#but that's what happens when you're avoiding things right???

[cometconmain]

And it'll keep happening, especially with racists being emboldened under Trump.

I know people mean well when they are genuinely surprised racism is still a thing, but it's kind of fucked you need to see or hear about someone getting harassed overtly before you know/realise/recognise this is still a problem.

I understand not knowing about what disabled people go through if you've never been disabled, on a pension and wanted to be in an active relationship with someone. But hopefully this has brought that to light as well.

Also there's an extra layer of it being a classist and ageist thing, because even straight, abled couples on any kind of pension get given less despite both needing to be on it because fuck you being in a relationship if you're both poor/too old to work as well.

For a long time Deaf people were actively prevented from signing (I literally know someone who is still alive and not that old who was beaten and had his hands tied behind his back so he couldn't sign) and Oralism was the primary education method (still is in way too many places in 20fucking24) specifically because they knew Deaf people prefer to spend time with other people who understand sign which is predominantly a Deaf thing, and hearing people - and I'm not fucking exaggerating this position and focus - didn't want Deaf people to stay in their own communities and breed and make more Deaf people.

I'm not making this shit up. Look it up.

There are so many fucked up mentalities around marginalised groups and their rights to their own bodies and even movement around the globe (see rights to your own womb if you have one constantly being grudgingly half-given then whisked away every chance conservatives get, and if you're disabled in any way many countries still won't let you in if they can avoid it). Is it really that much of a surprise that our relationships are constantly on shifting sands?

People want us gone. First thing they do is try to stop or control our breeding entirely.

Eugenicism is one hell of a drug.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT and arguments

Requested? Yes!

Genre: angst and comfort

A/N: I received a few requests regarding different elements of arguing, so I’ve combined these into one. 

A knock-down-drag-out - Seungcheol, Woozi, Mingyu

Ah, the fire signs. They might be a little temperamental, if only to feel like they’re being heard. Might not react much to tears in the moment, though it does tug at his heart strings, but if you flinch away from him or give any indication that you're scared or nervous, it’s like the plug is pulled for him and the anger drains fast. Incredibly apologetic and feeling rather guilty because he’s supposed to protect you and be someone you can depend on. Can't guarantee that he’ll never lose his temper, but will make a real effort to hit pause on the argument to cool down and try to come back to it feeling more level-headed so you two can fix it. 

Super passive aggressive - Jeonghan, Seungkwan

You fought the other day. It happens. But he’s still feeling particularly bitter about it because he doesn't feel like anything was really resolved. So, whenever he interacts with you, he’s cold, making passive aggressive comments that sting quite a bit. The fight initially started because you’d been having a bad week and it feels like things have just piled on, including these little comments. One comment over dinner makes you break, putting your head in your hands and crying. Now he feels guilty. Will do his best to comfort you if you let him, giving you soft apologies. Future fights can't always be prevented, but trust that he'll check himself and not run his mouth in an effort to avoid rubbing salt in the wound. 

The silent treatment - Joshua, Wonwoo, Minghao, Chan

You fought the other day. It happens. But it’s not often that he just pretends you don't exist. If you get anything at all from him, it’s a shrug or a one-word answer. You give him space because you think that's what he needs, but there’s only so much you can take. So you come to him and practically beg, “Can we please talk?” Might be a bit cold at first, but if your eyes start watering, he’ll sigh, sitting with you to talk it out. Didn’t want to ignore you in the first place, but feels like he wasn’t being heard. Throughout your conversation, he realizes you weren't feeling heard either. Will do better in the future about opening lines of communication and finding ways to talk about their feelings without being highly emotional or turning cold.

Does literally everything to avoid conflict - Jun, Hoshi, DK, Vernon

Absolutely folding at the first sign of an argument. You’re upset with him? He's apologizing right away, promising not to do that thing again. He’s upset with you? He’ll tell you it’s okay just to keep the peace. Might be a bit of a pushover when it comes to something like this, so you’ll have to pry the reason he’s upset out of him. Really just wants to get back to business as usual and not linger on a disagreement if it does happen. 

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Something Stupid

Simon is lounging at the table while you boil some water. You stared at the kettle as you waited. The electric one you had wasn't working, you didn't have the funds yet to replace it and didn't dare mention it to Simon. The last time you mentioned that you needed something he added you to his credit card. That had been a whole thing.

Flicking through the mail you found a plain envelope with your name on it. Bit odd, but might as well check what bill collecter this was from. Sliding the guts from it you are surprised when one side of the folded paper dips with weight.

Concerned now, you flatten it against the counter. Glued to the middle right of the paper is a black credit card with your name on it. Outright worried is now your level of concern.

The letter is generic, here is your card, here is how to activate it, signed from the issuing company.

Thinking this must be some elaborate scam you grab your phone and search for the customer service line of the company. Waiting on the line and dodging the automated system you finally reach a person.

"Thank you for calling *Credit Card Company*. How can I help you today?" The professional voice on the other end chirps at you.

"Hi, so I have a bit of a weird situation that I am hoping you can help me with." You pause for a breath before continuing. "I recieved a card in the mail from your company but I don't have an account with you and I am a little worried that this might be a scamming attempt. A elborate one, but still."

"Oh, that does sound quite odd. Can you give me the number that appears on the card? We will see what I can find," the gentle concern layed over customer service helps.

"Yeah," you provide the number and wait.

A moment of silence is broken by the agent.

"I'm still here, I am just double-checking what I am seeing so I give you all the correct information."

"That's fine, I won't think the call dropped if there is silence." You had a phone job once. Heaven forbid you not be filling the silence on the line or a customer would lose their minds.

"Okay, so it appears that you have been added by a cardholder with us. A Simon Riley has added you and initiated the card being sent to the address we have on file. Is there anything else I can help with today?"

"I...no..I guess that is everything I needed. Thank you for your help," you stare at the counter as you try and process what you learned.

Staring at the spotted formica of the counter you lean forward on your hands. The shock had started to wear off, you couldn't decide if what you were feeling was nausea or rage. Why the hell did he add you to his credit card? You barely knew each other!

Yes, you lived together but the man was gone 80% of the time and you hardly spoke the other 20. The only thing you could think is that you happened to mention needing deodorant and that having to wait because of when payday occured.

Calling him seemed the best option. You knew he was still in the country. Said he would be home in two days and had to finish up some overnight training at a nearby base.

Your call reaches voicemail after two rings. Calling again it hits voicemail immediately.

"Fucker you cannot avoid talking to me about this," you growl at your phone. Your case bites into your fingers where you grip it tight. "Fine, let's try John."

John picks up on the third ring.

"Price."

His work voice makes you smile.

"Hi John, is Simon around by chance?" You ask sweetly.

He must turn the phone to his shoulder as he shouts for Simon by his call sign.

"Phone's for you."

A shift in the silence tells you Simon has put the phone to his ear.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" You snap into the phone.

"'bout what?"

"The credit card?" You can't prevent yourself from slashing your hand through the air even though he can't see you.

"It's easier."

These short responses are making you madder.

"Simon Riley who does this make things easier for?!"

"Me."

"Explain that," you growl into the phone. You start to pace the length of the kitchen.

"Keep the food stocked and yourself cared for. Price, here is your phone."

Agast you can't keep your mouth from dropping open.

"What's that about?" Price's voice draws you back from the edge of madness.

"That is about Simon adding me to his credit card without talking to me about it and expecting me to use his money responsibly and keep food in the house. If he doesn't show up to his next assignment it's because I've killed him, John. That man takes too many liberties with my life and I don't know how to make him stop."

"Well, first off don't threaten him. I can almost guarantee he likes it," John muttered into the phone.

"That is not helpful John," you snap.

"Sorry, don't know how to be helpful in this kind of situation. Call me if there are more issues though." He ended the call without a goodbye.

When you stretched your jaw to work some of the tension out of it the joint popped.

The whistle of the kettle drew your attention from your memories. Filling one cup had you turning the green kettle nearly vertical and still not having enough water to finish filling the large mug.

Without thinking about why it would be a bad idea you pull the top off to refill it. A puff of boiling steam rushes up and over both of your hands. You drop the kettle to the stove with a hiss.

"Well, that was stupid," Simon comments.

Rolling your eyes you stick your hands under cool running water. "Don't you ever do something stupid without thinking about it?"

His head appears before you, lips pressed to yours. His eyes are soft as he pulls back.

"Yes."

You glare at him.

"I'm not going to take offense that you think kissing me is stupid. Nope, not taking offense at that."

You slam the water off and aggressively dry your hands, tossing the towel on the counter instead of neatly returning it to its home.

A few hours of avoiding him later you overhear a conversation on speakerphone from the living room.

"Simon you are the stupidest smart man I've ever met. And that's saying something, we both know Soap," John chastises Simon.

Simon chuckled dryly, "Still don't understand how he can do the math to blow an oil rig sky high but can't figure out a budget."

John chuckles in reply.

"Don't know how to explain to her that it was the kissing that was stupid, not the kissing her," Simon says quietly.

"Can't help you there, if she's mad at you she is more likely to agree to go on a date with me," John points out sounding smug.

Is that what they have been doing asking you on dates, trying to win? You can't decide if you should be offended or flattered.

"I could take her on a date if I wanted but I like spending time with her here."

"I like spending time with her too, but I can also get a cool activity out of it at the same time," John counters.

Okay so maybe they weren't all trying to date you, just spend time with you and only have the language to call it a date. Hmm. Looks like you will be hearing from John soon then about a date.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[solaiced]

CASE 28: CHOSO KAMO AND YOU SHARE A POWER!

!content!: blood, period sex..?, eating out, choso is uneducated and not beta’d, literally drinking blood.

wc: 1,002

solace: the formatting is sooo weird…

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Choso, for his 150 years on Earth, does not know what a period is. Doesn't know why it happens, or how it affects someone. Sure, it hurts, he knows that. You've told him countless times. Cramps, you said.

But he somehow didn't understand that most people avoid having sex on these days, because, as you had explained, there's blood. Choso still doesn't get it. He means good. He doesn’t mind blood. But you did, apparently.

He thinks that you have connections to him and have a blood related cursed technique.

So you sat him down, one dreadful night, where you had your awful period, and walked him through every nook and cranny about having periods and the basics of the biological need for them.

"So... It's natural..." Choso inquires, and you nod, “but it hurts you? Because you’re not pregnant..." He seems salty about it, annoyed that women, when reaching a certain age, are pained because nature intended for them to get pregnant.

“Basically, yeah.” You’re happy he got it a tiny bit right.

"When did you get it?" He asks, and it takes a while to understand what he means.

“Uh, I think... At thirteen." You answer truthfully. Choso frowns.

“But that’s young…” Aw, he's so cute, worrying about this. Most men don't even think about it. You were so lucky to have him.

"Yean, but it's nature. Only way I can prevent them without getting pregnant is birth control and removing my uterus."

“So why don't you?" He pouts, cutie.

"Because I don't know if I want kids, and birth control has side effects I don't need right now." Chose looks at his phone and unlocks it, typing something. He's gotten used to phones, after Yuji taught him.

"Apparently, hot pockets are a good way to alleviate pain, did you know?" Of course you knew, but it's wholesome to know he's trying to help.

"Yeah, babe, I know."

"And making love, too!" The half curse exclaims, which could only mean one thing. He wants to help.

So, now you're in the shower with Choso, because you didn't want to wash the sheets, naked and bleeding on his cock.

"Does it hurt?" He asks for the nth time and you groan.

“No, babe, for the millionth time, move.” Taking that as the green light, he adjusts you, making sure you'd be steady in his arms and pulls out, dragging his long cock inside of your extra warm and wet cunt, your blood stains his pale skin and you moan.

Could this truly alleviate period pain? So far, you hadn’t had any cramps to report, so all's well. But that could change at any moment.

Then, Choso slowly enters you once more, dark eyes fixed on where you were connected bloodily. He exhales shakily, shutting his eyes, as if he was trying to hold back. And it's only now that you realize that you

were definitely more sensitive than before. Way more sensitive.

“Hey,” comes Choso’s strained voice, still painfully hard inside of you. "I don't want to hurt you, and…" He pauses, catching his breath like he just ran a marathon, even that was easy for him. “I know I’ll lose control. Can I eat you out?" Gosh, he was so polite, even

during sex. You nod, however. You didn't want a repeat of last time he hurt you. He cried so much it could’ve flooded japan.

"Are you sure, though? We can always stop, most guys don’t like touching their girls when they're on their periods.”

"I'm not like other guys, then." He carefully sets your feet down on the floor, opens the tap and lets the shower head wash in between your thighs, alongside his dick knowing the blood would crust. How sweet.

Choso gets on his knees, like he was praying for you, and swipes his tongue on your hot slit,

The first taste is addictive, forcing him to shove his tongue mside of your pussy while you gasped, throwing a leg over his shoulder. He places a securing hand on the outside of your thigh and kneads the fat as he slurped on your red cunt.

Your blood made its way to his lower face, and Choso doesn't hesitate to bury his head deeper between your legs. Your stomach churned at the idea of him consuming your blood like this.

But somehow, it was hot, and it made your pussy wetter, muscles taunter.

"Choso-ah! S'good... Don't stop..." You whine, pushing his head down and he looks up, showing his bloody canines off.

“Not gunnah." The half curse suckles on your clit, eliciting a loud moan, thankfully silenced by the sound of running water.

"Are you hurting?" Choso wiggles his tongue through your folds, you were so close... He can't stop.

"No! Faster, please!" You begs, whimpering as he bit on your cit lightly. And faster he did go.

He forced his tongue into your bloody cunt repeatedly, not even giving you time to realize you were cumming, seeing stars behind your eyelids and almost slipping from how weak your knees became.

“Fuck…” You sigh, throwing your head back against the shower wall. “Ch-Choso, you freak.” You giggle as you look down, pulling on his hair to make him look at you.

“Don’t.” The curse in question warns, his eyes seem to glow, but that’s impossible. He looked… monstrous. Feral, even.

“Don’t what..?” It’s surprising, how Choso can go from genteel and soft to mean and vicious. You could even consider it scary.

“Let me… let me eat some more…” He stares at your pussy, and you could even spot a small tear trying to slip out of his eye. “I just want to help with the pain.”

Right, the cramps. You haven’t felt any, maybe it did help, but that didn’t mean he should continue.

“It’s fine, babe. I’ll just be out of commission for a few days.” You reassure, patting his head.

“No.” Choso frowns, tongue dipping back in. “I want more.”

What have you done?

[adhd-community]

i'm hyperverbal, and my partner is easily overwhelmed by too much talking. i have a hard time even processing a thought until i've said it out loud, though. if i don't talk myself through it, i just get stuck and say nothing. not to mention, i have a hard time deciding what's actually worth saying out loud until i've said it. how can i talk to my partner while,,, talking less?

It's all about finding ways to exist together that support both of your needs. I am reading that your partner has noted they find a lot of chat overwhelming and you tend to chat a lot and struggle to know when or how to stop/start (somehow I identify with both of these...).

The first two questions are:

What is it that your partner finds overwhelming? Too many thoughts verbalised too quickly? The noise? Trying to follow the conversation? Do the reasons change from time to time?

Why are you chatting? Are you looking for connection? Reassurance? Is it accidental? Do these reasons sometimes change?

Understanding yourself and each other can be REALLY helpful in these situations in order to work out what will meet both your needs.

Finally for some hypertalkitivity tips, some things that have helped me in the past with situations like these are:

Before launching into something you're thinking about, check in with the other person on whether they are up for a chat, or whether they would prefer a little quiet time. If they need quiet time, respect that (it's not a rejection, I promise) and find another outlet for your energy/thoughts.*

Make sure you and your partner are on the same page about why you're talking and what level of engagement is needed from them. I had this issue with a friend while travelling (I chat while packing and they were getting overwhelmed). We talked about it and I explained that when this happens I don't need (or expect) them to actually listen, at most it would be nice if they occasionally said "hmm good question" or "mmmm" so I didnt feel lonely or get distracted. This isn't something they need so they had thought I wanted them to deeply listen and answer questions each time and were understandably EXHAUSTED. This convo, and following "heads up, I'm doing the thing - let me know if you need quiet time" chats avoided a lot of potential tension!

