#forgive the mistakes if threes any blah blah

[perpetual-fool]

Old Music

I was looking up some of the music I used to listen to. It's unnerving how it still resonates with me. Like, I don't have a problem with something like Evanescence or Three Days Grace. Or even Relient K, which is sort of like clean version of Fall Out Boy ('Must Have Done Something Right' vs 'XO'). But, Jars of Clay, DC Talk, Thousand Foot Krutch, Pillar, Skillet, Red. Some of it is nostalgia, I'm sure. For instance, Jar of Clay was first album I ever listened to, and I still haven't heard anything else like it. But the Christian stuff is upbeat, hopeful in a way that other stuff just isn't. It's usually sex, heartbreak, pain, conflict. And sometimes love. But none of them are like 'this sucks, but it's going to be okay'. And yeah, that hope is a lie. I don't mean in the sense that there is no god. I mean in that religion sets itself up as the cure and the poison. 'All have fallen short of the glory of God', you deserve to burn, but god will forgive you, conditionally.

~Will the love continue, when my walk becomes a crawl?

Is there any real hope? 'No matter who you are, no matter what you've done, you are precious to me. You are not alone. We'll get through this together.' Where could that possibly come from? It could only be from each other. And I guess it's easy for me, sequestered in my little hole, to think people are fundamentally good. Which would sound strange to anyone who knows me. People's behavior appears to me to be insane and/or evil, and I've spent a lot of time trying to figure that out. But it doesn't make any sense to me, so I can't believe that. And it's easy for me to think that people who do harm are simply confused, barring a small number of exceptions. Like, even if someone genuinely doesn't care about the well-being of others, it should still be useful to act like they do. Or, capitalists destroying the world doesn't make sense, because that's where the money comes from. But to take an extreme example, could people have compassion for rapists and murderers? Not to forgive them, or to accept them in your life, but to think that even if they need to be contained for the good of others, they're still people. And people don't deserve to suffer. But maybe I'm just naive, never having been wronged like that. (And maybe I'm a bad person for not understanding how that feels.)

~You plead to everyone, "See the art in me"

And it's so easy to get right and wrong twisted up. Like, 'doing the bad thing is good actually, because blah blah the greater good. And it's harmful if you believe the wrong things, and it's harmful if you believe the right things but in the wrong way. And if you've ever made a mistake then you're a bad person. And doing anything good for yourself is bad because there are people who need things more than you do.' And I know I'm a freak. Other people do want vengeance, they do wish misfortune on those they don't like or think their enemy. And maybe they really don't care about the good of others. No one's going to think 'My enemy is my friend, and my friend has lost their way.' And maybe that's just not possible in this world, maybe scarcity, the mechanics of power, or the biases of natural selection just don't allow for it. And aside, 'lost their way' would probably imply that *I* know what's right and you should do what I want you to. Which really would mean 'what you are is not okay'. And my way is not your way, I have no right to tell you otherwise. Even with the obvious wrongness of religion and the concept of worship. People need love and acceptance, it's not their fault if that comes with fear and shame and hate. It's our fault for not providing something better. Even with UU stuff, there's still this reverence of the universe or whatever. Submission to a 'higher power', I think. As if that higher power is going to take care of you. It separates you from the thing, prevents understanding. But, if people can't look the abyss in the eye, if they need to believe that there's something out there taking care of them, then it would be wrong to try and take that from them.

~I wish you well, wish I could help, but I can't help you find yourself

This would all sound very strange to anyone who knew me in my youth. I went over this with a therapist once. When I lost my faith, I didn't just start over, tabula rasa. I flipped. All the same mechanisms remained, the condemnation just ran the other way. I didn't know what I was doing, but it was wrong to turn that on you. I'm sorry, Stevie. And I'm sorry I can't make it up to you. I would like to think, at this point, I could try to be that person. I could try to accept people for who they are, as they are, and do whatever good I can. I dunno, maybe get friendly with people at a UU place and ask if there's anything they need doing. Or see what kind of volunteer work might be in the area. But I still don't get along with people. Just asking people for what I need to understand them is enough to make them hate me. And anything I say gets twisted into something else. I still can't do anything right. I'm still a stupid piece of shit.

The only person I could do any good for is myself. This is a very strange feeling. People don't want you to accept yourself, do they? You're always supposed to feel bad about something or other. I cam imagine accepting someone else, and I can imagine telling them they should accept themselves. But turning that compassion on myself? I might tell someone else, you are not your mistakes. Hating yourself only causes needless suffering, being paralyzed by guilt only keeps you from growing. You don't have to be good enough. You don't need to deserve help. Bringing happiness would be the right thing to do whether you deserve it or not. And that doesn't change if that person who's suffering is you. You should do things just because you like them. You should try new things and make a fool of yourself. You should ask the stupid questions. And you should accept that there's some things you can't do. And that sometimes you may just not have the strength to act. And sometimes things are out of your hands. And still it would be no less right to ease your suffering, and add to your joy.

And I suppose I don't have an excuse as to why this wouldn't apply to myself as well. It's hard to change. I still don't want to be alone. I still want to connect. And this still means giving up on that, and accepting that everyone else is wrong. I had to burn through every possibility, every last hope to get here. If there was anything left that I could do to get someone to love me, I'd be doing that instead. And it's not like there aren't plenty of groups willing to trade acceptance for your soul. But none of them fit. I'm just built wrong, ya' know?

'I am alone. I look at the heavens and think them empty. And if not empty, I find the idea of worshiping whatever dwells there obscene. It doesn't change what's right. If there is nothing but what we make in this world, let us make good.'

- (https://youtu.be/a8ndQK9M--U)

There was one incident, a 'lesson' during youth group. The youth pastor was doing this demonstration with bite-size Snickers bars. He presented us with two, one still in the wrapper and one bare. He asked us to choose one, and the other would be thrown away. This was supposed to be a metaphor about our contempt for sinners and how we should tolerate them anyway, to phrase it as what it actually meant. But when he got to me, I chose the 'dirty' one. Someone said, probably jokingly, "Wow, A***** is more like Jesus than any of us!" But, I saw him unwrap it. I knew exactly where it had been. And the other one, still in it's wrapper, would still be clean when I pulled it out of the trash later. I could have both. That probably sounds like it spoils the metaphor, but I don't think it does. It doesn't make sense to me that people should be condemned for making mistakes or for being what they are. You shouldn't just be tolerated, you are not dirty.

~Unique voice among the many, in this choir. Tuning into each other, lift all higher

[skoodledoodledoo]

Songs that make me cry like a big fat baby every time:

Smiles and Tears from Earthbound

Haven’t played Earthbound or Mother 3 so I’m the fakest fan for this series but the fact that this music STILL ends up making me cry is phenomenal (mostly because I associate it with Satoru Iwata, especially with that “I miss you” line...)

Fate of the Sons of Flame from Mawaru Penguindrum

Shout out to Ikuhara for making me a blubbering, crying mess on December 23, 2011 at like 2am because of boys, trains, fire and fruits, all while this music plays in the background and tugs, no RIPS out my heart strings. Thanks Ikuhara. Penguindrum was the first anime to make me feel so emotional in such a way. I love Penguindrum and I love how much this song just makes me hurt.

Hyori Ittai ~ Lamento for Piano from Hunter x Hunter

Some people who are following me are watching the show for the first time spoiler free on TV right now so I’ll be vague about this but the scene that this song plays in is one of the most heartbreaking things in HxH. Just wait fellas :’)

Kimi no Kikou from Persona 3

Death is sad! It’s always sad! It’s a mellow kind of sad with this song because you know how this story is gonna end because you already know the themes of this game, it’s still sad though. But not a despairing sad, more of a “such is life” sadness. Persona 3′s ending is bittersweet but expected, but it’s okay! Death is just part of life.

Ending Theme Intro from Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Time/Darkness/Sky

This song is only less than a minute long but it’s full of emotional. Seeing your partner that you formed a deep bond with groveling in the sand because of the sadness they feel for losing you is so tragic. Hearing this song and seeing this scene over and over every time always ends up making me teary eyed.

Life Goes On! (Ending) from Pokemon Mystery: Explorers of Sky

The only song on this list that gives me happy tears rather than sad ones. It’s a triumphant cry, going through all that sadness and suffering in game and finally having things turn out okay. It’s a good cry, a “finally, we did it” cry. A good ending song.

Time to Part Ways from Pokemon Super Mystery Dungeon

The PMD series does love to make me cry like a bitch. This game especially considering this game has the audacity to not only pull the rug from under you but proceed to beat you with that rug. The ending to this game is probably sadder to me than the ending to Explorers of Time/Darkness/Sky (or at least it makes me cry more lmao). 

Clair de Lune from New Dangan Ronpa V3 (yes, I know it’s a real song ssshhh)

SPIKE CHUNSOFT MAKES ME CRY FOR PMD SO OF COURSE THEY’LL MAKE ME CRY FOR DANGIT GRANDPA. Chapter 1 of this game is the best Chapter 1 of the series hands down. No other first chapter can rival the absolute despair you feel right off the back. Like the previous song this song also pulls the rug from under you and beats you with it. Only this rug ruins a real life song for you so now any time you hear the song you get war flashbacks. Thanks Spike Chunsoft.

(I blame @hells-mansion for this list, I had to cry in order to verify these songs to make this list :’) )

[struggling-with-time]

You've ruined the colour blue for me [Wilbur x reader]

Paring: c!Wilbur Soot x Gender neutral!reader (Revivebur x reader)

Summary: You meet Revivebur and you some choice words to share with him. Inspired by the song Blah Blah Blah by The Oozes

Warnings: Angst, lots of swearing

Words: 1.4K

Masterlist: Wilbur's Masterlist - Full Masterlist

A/N: Please request, I have no ideas. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. Request here.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Wilbur reaches his hand out, expecting you to lean into his touch like you used to. But instead, he finds you taking a step back. A fiery passion in your eyes, and a fit of seething anger in your bones.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Your head is held high. You see him as no equal to you. Looking back, neither did he ever. Even with all his promises of a place where you could be free, and equal. You never were. You might have been at one point. But that is a long time ago, and neither of you barely have any trace of the people you were back then.

“But my Sapphire, my sweet, sweet Sapphire. I’m finally back.”

To anyone else, he would look like a man, who is overjoyed to see his love over a long time. But to you, oh Prime how you know better. There is no love behind those eyes. They are the eyes of a deranged madman who is so far from the man you fell in love with.

“I’m not your Sapphire either.” You push the hand away that’s still hanging in the air as if he was expecting you to change your mind. “I’m not even yours. You don’t own me, and never fucking have.”

You notice for a brief moment he’s taken back before it’s masked behind that horrible grin of his.

You used to just go with whatever he said. Never standing up, nor backing down. Supporting him through thick and thin. You fell in love with a man whose scorching passion ended up burning those around him. You fell for a man who would softly play your favourite songs on his guitar, changing the lyrics to make them special for the two of you. You fell for a man who had no care in the world as he betrayed you, and everything you had ever stood for.

“But you are, oh Sapphire. My sweet Sapphire of hope and kindness.”

“Don’t. I already fucking told you, Wilbur, I’m not your Sapphire.” You draw in a breath, doing your best to keep your composure. He knows he’s hitting the right buttons, he knows, because he was the one that planted them in the first place. And if there is one thing Wilbur has always been good at, it’s pushing buttons. Pushing people.

A man born with a silver tongue, that charms and tears apart anyone he meets. A selfish man with a silver tongue. A man who used his silver tongue to make you fall. Oh, how you fell. You fell not only for the man, but you fell from grace too. Letting him drag you with him as he fell himself.

“It’s okay, I still love you, I forgive you, my blue Sapphire.” And he finds himself pushing the right button. The one that seemingly breaks you, he thinks for a moment that you still love him. That you hoped for him to come back.

Instead, he’s met with anger and eyes that have gone from fiery to scorching. Burning his gaze, burning right to his soul.

“You don’t get to fucking decide that. You should be the one begging for forgiveness. You should be the one grasping for a bit of pity or any piece of sympathy you can get. You hurt me. You hurt your country. You hurt everyone who ever loved you. And here you stand. Telling me. Me. The person who you hurt the most. The person who you dragged down with your own mistakes, the person who time and time again had to clean up your fucking mess. And don’t you even dare bring up blue.”

You step closer to him, right into his face. A finger on his chest, boring deeply into his heart. Reaching a void.

“You’ve ruined the colour blue for me. It was my favourite colour. But here you come, wreaking havoc and chaos wherever you go. And declares your selfish love for me, calling me your sweet blue Sapphire. That. That fucking used to be what I was. And what I hoped of you. Instead, you lied, and Prime you ruined the colour blue for me. Do you even know what blue Sapphire stands for? Do you remember? Do you remember what you used to tell me those nights under the stars in the light of the campfire?”

Wilbur is silent. He has never seen you this angry before. He feels a weird sense of pride, knowing he has pushed you to this.

“Blue Sapphire means kindness, hope, and protection. All three qualities you robbed me of. You lied, and you betrayed me. You fucking told me- no! You promised me, a country made of freedom that would protect its citizens. Do you know who I needed protection from? You. Fucking you. You ruined me, and you ruined the colour blue for me.”

You watch Wilbur take a moment, shallow at the words you’re spewing at him. Taking it all in, while not letting it get under his skin.

“And I’m back now, it can still be us against the world!”

“You don’t get it, Wilbur, do you? There is no us. Prime look at yourself, you look like an Eton mess.”

“But I love you.”

“There you go again! You really don’t get it, stop speaking words you no longer know the meaning of. Stop tainting yourself in the good memories I have of you. You know what? Ghostbur was right. He wasn’t you, and you will never be an inch of the good person Ghostbur was.”

“I am good! I did what was best for my nation!”

“Your nation? Your nation! Listen to yourself! There was never any us! It was always you, your nation and whatever war you dragged the rest of us into! They were kids Wilbur! They were fucking kids!”

“I know that! Don’t you fucking think I don’t know that!”

Wilbur is now screaming along with you. So much for the romantic reuniting of the century.

“What?”

You take a step back.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Wilbur sucks a breath in. He tucks on his hair with both his hands, you had watched him as he took the habit while living in Pogtopia.

“I knew they were just children. I dragged them into a war, a war that was doomed from the day I dreamt of freedom. For Prime's sake, of course, I knew. And L’Manberg. My nation, my sweet unfinished symphony, as long as it existed it would only bring more pain and suffering.”

You shallow, the fire in your eyes smouldered by the words spoken from the traitor himself.

“Well… It’s good to know that…”

“Don’t just stand there, Sapphire-“

“I’m not your Sapphire.”

But it only takes a simple word before the fire is back, and your anger returns.

“Wilbur you’re doing it again. You aren’t listening to me. How can I ever trust the words you speak?”

“Because I love you.”

“No. You don’t love me. Wilbur, my once sweet boy. You loved the person I was, you loved that I would do whatever you needed me to, too blind by the love I craved from you. But I’m not that person anymore. You’ve been gone for a long time, and a lot of things have changed. I have changed. And very clearly so have you.”

“I-” The man with the silver tongue is choking on it now, reaching his hand out. A desperate attempt for help, a desperate attempt for sympathy or pity.

“You changed me, Wilbur, you made me a worse person. And for that, I will walk away. I no longer help the helpless. I have no kindness left to share. You dug this hole, and you created this mess. I will no longer be your saviour neither your support.”

You give him one last look filled with so much disgust and distaste. A look he has never seen before, but a look he realizes will be the only way you will at him from that day on.

So you turn your back on him, leaving him behind, the sunrise in your back.

It truly is the dawn of a new era.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

[randomposterofstuff]

Soldiers by Choice - Chapter VI

Author's Note: So, real life has been stressing me out immensely. Lol. And I really wanted to post this chapter as soon as I could, so please forgive me for any mistakes and any other problems. Haha. In any case, I hope that you all like it!

Also available on Archive of Our Own. Check my tumblr page to click on the ‘Archive of Our Own’ tab!

Tumblr Chapters List can be found here.

CHAPTER 6: Reasons and Apologies

Summary: Mikasa and Levi encounter troublesome Military Police officers while doing a supply run. Meanwhile, at the Cadet Corps headquarters, Eren Yeager and Jean Kirstein have another confrontation.

Year 847 (5 months later)

---

“Tch. They’re out of bleach.”

Levi glares at the empty row of shelves where jars of commercial bleach usually would be. A few feet away to his left, Mikasa speaks with the shop owner.

“Mr. Gale, I don’t understand. Section Commander Hange told us that you usually have stocks of everything during this time of the month.”

The Titan-scientist and Moblit were on the supply pick-up rotation for the current month. But since they were away on another observation expedition with the Research division, the task had fallen to the two Ackermans.

Mr. Gale, an aging man in his early 50s, clasps his hands apologetically. “I’m sorry, Captain. But due to some issues with our supplier, we won’t have stocks until next month.”

The dark-haired woman sighs at the news. “I see. We will just have to make do with an alternative and the other supplies.”

After a few more words and apologetic gestures from the shop owner, she approaches her co-captain, who is still glowering at the vacant racks.

“They won’t restock until next month.”

His frown deepens. “How the hell are we supposed to properly clean without bleach?”

Mikasa cracks a small smile at his displeasure over the absence of the cleaning agent. In the back of her mind, she muses that even after three years of working together, she still finds his pseudo-obsession with cleanliness to be comical to the point of disbelief.

“We can make our own cleaning formula.” She says. “The store has the necessary ingredients, and the budget is enough to cover them.”

The tautness in his jaw relents at this. “You know how to make bleach?”

She nods. “I do. My mother created her own cleanser. The employees at our estate use it.”

His eyebrows raise in mild surprise. “I didn’t know the Azumabitos also dealt in the cleaning business.” He remarks wryly.

She shifts her eyes from side to side before taking a step closer. "It's a closely guarded family secret." She whispers mock-conspiratorially.

He smirks. “Your secret is safe with me.” He speaks in a similarly hushed tone, and she mirrors his smirk.

---

After perusing the store for the needed ingredients, the two officers help the elderly shop owner place all their purchased supplies in eight wooden crates.

“That’s everything.” Mr. Gale comments as he places the lid on the final crate. “I’ll call my boys to help you load them on your cart.”

“There’s no need for that.” Levi says, already readying himself to lift some of the boxes. “We can handle it.”

