of him, your small piece of comfort. Tending new flowers and growing herbs became a habit when you were younger, a positive way to keep yourself distracted from the thoughts in your head and the worries of the outside world.

The kitchen was now relatively empty, leaving a certain redheaded Russian alone with you. Natasha walked over, kissing your head motherly, “I’m always here to talk Malen'kiy,” she spoke softly, hugging you gently from the side. You rested your head against her, a faint smile on your face, your first real smile in a while.

“I know, thanks, Nat. I promise I’ll actually talk to you next time,” your voice was just as soft as you looked up adoringly at your practically adoptive sister. Nat had always been the one to know you the best. She knew you had these thoughts, always the clever one, but she didn’t realize they had become this bad.

“Now, hurry up and go to that garden you love before I have to kick your butt and drag you there myself,” You chuckled, smiling up at her as she playfully nudged your arm towards the door. Something was definitely going on. Three Avengers in cahoots to send you to your garden? Suspicious. You walked a little faster than usual down to your garden, wondering what was such a big deal that everyone really wanted you to go there.

The door’s open. That weird, I always close it. You thought as you approached the greenhouse. Walking inside you were flabbergasted, it looked completely different, in a totally good way. The weeds you had missed the other day were already uprooted, the floor swept, the fairy lights you had been dying to put up were already up and on. But what surprised you most were the new flowers that had lined the formerly empty new section you weren’t quite sure what to put there.

It was right beside the bench you used to read when you wanted to be alone after rough missions and no matter what plant you could think of, nothing ever felt right being put there. It would be the scent that would surround while you read, the light perfect there for reading, so you wanted something nice but none of your choices stuck. You already had those type of flowers, or it just felt wrong next to the bench, but the arrangement of flowers currently there now? They were perfect. Purple violets, purple lilacs, yellow daisies, red carnations, and hydrangeas.

Caught up in the new additions to your garden, you didn’t notice Bucky sitting on the bench beside the flowers at first. You knew the meaning of these new additions, but you weren’t quite sure what to say. “Did you do all of this?” you kept your voice low, eyes locking onto the sheepish blue eyes in front of you. Dark circles surrounded those beautiful eyes you tried so hard not to think about. He nodded slowly, a hopeful look in his eyes as he motioned for you to join him on the bench. “Last night… I couldn’t sleep… so I decided to do what you said I should do.”

“Which was?” you prompted, still a bit wary that this was some big joke against you.

“Earn you…” his eyes locked onto yours before he continued. “Y/N, I’m sorry for all the things I said, I know Sam did a big ‘forgive all’ sorta’ apology but I wanted to say I’m sorry personally. Y/N… I’m sorry, dreadfully, absolutely, completely, and utterly sorry.” He was biting his lower lip, anxiously fidgeting with the rings on his fingers as he waited for your response with bated breath.

You gulped faintly at the implications of what he was saying and one key phrase he had said last night was replaying in your head. “God, I really like you” Your eyes fell from his gaze, looking towards the flowers, did he even know what this all meant?

“Bucky, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt, and I accept your apology about, well everything I guess. And thanks for fixing up the place,” you found the courage to say your thoughts, still locked onto the flowers. “Did you really not get any sleep just to do all of this for me?”

“Yes.” He said it quickly, with conviction, and when your attention snapped back to him, you noticed how nervous he seemed. Nodding faintly, you sat on the bench beside him, just out of his reach, he would have to scoot over to be near you.

You leaned against the arm of the bench, bent towards the new flowers. “They’re perfect by the way. I could never find a good combination of scents and colors for this spot, but you managed to do it beautifully.” You heard Bucky shuffle behind you, most likely still fidgeting, his metal fingers bumping against the metal of the rings on his right hand.

“Steve may have mentioned how he overheard you upset you were that you couldn’t figure out what to put there,” apprehensively he added, “Do you really like them?”

At that, you turned back towards him, grinning brightly at him. “They absolutely perfect Bucky.” You spoke with the same conviction he spoke earlier. Still gathering the nerve, you looked back towards the flowers, already enveloped by their scent, calming you as you spoke. “Do you know what each flower means?” Your voice was soft again, hopeful. That it wasn’t some accident he chose these specific flowers.

“Yes.” He answered simply. You turned towards him, his blue eyes, nervousness, and hopefulness evident in them.

“Then tell me,” you smiled warmly, feeling your cheeks warm up as he smiled back at you.

“Why do I have a feeling you already know?”

“Because I do… it’s just… some flowers can have multiple meanings, I want to know what you meant by each one.” You knew you were most definitely blushing at the moment, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as he moved closer, thigh now pressed against your own. He started to point out each flower and he explained.

“Purple violets mean that the giver’s thoughts were, and I’m quoting the website here darling, ‘were occupied with love’ to the person they are giving it too,” you giggled, smiling up at him as he continued with a bit more confidence. “Purple lilacs symbolize the first emotions of love, yellow daisies mean anything from youthful beauty to loyal love to new beginnings, I was honestly aiming for all three, as they remind me of you.” You noticed how Bucky was now blushing, eyes turned to focus on the flowers, nervousness flooding him again. “Red carnations mean love, pride, and admiration, and finally the hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotions, but I like their second meaning more.” He paused, biting his lip again before continuing,

“That they can be used to express gratitude for being understood… Y/N, you’re amazing. You’re always kind, you’re never quick to judge but you're quick to protect, you’re fierce, whether it’s beating up bad guys or defending one of us. What I’m saying,” he finally looked back up at you, “I like you a lot Y/N. You showed me kindness and welcomed me here at the compound before I could even remember what either of those words meant anymore. You’re hot-headed, rash, too stubborn for your own good, quick to jump into a fight, you and Steve have that in common. But you’re also quick-witted, ambitious, and God I’m rambling, again aren’t I? I just… I wanted to show you some of the beauty you show me every time you walk through the door without even trying.” You couldn’t stop smiling as Bucky spoke, somewhere along the line you two had started holding hands and you most definitely weren’t letting go anytime soon. “I’ve fallen in love with you without you even trying doll.” He froze, realizing the pet name rolled so easily off his tongue, the same one that had upset you the night before.

You released one of his hands, gently placing it to cusp his jaw, “Bucky, I think I have some of my own confessions to make” your voice was soft, and it surprised you that you even could speak. Here was the man of your literal dreams confessing his love for you in the garden you had built from the ground up. “Before you panic, I actually like the pet names, I just… last night I was really wound up, and I lashed out at you, I’m sorry Buck...” He visibly softened at your words, elated he could go back to calling you that, but he still stared at your intertwined hand. “I really like you to…” his eyes shot up from to meet yours.

“Really?” If anyone knew that the formidable Winter Soldier had practically whimpered out that word, you knew Sam would never let Bucky live it down. You just smiled, standing and gently tugged him into the garden. You had a second bench, hidden amongst the thick foliage of the surrounding trees and vines. The bench was at the edge of a hidden circle opening, the circle was lined with rock and shells, the center filled with soft blankets and fluffy pillows. This was your favorite place to nap, the quiet secluded heart of the garden just hidden in the darkness, and away from the exit. Bucky hadn’t been the first to enter the garden, but he was the first you were willingly showing this part of it. It was your, or well our now you guessed, little secret. Fairy lights, these installed by you as the first batch you received, surrounded the circle.

You sat towards the edge of the circle, just a bit off from the bench, motioned him to join you on the fluffy pillows you sat on. He hesitantly sat beside you, close but cautious, unsure of what you were doing but trusting you completely. “Do you know why this small area is my favorite spot but is the one area of the entire garden I don’t let anyone into?” You asked softly, gently holding his soft yet calloused hands in your lap. He shook his head, intrigued but staying silent. You pointed towards the bush in front of you, small blue forget-me-nots dotting the bush. “They remind me of you.” You confided, looking towards him. His eyes gazed back towards you, full of admiration, awe, and, dare you to say, love. “There’s the obvious memory joke in there, but that’s not why they remind me of you. They symbolize a love brimming with memories, and every time I look at them I remember the hundreds of times your eyes look at me with such awe, like you can’t believe I’m real. No one’s ever looked at me like that before. Their color reminds me of your eyes, those ocean eyes I could get lost in if I’m not paying attention, the eyes I’m searching for during those boring briefs before meetings. They also symbolize how I don’t want you to forget about me one day.” You saw the emotions flash in those very eyes you could fall into as you spoke.