If you are having trouble with impulsively talking, find something that tends to help you have "quiet time". For me this is listening to something through headphones that I dont need to pay too much attention to or actually "watch" but still find really enjoyable (e.g. podcasts or super-long game-plays (thank you Jacksepticeye amiright?)) For some reason this signals "no talking" to my brain and I can quietly focus in other things - find yours!

Take a few deep breaths and talk a little slower. When ADHDers are hypertalkative and REALLY into a thought, it can be... intense. Passion is wonderful but taking a second to recognise that your partner is probs also having several thoughts/their own experience and it will take them a second to adjust is always appreciated.

*Other possible outlets for your energy/thoughts!

Write it in a notebook

Type it out or speak it to an AI chatbot!

Call a friend or family member

Do something physical to reduce the mental restlessness (this can be exercise, or even just doing some dishes or gardening etc - just something that makes your brain feel less like it needs to work out everything in the world RIGHT NOW)

Try a guided meditation to slow your thoughts

In the end only you and your partner will be able to work out what's best for you both, but I hope this has helped!

Remember that just because they don't want to chat right now does NOT mean they don't want to hear your thoughts at all. It's likely they just need to recharge their social batteries so that they can have cute chats and fun times later.

X

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World Chapter 4 (Drip)

a/n: I rewrote this chapter 2 or 3 times. I personally think it's not my best, but I hope you like it let me know in my ask ;)

Daft Day

Here we are, the anticipation of Draft Day hanging thick in the air. Don’t even think about asking me what happened after the party or the following day—I honestly can’t remember. I really should add "Don’t Party with the Bengals" to my ever-growing list of things to avoid.

A knock pulls me out of my thoughts “Hey Sierra, you ready? Kyle is here!” Joe’s voice calls out from the other side of the bathroom door, breaking my moment of reflection. 

I do one last check in the mirror, smoothing down my hair and adjusting my outfit before reluctantly opening the door. “Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, a hint of excitement mixed with nerves in my tone.

“What do you think?”  I asked as I stepped out of the bathroom. I do a little spin to show off my ensemble. I had chosen not to wear a dress, instead opting for a tailored black blazer adorned with elegant gold decorations cascading down the shoulders. Paired with a sleek, short skirt featuring matching gold accents that gave a hint of sparkle, I feel chic and ready for the moment. To complete the look, I slipped on a pair of black heels that added just the right amount of height. 

He looks at me from his spot on the couch “You look stunning just missing one thing” he says as he gets up and approaches me. He reaches up and takes the of his chain off his neck “Turn around” he tells me. 

This boy here is doing things to my soul and he just doesn't even know it. Doing as he says I turn around and he puts his chain on me. He turns me back around “Now you dripping in gold”  

Shaking my head unable to find words I grab my clutch as he moves away and opens the door “Come on Ja’marr and Mia are waiting on us.”

When we arrived at the arena. One of the crew members led us to a section where Mia and Ja’marr were waiting for us.   

We exchange warm hugs and enthusiastic hellos, settling in comfortably on the plush couch. As I take a moment to look around the room, I can't help but notice the sea of nervous excitement among the crowd of players, all waiting for their futures to unfold during the draft. Suddenly, a rush of nerves hits me, and I start shaking my leg unconsciously, trying to calm my racing thoughts.

In my fidgeting, I unintentionally nudge Mia, who looks over at me with concern. “Hey, you okay?” she asks, her brow slightly furrowed.

I nod and glance at her, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, just a bit nervous,” I admit, trying to shake off the anxiety.

She grabs my hand “Just breathe you probably have all 32 teams gunning for you” she reassures me “Any team you're specifically looking for?” Ja’marr questioned. I shake my head “Not really although I would love to go back home and play for the Cardinals don't think I'd grow too much there” I respond with a shrug.

‘Hey maybe the Reds will draft her that way she can't leave Cincinnati” Joe pipes in with a laugh. 

I looked back at him “Naw me cold weather don't get along” 

“Girl no weather and you get along” Mia interjects we all laugh because she is right Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall if I wasn't playing baseball you have to catch me in the comforts of my bed. 

As we continue to share laughs and stories, the lights suddenly dim, and a dynamic video package begins to play on the large screen, showcasing the highs of previous seasons and the promise of new talent.

The energy in the room surges as the hype package concludes, and the spotlight shifts to the stage. The commissioner of the MLB, Rob Manfred, strides confidently onto the platform, radiating authority and excitement.

“Hello and welcome to the 2021 MLB Draft!” he announces, his voice echoing throughout the arena. “Tonight, we usher in a new era of baseball. You all have worked tirelessly for this moment, and now it’s time to see your dreams become reality. Let’s get started, shall we?” Rob declares from the podium, setting the stage for an unforgettable night.

The first round has concluded, and the results are in—nothing for me. 

As the second round begins, the atmosphere remains tense, and yet, I cling to the flicker of hope that perhaps my name will be called. 

When the third round rolls around, I hear another name—a person named Riley is chosen. My heart sinks as I realize I’m still overlooked. 

Now, as the fourth round draws closer, a wave of anxiety washes over me. I navigate through the crowd, feeling the pulse of anticipation in the air. I approach the bar, the gleaming surface reflecting my apprehension, and the bartender looks up, asking, “What can I get you?”

“Whiskey, straight, please. Thank you,” I respond, my voice steady yet laced with underlying nerves.

She nods, her movements fluid as she prepares my drink. “Coming right up,” she says, and moments later, she slides the glass toward me.

I inhale deeply, trying to release some of the built-up tension. “Thank you,” I say, accepting the drink from her with a slight, grateful smile. 

As I take a generous sip, the smooth warmth of the whiskey hits my stomach, providing a momentary reprieve from my anxious thoughts. Just then, I have the unsettling sensation that someone is watching me intently. Turning my head to the right, I lock eyes with a man making his way over, and his approach feels predatory as if I’m the target in his sights.

“I hope I'm not intruding,” he begins, leaning against the bar with a casual confidence, “but I must say, you look absolutely stunning tonight.” His tone is suave, designed to charm.

I muster a polite smile, aware that I want to deflect this interaction as quickly as possible. “Thank you,” I say, deliberately avoiding his gaze, trying to focus on anything but him.

“My name’s Chris,” he introduces himself, extending his hand toward me with an expectant grin. I glance at his hand, assessing the situation, before shaking my head gently. “Sorry, Chris, but I’m really not interested,” I reply softly, retreating into my glass as I seek refuge in my drink.

He draws back his hand and smirks playfully at me, his confidence evident. “Playing hard to get, I see,” he teases, leaning slightly closer.

I shake my head firmly, dismissing him. “Nope, just not looking for any extra company,” I reply, keeping my tone plain and simple as I mentally strategize my exit from this awkward interaction.

“You sure? You just seem tense,” he probes, inching even closer for comfort.

Before I can formulate a response, I suddenly feel a reassuring hand pressed against the middle of my back. A familiar voice cuts through the noise. “Wonder where you drifted off to. You okay?” Joe asks, his concern palpable.

I turn my head to face him, grateful for his interruption. “Yeah, I’m good. I just needed something to calm my nerves,” I respond, a sense of relief washing over me as his presence provides a buffer.

Joe nods, his expression softening. He motions with his head toward our group. “Come on,” he says, gently leading the way while keeping his hand on my back—a gesture that provides unexpected comfort. As we return to our section and settle into the couch, I lean closer to Joe and whisper, “Thank you.”

Joe takes a seat beside me, casually draping his arm behind me on the back of the couch. His protective stance envelops me in a sense of security.

“Not a problem,” he replies, though there’s a slight edge to his voice that piques my curiosity. 

Was he feeling jealous?

I don’t have much time to ponder this question, as the lights in the venue dim once again, signaling the beginning of the fourth round of the MLB Draft. The anticipation in the air is almost electric.

Rob makes his way back to the podium, confidence radiating from him. “Alright, with the first pick of the fourth round of the 2021 MLB Draft, the Atlanta Braves select…” He glances down at his card, and a broad smile spreads across his face, crafting suspense in the room.

“Sierra Riley, shortstop out of LSU!”

The moment his words register, my heart races. I can hardly believe my ears. Suddenly, everyone around me is on their feet, applauding and cheering, and I feel like I’m floating. Someone pinch me, please—I must be dreaming!

As I stand up, I look at Mia, my heart pounding with disbelief, and mouth the words, “What the hell?” She chuckles, sharing in my incredulity. Joe steps aside, allowing me a clear path to the stage. As I stroll past him, he encourages me with a smile, saying, “Get ’em, superstar!”

I can’t help but grin back at him as I make my way to the stage, ascending the steps with a mixture of excitement and nerves. At the top, I’m greeted by Justin Bell, the manager of the Atlanta Braves, who stands ready with a baseball jersey and a Braves cap.

With a beaming smile, I approach him and wrap my arms around him in a brief hug. “Thank you so much!” I exclaim, my voice filled with genuine appreciation.

He pulls back slightly, maintaining eye contact as he responds, “You’re very welcome, Sierra.” Justin then carefully places the baseball cap on my head, his hands steady as he unfolds the jersey to reveal my last name and number, now emblazoned on a Braves jersey.

At that moment, words escape me entirely, and I shake my head in disbelief, overwhelmed by the reality of it all. Just then, I feel another hand on my shoulder. I turn to see the commissioner standing beside me, a warm smile on his face. “Congrats, Sierra,” he says, genuine joy in his voice.

“Thank you,” I manage to say, still absorbing the significance of this incredible moment. The commissioner's voice breaks through the fog of excitement as he gestures toward the cameras, encouraging me to pose with the jersey. I reflexively smile, showcasing my pride.

As I scan the room, my eyes land on Joe, whose face is illuminated by a broad smile. I see Mia, her eyes glistening with tears of joy, and Ja’marr cheering enthusiastically, like he’s at a football game.

In that instant, it hits me: all the hard work, the sacrifices, and the endless dedication truly do pay off.

As I made my way backstage, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. One of the reporters from ESPN, eager and enthusiastic, pulled me aside for an interview.

"Sierra Riley, congratulations! You've just made history as the first woman ever to be drafted in Major League Baseball. Can you describe how you’re feeling at this moment?" she inquired, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

I couldn't help but smile widely. "Thank you so much! Honestly, I feel incredibly blessed right now," I said, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. "It’s overwhelming, and part of me feels like my brain hasn’t fully processed everything yet,” I laughed lightly, shaking my head in disbelief. “But overall, I feel fantastic!"

The reporter leaned in for his next question, clearly intrigued. "What should Atlanta Braves fans expect from you moving forward?"

With confidence, I responded, "I hope they can expect all great things! I want them to know that I don’t take any of this for granted. This moment is huge for me, but it’s just the beginning of my story. I’m ready to work hard and make my mark!"

She nodded in appreciation, her face reflecting genuine excitement. "Thank you once again, and congratulations on this incredible achievement!” she exclaimed brightly before walking away, leaving me buzzing with a mix of joy and anticipation for what lay ahead.

Atlanta here I come.

Chapter 4...Batter Up...

[procyonloser]

Pt 9

Lucifer woke up to a slight jolt of the mattress, and jerked his head up, drool running down his cheek. Adam was starting to sit up in bed, and looked over at Lucifer apologetically.

"I have to work this morning, I gotta go to my place and get ready." Adam said, keeping his voice soft, judging by the light coming in the window, it was still fairly early. "Unless you have clothes that fit me, which I'm guessing you do not."

"You're eight feet tall, and I'm the size of a Dorito." Lucifer mumbled, making Adam laugh. He leaned in and kissed him, before getting out of bed, and Lucifer didn't mind the view one bit, even if it meant he was going to have to say goodbye to Adam for the rest of the day.

"Call me?" Lucifer asked, and Adam sent him a look.

"Duh," Adam said with some humor. "Let me know when you want to go to the observatory with Charlie, otherwise most my nights are open, except the days I teach shop class downtown."

Lucifer blinked at him. "Who are you? How many jobs do you have?"

"I'm Adam, bitch, and I have a single job... Just a handful of side hustles. I also teach guitar classes, but only in summer." Adam grinned down at him, before grabbing his clothes from the night before. "I used to have more, when I was avoiding going home."

"Ah, yes, I took a cheese making class once to avoid divorce stress, and I'm lactose intolerant." Lucifer sat up in bed, realizing that while he'd called in late for work today, he did still have to get up as well.

Adam snickered before pausing and looking at the door, before walking back over, getting on the bed, straddling Lucifer, and kissing his brains out, until they were practically leaking out of his head. "Okay," Adam said after a second, voice slightly hoarse. "See you later."

"Yeah," Lucifer breathed out, eyes fluttering. After Adam left, he flopped back down onto his bed, arms outstretched, a dumb smile on his face.

"Excuse me?" Lilith asked, voice slightly icy. It'd taken years for Lucifer to realize that when she said things like that, she wasn't actually asking for clarification or Lucifer to explain what he'd just said - she was more or less saying, 'what the fuck are you thinking?'

"I... What's wrong with that?" Lucifer asked nervously, eyes darting over to where Charlie was in the living room of his former home, kissing all her stuffed animals goodbye for the next few days. "You're dating, aren't you?"

"I'm not taking Charlie on dates with me! Not with some random strange man?" Lilith hissed, and on some level Lucifer understood her point, but Adam wasn't a stranger. Well, he did seemingly drop a new job on him every time they met, but not like that.

"Adam works with kids, he's met Charlie repeatedly already at the aquarium, and he's just trying to schedule dates so I don't have to miss out on seeing Charlie or him. That's not weird? Is it?" Lucifer asked, confusion setting in. He didn't like it when she talked like he was incapable of understanding things.

"Lucifer-" Lilith said, only to get cut off my Charlie running in with her bag, hugging Lucifer's leg.

"I'm ready!" She said cheerfully, laughing as Lucifer picked her up, hugging her tightly.

"Okay, let's go! We're going to have a great weekend, right?!"

"Yeah!" Charlie cheered, and Lilith made a face, but didn't say anything else besides one last,

"Be careful."

"He's not dangerous," Lucifer said softly, and Lilith shook her head.

"You're falling too fast, Lucifer. More than just you will be hurt if this doesn't work out, if you involve Charlie. What happens if you break up, will you still go to the aquarium? The zoo?"

Lucifer was quiet, he didn't know. He wouldn't avoid it intentionally, but it would hurt to see Adam again if they did. She was right, he did fall hard and fast for people, but he felt like maybe Adam did too.

"Hey Charlie, you want to go see the stars tonight?" Lucifer asked, turning away from Lilith. He was going to choose to hope for the best.

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, mention of violence, swearing, mention of death, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts, slowburn.

Word count: +6,5k

A/n: this part will follow the events of Scream 6 but it will take place two years later from Scream 5. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13

Iris winced, hissing softly as the antiseptic stung against her busted lip. Mindy was gentle as she dabbed the cotton against the wound, her brow furrowed in concern.

"This fucking hurts," Iris muttered, unable to mask the discomfort.

"I know it does," Mindy replied, her voice soothing yet firm. "But look at the bright side: that guy probably has a broken nose because of you."

Iris couldn't help but let out a small, reluctant laugh. "That made me feel strangely better."

"As proud as I am of you for punching that asshole, maybe next time you could avoid the whole bleeding thing."

"He deserved it,"

"Totally, but you've got to stop acting like a rabid dog. You can't fight everyone that annoys you" Mindy said, setting the used cotton aside and crossing her arms.