The proprietor laughs good-naturedly. "Come now, Captain Levi. I know that you’re ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier’ and that Captain Mikasa is the ‘Woman Worth a Hundred Soldiers”, but you can’t rea---”

He cuts himself off when the two Ackermans each lift four boxes with little effort.

Mikasa shifts the crates so that she faces the shop owner properly. "Mr. Gale, you've already received the payment from our budgetary officer, correct?"

The older man merely nods, his mouth still agape in shock at the display of inhuman strength.

“We’ll be on our way, then. Thanks, old man.” Levi states, unfazed by the reaction.

The warm afternoon sun greets them as they exit the shop. The commercial area of Trost is filled with chatter from the mass of patrons. Due to the crowded streets, they had to leave their wagon at a fairly secluded area some ways away from the store.

When they finally arrive at where they parked, the crowd has thinned considerably. The few people there are either entering or exiting the complex. The two are in the process of loading the crates onto the cart when they hear the sound of glass breaking, followed by a frightened yell to their right.

They turn their heads to the source see to see a small saloon. One of its front windows is covered by pull-down drapes, while the other one is unobscured. Through the glass of the second one, the co-captains see a middle-aged man and woman, presumably the owners, anxiously speaking to two Military Police officers.

“Whaddaya mean we have to pay?” An MP with light hair slurs loudly while gripping a long-necked bottle.

The woman, who looks to be in her early 40s, attempts to explain. “Sir, you’ve consumed more than two bottles already.” She says, wringing her hands together nervously. “And our store ---”

“Blah!” The other MP, a man with darker hair, sways as he unslings his rifle from his shoulder. Both the woman and her partner take a step back, visibly terrified. “We serve the kingdom!” He yells. “You lot should be grateful! Besides, your stuff tastes like shit!"

He unsteadily aims his rifle at a row of bottles behind the counter while his companion laughs. “You’re right, Ricky!” He shouts, smashing the bottle he was holding against the floor.

The one called Ricky guffaws. "Damn right, I'm right, George!" Slightly swaying, he disengages the safety lock. “I’ve been wanting to try this beauty out! They say this thing can shoot 15 bullets in a row after just one click!” Just as he is about to place his finger on the trigger, he is suddenly struck across the head. The impact of the attack causes him to drop his weapon.

“Ricky!” George makes to unsling his own rifle but barely has time to react before a heavy boot hits him in the stomach. He faintly registers his gun being snatched from him before he is thrown across the room and roughly crashes onto a table and some chairs. One second later, Ricky lands beside him with a loud thud.

They both groan for a moment before raising their heads and seeing the profiles of two other soldiers in the area where they had been standing before. “Hey!” George yells while unsteadily getting up. “What gives?!” He demands, face flushed with both embarrassment and alcohol. “Who are you anyway?!” He trains his glazed-over beady eyes at their assailants.

Levi narrows his eyes, not the least bit intimidated. “You were harassing innocent civilians.” He crosses his arms, leveling him with a look of disdain. "Taxpayer money is wasted on pigs like you.”

“They’re from the Survey Corps!” Ricky exclaims, pointing to the Wings of Freedom on the fronts of their jackets. “You two have got some nerve!” He glares, eyes glassy with inebriation. “Accusing us of wasting taxpayer money when you ---”

Mikasa quietly raises his rifle at him, causing him to cut himself short. Both MPs freeze at the movement.

“P—put that down and g—give it back!” Ricky demands, voice shaking.

Mikasa shifts her gaze from the anxious Military Police officers and to the firearm in her hands. She examines its long sleek frame and swipes her thumb over the grip.

“It saddens me to see that my father’s guns were used to frighten defenseless civilians.” She comments out loud, her tone a cross between pensive and disappointed.

George’s brows scrunch up in confusion at her statement. “Huh?!” The two MPs look at her dumbly, trying to comprehend the meaning behinds her words.

Meanwhile, Levi picks up the second rifle from the floor, ignoring the whimpers from the two pigs. He feels the gun's weight in his hands and notes that it is light compared to other models. He then places his thumb on the butt of the rifle and runs it over the engraved encircled cursive 'A' which serves as the insignia of Lord Mikhail Ackerman's gun manufacturing company. He muses that the emblem looks similar to the Azumabito clan symbol on the inside of Mikasa’s wrist.

“If it’s any consolation,” he begins, still looking at the rifle, “I think that your father did a great job with this gun, Mikasa.” He remarks almost idly.

“Thanks, Levi.”

“Levi? Mikasa?” George repeats their names, a hint of recognition in their slurred tone. “Mikasa… Mikhail A—“. Shock settles on his features as they finally connect the dots. His eyes further widen in realization when they shift to Levi. “… Ackerman.”

“You’re Levi and Mikasa Ackerman!” George exclaims, lips trembling. At his exclamation, Ricky’s mouth drops open as sweat starts to form on his brow. The two men nervously shift their eyes between the co-captains – panic and recognition clearing away the drink-induced glazes in their eyes.

“I mean, my lord and lady!” George suddenly bows at the waist. His companion scrambles to do the same. “Our apologies! We didn’t recognize you!”

Levi’s jaw clenches at their sycophantic gesture. “Tch. Do not call us those.” He hisses. “And quit your groveling.”

They straighten themselves instantly at the vitriol in his voice. “My lord?” One of them squeaks.

Mikasa takes a sharp breath. “We’re not at the royal court.” She states, an edge to her voice. “Furthermore, we’re acting in our capacities as officers of the Survey Corps. So, if you’re going to address us, do so accordingly.”

“Yes, my la---, I mean, Captain!” The same MP yelps. “We’re sorry!”

Mikasa narrows her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “You’re clearly not genuine.” She speaks coldly. “And it appears that the likes of you get your bravado from carrying my father’s guns. Perhaps I should tell him to terminate his weapons provision contract with the Military Police.”

“Please don’t!” They both plead simultaneously, alarm in their voices. Clearly frightened of the consequences should they be the cause of the loss of the contract. “This won’t happen again!”

The disdain in her dark grey eyes indicates that she is not convinced. “I don’t believe you.” Mikasa then grips that rifle’s ammunition magazine. “So, I’m going to take these.”

Following her lead, Levi makes to do the same with the rifle in his hands. “I’ll take care of this one.”

Once he’s done, Mikasa holds out a hand, and he gives her the second rifle. She throws the weapons at the feet of the two MPs. “Take those and leave.” She commands, voice near imperious. “And don’t forget to put your payment on the counter.”

The two men do as they are told. They wordlessly take the ammo-less rifles and practically empty their wallets onto the counter before leaving the saloon with their heads bowed.

Once they were out of sight, the two Ackermans turn to the shop owners, who had been silently watching the exchange from the sidelines with bated breath.

“We’re not from the Military Police.” Levi states plainly. “But all the same, we’re sorry for the trouble they caused.”

The middle-aged man shakes himself from his daze. “Oh, please! You have nothing to apologize for!” He says, a nervous but sincere smile on his face. “In fact, my wife and I should thank you, my lord and lady!” His eyes then widen at his slip of tongue. “I’m sorry, I mean---”

Mikasa raises her hands in a calming gesture. “It’s alright.” She assures him with a smile.

The man’s tension eases, relieved at her assurance.

“Thank you so much, Captains.” His wife steps forward, wearing a bright and grateful smile. “May we offer you something to eat and drink?”

“Oh, we ---” Mikasa begins, about to politely decline.

“It’s on the house!” The husband insists. “It’s the least that we could do for you! We insist.”

Mikasa observes their smiling and amiable expressions before turning to Levi. She lifts her brows, and he gives a slight shrug before taking out his pocket watch.

“I suppose we have time before we need to get back to headquarters.” He comments.

The shop owners beam at the response. “Wonderful! I’m Tim Briles, by the way, and this is my wife, Frances." Tim introduces himself and his wife. “Please, have a seat. The menu is by the counter. Order anything you want!”

"Sure." Levi replies, and he turns towards the turned-over tables and chairs. “I’ll fix the tables and chairs. I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Noted." Mikasa states as she makes her way to the counter. She peruses the menu and, after a minute of deliberating, settles on a sandwich platter and chamomile tea. She vaguely wonders if the tea selection is meant for customers with hangovers.

After an enthusiastic Frances takes their order, she makes her way to Levi, who has just finished righting the disarray of furniture. As she approaches, her co-captain suddenly pulls out a chair and gestures for her to sit.

Mikasa looks at him questioningly, and he tilts his head towards the offered chair.

She decides to play along. “How very gentlemanly of you.” She jests, voice half-coquettish as she moves to sit.

“Only for you, my lady.” He drawls as he pushes the chair in for her.

They both snicker at the mocking references to their noble backgrounds.

“So, what are we having?” He asks as he sits from across her.

“Tea and sandwiches.” He raised a brow at ‘tea’, and she smiles. "I know; I was also surprised to see it on the menu.”

Levi hums. “In any case, it’s too early for liquor.”

A few minutes pass, and Frances approaches their table with their food and drinks. “Here are your orders. Enjoy!”

The co-captains both thank the female shop owner, and they split the sandwiches and tea between themselves.

Comfortable silence ensues as they eat their sandwiches. Levi muses that the saloon’s turkey sandwich is quite good. He takes a look at the sandwich in Mikasa’s hand and deduces from the green poking out from the bread that it’s full of vegetables.

After he finishes his food and begins stirring his tea, a random realization suddenly occurs to him.

“Something wrong?” Mikasa asks, noticing the contemplative furrow of his brow.

“No.” He replies, taking out the spoon from his cup and gripping it by the rim. “It’s just that I realized you actually used the ‘I’m going to tell my daddy’ card.”

Mikasa blinks at the remark. A beat of silence passes before she bursts into laughter.

Her shoulders slightly shake as hearty chuckles flow from her. She laughs in earnest at the absurdity and the truth of the statement.

Levi’s lips curve upwards at her open display of mirth, observing how her usually stern eyes crinkle at the corners and how genuine joy shines through her typically reserved expression.

“I’m sorry.” Mikasa says, still giggling as she adjusts her cravat around her neck. “You’re right, but it’s just so ridiculous.” She remarks, her smile wide. “Come to think of it, I’ve never used it before.” She muses out loud, her lips still twitching.

“At least you used it for a good cause.” He quips, sharing in her amusement.

She chortles at his joke. He also lets out an amused sound.

She eventually sobers down, though a small smile still remains on her lips.

But after a moment, her eyes suddenly become downcast, and her smile disappears.

Levi frowns in concern at the abrupt change in her demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

She takes a breath before directing her gaze towards the afternoon sky beyond the saloon’s window.

“Moments like this…” she speaks quietly as she raises her hand to gesture at their light-hearted conversation, “…don’t come by often.” A sad gleam then enters her eyes. “In a way, it’s… sort of unsettling.”

Levi’s lips press into a firm line at the reality of her words. Every soldier in the Survey Corps knows that every encounter with the Titans could be their very last. Danger, risk, and bloodshed are their constant companions. And the absences of the comrades lost will always be felt by those who live to join the next expedition.

The survivors know that it is their duty to honor the sacrifices of the fallen by carrying on with their mission. Yet, this knowledge hangs heavy over the heads of those who remain standing.

“I know what you mean.” He says, voice solemn. “Enjoying a moment of peace can be hard sometimes, considering the things we go through.”

They remain quiet for a while, the atmosphere suddenly tenser. Mikasa closes her eyes and sighs before speaking again.

“Sometimes, I wonder what my life would be like right now if I had stayed in the Capital or joined the clan’s Elite Royal Company.” She stares intently into her cup of tea, wistfulness underlying her tone. “I would probably be promenading with the other nobles in the parks. Or patrolling the grounds at the Fritz castle. Either way, my life would be simpler and less daunting."

A flash of resolve then enters her gaze. “But I already made my choice a long time ago.” She declares with a quiet certainty in her words. “And I’ve chosen to be a soldier for the Survey Corps.”

Levi quietly observes her profile. She sits with the graceful posture of a noble lady – a result of her upbringing. But her shoulders are squared with a soldier’s discipline. She holds her teacup delicately, but her fingers are calloused from years of wielding blades. Had she chosen differently, she could have been a socialite hostess.

The passing thought then prompts a question. “Why didyou join the Survey Corps in the first place?”

Mikasa half-smiles at that. It was a question she was often asked – the daughter of a noble joining any of the military branches was unheard of. Although, she never divulged anything apart from saying that she merely wanted to.

“I could ask you the same question, Levi.” She prompts back.

For all his fame, no one has ever known of his reason for joining the Survey Corps. Not surprising, since he would always brush off anyone who asks by telling them that it’s none of their damn business.

But Levi decides that he wouldn’t mind making an exception for her. “I’ll share if you share.”

Mikasa hums as if contemplating the proposition. “Fair enough.”

A moment passes before she continues. “I joined because of my Asian heritage.”

He raises a brow in confusion. But stays silent and waits for her to elaborate.

“The Azumabitos are the last Asians in the world.” She explains. “Our clan’s records state that our ancestors’ homeland, Asia, was full of rare creatures and mysterious fauna. Unfortunately, just like every other continent, it was invaded along with the rest of humanity by the Titans.”

“My parents gave me everything I needed while growing up. But they taught me that if I wanted something, then I should work to earn it.” Mikasa pauses as her lips twist wryly. “And since I wanted to see the roots of my Asian heritage, I decided as a child that I would join the Survey Corps to help eradicate the Titans.”

“It’s silly.” She remarks, more to herself, amused at her younger self’s reason. “But it’s what prompted me to enlist.”

Her expression then becomes more pensive, and she redirects her gaze to the table between them. “But after my first expedition, I realized that there are things which are bigger than my wants. I suppose you could say that it opened my eyes. Seeing first-hand the dangers and struggles made me understand the weight of the Corps’ mission.”

She looks up at him again. “I still want to see Asia…” she admits with a bashful look. “… and if we can eradicate the Titans during my lifetime, then I’ll be to do that.”

“But even if that won’t happen, I won’t have any regrets about joining the Survey Corps.”

With that, she concludes her piece. Levi remains quiet for a moment, feeling astounded and moved at the revelation.

“I’m glad that you joined, Mikasa.” He says softly.

She smiles at his remark. “Thank you for saying that.” A tinge of levity then enters her dark orbs. “Now, I believe it’s your turn to share.”

Levi tsks, but there’s mirth in the slight quirk of his mouth. “I suppose a deal’s a deal.”

He swirls the contents of his teacup before speaking. “When I was a kid, my great grandfather would always preach about upholding the clan’s tradition of being the Crown’s ‘Sword and Shield’.” He drawls out the last two words.

“Just like you and everyone else in our clan, I was trained to be the best fighter possible – because, of course, the royal family only expects the best to protect it.” He pauses to take a drink.

“Sure, it’s natural for the royal family to have protection.” He concedes. “But our clan’s talents are being wasted. The biggest threats are out there beyond the Walls, and our clansmen use their many years of special training to deal with problems that the Military Police pigs are supposed to handle.”

Levi lifts his gaze to hers. "So, I said to myself, ‘to hell with tradition’.”

She lets out a small laugh. “Of course, you would say something like that.”

He smirks before taking another sip. “So, I decided to enlist in the Survey Corps. Thankfully, my uncle became head of the clan even before my rite of passage. And since he isn’t as uptight and prissy as my great grandfather was, he let me go without much of a fuss. I wanted to put my skills to better use. And what better way to use them than to reclaim the lands stolen by the Titans from humanity?”

“And after everything I’ve seen…” he trails off, a more somber and pensive look in his eyes as he stares at his cup, “…I’m now surer than ever that I made the right choice.”

A quiet second passes before Mikasa speaks. “That’s very noble of you.” She says, her voice earnest.

Her co-captain snorts out a harsh laugh. “If it were anyone else, I’d say that they were kissing my ass.”

Remembering the incident with the two MPs earlier, she likewise smiles in good humor; his words can’t be any truer.

“But since it’s you…” his harsh smirk morphs into a gentler smile, “… thanks.”

Her smile remains as their eyes meet again.

“You know, it’s odd…” she begins off-handedly, “We’ve known each other for years, but this is the first time we talked about something like this.”

He raises a brow. “Is it? I wasn’t aware that there was a standard timeline for sharing things.”

Another light laugh escapes her, and Mikasa wonders if Levi realizes how humorous he can be at times.

---

Chatter fills the air of the communal dining hall of the Southern Division’s Cadet Corps Headquarters – with the main source of noise and talk being the long dining table where Eren Yeager sits with his friends.

“Eren, what you did was really cool!”

“Yeah, I don’t think that anyone else here would’ve been able to do that!”

From his seat at another table at the far right of the hall, Jean Kirstein watches as several trainees crowd around Yeager and pay him compliments for his incredible feat earlier this morning.

Connie sits across the green-eyed recruit with a wide grin on his face. “Eren, you were amazing earlier!” He exclaims. “Being able to balance yourself using defective equipment was incredible!”

Beside him, Sasha nods enthusiastically as she munches on a loaf of bread. She smiles broadly after gulping down her food. "You really did well, all things considered!" She exclaims while not so discreetly trying to take Connie's bread from his plate.

The shaved-headed boy snatches her wrist before she could lift the loaf to her mouth. “Oh, come on! You haven’t even finished your own bread!” He grumbles, exasperated as Sasha strains against his grip.

Eren chuckles at the display before scratching the back of his head with a sheepish expression. Even so, his green eyes seem to glow with pride and appreciation. “Thanks, guys.”

“Congratulations on a job well done, Eren.” Christa speaks from amongst the group that congregated around the table. “Your determination paid off.”

Eren's cheeks redden slightly at her smile. "Thanks, Christa. But I can't take all of the credit. Armin here gave me pointers, and Reiner and Betholdt told me to keep calm and not to give up." He then turns to the male blonde seated next to him. "Isn't that right, buddy?"

Armin’s lips quirk upwards. “It’s true that you got help, but all the work was you.”

“Armin’s right.” Reiner’s deep voice resounds from one side of the crowd. To his left, Bertholdt silently watches the interactions with a small smile. “At the end of the day, you were the one ultimately responsible for your success.”

Jean watches as more trainees give the brunette praises for his resolve and performance. It isn’t until he feels something nudge him in the side that he turns away.

“Just talk to him already.” Marco urges with a knowing look.

Jean scoffs at the comment. “Talk to Yeager? About what?”