Bucky gently moved closer, his hands now cradling your jaw as he spoke. “I could never forget about you doll.” His words pushed you forward almost subconsciously, finally daring to get closer to the man you could see yourself falling in love with. Every second went by painfully slow as the two of you grew closer, until Bucky’s lips met with yours. You hummed happily, his thumbs rubbing soft circles against your cheeks as you finally kissed. Your hands found themselves at the nape of his neck, gently tugging at his hair as he deepened the kiss. You pulled away finally, suddenly very aware about the burning need in your lungs to breathe. Bucky, ever the super soldier, was the first to recover, grinning as he tried to catch his breath. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since forever.”

You laughed at that, biting your bottom lip, noticing how kiss swollen Bucky’s lips were. “Stop being cheesy and kiss me again Bucky, matte’ of fact, never stop kissing me,” You said softly, pulling him back for more. He smiled against your lips as you both finally felt content, surrounded by flowers and fairy lights.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #my writing #1.5kconstellationswritingchallenge #angst #fluff #tw: intrusive thoughts

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kamekamelea · 6 years ago

Text

the one where Jake learns to trust his daughter (or not)

~Special thanks to amazing @feeisamarshmallow for beta-reading and editing 💕(check out her writing - it’s great!)~

This fic is a little birthday present for Adele @b99peraltiago, who requested #43 (parties/first time drunk) from @meepmorpperaltiago kids prompts list some time ago and I hope it brings at least a small smile to your face on your bday :))) (and thank you for letting me borrow the name Anana for this one, you know how much I love it)

Happy birthday, Adele! 💖

read on ao3

“That’s not fair!”

Jake’s heart breaks every time he’s a witness to his two precious girls fighting. And since Ana recently got into the rebellious stage of her teen life, it’s happening quite often now and Jake hates it.

“I’m not changing my mind, Ana! You’re not going to this party and I don’t want to hear any more of it!” Amy’s not shouting but her voice is so sharp it could cut. This is the authoritative Amy Santiago-Peralta speaking.

“No one ever invites me to this kind of stuff and do you wanna know why?!” his dear Anana’s eyes are full of angry tears now, her cheeks are red and puffy from crying and Jake thinks he’s too soft to have this kind of conversation with his kid. “Because guess what - both of my parents are fucking cops! That’s why!”

Well, this is new.

“Anana! Mind your language!” The shock he’s feeling is evident in his tone. “If you are not able to maintain a certain level of respect for your mother, this conversation is over. Now.” Jake is not the shouting type of parent, so he reprimands his daughter very calmly. And even though the disappointment and look of betrayal on Ana’s face almost breaks him, he doesn’t give up - there are boundaries that cannot be crossed, and using such hurtful words definitely does so.

Ana looks him deep in the eyes for a few more seconds before she turns around and runs to her room, closing the door with a loud thump, and making Amy jump. She’s still shocked from the turn their conversation took.

“Can you believe it? I feel like I don’t recognize her anymore.” His wife starts to voice her frustration, caused by their daughter’s behavior, but Jake’s buried too deep in his thoughts to pay any attention to her rant.

“I think we’re making a mistake, Ames.” He stops her mid-sentence.

“What?!”

And there she is, back to her furious mode.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying? You think we should let her go to that boy’s party? That’s ridiculous. What if she drinks herself unconscious? What if she does something stupid?” Suddenly Amy’s eyes get wide and there’s a look of terror on her face. “What if she does drugs?!”

“First of all, Ames, none of this will happen ‘cause we raised her better than this. She’s our daughter and we need to learn to trust her. Secondly, at least we know this guy - it’s Tommy, for God’s sake! You adore him - he aces every year’s spelling bee, he does math camps and he helped you recently with your crossword puzzle - he’s our daughter’s best friend of your dreams! Besides I don’t think this kind of guy is gonna organize a crazy party.”

“If our daughter is as naive as you, I’m worried even more. You’re so easy to fool, Peralta.” Jake’s a bit taken aback by his wife’s insult. “I’ve known guys like him - they charm you with their knowledge of physics or chemistry fun facts and than bam! There they are - trying to get to your pants!”

“God, who have you been with?” Jake’s disgust quickly changes into anger “Who was he? Did he hurt you? Do you need me to teach this guy a lesson?”

Amy’s expression softens a bit at her husband’s concern.

“I was twelve years old and all he wanted was a kiss but it was enough to scare me. Tony beat him up. Got suspended for it.”

Jake feels a sudden wave of affection towards Amy’s younger brother.

“Good to know. Anyway, I think we can trust Anana with this. She’s sixteen and it’s true what she said about her peers not inviting her to parties, you know it.”

There was an incident few months ago, when a boy from Ana’s class got arrested by cops from Amy’s precinct and it was Captain Santiago-Peralta herself who had a talk with him about the consequences of possessing drugs. Life has been hell for Ana since.

“Well, it’s not her fault that boy was trying to destroy his life.”

“True, but it’s her who suffers now from it.”

There is a moment of silence between them as they stare at each other - Jake knows it’s a hard task convincing his wife about something like this, but he is also certain about the rightness of his move. He’s not going to back out. And Amy must see the determination in his eyes cause she eventually buys in.

“Fine. But it’s your responsibility altogether - if she ends up in a hospital from alcohol poisoning, it’ll be you who sits by her bed and worries about her.” They are both aware that Amy’s bluffing right now - there’s no way she’d be able to sit still, if one of her children was suffering.

“Nothing bad will happen - wanna bet on it?” There’s a hint of excitement in Jake’s voice at the thought of rivalry.

“Jake, I am not betting on our child’s well-being.”

“Right, yeah, sorry. Got a bit ahead of myself. That’s not good parenting.”

Amy shakes her head in an act of resignation.

“I can’t believe I’m saying yes to this. It’s crazy. I’m so scared.” Her voice is quiet as she speaks her fears. Jake has known from the beginning of this argument that Amy’s opposition is fueled only by anxiety. But that doesn’t change the fact that he believes that this kind of behavior is wrong. They have to trust their soon-to-be-an-adult daughter. No matter how difficult it is for them. And all he can do now is offer his wife some comfort in a hard moment as this one, when it’s the first time their child goes to an almost adult-like party.

So he embraces her, kisses her temple and mutters into her hair soothing words.

“Anana will be fine. It’s completely natural for you to be worried, but she’ll be fine. She’s a smart girl.”

***

Five days after that conversation, Jake thinks he couldn’t be more wrong as he watches his daughter puking into their neighbours bushes.

He made a deal with Ana, that she can go to the party but he’ll pick her up at exactly 1 am and the moment she got into the car he knew she was totally drunk. It was Tommy who helped her out of the house and Jake should be probably thankful for it but instead of showing him his gratitude, he gave him a stern look of disappointment. The boy paled at the view and muttered quietly “Sorry, Mr. Peralta” before running back to his house.

And now Jake finds himself standing behind his precious offspring, who is pouring the contents of her stomach out of herself, with a hurtful expression on his face. There are so many emotions bustling inside of him - there’s anger of course, a bit of disappointment - there’s no point it denying it - but mostly worry and compassion, because his kid is in pain. There is no need for him to hold back her hair - she has it tied up in a bun, that reminds him so much of her mother. So he just stands there feeling a bit weird.

She finally finishes throwing up and he squats beside her.

“Better?” he pats her shoulder awkwardly. He’s taken care of many people who suffered from too much drinking but it’s a whole different experience when it’s his kid.

“I’m so sorry, dad. I know it was you who convinced mum and now I’ve disappointed you.”

“Not gonna argue with that. But we’re gonna talk about it in the morning, Ana.”

The absence of his pet name for her doesn’t get unnoticed as a quiet sob escapes her mouth.

“I’m really sorry. I’m so stupid.”

“Hey, don’t call my daughter stupid!” He cracks a smile in attempt to cheer her up a little, and strokes her hair. He can’t stand her seeing sad, she’s his precious little girl. “You’re young, not stupid. And this -” he points at the vomit in front of them “- this is just a mistake. A mistake that you’re gonna learn from, right?” she nods biddably. “Come on, let’s go home before your mum gets suspicious.” He makes an attempt to stand up but Ana’s tuck on his jacket stops him.

“I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, Ananas.” he plants a kiss on her forehead and offers her a hand to help her stand up.

They sneak into the house without waking Amy up, and Jake thinks it’s one of his greatest achievements as a father.

***

“Babe, why is our daughter up so early after a party and mowing the lawn?”

Jake’s making coffee in the kitchen when he hears his wife’s sleepy voice. He turns around to greet her with a quick kiss on her cheek and smiles at the sight in front of him. Amy looks beautiful as always, even though she’s wearing not very fancy plaid pajamas and a silk robe on top. Her hair is already combed regardless her waking up just minutes ago.

And she’s right - it is very early in the morning, Ana doesn’t get up this early even on week days, not to mention the weekend.

“Well since I’m not allowed to spill anything regarding last night’s events, all I’m gonna say, is that what you see is me enforcing some good old days discipline.”