"Yes, I can,"

"Jesus, Iris," Mindy replied, exasperated. "We really need to talk about your anger issues."

After a moment of silence, Iris finally broke it, her voice filled with worry. "Do you think Tara is pissed at me?"

"Oh, definitely," Mindy replied, her tone teasing. "Are you going to talk to her?"

"I'm not apologizing for punching him," Iris declared, crossing her arms.

"You definitely shouldn't," Mindy said, nodding vigorously. "That bitch deserved it! But maybe you two could talk about what happened before?".

"Before?" Iris's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Yeah! I'm pretty sure she's more upset that you left her dancing alone than about you fighting that guy," Mindy explained, a smirk creeping onto her face. "Knowing Tara, she probably thought it was hot,".

"What?" Iris exclaimed, her mouth agape.

"Not you acting surprised". Mindy snorted. "Are you having a stroke right now, Ris?"

"I'm just... confused," Iris admitted, shaking her head as if that might clear her thoughts.

"Want me to clarify the situation?" Mindy offered, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "I'm talking about when you two were dancing, definitely not thinking about sleeping with each other!"

"What? We weren't looking at each other like we wanted to do that. Don't be stupid!" Iris shot back, but she couldn't help the flush creeping up her cheeks.

"Then stop eye fucking each other for one second."

"What the fuck? That's ridiculous. We don't do that."

"So you never thought about it?" Mindy pressed, her eyebrows raised in challenge.

"No," Iris replied defiantly, but her tone wavered slightly.

"Oh, come on! You fucking liar, Fifteen-year-old you has a lot of things to say right now,".

"Shut up, Mindy, you're really pissing me off," Iris snapped, crossing her arms like a petulant child.

"Can't handle the truth?" Mindy teased, winking.

"We are friends," Iris insisted, her voice firm.

"Are you though?" Mindy countered, leaning closer. "I'm your friend, and you definitely don't look at me like that. Thank God, by the way!" She rolled her eyes dramatically.

Iris opened her mouth to retort but was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Sam in the doorway. She paused, her expression a mix of curiosity and confusion as she took in the scene: Iris with a look of disbelief and Mindy with her signature smug smile.

"Mmm, what is going on here?" Sam asked, her head tilting slightly as she crossed her arms.

"I was just telling Iris how she should talk to your sister so they can stop eye fucking each other," Mindy declared, her tone cheeky.

"WHAT THE FUCK"

Mindy just laughed and winked at them as she left the room, her job clearly done.

A moment of awkward silence settled between Iris and Sam before Sam finally spoke up, breaking the tension. "So..."

"Don't listen to Mindy," Iris quickly interjected, trying to wave away the earlier conversation. "She's on crack"

Sam chuckled softly, stepping closer to her friend. "I just wanted to thank you for today. Seriously, what you did for Tara..."

"It's nothing," Iris replied, shrugging it off.

"Yes, it is! Who knows what could have happened to her if you weren't there?"

"I'll always be there,"

"I know." Sam paused, biting her lip nervously. "But do you think she's right about... you know, the things she said?"

"I mean, Sam..." Iris hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I can't blame you for wanting to protect your sister. God knows I'm just as paranoid. But Tara has a point, at least to some extent."

Sam looked down, nodding in agreement. "I just want her to be safe. She means everything to me."

"I know, but you have to let her live, too," Iris replied gently.

"You think she hates me for being so overprotective?" The vulnerability in Sam's voice didn't go unnoticed.

"You're her sister; she loves you. You two just need to talk it out," Iris reassured her, pulling her into a warm hug. Sam hugged back tightly, grateful for Iris's support. When they finally released each other, Sam turned to leave.

"Oh, and you should also talk to her," Sam added, pausing at the door.

"Yeah, I'm aware," Iris said with a sigh.

"Because you know Mindy was right," Sam said playfully, a smirk spreading across her face. "You two are tiring me out with all this will they, won't they."

"WAIT, WHAT?"

Iris felt a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach as she prepared to talk to Tara.  The tension in the air had been palpable all night, as things had taken a weird turn between them and she knew she had to address it, even if it made her uncomfortable. She tried to block out Mindy and Sam's words; they weren't helping her anxiety at all.

Knowing Tara had likely sobered up but would soon be grappling with a headache, Iris grabbed a bottle of pain relievers from the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, she headed toward Tara's room, her heart racing with each step.

As she reached the door, she knocked lightly, announcing her presence. Tara was reclining on her bed, half-propped up on one elbow, deeply engaged in a conversation with Quinn. The moonlight streaming through the window illuminated Tara's features, casting a warm glow on her expression, but Iris could see the fatigue lurking beneath her surface. When they both turned to her at the sound of the knock, Tara's surprise was evident, and Quinn, sensing the shift, quickly rose to her feet.

"I'm gonna go, let you guys... chat," Quinn said, her voice soft as she headed for the door. As she passed Iris, she exchanged a meaningful glance with Tara, a silent communication that Iris couldn't see before the door clicked shut behind her.

"Figured you would need these," Iris said, holding out the bottle of pills and giving it a gentle shake. She stepped into the room, placing the bottle on the small table in front of the bed, feeling the weight of the moment settle around them.

"Thank you," Tara replied, managing a tight-lipped smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You can go back to your room. I'm pretty sure the fighting is done for the day."

Iris couldn't resist a playful retort. "That's a shame; I was ready to throw some more punches." She flexed her arms dramatically, trying to lighten the mood, before sitting next to Tara in the bed.

"Oh yeah? Everyone better start fearing for their lives then,"

"What can I say? I'm just too cool,". They exchanged a silly smile, the kind that made the world around them feel a little brighter. For a moment, they stood in comfortable silence, both of them trying to find the right words.

"Thank you," Tara finally said, her gaze drifting down to her feet, the weight of her words hanging in the air. "For not letting me go up those stairs."

Iris shifted closer, their shoulders brushing lightly. She could feel the warmth radiating from Tara, and it gave her a sense of comfort. "It's no problem really. I would gladly punch him again if you asked me,"

"Yeah, but then you got hurt," Tara replied, tilting her head to study Iris's face more closely. Her eyes dropped to the small bruise on Iris's lip, a reminder of the confrontation.

"It's okay, I don't mind. It was just my lip," Iris said with a shrug, trying to brush off the concern. But there was something deeper in Tara's gaze that made her heart race, a mix of gratitude and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. The air felt charged, as if the silence between them was waiting for the right moment to spark into something more.

Tara glanced down at her white shirt, noticing the faint, dark stains that marred the fabric now that she had gotten rid of her tie and suit jacket. A hint of panic crept into her voice as she asked, "Is that blood?" It seemed the mess wasn't limited to just the cut on Iris's lip.

Iris's eyes widened for a moment. "No?" she replied, trying to deflect.

"You're not supposed to answer with a question, Ris," Tara teased, a grin tugging at her lips. Iris laughed quietly, and Tara felt a rush of warmth at the sound. There was something magical about being the reason behind Iris's smile, a feeling that made her heart swell.

"I think I was more messed up than I realized," The shorter girl admitted, the weight of her words sinking in.

"What happened? You don't usually drink like this," Iris probed, concern threading through her voice.

Tara looked away, unable to meet Iris's gaze. It felt as if the truth was etched across her face—how she had drowned her worries in drinks, all to forget the sight of Iris leaving with that boy, Damon. The memory stung, and she forced herself to swallow hard. "I just... had a lot of things on my mind,"

"Anything you wanna share?" Iris nudged her gently in the shoulder, her touch lingering just long enough to send a shiver down Tara's spine.

"Not yet, if that's okay," Tara replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I respect that," Iris said, her understanding evident. "I have a lot on my mind too." The air between them shifted, Tara felt the walls she'd built around her emotions start to crack, and for the first time, she considered sharing the weight of her feelings with Iris. But for now, she simply held on to the fleeting connection they shared, hoping it would be enough.

"Did you have fun?" Tara asked, her voice light, but there was a hint of curiosity behind it.

"I did, especially when I got to dance with you." Iris locked her gaze onto Tara's, the sincerity in her eyes making Tara's heart skip a beat.

"Yeah? You weren't that bad,"

"Maybe we can do that again sometime. I think I still need some practice." Iris wiggled her eyebrows exaggeratedly, and Tara couldn't help but nudge her playfully, a warm laugh escaping her.

"You didn't dance with Damon?" Tara inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Damon?" Iris laughed, shaking her head. "He would rather die than dance with me. Not even his boyfriend gets him to do it."

"Boyfriend? Oh," Tara said, her surprise evident.

"Yeah, why?" Iris asked, tilting her head slightly, curiosity piqued.

"I thought... maybe you two..." Tara trailed off, her voice softening.

"What? No way! He's just my friend, and besides, he is gay,"

"Sorry, that's embarrassing." Tara instinctively put her hands around her head, trying to shield her blush, but before she could hide, Iris gently grabbed one of her hands, intertwining their fingers in a warm clasp.

Iris looked down at their joined hands, the softness of Tara's skin grounding her. "Besides, even if he were into women, I wouldn't go for him either," she said, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Too picky?" Tara asked, her heart racing with an unexplainable thrill.

"Maybe," Iris replied with a slight shrug. "I guess I'm more into brunettes."

Tara's heart raced so fast she thought she might faint. The implication of Iris's words washed over her like a wave, leaving her breathless. "Good choice," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

After a moment of silence, where the only sound in the room was the rhythm of their breaths, Iris finally spoke up, her voice gentle yet firm. "You know, don't be mad at your sister. She loves you and she's just trying to protect you."

Tara sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I know, but still, sometimes it feels like too much." The weight of her words hung in the air, thick with unspoken emotions.

"Maybe," Iris replied, rubbing soothing circles on Tara's hand. "But she's just trying to keep you safe. So am I." The warmth of Iris's touch sent a shiver of comfort through Tara. "Even if we both still live with the fears of the past."

"I'm sorry for that," Tara muttered apologetically "I didn't want to be rude. I know how much better you got after therapy."

"It's okay," Iris assured her, a soft smile breaking through. "And yeah, I did. Perhaps you should consider it too." At the look on Tara's face, Iris snorted softly, the sound lightening the mood. "Geez, I'm not saying now, but maybe in the future if you ever need it."

"Is Iris the psychologist talking or Iris my friend?"

"Both?" They both laughed, the tension easing further. "I didn't want to go either, but now I see how much I've improved."

"I see it too," Tara replied, sincerity in her tone.

"Before, I would've never gone to that party," Iris continued, her gaze turning introspective. "I remember being constantly on edge, like someone or something was out there just waiting to attack me." She paused, taking a breath to steady herself. "Don't get me wrong, sometimes I still feel like that, and I think it had become a part of me. But I've learned to embrace it."

"I never told you this, but I'm really proud of you," Tara said, her voice steady.

Iris took a deep breath. "It also helped me not to be scared of love or feelings anymore," she admitted, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "It's funny; I almost thought I would never be able to feel again."

"And do you?" Tara asked, leaning in slightly. "I mean, feel again? Are you still scared of it?"

"I haven't been scared for a while," Iris said, her eyes reflecting a vulnerability that was hard to ignore. "Not when it's the most beautiful feeling." They locked eyes, unable to look away, and the moment felt charged, almost electric. Tara had to look away, her heart pounding, she didn't want to get her hopes up.

"So should I be worried about the line of people that are probably waiting to date you?" Tara teased, trying to deflect the intensity of the moment.

"I highly doubt anyone would wait," Iris replied, a hint of laughter in her voice.

"You'd be surprised," Tara shot back, her heart skipping a beat as she realized they were moving closer to each other, the space between them shrinking without conscious thought.

"It's more probable that I should be the one worried about the people waiting to date you," Iris countered, her tone light but her eyes serious.

"Believe me," Tara said, her eyes tracing every movement Iris made, captivated by her "There's nothing to worry about."

"Good, because you can do so much better than date that perv Frankie,"

"You think so?" Tara whispered, her voice barely audible, as if she were afraid to disturb the delicate moment they were sharing.

"Tara..." She breathed out, struggling to find the right words to convey the depth of her feelings. "You're—" She paused, the weight of her emotions pressing down on her, making it difficult to articulate just how much Tara meant to her. "Everything."

"Anyone would be lucky to have you," Iris finished, her voice filled with sincerity. The words hung in the air, causing Tara to hitch her breath, her heart racing as if it were trying to escape her chest. She took her time looking at Iris, the warmth radiating between them making the world outside seem irrelevant. Her gaze slowly shifted to Iris's lips, a magnetic pull drawing her in. Gently, Tara brought the hand that wasn't holding Iris's to brush against her wounded lip, her fingertips caressing it with a tenderness that made Iris suppress a whimper. The soft touch sent a jolt of electricity through them, both feeling the intensity of the moment.

"Does it hurt?" Tara asked, her eyes searching Iris's for an answer, only to find Iris staring intently at her lips, mirroring her own longing.

"Not really," Iris breathed out, the words escaping in a whisper that felt charged with meaning.

Their foreheads pressed together, the warmth of their skin mingling as they both tried to steady their breaths, the air thick with anticipation. "I'm not messed up anymore," Tara whispered, her voice soft but firm. "Just to let you know."

"Okay," Iris replied, her heart fluttering in response. They leaned in, their faces inches apart, the world around them fading into nothingness. Just as they were about to bridge the gap between them, the door swung open.

"I forgot... my phone," Quinn said, her voice cutting through the moment. But then she stopped short, taking in the scene before her. The two girls, so close together, made Quinn's eyes widen in surprise. She grimaced in apology, Iris and Tara pulled back quickly, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Shit sorry, um—did I cockblock you?" Quinn questioned, her voice cutting through the charged air, making both girls look at her in surprise.

"What did you just say?" Tara blurted out, her tone a mix of disbelief and annoyance. "God," they both exclaimed simultaneously, the embarrassment radiating off Iris as she pressed her hand against her forehead, while Tara's expression shifted to irritation.

"I cockblocked you" Quinn said, her eyes wide as she assessed the situation.

"No," Iris insisted, shaking her head vigorously, desperate to stop Quinn from digging herself into a deeper hole.

"I cockblocked you, didn't I?" Quinn pressed on, oblivious to Iris's attempts to ease the tension.

"Quinn if you continue saying cock im going to kill myself".

"Immediate no," Tara interjected, her voice firm, but Iris stood there uncomfortably, not really knowing what to do with herself.

"Quinn," Tara sighed, looking down at the floor as she tried to gather her thoughts. "What did... what did you need?" Her brows furrowed in disbelief; she couldn't fathom how her day had taken such a turn.

"My phone," Quinn replied, her tone casual as she bent down to pick it up from Tara's desk.

"Don't ever enter a room like that," Tara told her seriously, her voice low but laced with anger.

"I won't," Quinn promised, shaking her head earnestly, though a hint of sheepishness crept into her expression.

"It was rude," Tara continued, her irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

"I'm gonna go," Iris said awkwardly, signaling toward the door as if she were trying to escape the situation. "I think I left my... um, window open." The words tumbled out in a rush, and she turned to leave but paused for a moment. "Talk to your sister, okay? She heard what you said," Iris said, her voice softening just a bit before she slipped out the door.

"Okay," Tara smiled at her, but the moment Iris left, that smile vanished. She turned to Quinn, a steely resolve settling in. "I'm going to kill you."

Quinn's eyes widened in panic. "I'm so sorry, sorry!" she mouthed as she hurried out of the room, leaving Tara alone with her thoughts.

Tara sighed in disbelief, her mind racing with a mix of frustration and lingering hope. As the door clicked shut behind Quinn, she couldn't help but lay back on her bed, a smile creeping onto her face. She let out a giggle, the warmth of the earlier moment with Iris still tingling in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, she was finally on the verge of getting what she had always wanted.