Marco simply gives him a half-amused and half-exasperated smile. “You know what I mean.” He then picks up his glass of water. “It’s good that you want to apologize. It’s a mature thing to do.” He says before taking a drink.

Jean grumbles something unintelligible as he observes the sky through an open window. The last rays of sunlight are starting to fade behind the darkening sky. He can see some of their Commandant's assistant officers patrolling the grounds and inspecting the outdoor training equipment to ensure they're still working properly.

As his gaze lands on the row of 3DM gear simulators, Jean recalls how he, along with nearly everyone, laughed at Eren when he failed to steady himself using 3DM gear during his first attempt. He also remembers snidely commenting that Yeager was just "all talk and no bite" and how he brushed him off when he asked for pointers to improve.

Jean then sighs before getting up and walking over to the green-eyed recruit’s table.

---

Armin and Eren were in the middle of speaking with fellow recruits when the blonde sees Jean walking up to their table.

“Uhh… Eren?” He taps his friend on the shoulder.

At the prodding, Eren turns away from Mina and Thomas, who were standing behind him. His eyes narrow at the sight of Jean standing behind the other recruits surrounding their table. “What do you want, horse face?”

The entire room goes silent as everyone turns to Jean. The man in question averts his gaze as his cheeks flush at suddenly being the center of attention.

He stays silent for a moment before speaking. “I’m not here to fight.” He then finally raises his gaze to look at Eren. The crowd parts as he moves closer to the table.

Armin notes the sudden tension in the air as his childhood best friend stares at Jean with a cautious look – he deduces that Eren is not entirely convinced that Kirstein came in peace.

Jean halts when he’s near the edge of their table, just a couple of feet from where Eren sits. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I’ll be honest. I still think that going after Titans is stupidly dangerous.”

Eren's eyes further narrow at the remark. He rises to his feet, but Armin pulls at his arm before he can move towards Jean. "Hear him out first.” The blonde half-pleads.

Eren frowns but nonetheless sits back down. His eyes are still trained on Kirstein, who instinctively took a step back at his abrupt movement.

Jean takes another breath before continuing. “But I now get how serious you are.” He admits, voice quiet but clear. “You have real resolve, and I respect that. And I’m…” He pauses, his pride momentarily stifling his next words.

“… I’m sorry for making fun of you before.”

Some trainees gasp lightly while some simply stare – all surprised at his gesture. Armin sees that even Connie and Sasha have paused their food-related grappling to gawk at Jean. The blonde also quietly muses that the entire room probably half-expected another fight to erupt between the two boys. All eyes are now trained on Eren, who looks astounded with his eyes widened and mouth slightly agape.

Armin then lightly nudges his friend’s shoulder. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

The question shakes the green-eyed trainee from his stupor. He blinks once before rising to stand – more calmly, Armin notes approvingly.

“Thanks, Jean.” The hardened look in his gaze is now gone. “I appreciate you saying that. Apology accepted.” He says with a small smile.

“And for what it’s worth…” Eren trails off as his eyes dart downwards, a hint of shame in them, “… I shouldn’t have scoffed at you for wanting to go into the Interior. After all, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be safe.”

He then looks directly at Jean again. “So, I guess I also owe you an apology.” He admits with a half-smile, hoping that it would lighten the mood.

It seems to have worked as Kirstein offers him a smile. “Glad to know that you can see things my way, Yeager.”

Eren grins more naturally at the response. “So… friends?” He asks, voice tentative as he holds out his hand.

Jean looks at the offered hand in surprise for a moment before observing the other boy’s expression. There’s a mix of uncertainty and apprehension in his countenance – possibly wary of how he would respond. But the look in Yeager’s eyes tells him that the offer of friendship is genuine.

He eventually grasps the hand offered to him. “Friends.” He says while giving it a firm shake.

There’s a smattering of applause as the crowd gives a slight cheer at the show of camaraderie. Armin especially claps heartily at the sight of the usually hot-headed Eren making peace with Jean even as he hears Connie yelp when Sasha takes advantage of the distraction to take a massive bite from the Springer boy’s loaf.

“Well, it’s nice that we’re all finally getting along.” Marco comments with a smile from the sidelines, hands still pressed together from clapping.

Jean sends a slightly annoyed look at Marco, who only continues to smile in return.

---

End Note: So, the 104th gang finally appears! Since Mikasa is a veteran in this story, I wanted to play a little with the dynamics of the 104th's relationships with one another. On this, I wanted Eren and Jean to have a friendlier relationship in this story than in canon. I hope that I was able to execute this idea (as well as all my other ideas) properly. Lol.

In any case, let me know what you think! Critiques and comments are most welcome!

[claire-willz]

I want you to know the number you did on me. I want you to know how badly you fucked me up. I can lie through my teeth and say how over you i am, and how i'm doing good now and I'm in a better mental state and whatever the fuck. I mean I think i am? I'm not 15 and self harming and shit anymore, I don't do the same shit I did back then. I don't know if I'm in a better mental state, or if I've literally just grown up. You fucking broke me. You broke my spirit, you broke my soul.You were so fucking mean to me, I still, 8 years later have your voice in my head mocking everything I do, including writing this bullshit. You fucking ruined me. My life and who I am would have been so different if I had never met you. I mean fuck, i was so desperate to get over you I started sleeping around with anyone who would give me the time of day, which eventually lead me to be a prositute because i thought 'i do it anyway but for free, why not get paid for it?'. In this whatever post I plan to be as vunerable as i can be, and in that, I feel like I'm worth fuck all because I was a prostitute. Because of you. 8 years later and saying your name feels like I'm spitting fire, my stomach turns and i get this rush of emotions, love, hate, heartbreak, guilt.. 6 years ago, I tried to take my own life. I remember thinking how when it worked you would say 'well she was actually strong enough to do it, never thought she would'. But It didnt so.. 5 years ago, I had the biggest depression breakdown to date which cost me not one but two hospital admissions in the space of 24 hours, and I remeber worrying that you would find out because I wanted you to know I had changed even though we hadn't spoken in 2 and a half years. I was depressed, the pressure that you still put over me to be everything i never was that you wanted collapsed me i suppose. Mix that with me trying to be a better person for you and never feeling like it was enough because you fucking hate me and honestly, i see myself the way you do, or did, been too long now, maybe after 8 years you changed your mind? just in case you came back, just in case. I don't remember the sound of your voice, I barely remember what you look like. I don't remember your likes and dislikes, I don't remember your traits and hobbies, But i remember how you made me feel. And I know, because ive been telling myself for years that i need to forgive you, and I think i have, But if i really had, I wouldn't be writing this, so i don't know. Everything I did to the drugs I smoked, the alochol I drank, the people I considered friends and the men i slept with was all to get over you, and in return... I got cripping anxiety as a result from all of it. My psychologists says that to me, you represented everything i wanted at the time even if it wasn't who you were. You represented the love i wanted from my dad, you represented a happy life, you represented acceptance and approval, stability, just everything I didn't have and never did have that subconsiously I always wanted.. and yes, you did put me into therapy, not soley you, but you did. You're right, I am crazy, and i blame you for it, you made me crazy then got mad when I was. But what i wanna know, is how the FUCK do i fix this mess you made, they say time heals all wounds but i disagree, a shitload of water has run under the bridge, every single cell in my body has changed, but the time hasn't healed the wounds its caused a huge infection, the water running under the bridge has stopped running and turned into a lake, the cells in my body still crave you and still yearn for your smell and the sound of your voice saying 'stress less baby'. If i could still remember, it would ring in my ears, but its hard too when your voice is basically forgotten in my memory. I don't know how to get over you, I've tried literally everything. Hypnotism, medication, drugs, alochol, sex (and alot of it), I've tried dating other guys,I've written you letters and burnt them,Ive talked about you in depth to that many fucking people its embarrasing, yet I'm still here. Saturday night and i'm still missing the absolute shit out of you and I'm still hurt over you, stalking any only tumblr profile that has even the hint of your existence then feeling my stomach turn when i remember how it felt when you did the things you did to me. Its like its october 2012 all over again, it feels the exact fucking same and I don't know why. I hate it, I wish it could stop but I really am convinced that I never will. I won't get over you, the damange you did won't heal. I hate you, I hate you so much it literally lets my skin aflame, but I would do absolutely anything to have you back in my life. I don't think I'll get this happy ever after I've been dreaming of, I don't think I'll find someone and get married. I wish you never existed, because this isnt normal. The feelings and everything i go through daily still isn't normal. And i wish it wasn't like this. 24/7 you're torturing me. And i mean youre happy now, you have a wife and a kid, you moved on so long ago I'd be suprised if you ever remembered me. You won't ever read this, and i hope you don't. Maybe this is just another lame attempt to get over you, it won't work, but helps the pain for a little while. Being completly vunerable and honest in a 'letter' isn't something ive done yet. The rest that i wrote were all bullshit on how i forgive you and how i dont love you anymore and how i am doing so much better than you ever thought possible and blah blah blah. All lies, they feel real at the time and maybe they are, but when its moments like these that are so fucking raw the truth just comes out and i'm here, thinking of you and hating everything thats happened. I see my life and three sections, before you, during you, and after you. Before you life was easy, during you.. life was amazing and intense and extreme, after you is pain and denial. Its embarrasment and sadness. Evens bandaids fall off, even stitches get infected. Open wounds sometimes stay open. And its your fault. Maybe if you did come back life would get easier for me, maybe i wouldn't hear your voice, maybe I would go crazy on you again. I know i did awful things to you, but were they that awful? I did them because i was hurt, but you did worse too, and you never owned up to it, and yet youre still the victim in my eyes, even though you moved on and you don't feel the way i feel. I am the victim here, not you and fuck you for thinking that, fuck me for thinking that, I'm just as bad for viewing you that way, I could probably choose not too, but its so embedded into my subconsious i don't see any other way to view you. Because i hate you like you were the bad guy, and love you like you were the victim. It would have been easier if you died, not gonna lie about that. If you had died, my life would be easier. I don't mean that as 'i wish you were dead', but i mean that if you hadnt of left my by choice, it would probbaly be easier to deal with. I know ive changed as a person, i made alot of mistakes and i grew up and grew from them which is something every single person has done and yet i feel your judgement in the harshest way for every single one of them. I carry the guilt for the things that i did as if i did them to you, the one i cared/care about most. I don't know how well this explains everything within me ranting about shit and whatever, but i tried.

[trash-muse]

Ask Meme: What Would You Know About Love?

WHO: John Constantine, Zatanna and Asmodel @dark-musngs - with special guests Adam Constantine and Lyla Rose WHAT: Ask Meme - [forehead touch] your muse rests their forehead against my muse’s WHERE: Various places WHEN: Various WARNINGS: None. Trying something a little different - with time jumps.

2040 - Star City

“What would you know about love, Constantine?”

The bar was full of rowdy patrons, all drinking their fill and creating a constant hum of noise so loud that one could barely hear themselves think. But Adam Constantine heard the woman sitting across from him just fine. She eyeballed him impatiently, lips pursed ready to demand an answer.

Lyla Rose was one of Adam’s nearest and dearest friends. She was also quite possibly the bane of his existence. Well, maybe her and his boyfriend were tied for that title. Sorry... ex-boyfriend.

Every time Adam thought things would finally work out, his ex would find some other reason why they couldn’t be together. However, like fools they would fall back into one another again. It was like they were stuck on the old carousel horses. Up, down. Round and round.

But then, it was like his Dad said...

“Love is complicated.”

2020 - Central City

The morning sun streamed through the point where the curtains met, sending a warm beam of light across the bed. Adam stirred, shifting and freeing a hand to try and rub the offending light out of his eyes. It took a few moments, but after opening his bright blue eyes, Adam realised it was morning.

Hopping out of bed, Adam shuffled over to his bedroom door, yawning as he opened it and exited out into the hallway. He could hear voices in the kitchen - the accented baritone of his Daddy’s voice and the slightly lower octave of Azzie’s were easily recognisable. They sounded soft as they chatted away, making breakfast, and Adam knew they hadn’t realised he was awake yet.

He didn’t know what made him stop and watch them for a moment. Why he didn’t just join them with a good morning hug. But with head tilted slightly, Adam paused at the end of the hallway and just watched the private moment between John and Azzie.

“... Zatanna would have stayed if you asked her to.” Azzie seemed to continue an earlier conversation as he brought three plates over to the stove. His Daddy was making bacon and eggs. Adam could smell the delicious smell filling the apartment.

“She has her own place, Az.” John replied, using the spatula to turn the food. He was such a good cook, especially breakfast foods. “And they’ve fixed it up real nice too after what happened. Don’t blame her for going back. It makes this place look utter rubbish.”

“John...” Azzie sounded like he didn’t agree. He put the plates down and moved closer to John, hugging him from behind and resting a chin on his shoulder. Adam had seen them cuddle like that a number of times. He liked to imagine that is wasn’t just Azzie’s arms wrapping around his Daddy but his wings too. Of course, Azzie didn’t have wings in that moment. But if they were there, Adam was sure his imagination was right.

His dad put down the spatula and turned toward Azzie, which Azzie responded to with dropping his head forward and resting his forehead against John’s. It was a tender moment Adam thought nothing of at the time but would later no doubt recall the love between them.

“You love her.” Azzie so low that if Adam hadn’t of crept closer he wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

John sighed and didn’t deny it. But he didn’t exactly admit it either. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?” Azzie didn’t sound like he was going to be convinced. A bit like the time Adam tried to lie and say he had brushed his teeth and he hadn’t. Azzie was very good at picking up on lies.

“Because love is complicated.”

“It’s not with us.” Azzie moved closer still, hands moving over John’s back. In turn, John hooked his arms over Azzie’s shoulders and the food sizzled away in the silent pauses.

“Not now. Hasn’t always been this easy.” His Daddy must have smiled because Azzie smiled back. They kissed gently and hugged tighter, not a gap between them. “Besides, Z doesn’t feel the same.” John jumped back to talking about Zatanna. Adam loved her too and wished she had stayed, but he guessed she wanted to go home. He was allow to visit but it wasn’t the same. “There’s too much that’s happened.”

“What happened?” Adam piped up before he could stop himself. Seeing no point in remaining hidden, he moved out into the kitchen, casting a curious looking in his dad’s direction.

Two sets of eyes shot toward him but Azzie was quicker to recover. “Don’t worry about it, kid.” He said, peeling away from his dad and coming over and picking him up. Adam giggled, he always loved being scooped up and hugged by Azzie. Maybe that’s why his Daddy loved him. Azzie gave the best hugs.

2040 - Star City

“Love is complicated. Love hurts. Blah, blah, you’ve said this all before, Constantine. Still doesn’t explain why you’re holding out for a bloke that won’t commit. That won’t share all his secrets until they show up and punch you in the gut.” Lyla wasn’t giving up and certainly wasn’t taking his answer without further explanation. Adam knew a certain white clad canary that had treated his dad with that same brash demand for less bullshit and more answers.

Adam rubbed a spot just below his ribs, right where his ex’s secret little half sister had punched him and winded him before he could ask her what she was doing in his apartment. His ex’s apartment. Adam didn’t blame her for the reaction. She had thought she was coming to an empty safe house. Adam thought he was surprising his boyfriend by coming home early. It was all a misunderstanding. Still it hurt that his ex had kept a secret sister and hid his involvement in the Canaries movement from him.

But, despite the hurt and the lies, Adam loved him. There would never be a moment he wouldn’t love him. The secrets hurt but Adam understood the reason for them. It was for protection. Still didn’t stop the words he lashed out with in anger. Didn’t stop him from walking out and seeking his best friend to go drown his stupidity and sorrows at the pub.

Maybe it was like what his Mum said...

“Love is forgiveness.”

2021 - Central City

The Van Geld Opera House in Central City wasn’t just host to the opera but a many number of stage performances. It was here the great magician, Zatanna Zatara, wooed her audiences with dazzling illusions and mesmerizing tricks. All eyes were captivated by her performance but none more so than the little blonde boy waiting in the wings.

As the red velvet curtains dropped and the crowd cheered, Zatanna rose from her bow and smiled at the little boy, giving him a wink that sent him scampering off backstage with a giggle. She waved off any stage hands and assistants that approached her with polite gratitude, and followed the sounds of childlike joy back to her dressing room.

“If I had known you wanted to bring Adam to see a show, I would have given you tickets.” Zatanna half scolded the man lounging on the dressing room sofa.

John took the mild chastisement with a smirk and a shrug, not put off that he might have been in trouble. “It was a last minute decision, love. You were all sold out.” He replied, watching Zatanna as she made her way to the vanity and placed her hat on the table.

“Mumma, are you mad?” Adam turned his bright blue eyes toward her, looking like he was ready to apologise for doing something wrong.

Zatanna laughed and shook her head, taking the few short steps back across the room to Adam and crouching to his level. “No, my little one, I could never be mad at you.” She offered a hug which Adam accepted eagerly. He really was a mumma’s boy. “I was just surprised by your visit, that’s all.” She rested her forehead against Adam’s, like she was sharing a secret with him. “Even if I was mad, I’d forgive you. Because love is forgiveness. And I love you so much.”

Adam giggled at the extra squeeze in the hug he was given, completely unaware of the look exchanged between his parents. The one that knew that message of forgiveness ran so much deeper. That if they hadn’t sorted out the complicated between them and forgiven their mistakes - mostly John’s mistakes, but who’s keeping score - then this family moment wouldn’t exist.

John watched the pair with unrestrained love in his eyes. Those before him plus the angel waiting for them back home - it was the family he had been missing and secretly craving all his life. “Besides, you still got a good view of Z pulling a rabbit out of a hat, right kid?” He asked with a chuckle.

“No Daddy!” Adam spoke up, excited once more and speaking a hundred mile a minute. “It was elephants. They were floating then PFFFT... they disappeared.”

“Wow, elephants, really?” John asked his son with the slightly false amazement a parent takes on to share in their wonder.

“Alright, boys. Home time.” Zatanna interrupted before the pair would go off on another tangent. She loved seeing their interactions - fatherhood really suited John - but she didn’t think they’d want to spend all night chatting. It was after Adam’s bedtime, after all.

2040 - Star City

“Love is forgiveness?” There was the ever present scoff in that question. The one that said Lyla thought he was off his rocker. “So what? He lied to you and you’re just going to forgive him?”

“I hope so.” A new voice approached the table.