There is now a playful smirk on Amy’s face as she approaches her husband with a glint in her eyes.

“So, you’re saying this is some sort of punishment for Ana?”

“That’s one way to put it. I spend most of the night thinking what would be a perfect lesson for her and I came up with the best idea. The effect of consuming too much alcohol is a penalty itself. All I have to do is to make sure she remembers this hangover.”

Yes, he has a whole list of chores for his little Anana to do and mowing the lawn at 7.30 on Saturday morning is one of the most pleasurable ones.

He watches their daughter from the coziness of their kitchen, as she dutifully performs the task he gave her and he’s not able to fight the proud smirk that creeps it’s way on his face. He shouldn’t be so smug about this, right?

But his ego is stroked even more when Amy speaks, hugging him from behind and kissing his neck.

“Mmm you’re such a brilliant dad, I think it turns me on a little.” She almost purrs into his shoulder blade, making him beam.

“So, you’re saying you have a thing for dads?” He chuckles before turning around to face her and his hands immediately find their way to her waist.

“Nah, just the father of my children.”

And that’s it for Jake, he can no longer hold back as he dips in for a kiss. His wife responds very eagerly to his actions and it surprises him a bit even though it shouldn’t. His hands slide beneath the top of her pajamas and he starts caressing her back with his palms, knowing how much she enjoys it. It’s a completely innocent touch but it earns him a moan from Amy nonetheless.

After a moment of hot kisses, hectic touches and whimpering sounds it’s Amy who eventually comes to her senses even if just for a second.

“Atlas is still asleep and Ana is gonna be busy for at least half an hour or so. You’re thinking what I’m thinking?” There is a radiant smile on her pretty face, her cheeks are pink, eyes are shining and there is no way Jake could ever say no to her.

“Definitely.”

And so he dutifully follows his wife to their bedroom.

(Next time Jake picks Anana up after a party, he still can tell she’s tipsy but she hides it really well. What she can’t hide though is a big hickey on her neck and this time it’s Amy who has to calm him down when they have another difficult conversation with their daughter the next morning.)

#happy birthday!#this is me trying to say thank you for sharing your talent with us #i wish you all the best #b99 #b99fic #b99 fic #peraltiago #peraltiago fic #jake x amy #jake x amy kids #kids prompts #jake x amy x kids #jake peralta #jake peralta fic #amy santiago #my writing #fanfiction #brooklyn nine nine #kasia writes

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littlejeanniebean · 5 years ago

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Ep. 1 | Amy's Progress Vlog #1: Up to Speed

A/N: Amy was always the hardest character for me to relate to, so I gave her a vlog to fuel her narcissism and I’m suddenly realizing, what if that’s all she needed to be more selfless irl? An outlet?

~1000 words. Read on Wattpad!

The exciting quarantine of 2020 promised in the tags is coming in a future episode, I promise...

- J xx.

Amy sits facing the window of her room. Her phone is propped up on her desk, which is littered with wide sheets of art paper and pencils of every color.

Amy (to her phone): My name is Amy Marena and I fancy myself an artist.

Amy (face falls dramatically, tone turns sharply sarcastic): I keep thinking that if I say it often enough, I'll hear how ridiculous it sounds and convince myself to be content with my life. Let me get you up to speed!

Amy rearranges her phone with a selfie stick wedged between her window and the sill. The video continues in "Draw My Life" style as she sketches her narrations.

Amy (V.O.): My mama is a home health nurse during the week and a mental health crisis helpline volunteer on the weekends when most of her clients finally have family at home to take care of them. She's not home a lot herself, but when she is, she tells the best stories, cooks the best meals, and sings terrible karaoke. Even though she became a nurse because it guaranteed she would always have work to support our family, she also did it because it was what she loved and she never pushed me or my sisters into "practical" ambitions. It was always, "What do you want to do, my Marias?" Her sister, Aunt Sophie, runs a tech incubator and is her total opposite. At Thanksgiving this year, she sat me down and told me, "Now that Meg is out of commission and Jo is an arts major, it's up to you to help your mother support them all." That's why I started taking coding classes in school and online. I'm actually not half bad if I do say so myself. I just… I just wish I had more time to sketch and paint.

Amy (V.O.): My eldest sister Meg was studying marketing in university. But she met this super hot econ TA in her second year and they accidentally had twins. Now they live together in the apartment next door. Yes, still on a TA's salary. Meg's applied everywhere and she's crazy smart, but she can't afford daycare and no sane retail manager will let her bring the terrible two to work. Also John - that’s econ TA’s name - he’s a bit… protective? Like, I guess that’s a turn on for Meg, but he doesn’t like the idea of her working so soon after delivery. If it was my body, I’d ask him what the heck he knows.

Amy (V.O.): My other older sister is Jo. We're… not very close.

Amy (back to traditional vlog-style medium frame shot): You know how honesty isn't really a big thing on the internet? Well, that all goes out the window on this vlog. I am absolutely, 100% doing this for your approval and attention because I may have a mind of my own, but I'm also fifteen and stupid.

Amy (back to V.O.): Exhibit A-Z: Jo's a writer. She's in her first year of an English degree but is just so good that her professor vouched for her to a screenwriter friend at Netflix. Yeah, that Netflix. But… now she might not make the portfolio deadline.

Amy (sighs wearily): There was this party at Laurie's - an old friend of ours who’s Jo's age but got held back in senior year because he was hardly ever actually in class and the one time he showed up he was caught smoking marijuana. During a test. And no, he doesn't have exam anxiety, he just likes to be an ass sometimes. We've talked to him about it. He's turned around… mostly. Anyway, Jo took the car, wouldn't let me go with her and I… might'vehackedhercloudaccountanddeletedeverything.

Amy (back to medium frame, squeezing her eyes shut and burying her face in her hands): I know, I know! I'm a terrible person! As soon as the screen went blank I felt sick to my stomach. I tried to undo it, I tried restoring some cached data, I even called the company and was on hold when Jo came home. For a while she was still… civil. Panicked, justifiably, but civil until they said there was nothing they could do then she… exploded. I'm not even exaggerating. Jo Marena straight-up explodes when you cross her - beady brown eyes wild, a curse on you and your cow every other word, and a few good smacks on the arm.

Amy (V.O.): Anyway, I'm on my apology tour and I need you guys to hold me accountable. I programmed a speech-to-text app for her, none of that questionable always-listening mainstream stuff. She's got such a quick mind it's hard for her fingers to catch up sometimes. She wouldn't use the app if she knew it came from me, though. So I had Laurie pass it off as his. I might be able to tell her… someday. Step Two: change the car's tires back for the summer so Jo doesn't have to. Ugh. And mow the lawn. Why did Jo have to call dibs on all the hard labour chores? I know, I know, I'm apologizing. It shouldn't be easy, or else what's the point.

Amy (V.O.): After Jo, there's little Beth. We all call her little Beth, even though she's older than me. She has the voice of an angel, but only ever sings for us, privileged few, her family - Aunt Sophie not included because she's Medusa incarnate. Bethie graduates this year and we're all so freaking proud! It's… harder for her than most. She has actual exam anxiety. And social anxiety. And dyslexia. But she's truly the best of us. No one would ever dispute it. She volunteers at the soup kitchen, senior's home, and animal shelter. And when she won scholarships for her community service, she asked if she could defer them to someone with even more financial need!

Amy (back to medium frame shot, smiling): We love Beth. Everyone does.

Amy (face falls): And then there's me. Dumb-blonde Amy. Over-dramatic Amy. I swear, I'm not saying it for pity, I know it all to be true which is why I'm doing this. If you guys don't see growth in me week-to-week, let me know, and I'll step it up. And if you want to start a progress vlog, comment the link to your channel below and we'll rally around you too. O-kay, back to living!

Amy (two-fingered salute): Amy, out.

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gg-astrology · 6 years ago

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Sagittarius sun with a Gemini moon? What are your thoughts on how they would be?

Hey there! 💕Here ya go I did my best 💕 I hope you didn’t wait too long ksdjnsk im so sorry ;; 💕💕 im working from bottoms up and only just got to urs 💕

[Below Cut: Sagittarius Sun - Gemini Moon 🧞‍♂️ ]

Clever and lucky...what a good combination to have

I nearly had half the mind to put a clover leaf for this combination because they somehow always seem to get by -- being playful and autonomous, detached and friendly without compromising themselves/binding themselves down completely to anything (belonging to everything).

But i feel like the genie is better-- it talks about the wandering spirit Sagittarius/Gemini has. They touch and go, learn and grow, but without anyone around them who’s consistent/stead-fast throughout their entire life.