Iris and Tara were sprawled comfortably on the couch, the soft glow of the television casting a warm light across the cozy living room, mingling with the faint hum of conversation from their group of friends nearby. Laughter bubbled up now and then, a lighthearted soundtrack to their evening as everyone made an effort to enjoy themselves, if only for a little while.

Iris leaned back against the cushions, her head tilting slightly as she glanced at Tara, who was curled up beside her with a playful grin. Tara's hair fell in soft waves around her face, and Iris couldn't help but admire how effortlessly beautiful she looked in the low light.

Tara leaned back against the cushions, "What do you want to watch?" she asked.

"Let's just see what's on the news," Iris suggested, reaching for the remote. She clicked through a few channels until the familiar logo of the news station appeared on the screen.

As the reporter started talking, Tara settled down next to Iris, their shoulders brushing together. Iris could feel a familiar warmth spread through her, a reminder of how comforting it was just to be near her. They exchanged a quick smile, but that moment of serenity shattered when the news reporter appeared, his face serious and his voice steady.

"And in other news, a recent investigation has uncovered troubling details related to the events of last year's incident of Woodsboro," the reporter said, his tone grave. Iris's heart felt like it skipped a beat, her stomach twisting as memories flooded back, memories they had tried to put behind.

Tara stiffened beside her, the color draining from her face as she listened intently. "No..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Iris's eyes were glued to the screen, watching as the reporter continued to speak. "I'm standing in front of the apartment building where the mutilated bodies of two students..." They heard the sound of Chad's footsteps thundering after the door, his desperation palpable as he raced to catch up with Sam. Just a few moments later, Sam and Danny walked in, their expressions full of concern as they approached.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, glancing around the room, her eyes wide and searching, with Danny trailing closely behind her, a look of confusion etched on his face.

Quinn, with a sly smile, couldn't help but comment, "Cute boy. Nice," pointing up at Danny, a playful glint in her eye.

But the levity was short-lived as the news turned grim. "Were discovered. Their names have just been released by police. Jason Garvey and Greg Bruckner".

"No," Iris heard Tara whisper in disbelief. In an instinctive gesture, Iris quickly grabbed Tara's hand, squeezing it tightly to offer comfort in the midst of the unfolding chaos.

"Holy shit, that's that chode from our film studies class!" Mindy exclaimed, her finger jabbing at the TV where the breaking news report was streaming. "The ones obsessed with Argento!"

The atmosphere thickened as the report continued. "Also found at the scene were various Ghostface costumes, a character popularized by the Stab movie franchise".

"No way," Iris whispered, her heart racing. Deep down, she had sensed something was off about Jason with his weird interest on Sam going to that party, she didn't want to imagine what was his plan. She could feel Tara's gaze burning into her, a silent acknowledgment that they are both thinking the same thing.

Sam let out a deep sigh. "Pack a bag. We leave in ten," she declared firmly, her voice cutting through the silence in the room.

"Sam! Wait, Sam!" Tara yelled, springing up from her seat to chase after her sister.

"We're getting out of the city," Sam replied, her tone leaving no room for debate.

"I'm not getting stabbed in the name of these fucking movies again!" Iris interjected, standing up with determination. "I'm buying the tickets." The fierce resolve in her eyes made it clear she was serious.

"What?" Danny blurted, confusion and concern mingling on his face.

Chad turned to Danny, gently but insistently pushing him backwards. "Thank you very much, suspicious new guy, but we got it from here," he said, waving him off with a quick flick of his wrist. "Have a good night. Get home safe. Go, go, go." His tone was urgent, he needed to protect their little group.

As Tara sprinted after her older sister, she watched as Sam headed straight for the knife stash, her hands deftly pulling knives from the holder. The glint of steel caught the light, and Tara felt a chill run down her spine as she realized what Sam was preparing for.

"Sam, just wait a minute here—" Tara exclaimed, her voice rising with anxiety. She could already sense where this was heading, and she hated it. "Let's just talk about this!"

"Sam, bring me one!" Iris shouted, her resolve unyielding.

"On it," Sam replied tersely, her focus unwavering.

"No, wait, Iris, not you too!" Tara pleaded, desperation creeping into her voice.

"No, we are leaving," Sam hissed, storming past Tara with two knives in her hands, she handed one to Iris, who accepted it without a question.

"No, wait, let's talk about this for a second!" Tara tried to reason with Sam, her voice softening as she attempted to pull her sister back from the edge of impulsive decisions. "This attack might not have anything to do with us!" Tara's words hung in the air, a fragile hope that perhaps they could find a different way out of this nightmare.

Sam spun around, the sudden movement stopping Tara in her tracks. "Are you serious?" she demanded, her voice a mixture of disbelief and frustration.

"It's Halloween! Everybody's wearing masks!" Tara countered, her tone defensive as she tried to make sense of the chaos spiraling around them. "You don't know"

"Tara, this isn't a coincidence!" Sam snapped, exasperation spilling over. "You knew those guys!"

"Barely," Tara shot back, her voice heavy with shadows of doubt and fear.

"You guys looked really friendly," Iris interjected, only adding fuel to the fire.

"Not helping, Iris!" Tara retorted, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

"There's no way you think that it's just a coincidence that the guy you met and got close to you, was found dead with a stash of Ghostface costumes" Iris pressed, her tone fierce, eyes blazing with intensity.

"Thank you," Sam said, shooting Iris a grateful glance "Chad, Mindy, back me up."

Chad hesitated, glancing at the floor as he searched for the right words. "It's a little bit..."

"Close to home," Mindy finished for him, still perched on the couch with Anika, who looked equally troubled by the unfolding drama.

"See?" Sam exclaimed, her frustration beginning to morph into a desperate plea for understanding.

"It's better to prevent than die in the process," Iris added, her voice firm.

Tara turned to Iris, hurt flashing in her eyes. "Why can't you be on my side for once?"

"I'm always going to be on your side," Iris replied, her voice steady but tinged with sorrow. "But not if it ends with you dead."

Tara turned around, her eyes landing on the ginger-haired woman perched on the couch. Quinn sat there, her expression a clear reflection of fear and confusion as she absorbed the tension radiating through the room.

"Quinn, your dad's a cop, right?" Tara asked hurriedly,desperation creeping into her tone.

"Can you call him and find out what's going on?"

She turned around once again to shout at her sister and Iris "Before you two make the unilateral decision to abandon my college education and flee the fucking state!"

Quinn hesitated for a moment before nodding, her brow furrowing with concern. "I'm calling him now," she said carefully, raising her phone to her ear.

"Thank you," Tara replied, her voice softer now, though the underlying anxiety remained.

Just then, the phone rang, and the atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically. Everyone seemed to freeze, wide-eyed and tense as they exchanged anxious glances, the ominous sound amplifying the dread hanging in the air. Iris reached for Sam's phone, her fingers shaking slightly as she glanced at the caller ID.

"Gale Weathers," Iris read aloud, a sarcastic laugh escaping her lips. "I think the fuck not."

With that, she hung up abruptly, placing the phone back on the table with a decisive clatter. Gale had turned their tragic story from the previous year into a sensationalized tale, cashing in on their traumas, and it got on Iris's nerves. She remembered how Gale had twisted their experiences into a narrative that painted Sam as a "natural killer" and Iris as a "naive lover." None of them held the older woman in high regard at that moment.

"Why did everyone just freak out when her phone rang?" Ethan asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"You gotta keep up, my dude," Anika replied, her tone dripping with incredulity as she shook her head at him like he was a dumb child.

"You've never watched the Stab movies?" Iris turned to Ethan, an inquisitive glare piercing through the boy. As he shook his head in denial, she stared at him for a moment longer, watching him struggle to maintain her gaze, his discomfort palpable.

"Sam," Quinn called out, worry etched across her features. "My dad wants to talk to you."

Sam looked up, her expression shifting from frustration to concern as she took the phone from Quinn. "Mr. Bailey, hi"

"Hey, Sam. I was actually just about to call you," he replied, his tone professional yet tinged with urgency.

"Well, my sister thinks I'm probably overreacting," Sam told him, a hint of frustration seeping through.

"No, unfortunately, you're not," he said, the gravity of his words settling heavily in the air.

"What do you mean? What's going on?" Sam questioned, confusion etching lines on her forehead.

"I'm afraid I need you to come down to the station," he said, his voice firm with concern.

"Alright," Sam replied, her mind racing as she processed the sudden shift in the conversation.

Hanging up the phone, she felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Without saying a word to anyone, she moved towards the door, her pace brisk and determined.

Tara and Iris exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. In an instant, they moved to follow Sam, urgency propelling them forward. "You guys stay here. We'll go with Sam," Tara called out. They didn't wait for a reply; they were already at the door, Sam poised on the threshold, ready to step into the night.

"Tara? No, get back inside. Lock the door," Sam called out, turning to face them, her expression unable to hide her frustration. "Iris, go with her and keep her safe."

"Are you serious? Now you don't want to stick together?" Tara shot back, disbelief lacing her words as she crossed her arms defiantly.

"She's right, Sam. You're insane if you think we're leaving you alone," Iris chimed in, her voice resolute as she stepped closer to Tara.

Sam hesitated, glancing between her sister and Iris, her resolve wavering under the weight of their insistence. "I just—" she began, but the look on their faces told her all she needed to know.

With a reluctant sigh, she finally relented. "Fine. Let's go." Together, they started walking towards the station, each step heavy with unspoken fears.

As The three of them walked down the street, Sam's phone began ringing once again. She instinctively glanced at the screen, and her heart dropped. The sight of the caller ID made her freeze in place, rooted to the pavement.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Iris asked, her voice laced with concern as she noticed the shock written all over Sam's face.

Tara, too, stopped walking, her eyes darting between Sam and the phone, a look of disbelief crossing her features. "What the fuck?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. They all could see the name glaring back at them: "Richie Kirsch."

"I...I never deleted his contact," Sam confessed, her voice shaky. "This is coming from his number."

A chill ran down Iris's spine, her instincts kicking in. "Don't pick that up," she warned, urgency rising in her tone.

"Yeah, just let it ring," Tara echoed, glancing around as if expecting someone to jump out from the shadows.

But Sam, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, ignored their pleas. With a deep breath, she pressed the green button, accepting the call against her better judgment.

"Who is this?" Sam demanded as she gripped the phone tightly.

"Hello, Samantha. Did you miss me?" The voice was unmistakable, distorted by the sinister quality of a voice changer, sending shivers down their spines.

"Oh God, I hate this motherfucker". Iris muttered, burying her face in her hands in frustration. Sam, determined to face this threat head-on, switched the call to speaker mode so Tara and Iris could hear as well.

"I want you to think long and hard about whether you really want to do this because the last two people that fucked with us ended up dead" Sam growled into the phone, her voice low but steady.

"You should be thanking me, Sam. Jason and Greg were gonna kill you, your sister and all of your friends" Ghostface replied, his tone mocking and sinister. Just then, the three girls caught sight of a suspicious figure approaching them from down the street, a hood pulled low over his face, obscuring his features.

Instinctively, Iris stepped in front of Sam and Tara, her body tense as she faced the stranger. The man walked past them, his gait slow and deliberate, yet he didn't make eye contact. Iris's heart raced as she glanced back at her friends, trying to gauge their reactions while keeping her eyes on the hooded figure. The atmosphere grew thick with tension, each of them acutely aware that this was far from over. "I gutted them before they had the chance"

"Thanks dude for murdering people in our name".

"Hello to you too, Iris. I can't wait to formally meet you," Ghostface mocked, his voice dripping with amusement.

"I can't wait to meet you either," Iris retorted, her voice steady despite the quaking fear in her stomach. "So you can personally meet my knife" Her heart raced, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she spoke.

Sam sensed the tension building and quickly interjected, hoping to redirect the focus. "So what? You're protecting us now?" she questioned. She wanted to pull Iris back from the brink of confrontation, fearing that provoking him further might escalate the situation.

"Not quite," Ghostface replied, his tone icy and calculated. "I'm going to show the whole world who you really are. A liar and a killer. I'm going to punish you". Each word dripped with a chilling certainty, as though he relished the thought of punish them.

"You shouldn't believe everything you read on the internet, asshole" Sam shot back, her anger boiling over.

"Don't be cute. You're gonna pay for what you did. And I'm not gonna stop until I butcher you. You and anyone who gets between us. You and Tara better watch your backs" Ghostface said. "As for you Iris? I'm going to have so much fun watching you beg to end you once I force you to watch the final moments of everyone else".

"You want me dead? Get in line motherfucker"

"You better watch your backs."

"You better watch yours." Sam snapped, her voice laced with venom.

"Tara, behind you!" Iris shouted, her voice slicing through the night air with urgency. The adrenaline surged through her veins as she realized the danger. She had been so consumed by the call that she hadn't noticed Ghostface stealthily approaching.

Before she could even process the situation, a gloved hand clamped around Tara's neck, getting ready to stab her right in the chest. Panic gripped Iris, but there was no time for fear—only action.

"No!" Tara screamed, her eyes wide with horror as she felt the presence of the killer. Iris lunged at Ghostface, her small frame colliding with his. The force of her impact sent them both tumbling into the nearby bushes, leaves and branches scattering in all directions.

"Run!" Sam shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. She grasped Tara's arm, yanking her forward with a desperate urgency. The street stretched out before them, dark and foreboding, but they had no choice. They had to escape.

"In there!" Sam pointed towards a convenience store glowing dimly in the distance, its neon lights flickering like a beacon of hope. The three of them sprinted down the empty street, their hearts pounding in rhythm with their frantic footsteps.

"He's coming!" Iris yelled.

"Help! Somebody!" they cried out, desperation lacing their voices as they dashed for the store. Ghostface was close behind, his presence a looming shadow, ready to strike at any moment.

"Please help us!" Tara shouted once they were inside. They tried to get to the front of the line in order to talk to the owner.

"There's a fucking line here, girls" someone snapped.

"Someone is trying to kill us" Iris yelled defiantly, her voice echoing in the cramped space. "You think I give a fuck?" Just as the words left her mouth, the store door swung open with a jarring creak, revealing Ghostface, who entered with an unsettling calm, his dark figure cutting through the fluorescent lights like a shadow.

"You got a problem here" The guy who snapped at them bravely said as he approached the killer, who in response just tilted his head, the mask obscuring any trace of emotion, before stabbing him in the gut multiple times. Gasps of horror erupted from the other costumers, their panic palpable as they rushed toward the door, desperate to escape the unfolding nightmare. Another guy tried to stop him but that just resulted in him getting stabbed in the neck.

The three girls exchanged horrified glances, their eyes wide as they gasped in shock, instinctively backing away from the scene. The air felt charged with fear as Ghostface began to advance towards them, his movements deliberate and predatory.

"Hey!" The store owner yelled, popping up from behind the counter with a shotgun. He pulled the trigger but it wasn't fast enough as Ghostface dodge it just in time. The man looked appalled as he walked through his store to approach the killer only to find that he disappeared.

"Go out the back!" He shouted at them.

"Thank you!" Tara yelled in response, the three of them not wasting another moment before rushing towards the door.

"Fuck, it's locked," Sam cursed out as she and Iris continued to force the lock in order to open it.

"Keys!" Tara called to the man. "We need your keys!"

The man began searching for the keys and just when he finally found them, Ghostface appeared out of nowhere and used the fact that he was distracted to stab him in the chest. The owner fell into the floor grumbling in pain as he tried to escape the store but it was no use as Ghostface grabbed the shotgun that was on the floor and shoot the man in the head making all the blood splutter into the fridges.

Sam pushed both girls down onto the ground signaling them to keep quiet as they crawled to another aisle.

They could hear Ghostface's footsteps as he fired at the freezer behind them, glass shattering everywhere. He squeezed off a few more shots, but a quick glance told Iris that he was getting closer. Sam seized a can and hurled it to the far end of the store, hoping to divert his attention.