“Will.” Adam looked up, noting the fact his ex looked more insecure and awkward in that moment then he had ever been in Adam’s presence. And Adam had bared witness to his poor attempts at flirting.

William Clayton stood rocking onto his toes with his hands shoved into his trouser pockets, looking extremely out of place and uncomfortable in the seedy bar. “Can we talk? ... In private.”

Adam nodded and rose from his seat, leading Will outside and into the side alley. They stood there, watching each other for a few moments before suddenly both speaking at the same time.

“I shouldn’t have gone off at you like that.”

“I should have told you from the start.”

Both men chuckled before Adam made a gesture for Will to say his bit first. Will nodded in thanks, wanting to get what he had to say off his chest.

“Adam, I should have told you from the start.” Will repeated, sounding utterly sorry. “I only just found out about Mia recently and thought it was safer to keep as many people in the dark about her as possible. I should have told you about her. I should have told her about you. I just... I was scared. I’ve already lost my family once. I didn’t want to lose it again.” He paused with a sigh, still standing out of arm’s reach. “But all I’ve managed to do is tear it apart anyway."

Adam looked at Will with a somewhat dumbfounded expression. Will, in his roundabout way had just admitted he thought they were family. That level of commitment was light years beyond what Will had expressed before. Maybe Mia had knocked some sense into him as well.

“I really hope you meant what you said about love being forgiveness.” Will continued, finally stepping closer and taking his hand out of his pockets. He reached out, hesitating to take hold of Adam’s hand. “I forgive you. And I love you so much.”

Adam drew in a long breath, unaware he was holding it until he heard those words. It was the first time Will admitted that he loved him. “I forgive you. And I love you too, Will.“ Adam replied, closing the gap between them and pulling Will into a kiss. “Love is complicated. But, I think we can work it out together.”

[faejilly]

ashes of roses 2/3

idk how to blurb this. Have some Magnus! Because I love him! (And so does the rest of the Shadow World!)

@shadowhunterbingo square: Summoning (As in people who think they’re important want something out of you, not as in more magic.)

It took longer than Magnus had hoped it would, to finally receive a formal message from the Acting Inquisitor's Office with a summons to the trial.

Magnus understood why it had taken so long, considering the changes they were making. It was a lot, letting the rest of the Shadow World into Alicante, choosing delegates for the Tribunal that would oversee the trial, making sure the attendees knew, at least in general, how the trial would work, what the Silent Brother would be doing, who had leave to speak when, and so on and so forth, so it wouldn't be drawn out for too long. All of that took time, Magnus knew that, but he'd begrudged every damnable second of it, every moment that Alexander had to walk around his Institute knowing that the people who'd tried to destroy him were right there, waiting for him to make a mistake, just a few floors down.

But now it was almost over.

Fucking finally.

Alec came home early that night, and when Magnus looked at him, eyebrows raised in surprise, Alec lifted his own summons. "We've all been relieved of duty until the trial's completed."

"All?" Magnus stepped closer, trying to decide if this was something worth getting angry about. "You mean they attacked you, and now you are being punished?"

Alec shook his head, and leaned in to give Magnus a brief glancing kiss against his cheek. "No, I mean they're making sure we're free to attend the trial without any implications of conflicts of interests or having to answer any emergency calls from our Institute."

"Oh." Magnus begrudgingly admitted to himself that that was actually reasonable. "That makes sense."

"Shocking, I know." Alec answered drily. "They manage it occasionally."

"Very rarely." Magnus poked Alec in the chest to emphasize his point, and also to see Alec roll his eyes. "Early dinner?"

Alec smiled, and for all he looked tired, he also looked less tense than he'd been in the weeks since the attack. "Sounds perfect. Though we should probably make sure we get enough for Jace and Izzy, they're liable to realize they're bored and need a distraction some time in the next five minutes."

Magnus' lips twitched. "You don't think they'll last at least an hour?"

"Well, we got these around lunch-time, I just uh..." Alec trailed off.

"Took longer to get everything situated for whoever is taking over?"

"Actually, no?" Alec shifted on his feet, almost as if he was embarrassed. "They sent Lydia, since she's familiar with the Institute, and she and I spent two hours... catching up?"

Magnus snorted. "You mean you were bitching about every other Nephilim you've either of you ever had to work with who is less brilliant than the two of you?"

Alec smiled, and shrugged. "Maybe."

"Wait." Magnus lifted a hand, a flutter of anticipation in his chest. "Does that mean you have no work at all until the trial starts next week?"

Alec's smile widened into a full-fledged grin. "It does, indeed."

"And you were going to let me just... order extra take-out?" Magnus placed a hand on his chest over his heart, leaned back just a little to emphasize his horror. "Rather than celebrating properly?"

Alec laughed, and Magnus' chest ached at the sound; he didn't think he'd heard him laugh properly in weeks.

"You're right, that was terribly short-sighted of me." Alec echoed Magnus’ earlier gesture, his hand to his heart as he bowed forward. "I beg your forgiveness."

"Well, I guess I can do that. If you get an overnight bag packed in the next fifteen minutes."

Alec lifted his eyebrows.

"I think we'll start with dinner in Paris?" Magnus clapped his hands, and spun around on his heel to head towards the bedroom and pack his own bag. "And then maybe southern Spain or Italy? A nice relaxing beach sounds just about perfect."

Alec hummed his agreement as he followed, and Magnus bounced up onto the balls of his feet. It was going to be great. He was going to have Alec all to himself for a few days, and they'd be calm and collected in front of the Tribunal and those Circle bastards would be crucified.

And then... well. And then they'd be moving to Alicante, and Magnus still had no idea what he was going to do there, but hell, he'd never tried being a house husband. Nothing wrong with spoiling his husband for a few years. They'd figure it out.

But first, dinner somewhere made with too much butter and just enough wine, and then several days of just the two of them, with as little clothing as possible.

And then he got another fire message.

Magnus sighed, and grabbed it out of the air. It was on Spiral Labyrinth letter-head, and he sighed again.

"Nevermind, go order take-out, I apparently get to have a conversation with the Council right now. But!" He spun around, pointing at Alec, who straightened up, his smile still hovering around his mouth. "I still expect you to pack that bag, we are taking some time off, I don't care what it takes."

"Yes, Magnus." Alec nodded, just seriously enough to be a tease. "Thai?"

"Hmm." Magnus frowned. "Chinese?"

"Sounds good." Alec gave him another kiss, a quick brush of his mouth on Magnus', just enough to make Magnus smile. "I'll make sure you know when it gets here."

"Thank you."

Magnus shut the door to his apothecary behind him, and frowned down at the message. They wanted to talk to him, and he really hated the spell he had to use for it, but the Spiral Labyrinth was warded the way it was for very good reasons.

Magnus sighed for about the fifth time in three minutes, and pulled the scrying mirror he needed out of his safe.

"Bane!" Lui Injala answered the mirror on the other end, their truly annoying grin even brighter than usual.

"Lightwood-Bane," Magnus corrected.

"Exactly!" Injala somehow looked even more delighted.

Magnus rolled his eyes. "What."

"Lightwood-Bane," they repeated, as if that made any sense. "That's exactly what we need in Alicante."

Magnus frowned. "Is this about the trial?"

Injala lifted their hands and waved them back and forth in a 'not-quite' gesture. "Inspired by, perhaps?"

"And?"

"Well." Injala huffed out a breath, and their expression turned serious. "It was very difficult to find people for the Tribunal who didn't already have opinions about you, or who didn't owe you favors, potential conflict of interest, blah blah, you know the drill."

"I suppose." Magnus frowned. "I don't know everyone in the Shadow World, Injala."

"Close enough!" Injala's grin was back, and Magnus barely swallowed a groan. "Even when you don't know someone, you helped someone they do know, or occasionally your showed them up at a party or something and they kind of want to dunk you the ocean for a couple hours 'til you stop looking so put together."

Magnus snorted. "Well, that's not very nice."

"Even half the people you've sat judgement against still respect you." Injala leaned forward, until their eyes took up most of the mirror. "That's quite the accomplishment."

"Thank you?"

"You're welcome." Injala sat back. "So I assume your husband told you that the Nephilim are looking to keep Idris open to the rest of the Shadow World after the trial?"

Magnus nodded.

"We need someone there, we think, as a reliable resource for anyone who needs assistance while they're there, even if it's just visiting, and we especially need someone already settled there to help anyone who takes the Nephilim up on their invitation to stay."

"You need an ambassador?" Magnus wondered why he hadn't thought of that, because of course they would. They couldn't very well expect the Nephilim to know how to be welcoming on their own, even if they were finally operating under good intentions this time. "Did you want a recommendation?"

"Don't be dense." Injala rolled their eyes with a groan. "I'm already talking to Magnus Lightwood-Bane, the only warlock in the world who can already get into Alicante whenever he damn well wants to."

Oh.

Magnus blinked.

"You want me?"

"To be the first High Warlock of Alicante, and serve as liaison to the Inquisitor and Consul of the Nephilim, yes."

"You trust me to represent us to my husband?" Magnus tilted his head, considering. "You know I'll put him first."

"But he's made it very clear that he'll also put you first. It's a good balance. If the Nephilim are willing to risk it, so are we." Injala grinned, their teeth bright and sharp looking. "And if you fuck it up, we'll have words."

Magnus snorted. That, at last, was normal when dealing with the Council. "Let me talk it over with Alec, but I think we can do that."

"Glad to hear it, High Warlock."

Magnus waved, as overtly and obnoxiously cheerful as Injala had ever been. "Nice talking to you, Councilor."

The light in the mirror faded, and Magnus hummed, looking at his own reflection.

High Warlock of Alicante.

It had a nice ring to it.

Magnus watched his reflection smile, and stood up to go talk to Alec.

Guess I won't be a house-husband just yet, after all.

[elena-mayfair]

Shadow from a past

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader, Ethan Hunt x reader (it's complicated), John Wick x reader (wait for it) 

Warning: None 

Word count: 4842 

Disclaimer: I don’t live in New York and never been there so everything is based on my own imagination and sources like movies, tv and games. Forgive me any inconsistencies with a real world. Also I do not own the gifs, credits to the authors. Also also, English is not my first language so I apologize for any possible mistakes. 

Summary: I don’t want to spoil to many details so lets just say it is crossfiction between Supernatural and John Wick with a bit of Mission Impossible.

 Shadow from the past: Chapter 1 

 “Be careful while looking into the darkness. Be careful because you might like what you find there”

  Dreams. They can be blessing and the curse at the same time. When you hope for them to come usually they are nowhere to be found. Or worse, they are coming but they are not exactly what you were hoping for.

***

“Concierge. How may I be of service?” soft male voice with a slight French accent spoken to the phone.

.........

“It’s Y/N/L. Is he back?”

…

“Miss Y/L/N. I am sorry but I have not seen him tonight”

…

“Thank you. Please let me know if he shows up”

….

“Of course miss Y/L/N.”

….

….

“Thank you”

….

….

“Miss Y/L/N…” soft voice spoke again after brief silence “I don’t mean to overstep any boundaries here but how is your wound?”

“What wound?....” no response on the other side of line “Charon? What wound?”

“There is a bullet in your arm....there is a stab wound in your abdomen and left thigh. You are going to die…and there is nothing he can do about it. You are going to die….and no one will mourn after you…”

….. … … … …..

***

You abruptly opened your eyes. You were lying in the bed breathing heavily trying to pull yourself back from a dream. Room was completely dark, one of the benefits of not having a windows in the bedroom. You slowly started gaining conscious. Your hands drifted to your stomach subconsciously but your cold fingers did not found anything suspicious. You slowly and gently got up from a bed trying not to wake up man who was sleeping right next to you.

“It was just a dream” you thought to yourself rubbing your eyes “just a fucking dream”.

You got up from a bed and quietly went to the bathroom. You shut the door behind you and turned on the light. Sudden, sharp and unapologetic whiteness of the celling lamp was hurting your eyes but at the same time it was good for bringing you back to reality.

“Fuck I look like shit” You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes seemed to be tired and sad at the same time, there were visible dark circles below. You haven’t dream this kind of nightmare for years.

“Screw it…there is nothing I cannot fix with a make up” you thought to yourself while splashing cold water on your face.

“Hey sweetheart” you felt a hand wrapping around your waist. You stood up from a bathroom sink with your eyes still closed only to feel him standing right behind you “Having hard time to sleep?” he asked with a husky voice burying his face in your neck and kissing you lightly.

“Dean...” you whispered and put your hands over his wrapping his arms tighter around you “Did I wake you?”

“Nah…alarm clock did” he replied brushing his lips over your neck.

“Liar” you whispered “what time is it?”

“After 6am”

“Damn… it is way too early to be awake” you sighed “Coffee or bed?” you asked turning yourself in his arms to face him. He looked adorable with his messy hair and sleepy green eyes.

“Sweetheart as much as I wish to go back to bed with you….” he started

“I know I know…research, we got work to do blah blah blah” you cut him off annoyed a bit “I’m gonna make some coffee than” you kissed his cheek and left him in the bathroom for his morning routine.

You dressed yourself quickly. Black sweatpants and black tank top seemed like a good option for not such a good morning. You tight your hair in loose messy bun just enough so they would not fell on your face. You grabbed your phone from a night stand and brown leather which was hanging loosely on the chair. Coffee was the mission but on your way to kitchen you decided to take a small detour and walk outside for some fresh air.

Morning was cold and gloomy, dark clouds were all over the sky and morning sun was nowhere to be found. You reached to your pocket for a package of cigarettes and a lighter. It was a routine already. After a nightmare like that you needed some cold air and cigarette.

“What the hell was that” you thought to yourself inhaling a smoke. You closed your eyes enjoying a morning cigarette and you saw it all flashing back. This elegant, modern classic room…old rotatory phone, black satin sheets on the king size bed, Blanton’s Single Barrel Bourbon on the night stand right next to fully loaded Glock 26 and your body cover in blood. You put a cigarette into your mouth and started rubbing your left shoulder “Some wounds will never heal” you thought to yourself.  

Dream caught you of guard. True, you were used to a nightmares, you had them since you could remember, way before you entered supernatural world. Perks of being a witch. Your dreams were always vivid and felt very very real. Sometimes there were more than just a dreams. Premonitions would be more accurate, visions of…you didn’t know exactly of what. It’s not like you foreseen the future. It was more a feeling, a warning manifesting through your dreams. Sometimes you had hard time to interpret them correctly and you never talked about it with Dean or Sam. They would understand but you didn’t want to worry them. Especially Dean who was worrying constantly even if he was doing his best not to show it. And there was of course another site to all of it…he did not knew everything about you. There were things that you left hidden from everyone, well almost everyone, but Dean was one of the people that you kept secrets from. Not because you didn’t trust him, you did. He was your friend, your partner, your safe haven and for over 6 years now. And that was the reason why you kept a secrets from him. You didn’t want to ruin what you found here. But past is a past...it creeps out in the darkness, lurks form the shadows, and you can never outrun it.

You inhale thick smoke one last time and you went back to a bunker. Smell of coffee hit your nose and you smiled to yourself hearing Gimmie Shelter by The Rolling Stones playing in the kitchen. You entered a kitchen and saw three steaming cups of coffee on the table, two black and one white, just as you liked it. Sam was sitting in front of his laptop going through morning news as he did every day. Dean on the other hand was behind stove waiving plastic spatula to the beats of music and humming words of the song under his nose.

“Rise and shine Y/N!” he smiled to you “bacon and eggs what you think?”

“Nah thank you I had a breakfast already” you smiled sarcastically sitting down opposite to Sam.

“Yeah… I can smell your breakfast up here” Dean frowned “I thought we’re passed this subject”

“Oh gimmie some brake Dean!”

“I’m just saying smoking ain’t good for ya sweetheart”

“Yeah yeah…and your greasy bacon is?” you snapped back “Dean I don’t have a strength to argue with you before my morning coffee”

“How about some smoothie?” Sam asked lifting his head from a screen of his laptop.

“That sounds more like it. Thank you Sammy” you agreed with a smile

“Oh so that’s how it is?!” Dean teased “smoothie over bacon and eggs?! What’s wrong with you people? Smoothie for god sake…”

“I prefer something energizing and easy to swallow at the morning. You know that hun” you replied with a slightly apologetic voice “I appreciate a gesture but I’m really not feeling like eating anytime soon” you added.

“That bad huh?” Sam asked placing a banana-strawberry smoothie in front of you “Dean mentioned that you had a rough night” he added seeing your puzzled face.

“Yeah, but not that bad as he described it. I had worse”

“You looked pretty freaked out” Dean said sitting to your right with a plate full of eggs, bacon and crispy toasts on a side.

“Like I said…”you said changing your voice slightly to emphasize your words “I had worse. Can we change subject? Sam, you found something good?”

“Yes actually. I believe I found us a case” Sam replied looking back at the screen of his computer.

“Great!!” you almost clapped your hands with excitement. You were feeling very much like hunting today “what is it? Ghost, demons, werewolves, shape shifters, vampires? Please say vampires” you added with a childish voice.

“Someone is eager to hunt…” Dean noticed.

“What?! Don’t blame a girl for need to hunt things and save folks” you replied with most innocent smile that you could master in this moment.

“Mhm…”Dean hummed “more like to put a bullet or ten in some monster head” he pointed out sarcastically.

“I don’t know yet to be honest” Sam continued ignoring your little exchange with Dean “Twelve bodies dropped dead”

“Where?” Dean asked chewing on his bacon.

“New York” Sam replied “One witness reported over dozen of dead bodies in one of the fancy clubs in Manhattan. All brutally murdered, at least 3 bullets per body”.

“That doesn’t sound like us. It’s more Gangs of New York than Ghostbusters” Dean mumbled through eggs.

“Maybe. But there is more to the story” Sam scrolled a bit through the article “Witness is 25 years old Karen Davis, collage student. She stated that over the course of about 5 minutes she heard multiple gun shots and saw bodies dropping on the floor. She run outside along with other people. She called police and when cops showed up she went back to club with a company of three officers. And this is where it’s getting interesting. All bodies were gone. No trace of a gun shots, blood, bodies or anything. Like nothing ever happened”

“So what cops are saying?” Your interest definitely peeked.    

“Nothing. Mass hysteria caused by a prank. No bodies, no case” Sam replied.