These people have the ability to come across as someone who’s incredibly anxious skdjngskn but that in itself is a survival skill, they skrrrt so fast when someone tries to make them stay/figure them out deeper than what they’re willing to show, there’s a fear of vulnerabilities/intimacy that comes with the territory. Because they feel like if they ‘open’ that up--- it’s a whole can of worms that could potentially turn into upsetting their moods, and they are always defined by what mood they’re in.

They also don’t like it when they themselves are held accountable for their own words/action. Because sometimes they 1) ‘cant remember what they said/thats too specific/detailed/technical’

Or 2) did something that they said they weren’t going to do bc they already ‘grew past what they said/that phrase in their life’ even tho it was like-- 15 minutes ago.

Can’t hold them accountable for themselves?? Lack a lil self-discipline which y know, might be endearing to a certain age/expected of the environment -- but in the long-run, the thought of ‘oh god am i going to get anywhere/manifest anything in 10 years’ freaks them out sometimes (causes anxiety to spike) so -- they don’t like to think too hard about these things (selective, with what they’re thinking about/spend their time thinking about. Watch for this)

Which--also directly contributes to why they have a problem with self-discipline. They’d rather wait for these ‘periods’ of anxiety to rise again and again and then subdue them again and again.

Than --- y know, actually putting it into action/doing something about it realistically (through effort) and help their own future instead.

They’re easily discouraged by set backs too, especially the financial/circumstantial kinds. Any kinds of upsets/mishaps or challenges that comes from those areas makes them spiral directly into despair. That’s why they lack self-discipline somewhat--bc they themselves can’t ‘hold up’ their moods against slight disappointment/challenges made against them.

(A way to help is to learn perseverance, consistency. Look towards Taurus/Earth signs for help. Since they can be dedicated/stead-fast, but lets you have your own autonomy if ONLY you learn how to actually open up and ask them for help without feeling ‘shitty/guilty’ about doing it)

Another thing they do is just kinda, try to relieve the pressure/tension so they ‘lighten’ it up. One of these coping mechanism can be making it into a joke/divert it away from the severity of the situation

(It’s not that severe you’ll get along fine with how you are, it’s just-- you’re always going to be stuck in your own ways and always anxious if you don’t gain any stable grounds for yourself too yknow?)

They can sometimes just think of ‘taking action/actually committing to something’ as being personal attacks, and anyone who tries to suggest/teach them to do this is lashed out against bc it ‘restricts their luck/optimism’ (again, their self-preservation and first priority is always their freedom/autonomy and that comes in the territory of ‘mood’ as well. Unable to take any other ‘mood’ other than light and airy, sometimes thinking of things as ‘learning how to cope/accept different moods for yourself and be ok with working on it’ can help)

Sagittarius/Gemini person have plenty of extroverted/playful persona, someone knows Whats up with people bc they aren’t afraid to dive into it/ask about it.

That’s like-- the ‘smooth’ persona they use to get by y know? it’s their extroverted persona instead of-- actually doing something for themselves that binds/balance both sides together and actually help lesson their anxiety at it’s core fear. Which is what they kinda have to realize (that it’s all interconnected)

In a way they can just--- fear not being optimistic and actually having to be ‘down’ about something because the ‘reality’ of their fear is just that.

Part of them might just be afraid of how others sees them, if they aren’t going to be ‘good’ to themselves/others anymore bc they’re less optimistic than before.

Bounded by the same rules as others (societal expectations/longevity of life). They’d rather ‘represent’ something else-- hope, optimism, but y know. Same problem anyways. The anxiety and ‘diversion’ from the norm will only make them feel like they can’t ever....actually face their problems/starting at ground 0 again (feels like it’s too late to start, which is-- a part of their fear again)

I think--- hmm, the thing that might help Sagittarius/Gemini is to just take it simply. They’re the type of person who likes to taste, to explore a large variety of experience, themes, hobbies, life. But they’re unaware that they’re pretty constrained in their-- well, emotional health? Their moods?

They take what they want, preach but doesn’t learn as much as they think they do. They’re selective in what they want to learn about, what they’re ‘ready’ for. And sometimes-- the hardest lesson in life is learning the things that are ‘truthful’ and ‘helpful’ which might not be-- all fun and nice all the times.

By learning the values in hard lessons, in accepting the sober and uncomfortable ‘moods’-- they’ll be much better adapted at handling/dealing with their anxious energy as well.

Ok that’s-- that’s very heavy, let’s move onto some other stuff!

These people are Chatty, but like...has so much going on they need some time away too skdnfksn

Sagittarius/Gemini sometimes feel like their mouth/brain moves faster than what they can control (causes restlessness/frustration)...so if they leave themselves to like, socialize for more than 24 hrs at a time they’re going to come back going ‘oh god why did i say that/what have i done’

Frustration at themselves for oversharing/hit-the-wall feeling of having nothing left to share??? Mutable energy has so much energy that it often makes their strongest ‘frustration’ letting themselves ‘go’ too much

(Because if they have ‘nothing left to share’ then that only means they’ll have to be repetitive and god they hate that. It’s not new/fresh and it’s not-- it’s not contributing to anything)

Thus why they seek to sometimes hide themselves away, be away from people in order to y know-- gather resources/energy to NOT be too much/expend their energy too much on the outside (and also lowkey to not Make a Fool also)

This is from an outsider’s perspective but also like....I’m always conscious thinking about Gemini as the Twin and it’s not just one side to them y know

I think we tend to think Gemini as being extroverted all the time when it’s not usually like that. They’re the twin...it’s a cycle... there’s two sides to the coin that needs to be processed

Their energy works in a cycle, continuous and moving, the twin isn’t just speaking out-loud/alone, it’s speaking/looping between two people.

If they don’t spend enough time thinking/gaining resource/fuel they over-share because they over-exert themselves....when they spend too much time internalizing/adding things onto their resources they get frustrated, restless, antsy and wants to ‘explode’ this onto social realm

So it’s like....they gotta be in a ‘Moment’ where they can both gain resources/information and process/drop the information in a continuous cycle -- quicker, constant, faster y know (Mercurial sign)

Instead of ‘stopping’ the motion and ‘pacing’ themselves-- the Sagittarius/Gemini is all about working at a faster pace than the one the world moves at....the one that if ‘man-made’ or controlled, would be detrimental to them

It’s a mixture of Sagittarius fire impulses, ‘doing’ things making them feel productive (and so not depriving them of those gratification by dropping them slower than normal) and then Gemini being naturally fast moving already-- being able to gather large (jupiter) information and then process them/cycling them through (release- mercury) is how they gain gratification/work perfectly in balance with themselves

Thing is-- they work --- super fast, faster than most people operate so it can be hard for others to keep up and keep them stimulated all the time

That’s ok, since Sagittarius/Gemini wouldn’t mind talking to just -- like, anyone. When they need to anyways. With great communicative ability, eloquence and friendliness/open-ness to them, they make others feel welcomed to talk. Even when they’re normally quiet/with-drawn mostly bc the Sagittarius/Gemini keeps the conversation going for them.

The thing is, Sagittarius/Gemini may rarely keep anyone around. Or rather, they sometimes ‘forget’ about people sometimes bc they move along so quickly and boldly-- and they judge others based on the interactions they’ve had, whether they’ve ‘stuck’ around in their mind or not. So it’s--- it can be kind of hard to think these people would belong anywhere, find anyone they truly stay ‘stuck’ with unless the person would be able to listen to them/keep up with them mentally a lot of the time.

Also these people aren’t afraid to be eccentric, they have good judgement. It might be a lil quirky or different, but Jupiter/Mercury never find joy in the TOTALLY conventional anyways.

And if they like something, they just-- keep doing it, keep pursuing it because it gives them stimuli (hobbies/interest) although they can have a large array of interests--as long as they’re ‘doing’ something physically with it they can keep themselves engaged/make it into a quantifiable project (see the results: the multitude of their craft/project at the end and look back on themselves like ‘wow i did this all in this year’)

That’s the thing isn’t it? They like seeing quantifiable ‘proof’ that they did something productive (fire moon-physical proof) -- they like to see that, although they are careless and forgetful sometimes. They did amount to something in the end.

It all comes down to-- y know, learning lessons. self-discipline. because you can’t keep closing your eyes, blinding painting random swatches and hoping it’ll turn out into something manifestable/painting that’s ‘oh thats better than expected!’ all the time y know. (you can’t keep seeing disasterous results as ‘aw thats ok :(( maybe next time’ when you’re just?? depending on luck?? to get by???)