Unfortunately, it didn't buy them much time. They managed to get to another aisle in silence, but then Ghostface turned, locking eyes with Iris for a brief, chilling moment.

Before Ghostface could pull the trigger again, the three girls acted on impulse, shoving the shelves of food onto him with all their strength. Cans and boxes tumbled down, creating a chaotic barrier as they scrambled to escape the scene.

"Run, go!" Sam shouted, her voice laced with panic. The urgency in her tone snapped Iris into action. She grabbed Tara's hand, feeling the tremor in her friend's grip, and urged her forward.

"Tara, we have to move!" Iris cried, noticing how her friend stood frozen, eyes wide with fear. Sam was already darting ahead, glancing back to ensure they were following.

They sprinted toward the door, hearts pounding, Iris let out a sigh of relief when they were finally outside and they could hear Police sirens getting closer to them.The relief didn't last long as once they turned around to look back at the scene, they found the Ghostface mask laying on the ground, which could only mean one thing. He had escaped.

[tinfoil-jones]

For Your Own Good: Intermission

Askbox? Open

If you don't know what this post is about, "For Your Own Good" or tagged as "Early Amnesia AU" on tumblr is a dialogue-only Gravity Falls fanfiction I've been working on that kinda-sorta follows a Mystery Trio -esque timeline, where Ford doesn't build the portal. To sum it up, the whole fanfiction boils down to:

Researcher Ford: I told you I never wanted to see you again.

Mullet Stan: Dude, I don't know who you are or WTF you're talking about right now, but I'm leaving this town and never coming back. You are never seeing me again after this. I'm probably going to forget you in like five minutes.

Researcher Ford:

Researcher Ford: *immediately kidnaps him*

You can consider chapters 1-10 to be Act 1 of the fanfic, and I’m taking a break for at least a week, most likely longer. The chapters so far were already written out in advance, and so was a huge reveal, but I still need to tie things together.

Here’s some authors notes/extra stuff about it, some of it might have already been put in the AO3 before or after notes. These are in no particular order:

This takes place 10 years after Ford and Stan were separated, currently they are both 27 about to be 28. Fiddleford is slightly older than them, being in his early 30s.

Ford is unironically the only person who finds Stan’s really dumb jokes funny.

Ford is the one who displays the most behaviours that would be seen from Mabel and Dipper decades later. Like Dipper, he views washing clothes as a waste of time, and like Mabel he ate an entire tube of toothpaste (granted, it was on accident)

While Ford is the more likely of the two to display traits that later present in Mabel and Dipper, it still happens with Stan as well. Stan has a similar nervous-chewing habit that Dipper displays in the OG series, but his only comes out when he’s particularly anxious. In this case, it was because he had nicotine cravings.

The 'That motherfucker is ugly' line that Stan used on Ford can be considered extra ironic because of how much the Stan Twins look like their dad.

Bill Cipher was originally supposed to speak in Times New Bastard (which is Times New Roman except every 7th letter is jarringly sans serif, a meme from tumblr), but AO3 and tumblr don’t let you change the font.

Stan goes out of his way to avoid using Ford and Fiddlefords given names- but this isn’t because he doesn’t know what they are. In the few times he has used their names, it was a sign that he was being sincere.

If you want to wonder whether or not Fiddleford likes Stan back, consider the fact that he could have walked away at any point, and either washed his hands of the whole thing, or just outright reported Stanford to the authorities. 

Bill is more like Discord from MLP - he’s just chaotic, often to the detriment of others, but he isn’t outright malicious (anymore), and he’s too busy SIMPING to cause any real harm. Basically, Bill is Fords patron for studying weirdness - he helps Ford in his research, but the cost that Ford pays is that Bill is able to possess him when he sleeps, and has unlimited access to his brain.

If Ford knew Rick Sanchez, why didn’t Rick see how similar Stan looked and put 2-and-2 together? Easy; Rick didn’t give a single shit about Ford, so he never committed his face or name to memory. Ford himself only remembered Rick because Rick was such a massive, egotistical asshole. If anything, Rick would think Ford is the lesser version of Stan.

Chapter 10 was the first concrete proof that the Stan we’ve been following likely is Stanley Pines and not some similar conman named Stan Malone. The last time Ford saw Stan would have either been when they were teens, so other than Stans commercials for his failed products there’s no way Ford would know what an adult Stan would even look like, and he’d have to use himself as a reference.

Stan has given some insight on his Thalassophobia (fear of the ocean / large bodies of water). In Chapter 10, he told Ford a number of things he escaped, including the trunk of a sinking car, and cement shoes. Cement shoes are either when you tie someone to a cinder block and throw them into a body of water, or when you literally incase their feet in cement, wait for it to dry, and then toss them into a body of water, so they’ll drown. Presumably, these are still things that would have happened to him even if he didn't lose his memories, so why would it give him a fear of the ocean now? Stan Pines in the OG still had a lot of positive memories associated with the ocean - he grew up on the coast, and had a lot of his hopes and dreams tied to the ocean. But without his childhood memories, he has no positive associations with it, only memories of times he almost drowned. 

Ford himself is not a touchy guy. The reason he hugs Stan even though it isn’t reciprocated is because from his perspective, this is his twin brother who is in pain and has been suffering all by himself for a long time. And Stan - at least how Ford remembers him - had a very touch-based love language. Fords doing it because he thinks it’d comfort him.

Stan seems pretty calm and chill for someone who’s been kidnapped by a ‘stranger’. This isn’t because he’s an overall chill guy because of amnesia, no he’s super pissed and the second he knows he’s free he will let them know that with his words, and incredible violence. He’s remaining calm because he’s been imprisoned and kidnapped enough times to know that pitching a fit or lashing out at his captors won’t do him any favours.

Fiddleford is still married to Emma-May and they do have Tate. But it's one of those lavender marriages (they're both gay and mutually bearding each other)

[yanderes-galore]

Hi hope it’s not too late to request Yandere obi wan kenobi who falls for senator reader while he was protecting her from assassins. 

We love giving Jedi a crisis on this blog.

Yandere! Obi-Wan Kenobi with Senator! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Denial, Brief mentions of murder, Jealousy, Isolation, Dubious relationship.

Obi-Wan is one of the people many think of when they hear 'Jedi'.

He doesn't let personal connections get in the way of his job.

He's also extremely loyal to the council.

He's different from other Jedi who are sometimes controlled by emotion.

So him becoming yandere comes with a lot of denial on his part....

Especially since Jedi aren't supposed to fall in love in The Order.

Obi-Wan would know his feelings are wrong, try not to fall for them, but succumbs eventually.

Especially considering canon with Satine.

He nearly left the order for her.

Similar thing would happen with you in this case.

Jedi are appointed to those who are in the most danger.

They're meant to enforce peace, acting like bodyguards.

It's normal for Jedi to be appointed to aid political figures.

Especially senators.

Due to politics, senators are easily targeted by assassins.

To protect you, Obi-Wan becomes your bodyguard.

Obi-Wan would originally be respectful yet not overly emotional with you.

He's here to protect you... to be your guard... not anything else.

Imagine if you were the one who was social with him.

You feel it isn't right to just ignore your bodyguard and might try to converse with him.

The job shouldn't be boring, right?

Plus, it feels weird for you to know nothing about your protector.

Obi-Wan originally tries to put some distance between you two.

He entertains your conversation, yet tries to keep it professional.

When you get too personal, he tries his best to decline.

Yet over time as he protects you he begins to feel more... fond.

I imagine you two are together for months in order to make Obi-Wan obsessed.

For the most part he sees himself as your guardian.

He's merely a Jedi Knight meant to protect his assignment.

Yet you're so social with him it catches him off guard.

On quiet nights you two chat.

Sometimes you can't sleep due to the stress you're under, leading to you and Obi-Wan talking to one another.

Obi-Wan feels it's natural to talk with you.

He wants you to feel calm and quietly listens to your rants and worries.

He's sympathetic... but he shouldn't be so close to you.

Obi-Wan definitely gets attached to you by accident... then tries to ignore it.

He puts himself in denial, he can't be in love!

Jedi Knights have a mission to uphold.

His goal is to simply cut down assassins.

Yet Obi-Wan finds himself attached to your late night conversations.

When he isn't putting his saber against someone, you invite him to your room to speak.

Your conversations start formally... only to become more personal as much as Obi-Wan tries to avoid it.

Obi-Wan is different from Anakin.

Unlike Anakin, he has a better grip on his emotions and reactions.

He's less controlled by his personal feelings... yet with you it's a struggle.

Jedi are not immune to love.

They simply learn control and restraint.

Yet they still feel connections with others, even if they shouldn't.

Obi-Wan tries to ignore it for a couple months.

He offers smiles and info he can spare that isn't against any code.

He always stays close yet also tries to distance himself, concerned he'll be too attached.

Yet by the next few months, Obi-Wan finds himself slipping up.

You invite him everywhere... Your smile is pleasing....

Obi-Wan finds himself snapping when he tries to protect you, too.

He's always supposed to protect you...

But now he finds himself... paranoid about what could happen if he's distracted.

Ironically, his feelings for you are the most distracting thing in his mind.

This is proven when he finds himself tense around those you interact with.

He tells himself it's paranoia, you both just need to be careful around others...

Yet there's always the chance that what he's feeling is restrained jealousy.

Obi-Wan never outright acts on his jealousy.

Anakin might, but he doesn't.

He tries to accept it as he stands beside you, standing a little closer while you negotiate.

Obi-Wan may actually try to keep you away from others for your safety.

He reminds you every day to be careful.

After all, assassins are never easy to spot.

Anyone can be a spy out to get you.

You may even listen to Obi-Wan, after all, he's your bodyguard.

He no doubt has had many missions like this, right?

This thought is what makes you believe him and listen to him.

What keeps his obsession under control is the fact you usually follow what he says.

Obi-Wan isn't a possessive yandere as he's so controlled.

But, of course, he's overprotective due to his job.

He's scared to lose you... especially since it's easy to do.

You're an important figure... and fear poisons a Jedi.

Obi-Wan dreads the day he has to leave your side.

He knows when the time comes, someone else will protect you.

But they aren't him.

With those thoughts in mind, Obi-Wan listens eagerly to every little thing you say.

He enjoys protecting you and making you smile.

You're a pretty woman who knows her way through politics.

As much as he shouldn't think about it... He can't help but fantasize about you two being together.

His obsession makes him rethink his loyalty to the Jedi.

He thinks of leaving The Order...

He thinks of what it would be like to always be by your side, to protect you.

By the end of his station, he's madly in love.

The unfortunate thing is he has no idea how to deal with his feelings....

Obi-Wan knows he shouldn't act on them.

He should rein himself in, he shouldn't corrupt himself.

But it seems love controls even those with the strongest of wills.

While Obi-Wan may not kidnap you, he'll find ways to extend being your guard.

He tells The Order that you're still in danger, that he should watch you and possibly have you moved somewhere safer.

This way Obi-Wan spends more time with you... He's able to soothe his yearning for a little while longer...

He isn't entirely lying, is he?

Senators are always in danger.

Obi-Wan is desperate to keep himself from going against The Order.

He tries to stay beside you as long as he can.

But eventually he'll have to leave your side...

By then, he hopes he'll make the right decision.

After all... He feels you love him too... You must...

Surely he can just leave The Order and... have you as his wife, right?

While Obi-Wan is praised for being a flawless example of a Jedi Knight...

Perhaps he isn't as flawless as everyone thinks when it comes to you?

[minerpore]

so, finally deciding to share this with more people- (how long has this post waited in drafts? for a while fof sure-)

Monster4 be upon ye or smth nxhcjcjyd

yes, another AU-

basicaly, the idea is simple..

what if during IGBP the demonic keyboard not only posessed 4, but also corrupted his physical form?

(hchfgg gotta love how i basicaly kinda gave him the Rot, from Rain World-)

(i still haven't figured out how to draw leggies shaped like that, forgive me-)

have some hug art!

also i guess it (the art) partially inspired me to write a fic bit heh

(tags to give this ficlet? content warnings?: hurt/comfort, mentions of body horror? i'm not sure if it's a fitting tag [please let me now if it is or not], smg34, slightly suggestive if you squint i guess, brief thinking about eating someone)

***

How long it has been since the It's Gotta Be Perfect incident?

Weeks? Days? Months??

Four didn't bother to count.

All that time blurred into one thing anyways, a period of constant guilt and shame.

He couldn't even look at his reflection anymore.

He was a monster.

Literally.

That cursed keyboard not only took control over him back then, its powers managed to corrupt his physical form.

And it did not fade away, not even after the castle went down.

It hurt like a bitch when his legs deformed, thick tentacles sprouted from his back..

The claws were the least of his concern, unlike those strange cysts with "x"s on their surface.

They invaded most of the left half of his face, he also found out some have grown at the tip of his tail, and on his back..

Not to mention what happened to his-

No, he doesn't want to think about THAT.

The corrupted guardian had isolated himself from everyone, afraid of seeing them look at him in disgust (at least he imagined they would, and he wouldn't blame them..)

A loud growl snapped the youtuber from his thoughts.

He was so hungry.

He was ashamed to admit that his appetite could now rival Mario's(!)

Suddently his good ear registered the sound of approaching footsteps.

Four turned around to see his ex-enemy, partner.. Three.

Oh how nice and plump the guardian in purple looked, imagine just how delicious he'd taste-

WHAT THE-

Smg4 was terrified by himself, how could he have such a thought about his friend?! How disgusting of him..!

The guardian in blue quickly moved away, not wanting to risk him giving in to those thoughts.

His stomach hurt, and he began to feel nauseous.

Three stepped forward to get closer to the other man.

"What's going on dumbass? And don't pretend everything's fine, can't fool our cosmic link." the streamer said, avoiding eye contact. "Not like I care or anything! I just don't want the crew to constantly bother me over this!" a noticable blush formed on his cheeks in the typical Tsundere fashion.

Before Four could reply he got hit with another wave of nausea. Three either noticed or felt that, as it caused him to look back at his partner. "Dude, did you eat some weird mushrooms or something? You look like you're about to puke your guts out-"

The smg in blue chuckled weakly. "Nah, can't get sick from some bad food if you haven't eaten anything to begin with" he attempted to turn this whole situation into a joke. That's what he used to be good at, right? Making people laugh at dumb humor?

Smg3's eyes widen in shock, certainly not finding that amusing at all.

"Four, when was the last time you ate anything..?" He asked, fearing the answer.

The corrupted guardian gulped nervously. "Last time..? I think it was when I locked myself in my room.."

Three sighed in dissapointment, pinching the bridge of his nose, his tail swishing in annoyance.

"Of course... Alright scrub, wait here, I'm getting you some proper meal. And I won't take 'no' for an answer!"

Four only nodded lightly, he didn't plan on leaving anyways.

And so he waited, scrolling through his phone in the meantime.

After a solid while the guardian in purple returned, carrying big bags of food.

Smg4 watched as his partner took all the contents out, setting them down so Four would't have to dig through the bags.

The guardian in blue and white rushed towards the food, soon devouring it like a starving animal. However he did notice Three looking at him with a certain kind of hunger in his eyes.

But it was a brief moment, as Smg3 quickly turned away from him once he saw Four's gaze and picking up a burger for himself.

Once satiated the youtuber sighed in content, laying on his side (as he found it uncomfortable to lay on his back now, due to the tentacles).

Ohh it felt great to have a full stomach like that.

"Four, I.." Three started.

The streamer sat down not far away from his partner. "Look, I know how it feels like to have your body corrupted, mashed with whatever eldrich shit that keybo-" he was suddently cut of by the guardian in blue.

"BUT THIS IS DIFFRENT! YOU ACTUALLY GOT YOUR NORMAL BODY BACK! Meanwhile I'M stuck as this.. abomination!"

Three moved in front of his soulmate, then cupped his right cheek.