“Worth checking out” you stated “maybe it’s a hunting. It’s a New York. Lots of people could die in there. We’ve seen that before. Ghost trapped into loop reliving their own death”

“Alright looks like we do have case” Dean drank what left of his coffee and stoop up “You kids go grab a gear and pack our stuff and I’m going to check on baby. It’s a day ride to New York”

“Fancy club in New York…” you sighed “That means suits, heels and ties”

“That’s right baby! It is time for tight skirt and heels!” Dean smirked at you and left to garage.

***

Two days later you stood in front of NYPD 14th precinct in Manhattan New York. It wasn’t your typical hunting area. Rarely were you hunting in the big cities like New York, frankly you could remember one or two cases which you took in big cities. All of it due to the fact that it was definitely tougher to do your job here than in small cities. People were tougher to crack, harder to talk with and they usually pretended that they see nothing even if they undoubtedly saw something. And police…police was whole different story all together. Let’s just say that it was easier to fool small town cop then big city cop. But couple last weeks were quiet and frankly you all started to actively search for a job. You especially were bored out of your mind and annoyed with your daily routine. Because what hunter can do when there is nothing to hunt? Argue with Dean over socks he left again next to the bed in your shared bedroom. Or his boxers he left on the floor in the bathroom. Or how messy bathroom sink looked like every time after you finished your make up. Or the fact that he wants to watch Aliens six time over last two weeks. Or about how much he drinks, or how much you smoke. Or how much Sam is annoyed by both of you. Or the fact that you forgot a pie…again.

It was about time for a hunt because you all were starting getting on each other nerves.

“Alright, time for a show” you thought to yourself looking at your reflection in the Impala windshield.

“You look absolutely amazing” Dean complemented sizing you from head to toe.

“Well thank you mister” you smiled with a charm. You knew very well how good you look. You did your absolute best today. When putting your outfit today you decided to look professional but sexy and dangerous at the same time. You decided to wear black leather-ish fitted pants with high waits, black sleeveless satin blouse unbuttoned just enough to cause a distraction to any cop that you will talk to today. You left your heels home, only woman knows how hard it is to run in heels, and you bet on your trusty suede booties which looked like they were one with a leather pants. On top you put your favorite brown leather jacket which was always useful, especially for hiding gun on your lower back. Hair you put into tight, sleek high pony tail.

“Still got it” you thought to yourself satisfied of the look that you managed to put together. It was New York, and you had to be honest with yourself, you and New York had a history together. As much as you wanted to suppress memories creeping out in every corner you couldn’t. There was something odd about being back in Big Apple. Something strangely comforting and familiar yet oddly unnerving at the same time. Something was off and deep down you felt that clearly.

Dean stood right next to you and fixed his tie just to teas the fact that you were checking yourself out in the windshield.

“Well how do I look?” he winked at you.

“Dangerous… if you get any lucky maybe some foolish girls will end up in your bed today” you winked back at him and walked towards the precinct.

“If you get any lucky maybe you will score today too. With this ass it won’t be hard” he teased quietly but loud enough so you could hear him.

“Hush! Behave yourself” you scolded him with a smile “Be professional, we got work to do”

“Yes mam!” with that Dean approach the counter “Agent Page and Tylor FBI” he introduced himself and you flashing badge in front of the officer.

“We’re here about shootout in the Skyfall club” you followed flashing your badge and slightly hovering over the counter. You didn’t even have to think about what you do or what you say, it was routine already for Dean and you. You did that together way too many times.

“Follow me agents.” Police officer replied shortly with a slightly shaky voice and he led you to the commissioner office.

“Like taking candy from a baby” you thought to yourself satisfied that everything was going smooth like usual. Until it didn’t…

….

It was only split of second, you weren’t even truly sure if you really saw what you thought you saw. Or more like who you thought you saw. Maybe it was a wave of brown hair, or way he walked, or the smell of leather, fresh air and Code by Armani which followed him. All of that was more than enough to lose your cool for a moment. You slowed down loosing your rhythm with Dean and your eyes followed the smell and the felling.

….

“Was that…” you thought to yourself.

……

“Agent Tylor?” Dean voice brought you back to reality “Everything alright?” he was looking at you disoriented.

….

“Yeah…” you said with barely audible voice “Yes agent Page, everything alright. It was just a hunch. Though I saw something” you added out loud catching up to him. “Shall we?” you added and you entered commissioner office not waiting for Dean.

Office was dark, full of boxes, office containers, coffee cups and papers lying all over. Cigarette smoke was floating in the air clearly visible in dimmed light which immediately caused irritation in Dean. Commissioner was old school cop who surely seen too much in his long years of duty.

“Commissioner Loeb” he introduced himself not lifting his eyes from the document he was trying to read “Agents…?”

“Tylor and Page” you introduced yourself and Dean “We would like to talk to you about…”

“Yeah Skyfall club shootout. I heard” he cut you off with his eyes still focused on the document “Nothing to talk about here. There is no case. There never was one to begin with”

“We will decide if there is a case or if there is none” Dean spoke up with cold gruff voice “We would like to see case files” he added.

“Of course you would like to see case files” still looking at the document “But let me ask you this one agent” he emphasized last word “Why FBI is suddenly interested in none existing case involving shootout which never happened?”

“Well commissioner” you spoke up “it is none of your business I believe. And correct if I’m wrong but I believe we are the one here who are asking a questions. Your job is to politely answer them and help us do our job” you added with a smooth voice at you sat down on the opposite side of the desk. “You don’t mind?” you asked rhetorically reaching for a cigarettes in your pocket and lighter on his desk. That move definitely caught his attention, exactly as you hoped it would.

He finally looked up from the document which he was so stubbornly reading just in time to see your cleavage exposed while you were hovering over his desk.

“I definitely don’t” he said firmly not even trying to hide his interest in your breasts. You could swear that you heard Deans jaw clench while he took two small steps to stand right behind you.

“Stupid rules don’t you agree?” you said lighting up your cigarette “No smoking indoors. I wish I could find an asshole who came up with this rule and show him what I think about it”

“I completely agree with you agent Tylor” commissioner replied. You knew you had him on a hook. Just like you planned.

“Call me Y/N” you replied looking him directly into eyes “So about this non existing case involving shootout which never happened” you continued “Files? I’m sure you have a report somewhere here”

“Of course, of course” commissioner started going through pile of folders stacked on the side of his desk “Got it! Here you go agent Tylor” he handed you over a folder with a smile that immediately created in you need to punch him in the face.

“Thank you commissioner” you smiled charmingly and passed folder to Dean without even looking at it. You played your part, you got a files.

“See…that wasn’t so hard wasn’t it?” Dean uttered with a snarky voice taking a files from you. He quickly went through the pages “That’s it?”

“Well that’s all we could gather” commissioner defended himself “Like I said there is no case.”

“Let me make this straight. You did get 911 call from a panicked girl who reported that she heard multiple gunshots and she saw at least dozen of bodies dropping on the ground and you didn’t even bother to take an official statement from her?” Dean summarized.

“You forgetting agent that after my guys arrived to check out so called shootout they found absolutely nothing. No guns, no blood, no bodies, no tracers of any shootout” commissioner defended again “You won’t tell me that someone wiped this place clean in a matter of less than 20 minutes”

“Yeah that is exactly what we could expect from you and your guys” Dean snapped back “We gonna keep this and do expect visit from upstairs” he waved the folder and started to walk out.

“Thank you for cooperation commissioner” you put down your cigarette and followed Dean.

“Agent Tylor!” commissioner rose up from his chair “Let me know if you need any help. Any help at all”

“We won’t” you replied with charming smile and you walked outside with Dean.

“Like taking candy from a baby….”

 ***

“Well that was a bummer” Dean stated and open passenger seat doors for you “We got stinking pile of nothing”

“I kinda expected that to be honest, we knew right from the get-go that this case stinks for miles” you took your gun out of the holster on your lower back and sat comfortably in passenger seat.

“Yeah we did but I kinda hoped that they will give us something y’know, anything to catch onto. And we don’t have even witness address.” Dean took his seat in the driver seat “Let’s hope that Sam had a better luck with researching on history of the building”

You stayed quiet, your eyes focused on the entry to the precinct.

“But let me tell ya sweetheart it was pure pleasure to watch you in action” Dean smirked and turned on Impala’s engine. She purred pleasantly. “The way you played that cop! You were on your A game! New York is bringing out your inner famme fatale” he continued but you were not there anymore. You drifted in your thoughts thinking about smell of leather and Code. Impala purred quietly trying to bring you back from your thoughts but you drifted even further.

…..

You thought about dark grey 1969 Ford Mustang that you used to love so much. You could see him quietly driving with his hand on your knee. You could see his small smile and his stealthy looks in your direction when you were looking outside of the window relaxing while wind was blowing your hair. You could feel his gentle touch, you could taste bourbon on his lips and you could smell Sauvage by Christian Dior on him mixed with gun powder and something else…something dangerous.

…..

“Y/N you with me?” Dean gave a worried look pulling you back to reality.

“Mhm…” You couldn’t shake of that feeling that rising up inside you. Feeling which was telling you that this case is far from your normal supernatural gig. That there is no hunting, no ghosts trapped in the loop and that you should have never come back to New York. There was a passed creeping in the shadows and you knew very well that you cannot outrun it.

“I’m sorry babe, I zone out” you looked back at Dean “I was thinking you know….we don’t have any lead except the club so let’s go check out the club. What you think? I bet we will spot our witness there”

“You really think that three days after shootout she will be already back on the dance floor?” Dean hesitated.

“I’m sure of it. See this is a New York it’s Manhattan and Skyfall is apparently hot in this season. If you want to mean anything in your little social world you gotta be there. Shootout or no shootout. That’s how it is here”

“You would know would ya’. You used to live here” Dean pointed out”

“Yes I did. Many many years ago” you replied shortly” “In a very different life” you added silently and you drifted again in your thoughts.

***

Two hours later you were standing in front of the Skyfall club waiting for your partner who was on “finding parking spot” mission. It was Friday evening and lack of a parking spot was something that you very much expected. But Dean being Dean wouldn’t agree to leave baby and take a cab. Even when faced with all the logical reasons presented by you he still stubbornly refused. You were wondering which was more inconvenient for him, the fact that you dared to suggest that taking a cab is a better option or the fact that you decided that he needs to go shopping. While going through his clothes you sadly discovered that you have only two options, suit or flannel and destroyed denims none of which was suitable for high class club in Manhattan. You forced him to where simple white shirt with sleeves rolled up to an elbow and dark blue denims the only one which didn’t have any history of hunting on them and not because they were the only one clean, it was because he hated them and never wore them. He claimed that he looked like a hipster douchebag and never listened to your counterarguments.

“Where are you Dean” you thought to yourself looking at your watch. It’s been over 20 minutes and you were starting to feel like ditchable prom date. You took a deep breath scouting your surroundings. You knew this area very well, you recognized the streets, the corners, the alleys… there was history looping in every one of them. Couple blocks away there was a small jazz club which you used to visit very often, and a bit further the hotel in which you stayed way too many times. You knew it was there without need to see it. Beautiful Neo-Renaissance building glooming on the corner of the street, inconspicuous on the outside, with a velvety black canopy above the entrance and two doorman standing on both sides of the stairs. Suddenly the strange feeling from earlier came back and hit you with twice of a force. “Fuck it, I need a drink…or ten” you thought to yourself and entered the club alone.

Place was crowded with people in their 20’s and 30’s searching for a glimpse of happiness. It wa lighted with warm yellows, browns and golden lights spreading more exotic and cozy vibe, something you definitely did not expected. You were expecting more cold blues and whites and silvers and more modern vibe. It was a pleasant surprise none the less. You smoothly maneuvered through the dance floor to the bar. You leaned over the bar waiting for a bartender to come to you.

“Whisky on the rocks” he said with a wink and placed a glass in front of you “Something good am I right? Glenmorangie 18yo” he poured you double with single ice cube.

“Well…impressive” you stated taking a sip of your favorite whisky.  

“Oh honey I’m good but that that good” he smiled “it’s from guy over there” he pointed with his eyes to the booth in the corner behind you.

You smiled and turned back thinking that Dean finally manage to find a parking spot but there was no one there. Only an empty whisky glass on the table and empty sit.

Hundred thoughts went through your head all at once and felling of unease rose up deep inside. Your heart started pumping much faster than usual. You knew you lied to yourself. You never said a word to Dean about 18yo scotch that you’ve been currently drinking…how he would know. You took a glass and walked straight to a booth. You didn’t know what for honestly. You wanted to check for a clues, you wanted to find out if your felling was correct. Or perhaps you wanted to prove yourself wrong. Memories flashed through your mind…

Mustang, jazz, Sauvage, Glenmorangie…his love voice, his gentle touch, his small smile, his “This won’t end up well”…

You were making your way through the crowd, eyes focused on the glass, trying to suppress all the memories coming back to you. You forgot about case, about witness, about shootout about everything else. You were almost there, you could see clearly that ice did not melted yet, you could smell…

….

Code

…..

You froze in your place for a moment absorbing sudden shift in the atmosphere around you. You knew that this time you did not imagined it. Everything else disappeared, loud music seemed to be distant, dancing people seemed to dance in slow motion, reality shifted and slowed down.

You slowly turned around and you saw him walking directly towards you with his big brown eyes focused like a laser. Light was twinkling on his face almost masking curiosity mixed with anger, surprise and a bit of happiness… perhaps?

“Y/N” he said without braking an eye contact. He stood few steps away from you his hand dangerously close to his side, where he most likely held his gun.

….

“Ethan” you replied with trained, polite voice.

…..

“You working again?” he asked still completely focused on you. His face tense in the anticipation.

And with that question you knew, you were sure that there was no case, no ghost, no hunting and there was definitely a shootout. You knew that he was here, he order you a drink and he is involved in all of this. Past catch up with you, there is no other way than forward. You knew that to that question there was only one correct answer.

…..

“Yeah, I am”  

***

Chapter 2

[get-rammed]

Beasttale

I'M TALKING ABOUT THE ORIGINAL BEASTTALE THAT I CREATED A FEW YEARS AGO, AND STOPPED DOING A YEAR AGO. This is aimed at the Beasttale tag, as I know a few have cropped up since I iced mine. So I don't want anyone to think I'm attacking them or the AU they like

A lot of my stuff has been removed from the Beasttale tag making it harder to find me and the things I made. It's annoying. Or been buried. So if this does go into the tag and anyone checking it out sees this, hi. I'm Ram and once upon a time I created a Beasttale and it used to terrorize the tag. It was the most popular version of Beasttale at the time and since has been laid to rest allowing different beasts to grow.

Anyone who grows curious about my AU. It isn't like the current popular one. Mine is unkind and violent. It has its soft moments with my boys. But for the most part it's not for the faint of heart. Don't go in looking for a gentle but scary Sans. You'll come out scarred 😂 Bomber was gentle at times, but he would 100% eat your guts.

I know the 4 of you left from my reign of terror are asking me, "Ram, why the f*ck are you doing this now??" Because I'm bored as f*ck and it's always bothered me that the story I wanted to tell, never came about.

So I'm going to basically explain what the story I had planned was. This will be confusing as I'm going to go over ideas I teased and or introduced, but either didn't explain well enough, or did nothing. Also some ideas I never talked about. I'll do some fun facts at the bottom about Boys that I designed, but never implemented, and some other odd ideas I had.

Tldr; Bomberboy (Sans), was an experiment of Gasters. He had a human soul shard (Perseverance) along with 4 other monsters in his soul and brain, which is why he's a mess. BB shoved Gaster into the CORE, which corrupted the dimension. It made everyone big and a little meaner. But not too far as at the time I was too scared to go too far on anyone but Sans and Alphys. After that it's just basic Undertale plot. I'd do it all differently now. Tone down the violence and edge a bit…but increase the beast design a bit. But not too much. I'll explain later. 

I’m just going to warn everyone now that is about as professional as literally anything else I have ever written. Sorry. It goes from explaining sh*t to like, almost storytelling and whoops. I'm not very good at this. Imagine a lot of hand motions as you read. This is years of story that I've been sitting on. Just. Work with me here. A lot of these ideas are very very old. The original name for Beasttale was Testtale. Name got changed because me and a friend couldn't stop laughing because testicle. We're adults I promise. 

This whole thing takes place over nine years in universe. So I condensed the sh*t out of my ideas and it's all very rushed and bad. Forgive me. This isn't supposed to be written like a story. It's supposed to be written like I'm explaining things at him point 😂

Alright, alright, alright. So to start off. After reading the entries you can find in the hidden lab, and the idea that Gaster wrote them, I came to the conclusion that he was a massive asshole. As you do. Which is why Bomber hates him, and why I personally made him a massive prick. I like the idea of Dadster, but like, I had edgy designs, I had to have a reason for them. I had to have a reason for the scars Bomber had.

After an unknown helicopter pilot crashed ((this character does not exist in the universe of Undertale. She was made for this AU)), and subsequently went into a cave for safety, only to fall into the Underground, she was killed by Asgore. She fought as hard as she could, but she could do nothing against the powerful monster. Her soul was safely harvested and stored.

Asgore made the lie about needing 7 souls, which Gaster said he would corroborate if he was allowed access to one of the souls as they had 6 at the time. ((Another perseverance SOUL bearer falls shortly after. Which is how there are 6 SOULs by the time Frisk rolls around)) Asgore had two choices. He could deny access, in which case, Gaster tells everyone that any boss monster could easily open the way. Or allow him access. Of course Gaster reminded him that if the soul goes missing, then Monsters are trapped longer, which is what Asgore wants. Soul goes “missing”, Asgore claims it’s due to a small leak in the container, Gaster gets his soul and his plan goes into action.

A lot of Monster children just wander freely around the Underground because it’s safe! Monsters wouldn’t hurt other Monsters. Right? Well. Gaster is his own kind of breed. He’s very jaded from the war. Mentally broken. Saw a lot of good Monsters slaughtered. Has no empathy left for anyone. He casually snatches two kids that wander too close to his lab. A little skeleton, Sans, and a small lizard with no arms, Alphys. Something of note. I liked the idea of Alphys being Monster Kids older sister. So she lacks arms for this first bit. This was literally never mentioned at any point and if I do DeltaBeast stuff, Alphys will lack arms. It was a mistake on my part to give them to her in the singular piece of art that exists at this time.