Anyways, I hope I didn’t go in too hard ;; 💕💕💕Hope you gain some insights from this! 💕💕

#sagittarius sun #gemini moon #sagittarius #gemini #sagittarius-gemini #reclusiveextrovert2 #asks

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yourwritersblock · 7 years ago

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Secrets

His eyes had been the first thing Andrew ever noticed about Neil. The ring of piercing blue that the contacts couldn’t cover made him unknown; a threat. Later, Andrew noticed when Neil took the muddy brown off of his irises and gave him a sliver of honesty. A while after that, Andrew noticed the quiet adoration in them when Neil looked at him as though Andrew were something precious.

Now, six years after Baltimore, Andrew noticed how Neil’s sharp blue eyes looked flat and cold. Something had changed in the last two weeks; Andrew just didn’t know what it was.

It had started quietly, as all bad things did in Andrew’s experience. He’d started waking up in the middle of the night to find Neil curled in on himself and pressed against the very edge of the bed. This wouldn’t have been unusual when they had first started sharing a bed, but in the six years of their not-thing, both of them had become used to the idea, and often woke up curled around each other.

Neil’s morning runs had become longer and longer after he slipped out of their shared bed at the crack of dawn and when he eventually made his way home, he didn’t saunter into the bedroom to annoy Andrew with sweaty morning kisses.

Andrew could feel Neil pull away from him. He didn’t want to turn Neil back into a liar by tainting his “always yes”s with “no”s, so Andrew stopped asking him for the meager affection they tended to share. Neil always came home though, so Andrew chalked it up to something that Neil had to work through on his own.

----

Practise had been gruelling, despite Andrew’s lack of effort, and by the time he got home he was ready to collapse onto the couch and watch whatever terrible movie had caught Neil’s attention.

“Kevin just-” he heard Neil from the other room when he pushed the front door open. It was unusual for Neil to be voluntarily speaking to Kevin at all. “I just need-” he cut himself off in frustration and Andrew heard the squeak of springs as Neil sat on the edge of the bed. Neil tried a few more times to say whatever it was that he needed to say before settling on: “he keeps telling me this is nothing anyway, and he’s not actually in love with me so this is for the best.”

Andrew let the door fall shut behind him and Neil’s phone call came to an abrupt end. Neil wandered into the kitchen where Andrew was pulling cartons of ice cream out of the freezer. Neil’s words were racing through his head and Andrew was trying to understand them when he turned to the other man. His thoughts ground to a halt when his eyes met Neil’s. The blue was rimmed in red, and bags sat like black smudges under his eyes. Andrew had never seen Neil cry, and an old old conversation sprung to mind.

I saw Matt crying today.

And?

Sometimes I wonder if I’m broken. I’ve only cried once since I was eight, and even then I was literally having my face melted off with a dashboard lighter.

I’m sure Riko was heartbroken that he couldn’t squeeze a few tears out of you during your little stint at Evermore.

Like Riko was worthy of my tears.

Neil’s cold eyes dropped to the ground and broke contact, but the implication that he had been crying sent Andrew’s pulse racing.

One of the cats rubbed against Andrew’s leg and began demanding some of whatever Andrew was holding. “If you don’t feed your cat I will poison it with ice cream,” Andrew said. Neil usually smiled and rolled his eyes when Andrew claimed that he didn’t care about the cats, but his statement had Neil chewing on his bottom lip and slipping around Andrew to pull the bag of cat food from the cupboard.

Neil’s phone went off in his back pocket and Neil startled before he yanked it out and killed the call. A few seconds later a text message pinged on Neil’s cell and his face twisted. He slammed his finger down onto the call button and snarled the word “don’t” over the line, hanging up a second later.

Andrew jerked his chin up in a silent demand for an explanation but Neil breathed in, chest hitching and walked out of the house.

He didn’t come back that night.

The next day passed slowly and Andrew spent practise picking his feelings apart. Did he care that he’d slept alone? Was what Neil had said about Andrew not loving him true? Andrew didn’t know how to love, but what he felt for Neil was… unique, and important. It had been years since he had drawn up the conclusion that if it was Neil, then he didn’t want to be alone. That decision had only cemented itself in Andrew’s mind over time.

He sped home, pushing his newest expensive car as far as it could go. Whatever was going on with Neil wasn’t something he could work through on his own. The front door was unlocked when he pulled it open. Muted relief washed over Andrew; Neil had at least come home.

“Neil,” he called into the house, throwing his shoes in the alcove by the door. He didn’t get a response, and the relief dulled into a cold unease. Andrew allowed himself a second to feel it before pushing the sensation away.

The cats were meowing in the living room and they never seemed to leave Neil alone when he was home, so Andrew made his way through the house.

Neil was sitting on the couch, packed duffel bag between his feet. Andrew stared at him for a moment before whatever was happening clicked in his brain. “You’re leaving,” he stated, voice as bored and devoid of emotion as it always was.

“Yes,” Neil said, “I’m leaving.”

“Why?” Andrew felt panic running like static in his fingers. His throat felt tight. It was too similar to how he’d felt after the riot and Andrew crossed his arms to avoid lashing out.

Indecision played over Neil’s features, a war raging in his eyes. “I can’t-” he cut himself off. “Maybe I'm just craving affection,” he said at length.

Andrew didn't stop him when he left.

He lay in bed that night, running his hand over Neil's side of the bed. It was cold, and Andrew felt nausea roil in his gut. Andrew was drifting off when his ringtone shattered the silence. He rolled over and grabbed it from the night stand. Kevin was calling. Andrew debated cancelling the call, wishing it was ringing with a certain custom ringtone instead.

“What,” he answered.

“You really can't let this get between you,” came the reply.

“Neil wanting something I can't give him is more than something that could merely ‘get between us’.”

Silence rang over the line like static. “What are you talking about?”

“He,” Andrew paused, searching for the right words, “broke up with me because he wants more affection than I could ever offer him. He's tired of being held at arm's length.”

“That's not why he-” Kevin made a frustrated sound. “He didn't tell you.”

Andrew sat up. “Oh Kevin, why is it that you always seem to know Neil's secrets when I do not?”

“Because he doesn't care about me. His life can't hurt me.”

Andrew didn't respond.

“Just come get him,” Kevin sighed, “he's crashing in my spare room.”

Andrew was out of bed and on the road within minutes. It was a two hour drive to Kevin’s apartment, but Andrew cut it down to an hour and a half. He pulled up outside Kevin’s building and threw the car into park. Boiling fury had fueled him on the drive over, but now that Neil was a mere elevator ride away, it flooded from his blood stream.

He sat in the car for a few minutes before making his way upstairs. Kevin lived on the seventeenth floor, and the glass elevator sent Andrew already unsteady pulse tripping over itself. Kevin answered the door after the third knock.

“Oh thank fuck you’re here,” he exhaled, “Neil crying is not something I have the emotional capability to deal with.”

“It’s unlike you to be so self aware,” Andrew said distractedly as he stepped into the apartment. Kevin pointed him in the direction of the spareroom. Andrew eased the door open and stepped into the dark room. Neil was curled up on his side under the sheets, and Andrew took a moment to sweep his eyes over the hill of Neil’s hip and the valley of his waist. Neil’s slow, steady breathing couldn’t be faked; he was fast asleep.

He must have been exhausted, because both Andrew and Neil were the type of people to wake at the slightest disturbance. Andrew dropped down on the bed a few inches away from Neil and his fingers itched to reach out and run themselves through Neil’s copper locks. “Neil,” he said, “Neil, wake up.”

Neil’s eyes fluttered open, pupils blown wide from sleep. They narrowed into pinpricks when he caught sight of Andrew and he pushed himself into a sitting position. “Andrew,” his voice faltered, “What are you doing here?”

“I came back for my lying rabbit.”

The sharp inhale that Neil sucked into his lungs betrayed his anxiety. “I didn’t want to lie to you.”

“So why did you really leave? Do you really think I don’t-” Andrew swallowed the rest of the sentence. “We’ve been doing this long enough that I expect honesty. If you really want me out of your life, I’ll go, but I at least deserve to know why.”

Neil buried his face in his knees. “I don’t,” he said, words dripping with pain. “I don’t want you out of my life.”

“So why?” Andrew asked, startled by the desperation leaking into his voice.

Neil dropped his hand on the bed and curled his fingers in invitation. Andrew slotted his fingers in between Neil’s. “Why?” he repeated.

“I don’t know how he found out,” Neil whispered. “Ichirou found out about our first Columbia trip. Someone sent him a video of Nicky shoving drugs into my mouth.”

They had long since discussed Nicky’s forced kiss, but it still sent a familiar bubble of anger through Andrew’s heart. “And?”

“And Ichirou knows you… orchastated it. He knows that if that video leaks my career will be greatly impacted. Mostly he doesn’t trust you though. What evidence does he have that you won’t do something like that again? And if you do, his investment is over.”