"Four, listen to me. I don't find you disgusting in this form, alright?? You're actually kinda hot- WHO SAID THAT-" The guardian in purple quickly covered his mouth to avoid saying more (TOTALLY UNTRUE) things (he DID NOT!) think about 4!

The corrupted guardian looked at him wide-eyed.

"What I MEANT to say is-! It could have been worse! Like, you didn't become a twig or something-" Smg3 attempted to "correct" himself.

Smg4's body tensed up as he felt arms wrap around him, pulling him into a hug.

The feeling of Smg3's warm body touching his brought him a sense of comfort.

"Four, I... Remember what I said? We're friends.. So what if you look diffrent now? It's not like we never got redesigned! So what if you have those kinda goopy.." Three swallowed hard before continuing "Thick tentacles..? So what if you're.. the way you are now.."

The corrupted guardian felt tears form in his eye.

"I'm not leaving your side, whether you like it or not.." Smg3 said with a fond smile on his face. "And that's a threat!~"

[rotationalsymmetry]

So, I'm not great at avoiding procrastination either, but some thoughts on it:

Schedule leisure time and honor it at least 80% of the time, even if some stuff doesn't get done. Also get enough sleep most of the time -- if you're up late on a big project now and then, OK, but don't routinely stay up doing schoolwork. This is important not just because leisure is a human right, but also because of course people sneak around and steal leisure time wherever they can when they can't get it by following their own rules. That includes study breaks. Your brain needs some times where it's not actively working to absorb new information.

Break it up: people tend to be better at not procrastinating when there's a near future, urgent deadline, so it's a good idea to break large projects into smaller parts with smaller deadlines at the beginning. Sometimes people have trouble responding to self-imposed deadlines; sometimes positive reinforcement (pretend you're 5 years old and give yourself stickers or something) helps a lot, sometimes getting an accountability partner (someone who will ask you if you've hit your smaller deadlines or not) helps a lot.

Just do it/first step: when you catch yourself procrastinating in the moment, you can try telling yourself you'll just take the next smallest conceivable step to doing the project. Like opening a document on your laptop. If you do the next smallest step and really can't bear to do more, oh well, but often once people get going they want to keep going.

Sometimes people can break out of a cycle of "I know I should do x" but not actually doing it in the moment by counting down from 5 to 1 and then doing something in the physical world, like standing up (or eg putting down the phone if it's an electronic distraction.) This gets easier to do if you've practiced it a few times.

Breaking up the shame spiral: I don't think people usually procrastinate because they're actively enjoying whatever they're doing instead, I think what happens is they're (or at least this is how it works for me) feeling bad and there's something other than Doing The Thing that is better distraction from feeling bad. So, doing something to change the feeling bad into feeling OK can break a procrastination cycle. What I do is write "I fucked up" in a notes app and write down what happened and how bad it is and how I can make it less bad, and that tends to make me feel way better (and once in a while even helps me figure out how to do less of the thing I feel guilty about); but any emotional management thing that actually works for you is fine. Take a walk around the block or do some jumping jacks, say some affirmations, do a breathing exercise, whatever. Anything reasonably short, that actually works.

Acceptance: behavioral change takes a while and tends to involve some relapses, that's how people are, people don't need to be perfect to get things done.

Finally, this isn't anti-procrastination advice, but: DON'T DO EVERYTHING. Prioritize. Part of what you're supposed to learn in uni is to learn what to do when you have more to do than what you can do -- learn which things are lower priority and can be put off or skipped entirely, and which things have to be done. In particular, you will get too much reading, so learn to skim. This is not cheating or slacking off. This is part of what you are supposed to be learning. See also: asking for extensions and stuff when you need them.

So I’m a first year uni student. How did you survive your bachelors? It feels like such a long slog, and as I write this I have five things I need to do.

In particular, how did you… not procrastinate

I’d really appreciate any advice you can give!

One day at a time mate. One day at a time.

I can't give you any advice on procrastination, I procrastinated every project I had throughout all of uni.

[thedemoninme141]

Would you? a part 2 of "She Wishes".

Recommend reading "She Wishes" before going down.

Warnings: Angst, a lot of angst. Regret... Emotional Out Of Character Wednesday

Summary: Wednesday can't sleep. Pairing: Wednesday x Female Reader.

I don’t need someone dragging me down, constantly whining about feeling neglected. If you can’t handle that, then maybe you should find someone else willing to put up with your desperate need for attention.

Wednesday jolted awake, the voice still ringing in her ears, her own voice.

In her whole life, she had never been the one to be afraid of nightmares, yet she ended up like this, being unable to sleep because of the nightmare she created herself. It had been the same, night after night.

When was the last time she’d slept without revisiting that moment, that night when she said those… words? She couldn’t remember.

She dragged herself to a seated position, trying to steady her breathing, only to catch a flicker of movement on the balcony.

A figure stood there, perfectly still, as if waiting... just as it always had.

It was you.

She knew her mind was simply tormenting her, feeding on her guilt and grief, creating illusions to make her suffer even more. But in a way, she had come to accept it. This was the only way she could see you now, the only way she could be near you. She couldn’t resist the pull, the familiar ache in her chest that begged her to walk toward you.

She glanced over at Enid, who was sleeping soundly on her side of the room. Fortunately, Enid could sleep through the wildest storms. Wednesday supposed it was a blessing; her friend wouldn’t hear her break through the silence to talk with… you.

And there you stood, haloed by the soft glow of the moon, looking more beautiful than she ever remembered. She took in the way your hair caught the light, the way it made you look ethereal, almost otherworldly.

A year ago, she would’ve never noticed something like this, but now? Now, she was all too aware. Painfully so.

She approached with quiet, as if you were something fragile she might shatter with her presence alone.

“You’re here again.” Her voice was low, tentative.

You didn’t respond, just kept staring up at the stars.

Wednesday swallowed, hating the awkwardness of her own silence, hating that she struggled to express herself even now, even when she knew you weren't real.

“I thought you might like to know how uneventful my day was,” she said softly. “Nothing of interest happened. I went to class, ignored everyone, and endured the same dull routine.” her gaze lingered on you, trying to memorize every detail.

As she stood beside you, leaning on the railing, she looked at the moon, "Thing played a particularly irritating prank on Enid, it was suspicious. Thing would never hurt Enid's feelings… unless Enid told him to do so. She probably did to… lighten my mood, which to her disappointment, didn't amuse me at all." She glanced at you, half-expecting a response, though she knew you’d never answer.

You were only an illusion, yet you watched her so attentively, as though you were really listening.

A faint smile ghosted across her lips, sad and bittersweet. It reminded her of the way you used to listen to her back then, a year ago, when the two of you were… something. She’d always avoided putting a name to it then, but now, she wished she had.

“I… know I never asked much about your day. I assumed you’d tell me what mattered eventually, but… you used to talk about everything, even things I thought were trivial.” Her gaze fell, the weight of her own words settling heavily in her chest.

"And the irony is," she whispered bitterly, "even if you’re just in my head, you're listening more to me right now than I ever did to you."

Wednesday waited, as if expecting you to smile at her words, to nod with that knowing look you used to give her when she vented. You always used to tell her about your own day, too, in that same casual, almost rhythmic way.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember the things you used to talk about—but it was like trying to catch mist with her bare hands.

The details were lost to her because she had never truly listened. She’d always kept her mind focused elsewhere, assuming you’d always be there, assuming your words would repeat endlessly, and she could listen when she felt like it. But that moment, like you, was gone.

"I don’t even know if I remember what your favorite book was," she muttered, almost to herself "or your favorite subject...or our favorite moment." She swallowed, the words sharp as they caught in her throat. "I don’t know why you gave me so much of yourself when I barely gave you a second thought."

She hadn’t even realized she was reaching into her pocket until her fingers closed around the metallic edge of her smartphone. A tool she despised. She pulled it out, letting it rest in her hand, staring down at the dark screen. She hated devices like this—clunky, bright, too noisy, too eager to pull you into a world she didn’t care for.

To her, the smartphone was an obnoxious symbol of the modern world, a world she found lacking in anything genuine or meaningful. Yet here she was, holding it, clinging to it like a lifeline.

This ugly piece of plastic and glass, which she’d once ignored with utter disdain, had now taken on a significance.

It was the only way she could reach you...

She found your number, just as she had every night for the past year. She already knew how this would end, the way it had every night since you’d been gone.

It always ended the same way, going straight to voicemail. Yet she pressed it anyway, waiting for that familiar sound. The ringing stopped, and the voicemail picked up.

She took a shaky breath, and then, she began to speak.

“Hello, it’s… me. Again.” Her lips twitched in a faint, bitter smile. “I suppose that part was obvious.”

She paused, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Enid was still asleep, then turned back to you.

“I know you’re not going to answer. I know that. But somehow… I can’t seem to stop myself. Pathetic, isn’t it?” She let out a low, humorless chuckle. “I never thought I’d be the kind of person to talk to the void, to cling to something so… intangible. But here I am. Just another fool.” She gripped the phone a little tighter, closing her eyes as she struggled to find the words.

“Today, I thought about that time you asked me to spend the evening with you. You brought snacks and books, and you told me it could be fun, remember? I scoffed, said it was pointless, a waste of time.” She swallowed. “But you… you just smiled at me. You always… God, you always just smiled, didn’t you? I never understood how someone can hide so much pain behind a smile... Now I do." She smiled.

The silence on the line felt crushing, a void that seemed to swallow her whole, yet she kept going. She had to.

“If you were here right now… I’d ask you to tell me about your day,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t even care if it was boring. I wouldn’t mind if it dragged on or if you rambled. I’d listen. For once, I’d actually listen.”

She took a deep breath, her gaze dropping to the floor as she tried to steady herself. “I miss you,” she admitted finally, her voice breaking. “I miss you so much it feels like I’m losing my mind. I may already have...“ She looked at your form in front of her, looking at her with such pity in your eyes.

"I don’t deserve to miss you this much. I know that. I know that I failed you in every possible way, that I took you for granted. And now…” She trailed off, her voice shaking with the weight of her confession.

“I keep thinking, what if… what if I’d done things differently? What if I’d actually listened, actually cared about the things that mattered to you?” She swallowed hard, the words barely a whisper. “Would you still be here?” she sighed.

“I just… I need you to know that I would give anything, anything, to have you back. To have one more chance to show you that I’m not the person I was back then. I can change. I have changed. I just… I just want you to come back. I just want to know one thing, Would you come back if you knew how much I've changed?"

The beep sounded, signaling the end of the voicemail. She lowered the phone, her hand trembling as she placed it back in her pocket. Her gaze returned to your figure, still there, still watching.

“Would you forgive me?” she asked, she had to know, just so she could at least sleep that night.

At that moment, your lips curved into that familiar smile, the one that always held so much pain and you whispered back.

“Would you?”

[Author's note: Was in a mood to bring the old angst back, Comment how your heart feels after this 😏]

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[httpskuzuu]

Fault

i wrote this while watching apocalipsisminecraft :D

Anyway, I'm not very good at writing dialogues, so I hope it's okay

Yandere!Dazai x Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes

summary: you deal with the silent treatment after an argument.

tw: angst¿, toxic relationship, manipulation

The silence is simply punishing, it always was. Your body was intact, balled up on your bed, but your mind wasn't as lucky. The silent treatment was a problem, one that hurt more than you'd like to admit, but your still-wet cheeks gave you away.

It hurt you that Dazai ignored you. You had tried to distract yourself in a thousand ways these days: you went out with your friends (the few you had left), spent the days away from home, concentrated on your hobbies. Nothing seemed to work, it's as if Dazai had planted a seed in your psyche that keeps growing and growing, every day his silence was getting worse.

You can't win an argument because this is what happens, talking or complaining about Osamu's toxic behavior would only ensure you that wordless jail. You had every right to complain! Because of him you lost many friends, he distanced you from them in a way that made you only realize it when it was too late, after you had already cut the total bond with them and they didn't want to see you again.

You don't blame them either, if a friend had a toxic boyfriend and ignored you for him all day, not letting help them, you would be angry too. They have been very patient because they know the details of your life with Dazai well, but everyone has limits.

Now you are alone, even Dazai doesn't seem to love you.

You try to hold back your tears at that thought, but it is impossible, you can only cover your mouth with your hand to hide your sobs. That's one of the things you had tried to avoid, if Dazai really loved you he wouldn't do this to you.

He knows of your suffering and yet he continues to treat you as if you were a ghost, you can't help but doubt his feelings for you. You think that maybe you are just a sadistic desire of his, that he only wants to pretend to love you and then leave you abandoned like a toy. Yes, you are just that, his toy.

There's not much to complain about either, you're aware of your situation and yet here you are, by his side. It's not that you wouldn't have tried to leave him, you did once, but he came back to beg your forgiveness and you simply couldn't refuse. You become weak with just one look from him.

And that cycle was always repeating itself. Whenever there was a fight big enough to overshadow your love for Osamu, he was the one who apologized. You wished it was like that this time too, but it's not.

Know what, fuck it, who needs friends anyway? You need Dazai, it hurts not being together with him. It eats you up inside with anger and shame for letting yourself fall for his manipulation, but what else are you going to do? You're not going to keep crying in bed until you fall asleep.

You head towards the living room where you know for sure that Dazai is, watching TV. He doesn't even turn to look at you even though you are sure he heard your footsteps.

“Osamu.” Saying his name is a mixture of pain and love that infiltrates your brain. Sometimes you wish you had never met him, but you think better of it when you remember that he is the only one who loves you. Who else could love you with your attitude?

He still does not respond and a look of sadness invades you, you try to remove it, but it comes back each time. Finally you give up, Dazai already knows how weak and useless you are and knows well your character, so you allow yourself to cry.

You don't hesitate to lie on his body and hug him while you try to form a sentence, any sentence, but only incoherent sobs come out.

You don't see Osamu's reaction, you just wish he was as affected as you are. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the crown of your head lovingly. You missed him so much, you don't even know how you managed to survive these days without his love and touch. “What is it, Belladonna?”

You press your face against his chest as shame clutches tightly at your throat. He mocks you even your current state and that is like a stab in the heart, you feel the pain in every detail.

“You hate me, you hate me.” Stifled meaningless sobs come out of your mouth, but still Osamu manages to hear them.

“And why would you say such a stupid thing?”

“You were ignoring me! If you really loved me you wouldn't do that.”

“So now I'm the bad guy.” His tone of voice changes to a more distant one and his hug loses strength. In response you can only hug him tighter, afraid that, if you loosen his arms a little, he will leave you alone again. “You didn't try to talk to me either.”

You raise your gaze, an indignant one, which is accompanied by furrowed eyebrows. You want to look annoyed, but you just look pathetic.

“That's because you always do the same thing! We fight and you stop talking to me!” Pain trickles through your words, but Dazai doesn't seem to care enough to comfort you. “What am I going to humiliate myself for when I know you're going to ignore me?”

"Oh, poor little Belladonna, always the victim of the story." His condescending voice makes you feel like an idiot, you come to think that you really are. "Didn't you ever think I just needed space? Come on, you're so clingy and I was just trying to protect you from getting hurt.”

Seeing your puzzled expression, he can only laugh.

“Well of course you haven't thought about it. That cute little head of yours is good for nothing but victimization.”

“I- I'm sorry, I didn't know you felt this way...” Your voice trembles and his words linger in your mind. Maybe it's all your fault after all, you've never tried to put yourself in the opposite shoes and that makes you feel like the biggest useless.

The award for the worst partner in the world should be given to you, you think.

Dazai has no reaction at first, looking at you with those cold eyes, but they soften after a few seconds. He can't resist you after all.

Osamu's warm arms squeeze you again, you almost cry with joy thanks to how nice it feels to be held like that.