Alphys is locked away as Gaster focuses on the mouthy little skeleton. Experiments on the kid. See how much he can handle before he needs a break. Then push him further the next time. Gaster is trying to make a monster that can break the barrier, and destroy humans. Sans, or J-5, as he was called in those years trapped with gaster, was hopefully going to be that monster.

Basic details for this as the actual details of the experiments were never really thought out. But I guess they could include. Breaking his bones and seeing how long magic took to heal them. Forcing him to fight rabid animals and see what he would do (mind you Sans would have been 10 when Gaster traps him). He fights them to protect himself. Physical attacks hurt. He's got a lot of tiny scars from them. Force him to fight for his life against half melted monsters. These he doesn't fight. Mentally and physically beat it into the kid that he fights or Gaster will hurt Alphys ((Which during this time she was just subject to SOUL testing as Sans always offered himself for the harder stuff)). All to get him to a fallen state so he can alter his SOUL. Things get worse later.

Sans isn't considered a boss monster here, and Gaster knows this. Giving Sans a full human soul would just kill him. Can't have that. Gaster has put too much time and effort into this experiment at this point. It's been a good three year of nonstop tests and beatdowns for Sans. He's ready. Gaster pulls out Sans soul and tears part of it away, slowly, carefully. Then wedges the human soul in its place. The piece doesn't fit right, but Sans also isn't dead yet. But blah blah blah, he's not strong enough to hold it and he starts melting down. Perfect. Time for phase 2.

Experiments J-1-4 were all failures. Note. It varies on AU on how many extra monsters were added to the boys. The monsters inside is what defines their heat form. Anyone remember that post with their forms that had some floating heads around them? Yeah. Extra note. The four monsters in Sans do not have names. They have designs, but any personality or names do not exist. Nor will ever exist. None could hold a shard of the human soul. But. Five monsters together trying to hold a soul? It might just work. Which it does obviously. He's kept all the failures in a state of falling down but not dead. Similar to the abominations in the lab currently. Alphys followed Gaster on accident. Just in a nicer way.

Sans is unconscious the whole time and remains as such for a few days. Gaster now waits as the tiny skeleton is reformed. It's boring. He's going to start up experiments on him when Alphys basically tells him to f*ck off and leave Sans alone. Which is when he turns his attention to her. 

Now he wants a fair fight for Sans when's out and about. Sans needs a watcher or guardian ot some form to regulate his ideas. So now it's Alphys' turn for the f*ckery. Beat the snot out of her. Pitch her against other monsters. See how well she fights. Similar to Sans, she refuses to fight. When she can't take anymore Gaster stops the fight. Casually pops her soul out and just as casually slices it up and wedges the little piece of Sans in. Forcibly bonding the two in a way no one else understands. It's not like a mated bond kinda thing. It's a connection akin to siblings on the same wavelength.

This finally wakes Sans up. The whole time he was stuck in a dream with the new voices in his head. They're all super unhappy and they all want to use Sans to get back at Gaster. The sudden added weight of Alphys' fear and anxiety gets him on his feet. Alphys can feel the terror and confusion from Sans. She can't feel the others, just him. Gaster f*cks about with her soul and essentially her DNA. She's got arms now. They're painful and new. She hates them. Gaster did what he set out to do that day and tosses Alphys back in with Sans. Mostly to see what happens.

Sans is on his feet, but he's lost and with so many trying to fight for control right now, he's basically stuck where he stands. He wants to move to comfort Alphys, his friend is crying and needs comfort. The way she comforted him every day. Every voice in his head is screaming to attack. But he doesn't. He's stronger than them. It's his body dang it. Comfort that crying lizard. It's like a mutual thing. She feels better, so now he does. Gasters happy. Alphys can still be used as a safety shield then. He lets them rest. The coming years have a lot in store.

Honestly he lets them rest for a few days. But when he thinks they've had enough, barges in. At this point Sans is halfway to his Meltdown form. A form that has never been posted or ever mentioned. So don't go looking. I might post art of old concepts if enough people are curious. Teeth growing out of his head, fur and slime showing up all over his body. He's beautiful to Gaster. It worked perfectly. Keep in mind a lot of ideas for SOULs I made on my own. SOULs would kind of be like their whole genetic code, but you can easily alter it if you know how. Which is what he was testing on Alphys for. 

Alphys sprouted feathers where her spikes used to be down the back of her head. Sans is now considered a Boss monster and Alphys a significantly stronger monster.

Sans has the strength to pull out of Gasters grip. Which gets him chained up. Which is how he got the scars on his wrists and ankles. Sans can't really do much besides pull away or mutter. Too much noise in his head. He can barely walk and is basically dragged. Alphys is trying her best to break out of Gasters grip because she has no idea what the plan is. But she knows it's not going to be good. Both her and Sans are different now. She's terrified. Sans just kinda stops and this causes Gaster to basically trip and nearly fall. Loses his grip for less than a second and Alphys tries to take off. Gets her new much longer tall grabbed. Scars from that.

Yay finally testing room. Seat them both in separate halves of the room. They can see one another, but can't hear the other or get to them. Answer some basic questions. How are you feeling and sh*t like that. Alphys is currently mortified and can't speak. Sans just can't speak. He can't even focus on anything. The person asking the questions is told to be ruder, ask more invasive questions. Things to rile up either of them. Nothing. "What would your parents think of you now?" Alphys starts crying. Gaster is testing for something specific right now. 

"Do you think they would recognize you?" Crying harder. "What do you think your little brother would say?" Now she's mad. Looks through the mirrored glass and tells Gaster to leave him out of this. Ranting. Years of pent up anger and frustration. Guards are coming in as she threatens the scientists and guards with her chair. Sans starts purring and chattering on his side. The panic is evident on what remains of his face. Alphys calms down out of her rant as Sans continues to calm himself. Gaster is mentally fist bumping himself. Perfect SOUL bond.

"They're both calm. Go back in and do what you have to, to get number five to break containment." Guards go back in and well. Sorry Alphys. Few more scars and another beat down. 

Sans is pretty quick to get up. Easily nudging his scientist down out of his way. He realizes he can't break the glass or break the wall with physical attacks. But magic. He got that good burn in his gut and zoop. He's got the ability to teleport now. Not what he was aiming for but it works. Gaster is so excited he might just do a little dance.

Easily knock the guards out of the way and hiss at them. Then comfort friend. Gather her into his arms and scooch into a corner where no one can touch her. Gaster is pleased with the results found, but he wants to do some physical testing with J-5. Instead of like, asking him to come along, Gaster goes the harder route. Uses a hook he's used before to move experiments. Hook it on their mouth and  pull them along. Well. J-5 is a little...soft inside right now. The hook slides through the roof of his mouth and just knocks right through his right lateral incisor. Which is how Bomber lost that tooth :) also why he's not keen on it being touched. It still hurts him a lot.

To the absolute horror of everyone in the room, including Gaster. J-5 starts bleeding. Blood just pouring from his mouth. Everyone is a gangster until a magic monster starts bleeding red blood. No one wants to touch him or the blood. Gaster basically grabs the broken tooth and acts like he didn't just internally scream. "Recontain them. Quarantine J-five. Decontaminate J-six and quarantine it as well."

Gaster does some testing and yeah, the blood is human and Sans' bone is partially human. So now he can survive at least some physical attacks from a human. Which funny enough. One just fell the other day. ((This Human has no name, and isn't important outside of the thing coming up))  The Guards are having issues locating the Human as they seemingly "vanished". Gaster literally just stood outside of Toriel's door and waited till it closed to grab them before the guards got there.

Sans is just tied to a bed. Chilling. Left alone with the new guys in his head. They want to dust everyone. They just keep chanting at him to kill. Kid is thirteen. He doesn't know what to do here. Maybe he should do as they're saying. Human in his head is like "dude. f*ck those guys. If you wanted to kill everyone you'd have done it. Just hang tight. We're all in this together now whether we wanted to be or not. We'll get out of this." Thanks dead human lady :D

Others don't listen. They're J-1,2,3,4. They've all lost it. They over power Sans internally and now he enters Meltdown mode. Full Meltdown. So he's an abomination of parts and teeth. He's f*cking strong. I mean, come on. Scientists had him held down with some cheap rope. Should be happy it held him down as long as it did.

Meltdown can't walk to save their lives. So they crawl. Large sticky arms that drag the dead weight of the legs and tail. Someone is trying to figure out how to leg while everyone else focuses on crawling to the door. Legs are moving. They use the door as leverage to help them up to their feet. Wobbly but they can move and attack efficiently.

First scientist spotted is blindsided. Meltdown crashes through them and immediately dusts them upon contact. Some others see this and the laboratory enters shut down. Gaster is alerted. Meltdown has killed a few more and is shambling around trying to find more to kill. There are thick plates going up their back. The ones near the tail are glowing purple. It's slowly traveling up their back through the spikes. I'm sorry but the effect looked really good in the most recent Godzilla movie.

Gaster finds and corners them when the glow is at the base of their neck. He immediately recognizes this is going to be bad and ducks out of the hall. Glow is all the way up and a purple laser beam shoots down the hall where Gaster had been standing. It hits a few people further down the hall and kills them. Melts through the metal at the end of the hall. This attack tires Meltdown out and brings Sans back to pilot his own body.

After that incident Sans is muzzled, chained, and monitored at all times. He's kept sedated until Gaster needs him. Like literally the day after the incident he throws Sans into a cage with the Human they had nabbed. Gaster tells the Human if they want to live, they have to fight the abomination in front of them. Sans tries to convey that he doesn't want to fight, but you know how people can be. Hits Sans pretty good in the head with a metal bar. The attack incites Meltdown. Which leads to a big laser beam, a very dead Human, and very shattered SOUL. 

Three years later, Sans is 16, and is basically stuck in the back seat of his own body. The other four have had the controls basically since the Human test subject. Gaster just wakes Meltdown up to test the laser, and take some notes. Then knocks them out again. Notes have been used to make the Gaster Blasters. They're not ready to be used. Get to that in a minute.

While Meltdown is unconscious, Gaster has been teaching Alphys her duties. She's basically there to make sure Meltdown doesn't have another, well, meltdown. There to offer energy and help if needed. There to keep the beast under control. She can be replaced is what he always told her. Reality is, she couldn't have been, because any more chunks of SOUL taken from Sans would have killed him. 

With Alphys finally brainwashed, she had no moral support the last three years, he moves onto Meltdown. Alphys is the only person Meltdown will listen to and the only one they will not attack on site. She can easily get them in and out of testing chambers. Get them to cooperate and not hurt anyone. To Gaster they're almost ready. He just needs to finish up his weapons. 

Next three years, both are 19, and are a lot calmer. With the both of them listening and cooperating at all times, Gaster is able to focus on his Gaster Blasters. He's got an ego. It took the past three years to build the shells and make sure the laser function worked. Once he was ready he did a test. Added what remained of J-2's SOUL to the machine. It worked, J-2 was within the Balster, and was awaiting commands. Perfect. But they didn't listen to Gaster. Instead stared at him until he gave up. Muzzled the massive skull and went to find Alphys.

The skull acknowledged her, but wouldn't respond to her commands. J-2 doesn't acknowledge or respond to Meltdown. It's highly annoying to Gaster as part of who is controlling Meltdown is literally in the Blaster. J-2 won't acknowledge anyone in the laboratory. Even tried a few civilians under the guise of it being to open the barrier. Nothing. King? Nope. His guards? Nada.  Gives up for now. He has to do something else. These Blasters were supposed to be his weapons of mass destruction, but they listen to no one. 

Except for when one little badger skeleton walks in. He heard about the big skull and he wanted to see what the fuss was about. Says his name is Papyrus, who is 17. J-2 responds to the name and acknowledges Papyrus. Doesn't listen to him, but it's something.

Gaster is very friendly with Papyrus. Trying a different tactic. J-2 follows Papyrus around, sniffing him, but still won't listen to him. Gaster decides to ask around. Having two little animal skeletons can't be just a coincidence. Asks around, and no one knows where they came from, and a lot of people have just been taking care of Papyrus when Sans went missing. Papyrus is treated like a guest not an experiment. Even helps Gaster produce three more Gaster Blasters.

Gaster takes a few more months to figure out that maybe he needs Sans, not Meltdown. Tries a kind tactic to help Sans become himself again. Both physically and mentally. Doesn't work real well. Sans has been just existing for the last 3 years. He's not strong enough to fight the other 4. Gaster figures maybe they want some revenge. Some dust. Gathers up some poor monsters and throws masks on them that match his own. Let's Meltdown loose. *jazz hands* lots of innocent monsters die in a pretty bad way. But Meltdown calms downs a lot after.

A lot of the extra monster bits melt back down and Sans looks like a human skeleton now. He's kept the sharp teeth, little tail and claws. Sans doesn't remember how to walk or talk anymore. It takes a few weeks to get him to walk again, and a lot more to talk normally. Alphys is very happy to see him and helps out where she can. She can feel that Sans is just playing along with what Gaster wants, waiting for his moment. She says nothing to Gaster. 

Sans is very very unhappy when he finds out about Papyrus being there now too. Gaster of course has been very kind to Papyrus. Which helps keep Sans calmer. But now he really wants out. Gaster tries out the Blasters with Sans.

The Blasters listened to him. They did everything he asked. Gaster isn't an idiot, he's in a different part of the lab, and Sans is down in the CORE. It takes a few weeks, but Sans can control the Blasters almost perfectly. Power cuts out because another Human has fallen. Gaster of course books it down into the CORE. Bad move.

Sans is ready for him and ambushes him. Shoves Gaster to the edge of the magma, but he manages to save himself from falling. All the skulls are pointed at Gaster. Gaster taunts Sans and tells him he never had it in him to kill someone. It was never him who hurt anyone. He's too weak to finish this now. Well. Sans has had a lot of time, he has no issue shoving Gaster into the CORE. Gaster's claws just hit Sans' right cheek as he falls. Earning him his other facial scars. Very sensitive ones that hurt on cold days. 

Gaster fell right as the human did. It f*cked with the code of the world. Gaster couldn't actually die. He's stuck in a forever melting loop. His hostility and actual monstrous form infected the code of the world. Everyone gets much bigger, much more edgy, and a whole lot more aggressive. Gaster is forgotten and the history of the world has changed. Since Sans was the one there the whole time, he forgot nothing.

Sans wakes up in Snowdin. Wearing a sweater he's never seen and pants he didn't like. He tries to find Alphys. He's terrified. She can tell and makes her way to Snowdin. He asks what's going on and she's very confused. Walks him back to the lab. It looks nothing like it just did for him. It looked so small from the outside. Inside was so tiny. There was nothing there but some robot parts.

He has a breakdown and Alphys hugs him close. When he's feeling better he explains what's going on. She stares at him for a few minutes just blankly. Her eyes saying she's reliving everything, but eventually she smiles at him and says she doesn't know what he's talking about. She can't explain her scars. What are you talking about, she's always had her arms. She offers for him to stay the night and have dinner with her. To see if he feels better in the morning.

Mettaton comes by. He's a super early model and has a few issues. Mettaton is offended Sans is there, but ignores him to whine to Alphys. Sans mumbles out what Alphys can fix to make the weight lessened. Everyone is surprised. Sans most of all. He's literally never worked in robotics. Mettaton laughs because everyone knows Sans is a lazy f*cker. No way he does robotics. Alphys shoos Mettaton away.

For the first time since he first ended up in the lab. He cried. Cried for all the years he was stuck inside his head as a passenger. Cried for everything that happened. Cried because he doesn't know where he is. Almost doesn't even know who he is. Alphys held him tightly the whole time. She doesn't know what's going on. He's never had a fit like this before. Small ones, but never this bad. 

He ends up crying himself to sleep and Alphys makes him some food for when he wakes up. Checks his numbers while he sleeps. Yeah, what he said could actually lessen the weight a lot. Crazy dude. 

To Alphys this is strange. Sans was his normal hostile and idiot self yesterday. Today he's intelligent and an emotional mess. She can't explain it, and just leaves it how it is. Reality is that Gaster is chilling behind her muttering things she can't hear out loud so she thinks a certain way. 

He stays a few days until Papyrus comes and finds him. Sans doesn't feel much for Papyrus as for Sans, it's been years since he saw Papyrus. It's only been a few days for the tall now human looking skeleton. 

Sans starts to realize over a few weeks that some days and moments seem to repeat. But he's still fine the whole time. Papyrus doing the same exact thing every morning. The people of Snowdin doing the same thing. He doesn't think anything of it until a big f*cking plant attacks Snowdin, killing everyone but him. He manages to keep the roots away with a stick when a little sh*tty flower pops out.

"Who in the sandy f*ck are you?" Flowey isn't super happy because everything is supposed to always be the same. There is no way in heck this guy has ever once been outside of his house during this attack. Flowey knows something is wrong. This guy isn't normal. Even when the world is paused, this skeleton is moving away from him. Time to f*ck with him.

Sans ends up dying a lot to Flowey over the next few months, which is just the same week on loop. Until Sans figures out, well sh*t. This guy has time powers or something. He's also had enough. He can't watch his friends die anymore. He has to teach this little brat that he's not the only one who can do neat tricks. Flowey pops up to greet him only to get laser blasted and the world resets back to the start of the week. Sans starts keeping a journal after that. Things he notices, things that don't change, things that do. Also starts seeing just how powerful he is. He's got plenty of time as Flowey keeps away from him now and is messing about with someone else now. 

Sans figures out he can teleport on accident. He trips and accidentally teleports to the waterfall area. He thinks it's activated by severe panic. Until he starts experimenting a bit and realizes he can activate it whenever. First time was when he encounters the void. The dark space between areas. The stink of wet earth and whatever else I said the void smelled like. That's the first time he sees Gaster again. But the guy is now a pile of goop with a mask melted to it.

Gaster has nothing worry to say. So he just watches. Then in his left eye hole is a bunch of tiny eyes that open to stare. Which scared the ever loving sh*t out of Sans. More Gasters appear in the void over time and he starts seeing different versions of himself. He tried talking to one once, but the Gasters started shrieking. He doesn't stay too long in the void space after that.

Sans finds out about his gravity powers on accident as well. Papyrus falls and Sans tries to catch him, but misses. His power activates obviously. Papyrus is confused but also super excited because yoU CAN DO THAT TOO?! Papyrus teaches Sans how to properly use the ability. Sans finds out through this that Papyrus has anomalous abilities as well. Papyrus is able to defy gravity entirely and walk on air. But the biggest punch to the gut is that Papyrus can summon and use the Gaster Blasters. He doesn't like to because they're so devastating, but he will if he absolutely has to. Papyrus has no soul damage at all, so he just befriended the Blasters so they come to his aide.