Andrew swallowed around the glass in his throat. “So he threatened to kill you if you stay with me? That makes no sense.”

The look Neil shot him made him feel as though he had said something stupid. “No, he’ll kill you and I-” a tear slipped over Neil’s scarred cheek and he lifted the hand that was still entwined with Andrew’s to scrub it away. “I can’t lose you.”

“And you think I can lose you?” Neil’s gaze jerked to Andrew’s eyes in surprise. “You can’t think you’re the only one who wants this?”

A smile tugged at Neil’s lips and he threw himself at Andrew, who caught him in a hug and fisted his hands in the back of Neil’s shirt. Andrew pressed Neil as close to his chest as he could until he felt the pulse of Neil’s heart against his own. “Let’s go home,” Andrew murmured into his hair.

“But-”

“Don’t worry,” Andrew said, “Ichirou loves deals and I’m good at making them. It’ll be fine.”

Andrew could acknowledge the selfishness of his plan, but it was reciprocated by Neil, who didn’t once loosen his grip around Andrew’s waist.

#ayyy i'm alive #andreil #angst #break up #happy ending #andrew minyard #neil josten #kevin day #please accept my offering #oneshot #editing? still don't know her #grammar mistakes? definitely know her #andreil fic #aftg fic #tfc fic #givekevinabreak #Aftg fic

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imnoexpertblog · 6 years ago

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Back at It Again with the Self-Reflection

7/17/18

I am back. You might have read in my previous blog (generous word for it, it was basically just an update) that I needed a break. I was having a very rough week and my anxiety was at all all-time time high. Why this was happening is neither here nor there, since it was all resolved. Thankfully. But I didn’t lose any weight during the worst anxiety I’ve had in almost a year! That is a huge deal. Anxiety causes me to lose my appetite normally, but not this time. I noticed I was eating normally, not gagging on my food, not nauseated by the thought of eating, etc. I also noticed some other things about myself during this hard week. Self-reflection was forced upon me and I came out of it all finding more out about myself than I have in a long time.

First epiphany; I’m too nice sometimes (all the time). I have a hard time being real and honest. I sugar-coat things for others and I end up hurting myself as a result. The thought of someone being upset with me or disliking me sometimes tears me apart and it can cause me to put their feelings before my own in order to avoid that. This is necessary at times, but I need to start putting my own mental health first. I drive myself nuts worrying about everyone else. I never take care of myself, especially when I need it the most. They say you can’t pour from an empty cup, and they are correct. The way you take care of yourself (or not) catches up to you eventually. Being up front about things might be really hard in certain situations or with certain people, but its worth it if it means you are doing what’s best for your own wellbeing. Watering things down doesn’t benefit anyone. The other party isn’t getting the entire story which means they can’t take the necessary steps to mitigate the problem. And this also means that you’ve just told them that what they are doing is okay. Or you can avoid this whole mess by just being 100% real. The truth really can set you free. I wish I could be more selfish but it’s just not in me. I wish it was easy to say, “Screw everyone else,” and do what I need to do or say what I need to say. But I am glad I recognize it because now I can actively try to change it. I am going to stop setting myself on fire to keep others warm.

I’ve been getting a lot of advice as of late. Advice I wasn’t seeking. As big as how to handle family drama to as insignificant as what to do with my hair. So. The second thing I’ve noticed about myself; the older I get, the less tolerant I am about receiving advice I didn’t ask for. I’ll be honest, I rarely ask anyone for advice. It’s not because I’m too proud for it or anything like that. It’s because (and I say this with as much modesty as possible) I usually know how to handle things already, or I at least know how I want to handle it. I vent a lot to those I am close to. It’s how I cope. It’s often mistaken as asking for advice, though. But that isn’t what it is. Sometimes I just need to bitch about something to someone. Someone who will listen and someone who will agree with me. Someone who will let me be mad or upset or irritated for the vent session. I understand why my listener tries to give me counsel in those moments. Venting can easily be misconstrued as asking for help. But what I do get sick of right away is when people go out of their way to tell me what they think I am doing or should be doing. “I say this because I care.” Sometimes I want to say, "Okay, well, care quietly." LOL. It’s even worse when it’s out of the blue from someone I wasn’t even talking to about my issues. I am aware that they mostly mean well, but it’s not their place. I think this is a sensitive aspect of communication and if it is not requested or welcomed, don’t advice others. I’ve also been told I am too defensive about this. This all might stem from my problem with being perceived as if I can’t hold my own. And that is how I feel when anyone expresses concern for me at all. It makes me wonder what I’ve been doing wrong up until that point. It’s very much an anxiety trigger for me. Perfection was drilled into my brain from the start and that’s something I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to shake. At least not completely. It’s one of the things I am working on.

The last revelation I have had; I am very much done letting negativity get to my daily life. The week I just had really tested me. It tested my temper, my urge to hold grudges, my stubbornness, my spitefulness, and more. And for the most part, I didn’t give in to any of that. This week tested me for sure, but it also gave me opportunities. It gave me the opportunity to forgive, to be honest, to let go, to admit my wrongs. I took those opportunities. You know what I got in return? Happiness. There has been so much over the course of my whole life that’s hurt me. There are a million things I could hold against others or use to fuel hatred and anger. For the longest time, I held onto resentment. It. Is. Exhausting. Anxiety, worry, sadness, losing sleep, losing weight, missing out on feeling happy. Holding onto negativity wasn’t teaching anyone a lesson. It wasn’t giving anyone a taste of their own medicine. It was hurting me more than anyone else. I realized this when I asked myself, “Why would I actively and consciously choose to push someone away when I can let it go and choose to be happy instead?” I've actually always forgiven too easily, but I realize I don’t mind that about myself. That being said, there are people I haven’t forgiven for certain things, but I have let those things go. Forgiving and letting go are different to me. I might not forgive you, but I’m not mad or using whatever happened against you, either. This comes down to your level of maturity and sensibility. How you react in general is a choice, and you can choose to be happy. It honestly took me making a mistake to see it this way. The potential of someone else shutting me out on purpose for something I didn’t do to intentionally cause damage made me see that anger and grudges aren’t the answer to anything. I always thought people’s actions cause me to feel the way I do, but that isn’t true. That is an excuse. You are responsible for how you react and how you feel. It is possible to have a falling out or part ways with someone and avoid resentment, negativity, and the rest of the bad stuff. You just have to decide if anything is truly worth compromising your own happiness for. In my opinion, nothing is.

Okay, I’m going to continue to be honest here. I was really messed up over not writing for over a week. It made me feel like I was leaving all of you hanging or as if I would lose my following by not staying current and relevant. Thinking about it too long would make me very anxious. (This is what I meant earlier, by the way. I’m way too worried about everyone else before myself). I also know as a rational and reasonable person that none of you are upset with me for taking a break, but anxiety is not rational or reasonable. I’m just thankful that half of my brain can acknowledge reality. So I guess I’m trying to say thanks for being patient with me and remaining in my corner.

ANYWAY. I promise I will be back with the categorized blogs of entertainment, food, and health & beauty this week. I have a lot of things to share with you so be ready for a bunch of new things!

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lovelylogans · 7 years ago

Text

marionette: chapter one

virgil

all on ao3 | next chapter | all on tumblr

warnings: deceit, so lying and manipulation, swearing, mentions of blood, strangulation, restraints

words: 3,601

notes: i have like 7 drafts but the last line popped into my head and i had to write it okay

read:

on ao3 | on tumblr, in order

Anxiety, Logan has told Virgil once, twice, a hundred times, as they sat back-to-back, is often fueled by epinephrine, commonly known as adrenaline. Your brain thinks that you are under threat, and your body responds accordingly, even if there is no physical danger present.

At the time, Virgil had thought distantly of mothers lifting cars off of their children, of people leaping off cliffs to feel that rush, and could not compare it to himself. It seemed stupid, like some kind of broken button in his brain; press here for dopamine, sike, you get a pounding heart and sweating and chest pain instead, deal with it. Adrenaline hadn’t made him feel strong, or brave, or full of life; it made him shaky, and uncertain, and terrified.

Logan’s ramblings could do a lot to help ease Virgil if he started to feel tightly wound; Logan could talk and talk about anything that he was thinking about that day and the familiar drone of his voice would set something at ease inside of Virgil, give him something to focus on, something else to listen to.

Patton always checked to see if Virgil needed someone or if he needed to be alone, and had gotten so much better at seeing through Virgil’s lies that Virgil didn’t even bother anymore. Patton was full of warm hugs, and warm smiles, and horrible puns, and encouragement about self care, and cookies if he wanted them.