"It's okay, my sweet." Osamu ends up whispering near your ear, which sends a pleasurable shiver throughout your body. “Let me show you how much I love you now.”

and if I make a second part nsfw? 👀

[dawnoftime22]

can i get a fluffy taylor request where reader(who is in a established relationship with tay) is bipolar and like- they are starting to hit a depressive phase? its not too bad or serious they're just numb and sleeping a lot and needing comfort and support? its fine if not. just know you're loved, take care of yourself

just be here.

| T.S

Warnings: Numbness / dissociation, R being stuck in bed and sleeping a lot, feeling guilt / small anxiety, more non verbal reassurances than verbal, shower scene with tay; sweet details only

Summary: As an empty day hits you, you end up with lots of sleep, and no productive things done. Taylor gets concerned, but takes loving care of you, with kisses and reassuring touches.

Word Count: 5.8k

Category: fluff, comfort, hurt/comfort (at the beginning if you squint?)

A/N: this isn't really a work of mine I'd say I like because it feels like a mess, but its the best I can do :') starting is a little slow, but it dives into the full comfort in the midday cut if you only want to read that<3

Request A/N: hey, if you're going through this, I understand. just know it won't last forever. I've gotten out of it just recently, it just takes time and care. sit and enjoy the little things for now :] I don't know much about bipolar disorder, but I am familiar with what you described, so this is mostly focused on that part<3 thank you so much for requesting with your lovely words! you're just as loved, if not, more!!

| Started on 08/11/2024, 10:32 AM |

| Finished on 12/11/2024, 12:13 AM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

Request Guidelines

“I'll hold your hand through it.”

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

The windows only had a dark blue color. Where the curtains were once covering the view of the dusk sky, they had been draped aside by gentle hands.

It was warm, and perfectly cold at the same time. You could feel the covers cozily upon your body. There was some more time to relish it in, right?

Your vision had caught only a glimpse of the blonde, going into the bathroom for perhaps a shower, just before you let yourself surrender to the void of darkness, once more.

When you woke up again, you realize the brighter light shining through the window, white and gleaming instead of the blue dusk color, and you knew what had happened.

You had slept in the day, once again.

A sigh leaves your lips and you reach for your phone by the nightstand, checking the time. It was 9:30 in the morning, where any minutes later, it would have been double digits on the screen.

You slumped into the mattress, your cheek getting squished against the pillow. That was it, your morning routine had fallen down.

There was nearly enough time for you to set your phone back down and close your eyes again, just to avoid even dealing with it all. Nearly. At least, until a gentlefamiliar voice sounds out from behind you.

"Hey, sweetheart," Taylor softly calls from the doorway, her hand going to rest on the doorframe after making her way from the kitchen. She could just barely see you, holding your phone rather than having your arms curled up as earlier, when you were sleeping.

"You're up?" she continued, tilting her head, but her voice questioned her own observations. It wasn't until you soon turned to face her that she could see you were awake. You shifted groggily, staying under the covers and pulling it up to keep yourself warm.

She smiles softly at you as her heart swells, her eyes traveling your sleepy face. You let out a slow breath, blinking drowzily at her, but soon, Taylor gently pushes herself off the doorframe, making her way to you.

"I didn't have the heart to wake you baby, you looked so adorably peaceful," she murmurs, going to crawl into bed to join you. She lays down beside you, gently pulling you closer to snuggle.

"...and cuddly," she adds, getting under the covers too, because it was getting cold, even with just the ceiling fan on.

You stretched your legs under the blanket with your body, eyes closed to then go into her embrace, burying your face into her chest.

Her hand comes into contact with your hair, fingers going through your strands soothingly. She gazes at you, noticing your quietness.

"I made us some breakfast," she whispered, staying in the cuddle for a little while before she shifts her position, her elbow resting on the pillow to prop herself up in a sitting position.

It was quiet for a moment, the fan humming gently in the silence. You wanted to respond, but it felt too early in the morning to even speak.

Taylor didn't mind though. She gently smooths your hair back, her hands being gentle with affection. "Theres eggs and bacon...some cut up apples..." she says slowly, pausing her movement. She could feel you burying your face further into her chest.

"I would ask if you wanna shower first...but the food would go cold," she adds, continuing the motion in your hair and leaning down to lay a soft kiss to your head.

She was about to think that you had fallen asleep, but then she sees you peeking your face out slightly, your cheek against her chest now.

Her lips raise up into the softest smile at the sight of you. "...Ready to get up yet?" she murmurs, seeing the way you haven't moved at all, other than your little head turn.

A yawn passes by your lips, but you let out the quietest protest of an elongated hum, nuzzling back into her. Definitely not because of a shower, and especially not because of the food your lovely girlfriend's told you she's made, but to getting out of bed.

"You're so comfy, huh?" She chuckles, seeing your pout, although there was a slight difference upon it that tugged at her curiosities.

She shifts slightly, trying to move and get up a little more. "Just a few minutes baby...then we can be all warm again, okay?" she says gently.

You melted into her, slumping further into her embrace and nearly holding on. Her eyes soften sympathetically at your stubbornness, but eventually saw the smallest, little nod.

She took that as a sign to get up, and she felt relief flow through her. Although she would have carried you out from bed anyway. Slowly, she untangles herself from you, moving to help you sit up.

She keeps her eyes on you as the both of you got out of bed. Standing up was groggy, but you managed it with her beside you, eventually making your way out the bedroom.

Her cats were hanging around, Olivia by the kitchen, eating out her cat bowl, finishing her food. The other two bowls were empty, Benjamin laying on the carpet while Meredith was probably somewhere in the music room instead of the living area.

You got to the dining table, seeing the plates had your breakfast all ready. The chair gently scrapes the floor, and you sat down, while Taylor went to pour some orange juice into some glasses— one for you and one for her.

When she comes back, you shifted in your seat to get comfortable, then picked up your fork, starting with the apple slices. She places your drinks on the table before she sat down herself.

You took a bite of a slice, and put the rest on your plate. She smiles softly, content in the moment. Her hand reaches out to grasp her drink, taking a sip and relishing the taste, then looking at you after she put it back down.

She watches for a bit, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "You're quiet..." she whispers softly, the words slipping out faster than her mind can reach. She noticed the way your eyes went to her instantly, flickering with a milisecond of emotion.

"I'm sorry, its just..." you whisper, having had no intention to make her feel like you were treating her any differently. Or, anything. It might've been the only thing that could make your heart feel like sinking for the present moment.

"I don't have anything on my mind right now..." you mumble, staring down to your plate, pausing your eating. Taylor shook her head gently, quickly taking back her words.

"No, I don't mean it like that," she whispers. Her shoulders fell ever so slightly in regret, and a frown was on her face at how your mind jumped straight to thinking she meant it in a bad way.

She reaches out to gently grasp your hand, assuring you softly. "I don't mind it when you're quiet." Her eyes search yours, finding there to be a certain blankness within.

"I'm just...concerned, baby," she adds, worry growing into her heart. She gives your hand a gentle squeeze, starting to feel that something was off.

She then takes in a breath. "...You know, Olivia was in space yesterday," Taylor says suddenly, gently cutting the quietness and returning her hand back to herself. You missed the embrace of her warmth already, but you didn't say anything.

You blink at the sentence though, wondering if she thought of it due to you zoning out, or if it was just the first thing she thought of to say next.

"What?" you whisper under your breath, looking at her. She returns your gaze, hers softening instead of being fully concerned.

A chuckle leaves her raised lips. "Yeah, looking like shes flying through space. I mean, I took some photos if you wanna see..." she murmurs, grabbing her phone from the table, just beside her plate, flipping it to the front to unlock her screen.

You wait patiently, a setting your fork down to lean against the dining table, watching as she goes to her photos to find it.

She stifles a giggle when she did, then turned her phone to show you it.

Your eyes widened, and a smile, for once, rose up from your lips, joined in with a giggle. "Tay..." you whisper, all while she was laughing off her heart.

"Amazing, right? Like...that one rainbow cat. The nyan...nyan cat?" she adds, grinning widely at you. Your giggles turned into a laugh as you nod, agreeing with her reference.

Her heart swells at your joyous sounds, finally getting at least a single full smile out of you in success.

When you both soon finished up breakfast with some passing time, you had stood up, taking the plates to the sink to start cleaning them.

Taylor was finishing off her drink before she steps off to you and leans over to put the glass in the sink.

She then gently wraps her arms around your waist from behind, giving a small, gentle kiss to your shoulder before resting her chin atop it.

Your heart warmed at the sweet gesture. Her eyes watch you put the soap on the plates, cleaning off the grime and dust.

"...How about a warm shower later?" she whispers softly, her voice near your ear, her warm breath nearly tickling your skin.

You thought about it for a moment, then gave way to a gentle, "Yeah...sure." Taylor was smiling softly, resting her cheek then to the back of your shoulder.

You turn your body slightly, pausing the washing to give her a gentle kiss. Her smile grew wider, and she met you halfway in a tender gesture.

The shower later was warm, a slow, affectionate atmosphere. It kind of left you feeling unreal, like you weren't even in your current reality.

As Taylor gently puts the shower gel on your skin, you were spaced out, off onto the shower wall. You had already helped her clean, and now she was returning the gesture, which usually you would be adoring her features as she focused, but your mind was off, and it couldn't at the moment.

She notices your expression, unbothered, but not enough to count as nonchalant. You felt like you were a car, always set to neutral mode all the time, and the world seemed gray along with your feelings, aside from Taylor, being sweet with her love and radiating the golden sun's warmth.

Her hand carefully roams your skin, fingertips brushing by every part of you as the running shower's sound echoes through the bathroom.

Taylor then leans in to give your cheek a kiss, as soft as the warm steam going up. "You okay, sweetheart?" she whispers softly.

Your eyes travel to her, catching smoothly with ease. "...Yeah..." you whispered back, trying to give her a small smile, but even she could see through it, see the slightest hint of a stoic look in your expression.

Her lips turn to the smallest of frowns, but she gives you another kiss, this time on your shoulder once the shower gel was rinsed off, her eyes going down to focus back to cleaning your body. "Okay..."

When she finishes up rinsing off the last of the shower gel on your body, then letting you both soak in a bit longer in the warmth, she soon turns off the shower, the water no longer felt cascading down your body.

You reach for the towel, drying yourself off before stepping out the shower with the towel around you. Taylor did the same, following you, and slipping her hand to yours, intertwining your fingers before you go to the bedroom.

You get your clothes on, after the tensing of the cold air. As you adjusted the hem of your shirt to fit completely so it wasn't bundled up, Taylor came up behind you, since you were standing facing the bed.

Her finger comes up, giving a gentle tap to your shoulder. The touch was light, but it got your attention enough to turn around.

She held up one of her hoodies, which was her lover hoodie that she loved wearing often, now offering it to you for today.

Your expressions softened, and you nod, letting her help you slip it on, getting your head up the neckline and pulling the sleeves on your arms.

She smiles once she was done, stepping back with a proudness in her heart of you in her hoodie. It was a usual sight, but it never failed to reach her precious heart.

The smallest hint of a pink tint came up in your cheeks, and Taylor went to sit down at the edge of the bed, still looking at you.

You go to get in bed, but going to the pillows, laying down and pulling the covers back up your body.

Her gaze softens when she follows your trail, and she joins you, scooting beside you, finding that you were spending much more time being cozy.

She wraps her arms around you, pulling you in closer. A small silence, at least, goes for a little moment.

"...Do you wanna watch a movie with me? Or...come join me in the music room?" she whispers. The windows were still bright with the daylight, shining in through and making the room glow, but cozy enough to send you into a dozy state.

"I...kind of just wanna be in bed..." you whisper softly back, curling into her. She could feel your nose ever so slightly brush against her shirt.

"You sure, baby?" Taylor asks, her eyes searching your body language, and just a bit of your eyes she could see.

"Yeah...its okay, you can go write..." you say softly, pursing your lip. Then a soft yawn escapes your mouth that you had to cover with your hand.

"I'm sleepy..." you murmured then, snuggling closer to her and slowly letting your eyes close.

Taylor looks down with concern growing on her expressions, but her hand gently rubs your back. "Well...okay, sweetie," she whispers back.

The fan was humming with wind, keeping the room filled with air and a certain coldness. You couldn't tell if it was because of your dust colored blue walls, or if the fan was just too cold.

Another yawn passes by your lips, and you curled up further. You wanted to go back to sleep. It was so tempting. So cozy and cold, even if it was the afternoon already.

You couldn't resist...

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

Taylor sat beside you after coming back from some songwriting.

She settled with nothing but only her own presence and your sleeping one. Her phone was on the nightstand. A book she was reading, was sitting over by the desk, and her guitar, was on its stand.

Her eyes search your figure from behind. You weren't even on the pillows anymore, you were in an odd horizontal position, curled up, like you were a cat.

She guessed you had been in and out of sleep, changing positions from the ruffled up look of the blanket and sheets.

She could see the dishelved look on your hair, and you didn't even have the blanket up your body.

A small breath leaves her soft lips. Her hand reaches for the covers, and she pulled them up, gently warming you up so you weren't going cold.

Before she could return back to her comfortable position, she soon heard some rustling from you stirring. She held her breath, freezing. But you were just turning around with your eyes still closed. Your arm had fallen to the bed once more in the roll of your body.

She lets her breath release in relief, realizing you were only moving in your sleep, your body urging to get comfortable.

When she leans back to the pillows, she gazes your face, her arm draped around your body. You seemed so sweet and peaceful, she almost didn't want to wake you at all.

But as much as she loved seeing you asleep and wondering what you were dreaming, she couldn't help the concern poking her heart. You may have simply needed the rest, but shutting down the whole day certainly wasn't something usual of you.

She wasn't upset with you. Not at all. She was simply aching at the thought that you were possibly struggling with something, but not wanting to tell her, or even maybe unable to describe it.

Sometime soon, the way your soft breaths turned more noticeable was a tell that you were waking up, along with your slowly opening eyes.

You let out a slow huff of a breath. Your body felt heavy. Your limbs were sore, and especially your legs and feet. You had been staying in bed for too long.

The feeling was still there. The blank feel of your own eyes, the feel of your heart. You swallowed the sleep in your throat, turning your head groggily, and your face peeking out from Taylor's chest.

She notices the movement, and looks down, tilting her head to see you. "...Sweetheart?" she whispers softly, her thumb going to gently rub your back.

You look up at her, a stoic looking expression on your face. You took a deep breath, then sighed softly, feeling the way your body sinks at the exhale.

She could see it. That faraway, distant look. Her eyebrows furrow, trying to put pieces together, of what could possibly have reason to your change of behaviour. But she stopped her mind, because maybe she didn't need to put a reason to it. Maybe she could just provide you your comfort and warmth.

What made it even worse was, you didn't even feel heavy. Maybe even floating, but you didn't feel like that either. You were grounded, present, but everything was like white noise.

You had showered in the morning, but because you had been napping, you didn't even feel clean anymore. Definitely not refreshed, either, even though you've caught all the sleep in the world.

"I'm sorry," you whispered softly, nuzzling into her. Her eyebrows furrow, and she looks down at you.

Taylor took in her own breath, pulling you in closer. "...Shh...It's okay...what are you sorry of...?" she whispers softly, knowing your lack of communication, meant something was off.

"Whats wrong, baby?" she asks softly, moving your stray strands of hair aside, keeping them clear from your eyes.

You curl up into her, snuggling in to find comfort in her embrace. You wanted to tell her. But the room was quiet. You could only feel the coldness of the wind, coming from the ceiling fan above you, brushing against your skin.

Everything seemed bare, felt like it was dull arrows piercing through an empty heart. You rest your head against the front of Taylor's shoulder, one arm around her while your other hand was fiddling with the fabric of her shirt.

Her hands go through your hair soothingly, waiting patiently for any sign that you would perhaps talk, but didn't mind not having an answer, at least knowing you were relishing all the comfort in her embrace.

She nuzzles into your hair, breathing in the scent of shampoo from the shower earlier, then contently sighed, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against you.