Sans is unable to defy gravity as Papyrus does, but he can float just a bit. It tires him out pretty quickly. He finds that a lot of things do. Sleeps a lot of days. Finds out the hard way that he only has 1 HP left after everything that's happened to him.

Sans has been living for five years in this crazy loop thing. But it's only been 2 years in reality. He's 20 now. Going to be 21 soon. But he's tired. Broken down to the skeleton we know. He's got no fight left in him. Flowey is bored of him and bored of everything, so he finally let's time move normally.

It's September 15th and a human has just fallen. Word spreads pretty quickly. Sans is curious. He wants to meet this one. Mostly because he's never seen Flowey panic before. He wants to go inside the old ruins, but he's never met Toriel and from his understanding it's her home. It would be weird.

So he just hangs out in some trees outside the door, waiting. He finds out that his sense of smell is crazy strong pretty early on, but he didn't know he could smell humans so strongly. He recognized another scent on the human before they even made it to the door. Dust. This human had killed monsters on their way here. Now he's worried. 

This human seems off somehow. Like they're not in control of themselves. He accidentally falls out of the tree making a fair bit of noise. Now he feels like he has to introduce himself because they're 100% staring at him rn. 

He's super friendly and tries to be nice. But this kid is weird. Stares through him and doesn't take his offer at a hand shake. He sees them pull out a knife and easily dodges the attack. In a panic he attacks back. Which yeah. That early on a Blaster shot would kill Frisk. 

He's reset to his home. It's the same moment from when the Human fell. Which it doesn't take much for him to figure out the kid has the time powers now. 

And after a few attempted Genocide runs, a few attempted Passive runs, Frisk finally does the good ending correctly. Sans is pretty friendly through the whole thing as he doesn't fully grasp that Frisk can reset to the starting point whenever they want. Flowey only did week or month loops. Frisk does years. He can't remember exact things like he could in Flowey's days. He can only remember ideas and some people. He writes a lot of things down after that. Important information. Dangerous people and things like that. 

He's happy and everything's fine until he wakes up standing on his porch in Snowdin one day. Frisk is doing a Genocide run and that's when Sans learns that there's nothing he can do. So he gets into a routine. Figures out how each possible ending goes. Sticks to a script. Gets a lot more aggressive and starts to lack empathy with each passing run.

Until he meets you on an off chance in a good run. It's random locations. Never the same. But something about you always draws him. Like you're something that can make him happy again. He's not excited about it though. It won't last. Frisk will just take it from him one day. Yet he still runs into you every good run somehow. He does get excited for good runs after a time just because he wants to see you.

And that's essentially the story I wanted to tell. The messy slapped down quick version anyhow. It's confusing sorry, but ahhhhhhhhh. 

FUN FACTS (Aka I ramble about sh*t that is not actually fun)

Unorganized because that's my life.

The monsters that become J-1, J-2, J-3, and J-4 I'm aware I said this up top just hush do not have names or personalities. They have designs made up, but they weren't ever properly introduced literally at any point. GG me. Honestly at this point they're just aggressive blobs anyhow so….

Hi

So all the Beasttale's I saw in the tag have the Gaster Blaster heads. An now I know none of you care, but I'm telling you anyways on why I personally didn't do it. Keep in mind my Beasttale was created a few months after Undertale came out. At the time, there were no Gaster Blaster head AUs or if there were, they weren't popular yet or I didn't know about them. Bomberboy was originally a bara Sans. Which is why he was never beasty looking outside of the claws, teeth, and tail. Plus this bit*h couldn't draw animal heads at the time. For me now it seems like a cop out. Slap an animal head on and bam. It's a beast. That's no fun. For me it seems lazy but I understand why with beast in the name. I personally like the idea of beast being a more metaphorical thing.

Bombers design came about in an art trade. I didn't like the idea of just scaling Sans up to make a bara version, so I made my own. Used the design until I figured out his name and an arbitrary AU name to slap on him. At the time Beasttale was nothing more than a place to stick my own bara Sans. People started asking about him and the others, and so it expanded from there :’)

Bomberboy got his name from an unused AU idea I had about planes. Don't talk about it. He got his name from a bomber jacket...anyways I dropped the AU in favor of drawing large monsters. Bara Sans was popular at the time which is how I started.

I have literally no memory of why he was ever drawn with scars. I think to make him more intense maybe? Idk??? Either way they spawned the story I was aiming for but never got to.

The g*re/hard v*re aspect was never originally intended. I posted art saying something like ‘you have a 50/50 chance of dying when f*cking him’. I honestly don't remember why I added that comment, but either way everyone immediately hit me with that ‘OwO what's this?’ and it went downhill from there. 

I never meant for Bomber to be as violent as he got. Again it kinda went downhill really f*cking fast. It'd be something that if I made him right now, I'd have scaled back on. I just wanted him to be an a*shole and he shot past that marker 😂 I did however make sure he was never r*pey, or physically abusive. He was a horny boy, but never super forceful. He was however mentally manipulative as at the time I had a lot going on. He's gross and he was designed that way.

There was a Glitchboy, who would be a BeastBoy of Error. His design was finished, and I fully intended on introducing him, but by the time I was going to, I found I didn't really care for the original, which made it hard to love my version. I think I was just going to do it to show how the power works in my Beast AUs. Which is why I was never attached. First to last created is how it works. First being strongest, last being weakest. Cherryboy (Beastfell), Bomberboy (Beasttale), Hotboi (Beastlust), Canine (Beastswap) and Loverboy (Horrorbeast) ((Canine and Lover were made too close together for me or Sil to remember who came first, so they are tied for power)), and finally Towelboy (Dancebeast).

I liked Alphys, and the idea of her and Sans being friends. Which is why she is featured heavily in the ideas for the AU, and why I've drawn the two together so often

Bombers distaste for other AUs comes from me. Some AUs I take a liking to, but after seeing some content I don’t really agree with coming out of most AUs, I kinda dipped on them. Which is why he can tolerate Beast versions, but not their normal OG counterparts.

I had started a comic for the origins of Bomber and Alphys, but if you’ve been here a while, you know I’m f*cking lazy when it comes to my art >:'D

At some point there were like, ancient versions of the main crew. They were Gasters friends and upon their death he turned them into Alphys, Sans, Papyrus, and Undyne. The idea was scrapped and the designs were reused for Beastswapfell. 

Speaking of which. Beastswapfell was always intended to be an unstable weird AU. The regular fellswap or swapfell never appealed to me. Plus cross too many AUs and things get unfocused. 

Frisk always in any Beast AU has red eyes and Chara has brown. Why? The one time we see Chara up close, they have brown eyes. When Frisk opens their eyes in the bad version of the good end, they have red eyes. I know it's to show them being evil or whatever. But it's more fun to imagine them always having red eyes

It annoys me to no end that Sans got the cool beast thing going but no one else did. But, no one came to me for a beasty Alphys or Toriel did they. We're all here for the chunky skeleton. It's actually why I had to create a reason for Sans being how he is. He's the only one like himself. Which wasn't the original plan, but by the time the heat form rolled around, I had so many different designs for so many different characters that I wasn't about to do that to myself…

A lot of stuff was created while listening to Lauren Bousfield and Andrew Jackson Jihad (AJJ for the newer fans). So like. Yeah.

Sans and Papyrus would have been animal skeletons as kids. Sans a cat and Papyrus a badger. Magic just kinda, gave some skeletons life. This plotline was scrapped forever ago. I don't remember why. 

Bomber doesn't drink ketchup. He did it to f*ck with Frisk. Across multiple timelines because he's f*cking bored. 

I made it canon at one point that Bomber can snap and will kill everyone before Frisk does if certain requirements are met. His fight is unbeatable then. He's LOVE 20. Frisk is 0. Fight doesn't go well.

The boys heat forms all vary because drawing 6 giant pointy skeletons is f*cking boring. Go big or go home.

Canine when in heat would have sounded like  OG King Ghidorah. Love me some f*cking BIDIDIDIDI

When Sans or Papyrus die, the Gaster Blaster eye that correlates to them, will have an X in it. When looking directly at the Blasters, Gasters eye is in the center, Sans on the left, and Papyrus on the right. Gaster's eye has a pointy oval shape with a dot in the center at all times.

Monsters in this AU are incredibly lightweight. Sans would weigh all of 50 pounds. Monsters are made of magic, which has little weight. They have to eat physical things to gain some mass. Before the underground the monsters ate humans as a retaliation and because humans contained magic nutrition and physical nutrition. Older monsters still have cravings, but almost all current Monsters don't have any interest in humans for food. Sans is just ravenous and always hungry. He won't go out of his way to eat a human, but if the opportunity presents itself well...yeah.

Papyrus can and will use the Gaster Blasters if Frisk does at least three genocide runs in a row. He doesn't know why, but he just knows he has to stop them before they hit him. So he lasers their a*s the second they enter his fight. Beasttale has unfair moves in the fights 😂

The world can glitch and you are able to fall down at the same time as Frisk. Because of plot, you override Frisk and their abilities. Which forces them to tag along you and your choices. Bomber is always hurt seeing you coming out of the ruins with dust on your pants. You don't encounter him until you're at the castle if you hurt Monsters on your way. No dust means he basically glued himself to your side. Partly to keep an eye on you, partly to get close to you.

Bomber and Frisk have a rocky relationship. He knows they've done bad sh*t, but he can never remember what. This distrust can be overridden with a few good runs in a row. He forgets. Or acts like he does. He's got his journal. Says on one page that Frisk aggressively ran in circles until Monsters checked to see if they were okay. Only to be attacked by Frisk.

The picture in that you can find in the game doesn't have whatever the speculation was. I think people thought it was the good end picture that Sans has. For Beasttale it's the four monsters that now reside in Sans, posing with Gaster. They're happy. Don't know what they're about to go through. There's an old picture on my blog somewhere that looks like this, but the picture isn't canon anymore as it has Sans and Papyrus. It follows a different plot point that was scrapped shortly after the art was made.

Less of a fun fact and more of a flex. I never got any hate or flak for my choices with my AUs. Which I mean, is super surprising. Seriously. Not once was I sent a hateful message in my whole time of having this blog. I feel like that says something about my followers then and now. So thank you for suffering through my AU with me 💕 I'm sure after reading this whole thing you'll feel like you wasted your time and you're welcome. I'm glad I can still waste people's time 😂

You know who's cute? The girl I forced to beta read this 👀

[finnofamerica]

Maybe Like - Race Higgins x Reader

Summary: You hated Race Higgins, but a partner project might amend that.

Word Count: 2,432 (!!New High Score!!)

|| Masterlist ||》Fluff《

Race Higgins was not an idiot by any means, but he was very very stupid. A word that, in this context, means “lacking common sense”. He was an act first, think later kind of guy, but the most annoying thing about Race Higgins was that, despite sharing three classes, he was always inexplicably, invariably, unfailingly excited to see you.

You couldn't imagine why. You were just you, you walked to school every morning, ate lunch with your friends, and participated in your extracurricular activities just like everybody else. In most classes you sat to the side of the room, avoiding Race and his friends. They were loud and Race was far from shy; he wouldn't hesitate to interrupt the teacher to ask about something he didn't understand. As a student, you appreciated that kind of audacity. As someone who just wanted to get their work done, you loathed his interruptions. It only got worse when your teacher announced partner projects for the school science fair.

“Hi Y/n!” Race took the seat across from you as the other students moved to find their partners.

“Hello, Higgins,” You sighed, pulling out a notebook to take notes for your project. “What kind of project are you interested in doing?”

“Uh, I don't know,” He shrugged, “I like math?”

You sighed again, digging out your laptop.

“Okay that's not much to go on,” You said slowly as you typed your log in.

“What'cha doing?” The blonde boy wondered as he moved to sit next to you.

“A generic google search for science fair projects that satisfy both of our interests?” You scrolled through a random ‘Science fair’ project website. “Here look, ‘beats are a pattern of oscillating sound intensity…’ blah, blah, blah…. Wait! Cymatics, we can do our own version of the Chladni experiment!”

Race watched as you practically bounced in your seat, but none of those words made any sense to him.

“What's a chalandi?” His blue eyes scanned your face as you pulled your hair back, using a spare pencil to secure it in place.

“Chladni was an 18th century German physicist and Musician,” You read, “who demonstrated how vibrations could be used to create striking geometric patterns!And Geometric patterns are just math, which you like! And audio is my thing! I mean, I could build one of these in like a week with the right stuff!”

Race was infected by your excitement, the way you bounced in your seat, the light in your eyes and the smile on your face.

“What if we did a project on how sound effects different substances?” He asked scooting closer, “Like oobleck!”

“Non-Newtonian fluids, that's an excellent idea!” You jotted down on the notepad you had out.

--

Two weeks later your family had grown accustomed to Race's presence in your house. You brother found it odd, seeing as you complained about Race annoying you constantly, but even he began to get along with the blonde.

“I brought doughnuts!” Race beamed as he entered your garage.

“You are late!” You replied from your seat on the cold cement floor, not even turning to look at him. You were growing used to him being around, and you hated it. Sharing classes was one thing, you didn't have to talk to him. This was so completely frustrating, and you hated that it was impossible to hate him, even when he rambled about things that made zero sense to you.

“I brought coffee too,” He offered, holding out the cup holder to you. You gave him a smile.

“I guess I might just forgive you then.” You winked, ignoring the swelling of your heart when he beamed back at you. It didn't help that this asshole knew exactly how to get to your heart. Food.

“What's this junk?” Race gestured to the items surrounding you, the majority of which were old speakers.

“I'm building the things. I have a couple old monitors that the little concert hall was throwing out. I figured that if they didn't work, I could rewire them and see if I could fix them. I think one of them is blown, but I need to get the mesh of the top though before I can repair the cone.” You explained, taking a sip of the God sent coffee.

“I have no idea what you're talking about, but how can I help?” He knelt beside you.

“Well, for starters, you could hand me that tool kit over there, then could you run inside and ask my mother for a thread and needle?” You pulled your hair up. A habit Race noticed that you did whenever you were getting down to business.

Turns out, tearing apart and fixing speakers made for a fun Saturday afternoon. Though Race particularly enjoyed watching you work in a ratted old pair of overalls that you probably stole from your brother.

“This is loose, should I tighten it?” Race asked, looking up from the Chladni part of your project.

“No! I did that on purpose. The plate needs to vibrate, and if you tighten it too much then it won't have the room to move.” You tucked a bit of loose hair behind your ear, covering your mouth with a yawn. “We've been working for hours, we should take a break.”

“Well, almost dinner…” Race trailed off, you could practically see the gears turning in his head. “We could go to get something to eat?”

“You buying?” You asked, wiping some sweat off your forehead.

“I think I can manage.” He shrugged.

“Sure, I just need to wash my face.” You stood, wiping your dusty hands on your overalls.

Race maybe wasn't as bad as you thought, at least after you got to know him. He was smart, even if he didn't seem like it. If you can explain something to him, he can understand it. Which was a skill lost on you. Since you, for some reason, are incapable of retaining math of any level. He just likes to goof. A fact that made the blond all the more attractive to you as he pretended that his French fries were walrus tusks. He grew on you like moss on a tree and you hated it.

--

After months of working, it was finally time for the science fair. Of course, you and Race were bickering over something trivial because it was fun. You couldn't even remember what you were arguing about as you set up your table, but you knew one thing: in this instance, Race was correct.

“I hate you,” You muttered, “Fine! You're right, will ya stop now?”

“Haha! You should a known you couldn't win a fight against me, Sweetheart,” He cheered victoriously. Race had taken to calling you ‘Sweetheart’ not long after you had begun your project, you never liked it in the beginning, but now, a lack of ‘sweetheart’, meant something serious. You just made a face at him, echoing his words back at him mockingly. You still needed to get your stuff off the cart you borrowed.

“Whatever happened to romance?” Race snorted. He certainly enjoyed riling you up at any chance he could, though he wouldn't go so far as to seriously piss you off. He'd made that mistake before and you spent the afternoon ripping apart a radio and putting it back together again, until you calmed down.

“Higgins,” You sighed, pulling your hair up, “Can I borrow your muscles and get you to move this sand?”

“Why did we get all this sand if we are only using a cup full?” He whined.

“Because Kimber gets them by the bucket full and I'm too lazy to haul cups back and forth from his class room.” You shrugged, lifting your three modified speakers with ease - not at the same time, of course.

“Y'know that makes zero sense? Why would you haul around a sixty pound bucket of sand instead of three little solo cups of sand that only would amount to a pound and a half?” Race frowned at you. You just shrugged and continued wiring the speakers into a small sound board, from there you were able to connect your phone.

Race enjoyed watching you work. There was something particularly entertaining about you putting things together all the while muttering curses underneath your breath.

At the beginning of the semester he simply liked you because your face was familiar. Now, at the semesters end, he liked you for so many more reasons. You were funny and kind and you didn't shy away from him. You told him what you were thinking, when you were thinking it and you didnt care if he was loud and annoying. Or if you did, you never let on about it. He liked that you were opinionated and hard working. He liked that the presentation of your project went smoothly with you explaining concepts he hadn't quite understood. He liked your smile and your eyes and the infectious way your laugh filled the room. Race Higgins didn't hate you at all, and he hated it.

“So,” Race leaned over the table as you placed the rest of your stuff in the back of your car. “Now that the project is over wanna do something besides argue?”

“But arguing is just so much fun, Higgins, why would we want to do anything else?” You shook your head.

“Shut up, I'm trying to ask you on a date.” He gripped your hand.

“I uh-”

“There is a Cross Country meet this weekend, we could get food after?” He offered, nervously biting the inside of his cheek.

“Are you gonna pretend to be a walrus again?” You rose a brow.

“No?” Race frowned.

“Shame,” You shrugged, “I like Jeffrey.”

His frown melted into a smile as he laughed, a most wonderful sound.

“Cool. I, uh, I'll see you there.”

You were too focused on your racing heart to notice the victory dance he did as he walked away.

--

“So, did you have fun?” A very sweaty Race came to stand next to you.