Roman, as complex as Virgil’s relationship was with him, could help too; spin an elaborate tale about his trials and quests, sing at the top of his lungs, draw attention away from Virgil in a way so casual and subtle that Virgil couldn’t always catch it until after it was done.

He was getting better, sort of. There were still bad days, but now he had them; he had Logan to sit on his bed and ramble, he had Patton to lean up against, he had Roman to glitter and shine so brightly it was easy for Virgil to slip a bit more into the comforting shadows.

It was easy to lean on them, and they let him, encouraged him to, even. He wasn’t sure if there would ever be a time he wasn’t awed by that, not that he’d ever tell them so. Even after years of shutting them out, and them turning away, they had still been able to repair it, find the single unbroken thread between them all and weave around it, make it stronger.

Virgil was busy absently running his fingers along the uneven stitching on his hoodie with one hand and scrolling through tumblr with the other, sitting perched on the windowsill, as Roman had his feet in Patton’s lap, bemoaning the latest fault in his latest quest, Logan reading quietly in an armchair. Night had dropped its consuming black sheet over the sky, and the room was lit only by the warm light of Roman’s fairy lights, a lamp glowing soft amber beside Logan.

“Mm,” Patton said, patting Roman’s ankle sympathetically. “Then what did you do?”

“Well, what I had to, I suppose,” Roman sighed. “I cut the villain free, of course.”

“And he got away,” Patton guessed.

“And he got away.” Roman said, scowling.

“Well,” Patton said, rubbing his thumb along Roman’s shin. “I, for one, am very proud of you. You’ll catch him again, some time. If you hadn’t cut him loose, he’d have died. And that’s no small thing.”

Roman paused, and said, “I saved his life?”

“Well, it sounds like it,” Patton said, edged in a laugh. “Saving him from dangling over a spike pit sounds pretty life-save-y to me, kiddo. Besides, if you saved his life... maybe that’ll weigh on him, a little.”

“Dramatic tension,” Roman said, understanding dawning in his voice. “I suppose I can get behind that.”

Logan paused, slid a bookmark into his book, and stood, cradling his book against his chest. “I believe it’s time for me to get to sleep. You all should too.”

“In a little while, Specs,” Roman said, waving him off, and Patton squeaked out a little “Love you Lo!” as Virgil muttered “night,” attention mostly on his screen.

There was the sound of footsteps softly plodding away, the consistent rhythm of Logan stepping lightly up the stairs, and the sound of his door opening.

And then a loud bump.

Virgil shot a glance to the stairwell, and Patton and Roman ceased their conversation, glancing towards the stairs.

“Logan?” Virgil called cautiously. “You okay?”

A long pause. Virgil felt his shoulders climbing to his ears. Fuck. Fuck, Logan fell, and he hit his head, and he’s unconscious and bleeding and he’ll have a concussion and he’ll hate it and we’ll be out logical decision making and what will that do to—

“Logan?” Patton called, concern laced through his voice, and Virgil is ready to storm up the stairs himself, Logan’s privacy be damned.

“Fine,” Logan’s voice finally floated down the stairs, and Virgil felt his shoulders relax. “Just dropped a book.”

“Don’t stay up to late reading, all right?” Patton said loudly, directing a firm fatherly glance towards the stairs, and there was no response. Patton let out a good-natured sigh.

“That boy. Smart as he is, sometimes I think he never learns,” Patton tutted.

“Tells us all about the importance of sleep and turns around and stays up till four because he has to find out the migratory pattern of starlings,” Roman agreed with a huff.

Virgil considered going to claim Logan’s vacated armchair, but decided against it. He’s comfy on the windowsill. Mostly.

Patton and Roman resumed talking in low voices about the dramas of Roman’s realm, which Virgil let slide in one ear and out the other; he’s mostly just trying to figure out if there’s a specific tag he’s going to lose himself in tonight or if he’ll swap social media platforms to get some more #relatable content.

Virgil shuddered, and was immensely grateful he did not say that sentence aloud.

Eventually, Patton tapped at Roman’s ankle again, and said, “Well. I think I’m gonna head in, you two, don’t stay up too late, all right?”

“I might go with you, actually,” Roman said musingly. “I want to look over a script idea—“

“I said don’t stay up too late,” Patton said, mockingly threatening, and reached out to tousle Virgil’s hair. “You too, kiddo, I don’t want you falling asleep here and getting a crick in your neck.”

Virgil allowed the hair tousling with minimal grimacing, and made a vague, inarticulate mumble, waving Patton off, who sighed but started walking with Roman anyways, their footsteps softly plodding away.

Virgil had just leaned against the window when he heard a thud, and a startled cry, and Virgil leapt to his feet, heart pounding in his chest.

“Pat?” He called, trying not to sound too desperate. Is it a prank? Patton wouldn’t make a joke like this but what else could be— “Roman?”

Another thud, and then—unmistakably, Roman, loud and sharp and clear and —afraid—”VIRGIL, IT’S—”

Silence.

“Roman,” Virgil called, and louder, “Patton.” He jerked towards the hallway, a hand on the frame, swinging to look down the hall.

The lights were off, the only distant lights from the cracks under the doors. Virgil swallowed, there are no monsters in the dark, and said, “You guys? You there?”

He carefully flicked on the lights, and tried to avoid grimacing at the sight of the stark contrast between the soft glow of the living room and the plain, harsh lighting of the hallway.

“If this is a joke, it’s not funny,” Virgil cautioned, walking down the hallway. “I mean it, Roman, it’s—“

Virgil dreamt of light. Footsteps echoing. A shadow swooping in the hallway he didn’t notice too late, like a shadow puppet show along a wall, except shadow puppets were Patton’s thing that happened safely under blankets with giggles and bunnies and crocodiles, not strange sweeping figures that were straight out of horror films. A prick, a needle, something against his neck and a hand over his mouth and the way Virgil had panicked, fingernails digging sharp into cloth and clawing and the world had tilted and fuzzed and—

Virgil woke, panting desperately, a hand clutching at his neck, sitting up, feeling dizzy as he looked around.

The couch. He was on the couch, in the living room. The fairy lights were still on, but someone must have turned out the lamp. Virgil tried taking a deep, even breath.

Dream. It was just a dream. You fell asleep out here and Patton moved you to the couch so you wouldn’t get a crick in your neck.

Except.

Except Patton would have put a blanket over him. All of the other sides had put blankets over him and nudged pillows under his head if he fell asleep in some place inconvenient. He had just been dumped on the couch, and—

and his hoodie was gone.

Virgil gulped, fingernails scratching along the downy hairs of his bare forearms. His hoodie. His hoodie. Where was it? None of the sides would take it off of him without his permission. None of them would, even with the sweaters they’d at least replaced it with something similar in weight and comfort.

Virgil was left in his threadbare purple t-shirt and a pair of jeans. There was no comforting weight on his shoulders, or fleece he could feel against his skin to help him ground himself, or a hood to draw up over his head if the light got too intense, or sweater paws he could worry between his fingers instead of picking at his nails—

Virgil forced himself to take a breath in, out, and thought right. okay. I need to find someone else, I need to ask if they know where the hoodie is.

The next, well, logical step is to go find Logan. He doesn’t grasp emotions very well; he might have brought it to Virgil’s room and folded it, that might be all, because Logan likes things to be organized and neat and in their place. That might be all this is.

He tried to convince himself of that as he slowly climbed up the stairs, but the absence of his hoodie has thrown him all kinds of off-kilter. No blanket, no hoodie. Virgil ran cold or warm consistently and even if he was sweating in the midst of an adrenaline response, he always, always wanted his hoodie. Now, he can see the goosebumps raising the hair on his arms, the odd little bumps on his skin. He roughly ran his palms up and down his arms, trying to give himself some kind of physical sensation to focus on.

He knocked at Logan’s door, starting with “Lo—” that cut off as the door swung open as soon as his fist made contact.

Logan always makes sure his door is either fully open or shut, he hates having it just cracked open, something whispered in the back of his head, and Virgil tried his best not to shudder, walking into Logan’s darkened room.

“Logan?” Virgil asked, soft, conscious that Logan might be asleep. He glanced towards his desk (empty) and reached, flicking on the lights.

As soon as the light flooded on, a loud, horrible screeching did too, deafening, and Virgil yelled out of surprise, stumbling back so his back thudded against the wall hard enough to dislodge a picture frame, hands flying to his ears.

He knew this noise—it was dial-up internet, the unerring whine, the claxon alarm, and Virgil fumbled, shutting the lights off again.

Swamped by blackness, the sudden silence was jarring, and Virgil let out a shaky breath, removing his hands from his ears cautiously.

“Logan,” he said, firm, because if Logan had been asleep he certainly wasn’t now.