Your finger drew mindless circles, and your thumb went in a back and forth position here and there. "...What if it stays like this...?" you whispered. You then took a breath in, wanting to say further, but then you just exhaled it out shortly after, too tired to even say anything else.

She looks down at you, leaning back slightly. "Us, baby...?" she asks, wondering if you were relishing in the quietness. You shook your head.

"Me, sleeping constantly..." you murmur, the slight guilt etching into your voice. You hadn't done anything for the whole day,

"Oh...it won't, darling..." Her arms around you tightened, pulling you in closer. You lean into her, feeling the water in your eyes blur your vision, but you blink a little, and they were gone the second they came.

"...Just...I feel useless...and I didn't do anything today, or hung out with you." Your voice was getting quieter, smaller, possibly even along with how you were shrinking into her, burying your face into the crook of her neck.

She brings her attention to her thoughts, going through all the words in her mind. "You did things with me today. You got up from bed, ate your breakfast, showered...thats enough for me," she reassures you, letting out a soft breath.

"...You know, its normal to get some extra rest...even if you feel like you haven't 'done enough' to get up to that point," she whispers, laying a kiss atop your head.

"Its okay. You can just stay here with me for now," She whispers, resting her chin where she kissed afterwards, making you feel the warmth of her embrace enveloping you.

You heard her murmur, but you slump ever so slightly. "But when will it stop?" you whisper, one of the other problems tugging at the veins of your heart.

Her soft, non audible sigh was provided with an ache in her heart. "I don't know either, sweetheart..." she tilts her head down, looking into your eyes. "And thats okay. You don't always have to worry when it ends, maybe it'll just...happen," she whispers, nuzzling into your nose.

"...It happens with me too, you know..." she says, remembering all the times shes come back home from her shows, or an interview. You look up at her, searching her eyes. She smiles softly, giving you a gentle kiss. "And you've seen that I always turn out better...because you were always beside me."

The quietness goes for a moment, but now with a small drop of comfort, filling the space, some minutes for you to linger on her words. She gazes off to the doorway of your shared bedroom, deep in thought.

"Do you want something to eat...?" she whispers slowly, leaning back slightly to see your face. It had been hours since breakfast already, and she knew lunch was coming around.

Your stomach did feel empty. You hadn't noticed it until now. But you nuzzle back into her. Her arms instinctively tighten around you, a smile tugging on her lips.

"Its comfy..." you murmured. You certainly didn't want to let go, especially with the covers being as warm as Taylor, acting like a shield to the cold.

She gives another kiss to the top of your head, struggling to resist her smile. "Baby...as much as you look adorable, buried in the covers looking like a teddy bear..." she trails off, her eyes traveling down to you.

"Maybe you can be just as cozy when you're out of bed?" she suggests gently, tilting her head. Her thumb gave a sweet caress on your back.

You look into her eyes, hesitant on her gentle urging. The floor seemed too grounded for your feet, but the bed was also too soft for you to stay any longer without feeling the soreness.

After some consideration, you soon accept it with a gentle nod, the churning in your stomach unable to stay unnoticed anymore.

She smiles, ever so slightly, sitting up to start getting up from the bed. You felt a twinge of disappointment at the loss of warmth, but you follow her as she helps you.

You let out a gentle sigh when you sat at the edge of the bed. Taylor waited patiently when she stood up, her gaze gentle over your face. Her hand held yours, keeping touch.

You could feel a gentle squeeze, giving you reassurance before you finally will yourself to stand up. Although maybe a little too fast, causing you to blink at the dizziness and lean yourself against her.

She held you gently, her hand slipping out of yours quickly to wrap her arms around your waist, keeping you steady.

Whats worse is, you didn't even feel tired. You had feelings, but they weren't felt in your heart. There was sleepiness evident, but not tiredness evident. You were simply living in your body and drifting through time.

The world fell quiet, for once. But almost too quiet. Your ankle had pressure as you took your steps forward, and Taylor could see the slight disorientation mustered on your face, so she kept her eye on you, walking with you.

"Slow steps, baby," she whispers, concern etched on her face as she guides you. The deja vu of the moment was starting to run over your mind.

When you got to the kitchen, you sat at the barstool, while Taylor went off to open the cabinets, looking at the options to then take a glance to you.

"Toast or something else, baby?" she asks softly, her hand still holding on the handle of the cabinet. You turn your head up to her, blinking.

"Toast," you answered quietly. Taylor nods, and grabbed a plate, preparing it for you with your favorite spread on the bread.

Once she was done carefully setting it, she sets the plate down in front of you with a gentle clink, then smiled softly, leaning against the kitchen island.

You look to it, then lean forward a little, reaching out to take the toast into your grasp and put a bite into it.

As you chewed, you stare down at your sandwich in your hand, but couldn't help space off to the side a little, or the marble top of the island. You couldn't tell.

A quietness overlays the room. Taylor's eyes roam your expression before she rounds the island to your side, sitting beside you on another barstool.

"Maybe, if you want, we can sit outside for a little bit, you know?" she says softly, resting her arm on the kitchen island, along with her cheek against her palm.

You look at her, getting out of the zoned out state as she gently pulls you back to reality. At the same time, needing to swallow the bread in your mouth and take another bite as she watches.

"Have some hot chocolate..." she suggests softly, trailing off with a gentle smile growing on her face, her eyes going to you. She had made the corner of your lips have the smallest raise.

Taylor waits a little longer, seeing the wheels turning in your mind. "...Hm...?...is that okay with you?" she murmurs softly, in search of confirmation.

You think about it for a moment. Going back to bed seemed so nice. But having hot chocolate in the sun with Taylor? It was...an equal deal. Most times you didn't even need to think about such an offer like that, but even you couldn't figure out what was wrong with your current mind, if there was anything that needed to be identified.

A breath slowly leaves you, and you gave in with a nod, along with a small raise on the corner of your lips that didn't reach your eyes. "Sure."

She fully smiles now, and gives a nod of her own. "Good, I'll make the hot chocolate while you eat," she says, getting up to return to the kitchen counters.

You could hear the creaking of the cabinets, the pouring of hot water, and the gentle clinking of small spoons, stirring against the mugs.

It kept you focused on her, seeing her every move as she made the simple recipe of a warm beverage, easily fit for the midst of days like these.

Once you finish your sandwich, you put away the plate in the sink, although deciding to wash it later since there will be mugs too, now.

Just as you were finished, Taylor was too, and she had gestured to you your drink beside her on the counter, her hand still stirring her own.

You take some steps over to her, your hand about to reach out for the drink. "Careful, baby...its hot," she warned gently, wanting you to be careful.

You look to her, but then gently wrapping your fingers around the mug's handle. "Its called hot chocolate, anyway..." you say, the smallest smile on the corners of your lips, but it elicited a giggle out of Taylor, her head nodding in agreement. "True," she says.

You walked over to the front door, unlocking it and opening it slowly. The sunlight was shining down on everything, making a bright glow against the wooden porch. It was also going to be the sunset soon, too.

Taylor was about to join you in going outside as she followed, but got distracted by a nearby Benjamin, who had gotten curious of the front door opening.

His blue eyes stared gently right back up to her own, and she couldn't help but smile, bending down to gently pick his body up with her free hand.

Then, she joins you, stepping out the house and sitting down beside you on the clean steps of the porch. You were gently blowing on your hot chocolate, although there was a part in you that had an urge to simply take a sip, you remember Taylor's sweet warning.

She settled down with Benjamin, now laid down on her lap comfortably. Once she got comfortable, she puts down her mug, making sure it wasn't in a place where it could be knocked over.

You took some gentle sips, although it was still steaming hot, you could feel the warmth of the hot chocolate, running down easily through your throat, a soothing feeling that sank to your body.

Taylor glances to you, her eyes gently roaming your features and expression. She takes a moment, just a few, before she shifts closer and reaches her arm around you, pulling you closer just a little.

You blink slightly at the pull, but you lean into it eventually, melting into the side of her shoulder. Benjamin noticed, his ears tilting a little, but then he goes into your lap instead, resting cozily, purring. You could feel it.

It almost only made you feel sleepier. But in the comforting way, like the sunshine on your face, melting away the cold.

A gentle smile turns up on her face as she looks at you, then wraps her arm around you, comforting you with her touch.

She could see the relaxation going through you, finding solace in her presence as she simply sits there, peacefully with you. Maybe you didn't need anything else right now. Maybe you didn't have to do anything, but just be present.

Her thumb gently rubs your shoulder through your shirt, and she leans her head against yours, turning to give a lingering kiss before getting comfortable again.

She watches the birds fly in the sky, returning to their home or go to find food. "...Baby?" she starts with a whisper, gently catching your attention to her.

You turn your head to look at her, seeing she had leaned back slightly to look at you properly. "...Mm?" you responded with a questioning hum.

She stays quiet for a moment, simply searching your eyes, as if she was trying to read your thoughts.

"...Can you tell me something, honey?" she asks softly, her other hand coming down to gently slip into your own hand, intertwining your fingers. You gave her a gentle nod, wanting her to continue.

A bit of her lip gets captured by her teeth, but then she lets go to speak quietly, treading carefully. "Do you need anything?"

You thought about the question, your eyes slowly blinking through it, and there was a near furrow in your eyebrows, but eventually her question was answered. "...Just you."

A small smile grew on her lips, but the breath in she took told that she had more to say. "Okay, then be honest with me on this one," she continued, her voice a little more serious, but still soft and sweet.

You stay quiet, waiting for her next words. "What's going on...hm?" she asks with a slight tilt of her head, her hand that was on your shoulder going down to find ground on the wood of the porch.

Your eyes divert from her gaze the second her question came out, a small breath escaping you slowly, but your free hand went to Benjamin's soft fur.

Her face softens, seeing the way you turned away, and she gave a gentle squeeze to your hand. "You don't have to tell, and I won't judge...but I'm worried. I mean, aside from all the sleeping..." she murmurs, knowing there was something else.

You take a moment to respond, your teeth sinking into the side of your lip. You didn't want to answer. You didn't know how to. But it was Taylor, and if anyone could understand your feelings the most, it was her.

Your shoulders lowered slowly with a breath, your eyes downcast. You gathered your words before you softly spoke. "...I don't know whats happening anymore, Tay."

Your gaze returned to her, your eyes squeezing slightly in sadness as you then lean your head against her shoulder. "I feel so...sleepy...but I've gotten so much sleep."

Her hand rubs in a soothing up and down motion on your shoulder, pulling you closer before she gives a kiss to your head, listening closely.

You sighed. "...I don't know. Its...everything is just...gray. I can't find...passion. And not even music helps..." you continued, with your last words being quiet, and then you slumping into her in defeat.

Taylor's heart broke at the heaviness your shoulders seemed to be holding, even if it didn't show, or didn't felt like it was there.

But she took her heart's love, trying to help you find your way back. "Its okay if you end up not being able to feel things sometimes, you know..." she whispers softly.

"I mean, its...not great, but you're still here, aren't you? Being present, still giggling every once in a while even if its hard." she says softly, a small smile coming up on her face to reassure you, and you did feel your heart soften.

"Maybe your brain's just trying to protect you, from big feelings, but it doesn't know how much to reduce?" she pauses for a moment, her mind wanting to be careful with her words. A breath of air goes through her lips.

You frown, hugging her closer and going closer the best you could with Benjamin in your lap. You could still feel the purring. "I don't like it..." you murmur, hating that you couldn't seem to feel anything, nearly to the point that you were even beginning to think it was becoming your personality. But Taylor knew it wasn't that.

"I know...but it won't last forever, sweetheart," she reassures you softly, her arms tightening around you. Her embrace held her love.

"Your passion will come right back to you sometime soon, and maybe you'll even blink and its right there again." The words were simple, a gentle but clear meaning to you in your mind as Taylor gazes off to the neighbourhood.

"Maybe we don't have to...do anything...we can just...sit," she whispers, relaxing slowly with you. She could feel your own body, melting away the tension.

"...And I'll be right here, beside you." Her murmur was quiet, leaning back and tilting her head to look at you, then kiss your cheek, a breath of near relief escaping you as you bury your face into her.

"Its okay."

"We're gonna be okay, baby."

----------------------

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[hey-august]

Saw the cuteness aggression post you reblogged and would feel blessed if you ever wrote whump fic with Buggy because I would ALSO love to try and comfort a man who just staggered into the room bloody, beaten and bruised, clearly just thumbling over the threshold of “show no weakness” to “in so much pain he doesn’t even care anymore that he’s hiccuping and sobbing like a child while clinging to you” hurt comfort with heavy emphasis on the hurt? Yes pls

Anon, I'm so so sorry for how long it took me to get to this. I love me some angst and whump, and while I had ideas, the motivation to write was not working with me.

I don't want to keep holding onto this and leave you hanging for even longer, so I wrote out my idea in bullet point format.

I hope this still hits the spot!

WC: ~550 Warnings: buggy x gn!reader, mentions of blood and burn wounds

You and Buggy have an unspoken thing. A mutual pining. There's respect and some affection. A closeness, but still distance and a barrier that neither of you acknowledge.

You're the ship's doctor and the crew was in a rough fight. Lots of injuries, ranging from minor scuffs, to teeth knocked out, stitches, broken noses and broken bones, blood and tears - it's a lot in a short period of time.

You're doing what you can, and those who are less injured are helping where they can.

Once you get through those involved, the captain is the last one left needing your attention.

Maybe he's been sitting nearby the whole time, waving away anyone coming to triage or check on him, snapping that he's fine. Get the hell away from him.

But when the room empties, Buggy crumbles. It starts small, bit by bit as you assess him.

His busted lip is split and bleeding, the color mixing with his smeared lipstick. His right eye is swelling. His beautiful hair is singed. The affected tips are stuck in terrified curls from trying to run from the heat. The smell is clinging everywhere.

But the worst are the burns. You're not sure what happened - some of the other crewmembers had burns and scorch marks, but not like this.

Your captain has some rough wounds on his arms and torso, where the heat ate away at the fabric before feeding on his skin and flesh.

He's wet and sticky. Swaths of skin are weeping. Buggy's feeling exposed, tender, and hurt. Pain is radiating out while regret and fear are falling inwards.

All it takes is one soft comment from you. "You must be in so much pain." You were talking to yourself, but it's the acknowledgement that Buggy must have needed.

The eyes that had been avoiding yours, stopped holding back tears. His clenched jaw and tight lips quiver. He nods.

You can't fathom how much it hurts to move, but Buggy has his arms wrapped tightly around your midsection. His hands are clutching your clothes, pulling them taut. It's like he's a cracked vessel, losing liquid and life, but maybe you can keep him together. Maybe you could fix him. And if not, he wouldn't be alone as he breaks.

Hurting more is often part of getting better. You know this, and you let it happen.

You let Buggy cry against you. You let his tears, snot, spittle, and worries seep into your clothes. You hold the back of his head and put a hand on his back, and rub. You let your own stinging tears fall.

Noises get caught in his throat and Buggy fixes his hold, as if he's trying to wrap himself around you even more. As if he's trying to squeeze every drop of comfort and care from you.

His hands are detached, fingers stretched and probably barely connected, all so he can hold more of you. Even his feet are shuffling, seeking contact against yours. His knees knocking against your legs.

Buggy continues until he's hiccupping and coughing. Until he has a headache and his eyes are bleary.

You should have stopped him sooner. Some of the oozing wounds started to crust and are clinging to the fabric of your clothes.

Buggy whines and grunts as he literally peels himself away.

You still need to clean and dress the wounds, so another round of pain. One could argue that you should have gone ahead and done that right away, but no.

Despite the visible injuries, there's invisible damage that needed to be soothed.

You can almost see Buggy picking up his broken pieces and putting them back together. Recreating a wall, a mask, a barrier.

You know what's on the other side, though. And you will be there whenever he needs you.