Logan would never booby-trap his own lights. He only ever works without them on to fool Patton into thinking he’s sleeping.

“Logan,” he repeated, a desperate edge in his voice. “C’mon, dude, are you in here?”

He fumbled forwards, even, to press against Logan’s unmade sheets, just to be really sure. His hand met nothing but Logan’s pillows, and he pressed on the other side, where Logan usually slept, and—

Virgil frowned.

Logan doesn’t sleep with things in his bed. That’s what bedside tables are for. He wouldn’t put a—a book, or a... what is this?

Smooth, he could feel it. Wooden.

Virgil picked it up, and squinted at it in the dark, and very nearly dropped it, or he would have, if it wasn’t for the string tangled around his wrist that made it jerk, stopping just short of the floor.

Virgil inhaled shakily, and lifted it to eye level again.

It looked like it had been made almost... lovingly, a long time ago, but it was so battered and worn now that it just made it look rather sad. The head was flopping back because Virgil was holding it by the wrist, and Virgil shuddered at the sight of blank black glued-on button eyes, a strip of shiny metallic duct tape over where the mouth would be.

“Okay,” Virgil whispered, and wished desperately for his hoodie pocket to tuck the stupid puppet into, to protect it, somehow, or perhaps somewhere safe to put it so it could be far out of Virgil’s eyesight. “What the fuck.”

Marionette. That was the word. The puppets that you could make dance. Virgil carefully untangled the string from his wrist, bile rising in his throat, before he carefully laid it down into Logan’s bed again, hands shaking just slightly.

Patton. Patton might have taken the hoodie, and yes, Virgil was clinging to the hoodie excuse, because the loud wailing of the dial-up and the fact that he’d been alone and the fucking puppet and the brief dream-memories from before were pointing to something that Virgil frankly refused to contemplate, to allow himself to lean into that kind of fatalistic thinking, because it would be fatalistic and he had been doing better and Patton would help him.

Virgil took a deep breath, and refused the urge to take the Logan puppet with him. Even though bringing along a creepy facsimile of Logan sounded better than going out alone. He hesitated, before he reached forwards to hesitantly touch at the duct tape at puppet-Logan’s mouth.

He needed to go to Patton’s room. Right now.

He walked alone, in the dark, and had no desire to turn on the lights.

Virgil opened Patton’s door without knocking, because Patton had drilled that into him if he ever needed help he never ever needed to knock not even once, to just walk in and whatever Patton was doing would be able to wait unless he had an emergency.

His lights were off, but he had the floaty little fairy lights on in his room, painting it in that sleepy glowing haze, and Virgil could already see that Patton was not at his desk, or in his bed, or at his bookshelf, but something else was hanging by its wrists from the cabinet Patton kept all his photo albums in.

Another puppet. Blue shirt. Gray fabric slung lazily around the shoulders, in danger of slipping off, and Virgil walked forwards, swallowing more and more.

The strings were so horribly tangled that Virgil had no hope of untangling the knots if he stood here for thirty minutes. The horrible bright painted-on smile, the cartoonishly innocent pink circles of a blush on the puppet’s cheeks, seemed so incongruent to the way the puppet was all tangled up in its own string, a childish game of hangman painted dark and foreboding. Its head was flopping sadly downwards, tilted to the side, and Virgil shuddered.

This wasn’t fatalistic, anymore. This was not fatalistic. Someone had made creepy fucking puppets and laid them purposefully in each of their rooms for Virgil to find and laid Virgil out on the couch and taken Virgil’s hoodie. Someone had put duct tape over puppet-Logan’s mouth and someone had tangled up puppet-Patton so he looked like a fucking prisoner dangling in a dungeon.

Something was horribly, desperately wrong, and Virgil was the only up and around to investigate, to fix it, unless—

Unless.

Roman’s room, then. Virgil swallowed as he turned to enter the hallway, remembering the memory—because it had to be a memory now, didn’t it—

Virgil felt something crack under his foot. He closed his eyes, and clenched his shaking fists, because he could tell without even looking what it was.

Virgil opened his eyes, and looked down, even though he desperately didn’t want to.

The button eyes and lopsided smirk of the Roman puppet stared accusingly up at him from where his chest was crushed under Virgil’s foot. Virgil knelt and picked it up, swallowing, and attempted to dust off the outfit—white shirt, red sash around his chest. There was a crown on his hair, and Virgil shook to reach and touch it, straighten it on his hair, because even a puppet version of Roman would hate to look undignified.

“Sorry,” he told it, and winced as he saw where his shoe left a mark on the white shirt. “M’sorry.”

“Oh, he can absolutely hear you, Virgil,” a familiar voice said behind him, and Virgil’s grip tightened on the puppet, nails digging into it. He did not get up from where he knelt, and he did not look back.

“You fucking bastard,” Virgil told the blank button eyes of Roman, grip tightening. “You piece of fucking shit.”

“It’s not at all stupid of you to be talking to a puppet, of all things,” Deceit continued. “Is it too subtle a detail? It was between this or some voodoo dolls. I know how much you love needles.”

Virgil thought of needles stuck through eyes, pinning puppet-Patton against a wall or puppet-Logan to his bed, and he thought his fingernails might break from how tightly he was digging them into puppet-Roman’s shirt, meeting the unforgiving wood underneath.

“It’s a very scintillating conversation to just speak to your back, Virgil,” Deceit said, and Virgil could not help but think of what must have happened the last time he had his back to Deceit, and he had failed, he hadn’t protected them, he’d been knocked out and—

“Logan didn’t drop a book.”

Deceit hummed, and Virgil gritted his teeth, because this was the piece of Deceit that was the most difficult to decipher; the half-truths, the almost-lies, the noncommittal gestures and tones. To lie was fairly black and white; to deceive held all kinds of shades of gray.

“Where are they,” Virgil growled, at last turning to look over his shoulder, and Deceit was a bizarre figure in the doorway, face shaded and clouded by his hat, yellow gloves catching the light bright and obnoxious, and Deceit spread his arms.

“Maybe they’re safe and sound, and you’re the I’ve decided to play with,” Deceit said. “Maybe Patton’s all tied up and strangling himself trying to reach the sword that’s only a foot away to save Roman, the poor stupid thing.”

There was a loud crack and Virgil started, head spinning back to his hands, because the Roman had puppet had cracked and split into two and dropped aside and Virgil was holding the something that had been inside it, something wrapping its way tight around his wrists. Virgil dropped the thing and attempted forcing his wrists apart, attempting to break free, scrambling away from the strings advancing on him, inadvertently going towards Deceit as he continued.

“Maybe they’re trying to run from a monster, but they have to keep slowing down because Logan got himself bit on the leg. Blood leaves a horrible trail for monsters, you know.”

The dark black strings had twined their way up his bare arms, over his chest, around his neck, making him strain for air, mouth opening wide and sucking in as much air as he possibly could get, even as he tried to squirm free.

“Get it off,” Virgil choked, pride gone, because he couldn’t move his legs he couldn’t move away from it he couldn’t break free he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t. “Getitoffgetitoffgetitoff—“

“Maybe,” Deceit continued over Virgil’s panicked demands, “I’ll just take this—” and with a twist of his fingers Virgil started straining towards Deceit even more, because that was his hoodie, his hoodie, hanging from Deceit’s fingers like it disgusted him, like it was dirtybadwrong—

“—and I’ll stand and sulk in the corner, because that just must be so hard for you, Anxiety, I don’t know how I��d ever do that.”

“Don’t call me that,” Virgil spat out, even as he tried jerking his whole body out of the restraints, trying to kick free—

“Maybe I’ll even set this on fire just in time for the others to come down the stairs and see it crumbling to ash! Goodness, that would be just so sad, wouldn’t it, seeing that big lump’s face just crumple up, I don’t know if I could stand it—”

The strings had managed to come up over his mouth, now, and Virgil could only snarl wordless threats at Deceit as he struggled, and Deceit cackled, yellow eye glinting in the light, and he dropped the hoodie into nothing at all, making it vanish.

“Goodness, Virgil, I must say, you’ll do such a good job protecting them from here.”

Deceit stepped back, into the dark, and Virgil could see the smirking sneer as he prepared to close the door, about to leave Virgil to struggle useless and alone in the bright lights of the hallway.

“Don’t worry, Virgil,” Deceit purred. “I won’t hurt them.”

taglist: @somewhatsanders @tommysandypantsisasolarnymph @erlenmeyertrash @lindesensate @lakesandquarries @lacandra @midnightcandy @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @analogicalisreal @stay-in--place @pinkeasteregg @kanejandkruge @livenarrator

#text #my fic #lamp #deceit #uhhh buckle up kids #virgil #it's primarily virgil tbh #marionette #logan #patton #roman

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