“Well, I stood for two hours in the wind and cold, only to see you for five seconds. However, I must say that I'm impressed. I suppose it makes sense, they don't call you ‘Race’ Higgins for nothing. I don't understand sports, so forgive me, but this is fun? For you?” You rubbed your arms, hoping the friction would elicit a little bit of warmth from your skin.

“Did you not bring a jacket?” He furrowed his brows at you. It wasn't like he could help right now, he was in his jersey.

“No, I did. I'm just too lazy to put it on.” You shrugged, gesturing to the hoodie tied around your waist.

“You are the str- I'm gonna go shower in the locker room real quick, I'll be back soon.” He cringed at his greasy hair. “And put on the jacket!”

You rolled your eyes, but put the hoodie on anyways. As promised, it wasn't long before Race joined you in the parking lot in fresh clothes and freshly showered.

“Do you want to ride me - I mean, with me? Or just follow?” Race stuttered, his face going red with his mistake.

“I'll follow,” You laughed. “My car’s already here and I don't see the point in wasting gas by making you run back and forth.”

“Okay, uh, just stick close?”

“It would be easier if you just told me where we are going??” You pointed out. Race pouted as he weighed his options.

“Fine! It's the Mom & Pop we went to a while back! I thought it'd be a cute first date, since that was the first time we hung out outside of working on the project.” He ran his hand through his wet hair. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Wow, you put a lot of thought into this didn't you?” You said, ignoring the swelling in your chest. Race shrugged, but the redness of his cheeks and ears told you the truth. He wouldn't admit it until much, much later, but Race had been thinking about this for nearly a month and a half now.

“Well, lead the way!” You beamed, much to his relief.

--

The familiar Mom & Pop diner was a sight for sore eyes. It was just so nice and warm and welcoming. Race, apparently, knew all the employees by name and they all seemed genuinely happy to see him. It was nice. It was really nice. Race could, and would, talk to you about anything and you found yourself loving the sound of his voice as he talked about his friends, telling you about the time that Albert stayed over and slept walked down the stairs. Even Jeffrey the Walrus made a comeback.

You were practically wheezing with laughter as Race made faces at you, taking on the persona of Jeffrey.

“C'mon, Y/n, Jeffrey needs a friend.” Race wiggled his eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes with a laugh.

“No way.” You shook your head with a smile.

“You know you want to!”

“Not happening!”

“Please?” He puppy eyed you. You caved stealing a couple of fries from his plate situating them between your lips and teeth so they'd stay.

“Dork.” You muttered, making a face at him. The fries were salty, but the reward was sweet as he laughed. The good majority of your date was spent as walruses, making faces at each other, but you couldn't imagine a better way to spend your night.

As he walked you back to your car, you couldn't help but think about how things had changed over the past couple of months. You’d hated him, but Race Higgins was not stupid. He was smart and sweet and put real thought into spending time with people he cared about. He was far from shy, and faces issues head on even if he's scared, and he was light-hearted and fun. He was a whirlwind that knocked the breath out of you at every turn.

“Can I just say,” You hesitated when Race stopped by your car. He nodded, his eyes scanning your face. “I had a really good time, tonight.”

“Yeah?” His lips twitched into a smile.

“Yeah,” You leaned up to peck his cheek, “I wouldn't hate doing this again.”

Blush covered his cheeks, his smile only getting wider. He was at a loss for words as you giggled, bidding him goodnight.

You had thought you hated him. No, turns out you didn't hate Race Higgins at all, you maybe liked him, and you wouldn't want it any other way.

--

Tags: @kingofsantafe @anon-pancake @green-tea-anon @ticket-anon

[averagedoctor]

Hi can you continue "The worst thing" where the doctor still remembers reader and regrets leaving reader/yelling at them. But reader doesn't remember him and thinks he's crazy? sorry if it's extremely sad and if you don't write it that's fine! It's just a question since it says -hi "can" you continue, blah blah- so question not a demand~! bye

Yep, and don’t worry about your wording, you’re fine!! I’ve been thinking of adding to this one for a while so thank you for suggesting it!! (along with @terrainhead)

Part 1: https://platonicdoctorwho.tumblr.com/post/177152549589/the-worst-thing

11th doctor x reader

Pronouns: gender neutral

Word count: 1,755

TWs: none?

Tagging: @evyiione (if you’d like to be added to this list, shoot me a message! i also keep forgetting about this oops)

Reunion

The Doctor slumped against the wooden door, the back of his head hitting it hard as he leaned back. He could hear your sobs outside and he hated to do this, but he had to. It was the right thing to do. With effort, he pulled himself up off the ground and over to the console, switching her to leave. The last thing he heard from you was your broken cries as he tried not to let remorse enter his heart.

One week since leaving you has felt like an eternity. He wondered how you were doing and if you were okay. He struggled to justify kicking you out now that he was all alone. To distract himself, he went to places he never had before in an attempt to wipe you from his mind, just for a little bit. It worked, but then he had to return back to an empty TARDIS with no one by his side. Sighing, he would go into your room and sit for hours, just watching the space you used to sleep in.

Three months without your presence was slowly destroying him. No, not slowly, more like rapidly. He liked to lie to himself and say he was fine, but he was running out of quick fixes. He no longer found joy in fun trips and couldn’t appreciate the beauty in anything. He contemplated going to see the Ponds, but knew they would have questions for him. He couldn’t deal with questions right now. He found himself wandering the halls of the TARDIS, a pit aching in his chest of how much you loved to explore here. He swore he could hear your laughter echoing through the halls, but that was, of course, impossible.

A year. It had been a solid year at this point. At least, it had been a solid year for you. He had been keeping track, and even tacked up a calendar so he wouldn’t be wrong. On Earth, you would be a year older now. He often imagined if you looked any different. Maybe you cut your hair or changed the color, maybe  you wore different clothes, maybe even your personality had changed. He didn’t like dwelling on that thought and as soon as it would come he would try and push it far from his mind. At around the six month mark, he found himself overcome with energy and cleaned the entire TARDIS, well he cleaned the places he could find. However, he avoided your room. It contained all your things you had brought on board and pictures you managed to snap on an excursion. It pained him too much to go through it so he left it alone. Lately, he had thought about going to visit you, but hesitated. You probably never wanted to see him again. He ruined his friendship with you because of one lousy day. Yes, people died because of a mistake you made, but people died all the time. He felt like a monster when he tried to rationalize why he shouldn’t have kicked you out. He knew deep down it was the most right course of action, but the crushing loneliness wasn’t backing that up enough for him to believe it.

One year and six months. He started traveling a bit more with Amy and Rory. He appreciated the company but he could tell they were a little antsy. Sure, of course they loved traveling with the Doctor, but they could tell something was bothering him deep down. He had gotten much better at hiding it by now, but the darkness still seeped through at times. He started getting paranoid about their stares and whispers and dropped them off back at home. Amy tried to get him to talk but he whisked away and shut the door, leaving them in utter confusion and worry. He promised early to them that he would be back at some point, and he knew he would. He just had no clue when.

Time started moving by faster and faster with this depressive haze going on in him. Normally, he wouldn’t hold such a grudge over letting a companion go but the fact that you were still alive and that he had hurt you wouldn’t stop gnawing at his insides, a constant ache he couldn’t get rid of. Soon, it was two years, then three, then four, then five. Five seemed to be the magic number as he finally let his temptations fly free and directed the TARDIS to your house. His hearts were beating wildly in his chest and he felt giddy at the prospect of seeing you. He hoped that you would forgive him, but he could find himself accepting if you wouldn’t. It would be hard, as hard as dealing with you not traveling with him had been, but at least he would have to get over himself at that point.

He touched down outside your townhouse and tried to contain the smile on his face. Striding up to your door, he poised his knuckles over the wood and took a deep breath before knocking. Butterflies were crashing over him in waves as he waited in anticipation for you to open the door. Soon enough, he could see you coming down the stairs behind the opaque glass outlining your front door.

“Hi!” The Doctor said, clasping his hands. “I know that it’s been a really long time, and I’m so so sorry about that, but I came back. It took a while but–”

“I’m  sorry, who are you?” You cocked your head, leaning against your open door. The Doctor isn’t sure what he was expecting, perhaps a slap to the face, but hearing you utter those words did the same job.

“Hah, it’s… it’s me, Y/N. The Doctor.” He wrung his hands, his smile fading.

“How… how do you know my name? Who are you? Get- Get out!” You exclaimed, flustered with panic and went to slam your door shut on the strange man.

“No! Wait, Y/N, please. It’s me, come on, you know me. Please.” He pleaded with a hoarse voice, stretching his arm out to grab you wrist. You immediately recoiled from his touch.

“I- I don’t know who you are, why you’re hear, or who you think I am… but, but I’m not the person you’re looking for. I haven’t seen you in my life. I’m sorry.” You stammered out at the man’s hurt face, troubled that you couldn’t help him. However, he was pretty weird and knew your name, so you didn’t feel too bad about shutting him out.

“Please! Let me explain!” He shouted in vain as you closed the door. He beat against it with his fists as you sunk down to the ground. “Y/N, please! Please tell me you remember me! All of our adventures! Please, we had so much fun, we did so many things. I know I kicked you out and that it’s been five years but I was wrong for doing that! I was hurt and angry and then weren’t sure how you’d feel about me trying to come back into your life so long after. I know I hurt you that day and I’m so so sorry, just please, please tell me you know who I am.” He cried, tears dripping down his face as he spoke through the door, ear pressed against the paint. He heard movement behind the door and hope entered his heart again as he stood back up. You cracked the door open, biting your lip.

“I really wish I was who you were talking about, but I have no clue who you’re referring to. I haven’t seen you a day in my life and if you don’t leave my property I’m going to call the police.” Taking one last glance at the man, you closed the door and walked upstairs. The Doctor balked at your words, clutching his chest.

“No… no…. no…. nonononono….” He muttered under his breath, tears flowing steadily now. Fluttering a hand around his mouth, he looked at your door and then back to the TARDIS, conflicted. His emotions were running on high and he didn’t know what to do. For both of your well beings, he followed your wishes and returned to the TARDIS. Inside, he broke down like he had never broken down before. The pain he was feeling was unbearable and his whole soul ached. He wondered if this is what you felt like when you had been kicked out. Suddenly, he loathed himself and his actions and rage tore through his body. He smacked the railings and kicked the walls, like a child have a tantrum, before once again breaking down into sobs. His body felt empty in a way he had never felt before and it was like his breath was gone. Struggling to stand, he set coordinates for Amy and Rory’s, finally going to tell them what happened. It seemed optimal, since his break down was in full swing and he had no one else to turn to.

Amy and Rory immediately ran out of their house to see the Doctor hobbling out of his TARDIS, face red and streaked with tears. He explained everything that happened and allowed them to comfort him. He wouldn’t isolate himself this time and he would never make the same mistake as he did with you.

Meanwhile, in your house, you sat on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at your wall. You couldn’t believe he had really come back and that you had the courage to deny him. It hurt like mad to see him so devastated, but you were terrified of messing up again. You were one hundred percent lying when you said you didn’t remember him. In fact, you remembered every single detail from your adventures, and you would go back to them in a heartbeat. Part of you desperately wished you had said yes to him and accepted him back into your life with open arms, but you couldn’t take that pain again. No, remembering him from a distance would be better than even one second of closeness. You couldn’t handle pain like what he caused you ever again. At least, you didn’t think you could. You probably shouldn’t even think about wanting to go with him again. Yet, here you were, wishing for him even though he hurt you so bad. Numbly, you curled up on your bed and wept softly over everything you could have just gained but then lost simultaneously.

[lovemesomesurveys]

What is the last dream you remember? (describe) I don’t know, they’re always so random and weird. What is something that you fear will happen to you in the future? (Also Why) Let’s not go there please. Describe the best day that you can remember? Disneyland a couple years ago. Describe your worst day? There’s a lot of those, but losing my grandparents and my dog, Brandie, as well as the incident that happened to me that caused my paraplegia are most definitely at the top. When was the last time you had your heartbroken and how did you/are you dealing with it? 3 years ago.

Do you believe in love at first sight? No. What are some of your favorite songs right now? I don’t have a particular current favorite at the moment. I haven’t been listening to music much lately. Do you have a good relationship with your parents? Yes. Especially with my mom. When was the last time you cried and what made you cry? Blah. What would your best day look like? I didn’t feel like crap and was on vacation somewhere. Do you ever have reoccurring nightmares? Describe? I have reoccurring negative, horrible thoughts. Who is the last person to text you and what were they talking about? My mom. Do you have a hobby? What is it? Surveys, coloring, reading. Name a fictional place you would like to go? Hmm. What job would you be terrible at and what job would you be good at? I know I couldn’t handle retail. I don’t really feel like I’d be good at anything, though. Have you ever traveled outside of the country? Where? If not, where would you like to go if you could and why? Yeah, I went to Mexico once. I’d love to go to various places in Europe. Do you like animals? Have pets? What kind? Yesss. I have a German Shepherd/Lab mix. <3 Name a subject you would like to study if you had time? I just want to keep up with stuff in the psychology world. Like studies and stuff. What criminal (dead or alive) would you like to sit down and talk to and why? Uh, none. It’s interesting from a psychological standpoint, but I’d be too scared. What are some small things that make your day better? I always like my first cup of coffee each day. If you are struggling with something right now, what is it? Health stuff and just...life. If you watch television what shows are your favorite? I have a few. If you could have any power in the world, what would it be and why? Teleportation. I could go anywhere I wanted, whenever I wanted. It’d be great. Has a movie ever made you cry? Which one? I literally sobbed while watching A Fault in our Stars for some reason. I never full on cry over a movie, like I’ll feel sad and tear up, but never bawl like I did that time. It was wild. If you read books, what are you reading now? I started one like 3 months ago that I need to finish. I go through spurts with reading where I’ll read a lot of books back to back and then go awhile without reading. I need to start up again. Do you think that forgiveness is mandatory to move on from something? I think it has a hold on you otherwise. Forgiving doesn’t have to mean that what the person did was okay, but that you’re deciding not to let it weigh on you anymore. If you could be a dictator on an island, what kind of crazy “dictator” rules would you put in place? I don’t want to be a crazy dictator. Do you believe in the death penalty? I’m not completely sure where I stand on that. What is something you want to do but are scared of actually doing it? A lot of things. How old are you? 29. What job would you like to do if you could do anything? I don’t know. What are some weird habits or “quirks” do you have? A lot I feel like. Certain things when it comes to eating for one, but I think I’m just weird in general. Name three things you would buy if you had the money to buy them? Plane tickets and travel expenses for my family and I to go somewhere of our choosing. Are you in a relationship right now? If so, do you think it’s a healthy one? I’m single. (Follow up) If it’s unhealthy, what makes it that way? Would you ever date someone long distance? I don’t think so. Name a person that you can’t stand and tell us why? No one I know personally. What group do you hate the most on Tumblr and why? I don’t hate anyone. What would you like people to say about you at your funeral? I don’t want to think about that. What is the meanest thing you have ever done to someone, and why? Abandon my friends and be a shitty friend. They didn’t do anything to deserve that. Have you ever sent anon hate to someone? No. If you could write a book, what would it be about? I wouldn’t. What is something you would never do? Uhhh. If you could make one rule that everyone had to follow, what would it be? Don’t harm anyone. Are you addicted to anything and if you are what is it? Coffee and internet. And my pain medication, which is what you’d expect to happen when you’ve taken it as long as I have. My body has definitely become dependent on it. What bad habits would you like to break? So many... What is the scariest monster you could imagine? Ew I don’t even want to think about that. What would you do if you were going to die in three hours? I wouldn’t make use of that time in a good way, I’d be too upset, scared, and freaked out. I’d surround myself with my loved ones but I wouldn’t be thinking straight. If you had to change your name, what would you change it to? Nah. After almost 30 years now, I think I’ll keep this one. Describe your perfect partner Patient, understanding, kind, good sense of humor. What is a personality trait that you love about yourself? I like my sense of humor. Do you have an irrational fear? What is it? Yeah, a few Who is someone in your life that you can turn to when no one else understands? I don’t really feel like anyone understands. Do you believe in Aliens? I don’t know. If you could star in a movie, what kind of movie would it be? Nah. In your opinion what is something horrible everyone should try once? Uh why would I recommend trying something I thought was horrible? What is the hardest lesson that you have ever learned? I still have a lot to learn. What mistake do you keep making over and over again? Health related things and not doing certain things that I should be doing. What do you hate about this website? I don’t have any issues with it, personally. Do you judge people before you get to know them and why? I think we all do in some way. What would be your spirit animal and why? Sloth. If you could have a video of one event in your life, what would the video be? Stuff from my childhood. We have some home videos, but I’d like more. Especially from when I was a baby. What is the most illegal thing you have ever done? Weed. It’s legal now where I live, though. What drugs have you tried, and if none, would you try something? What? Weed, Vicodin, Oxycodone, Morphine, and Xanax. Do you have children? Or want them if you don’t? No. If you could date a movie star, would you and who? Alexander Skarsgard. People in the past were buried with things that were important to them, what would you be buried with? I’d be cremated, so. What is something you are against, but find yourself doing anyway? Uhhh. What was the last photo that you took? Of the fire in our fireplace because my dad found some thing at the store that you can put into the fire and it makes it change colors. It was cool. What makes you roll your eyes every time you hear it? Anything Trump related. If you could get away with murder would you do? Who would you murder and why? Absolutely not. I’m not a murderer. What mythical creature do you wish existed and why? Fairies. What did you think was cool when you were younger? Barbies. Do you think you are a good person? Why or why not? I try to be. I don’t feel like I’ve been a good person the past couple years, though. :/ If magic was real what spell would you learn first? I don’t want to mess with magic. What is the most interesting documentary have you watched? There’s been plenty. What was the last song you sung the lyrics to? I don’t remember. What are your favorite lyrics from a song? Too many of those. What language would you like to speak if you could? I’d like to be fluent in Spanish. Who do you wish you could back into contact with and why did you stop in the first place? Ty. Have you ever hit someone? Who and why? Only playfully. What do you think they should teach in school that they don’t Hmm.

[victimofthemusic]

Five Times Tony Stark Was a Good Dad (And One Time He Wasn’t) Pt.2

Wow...I have no words, you guys are amazing and I’m so thankful for the amount of love this story has received! I really hope you guys like this chapter, it’s kind of long, I definitely had fun writing it and I hope you guys enjoy it! Please let me know if you guys have an suggestions! 

P.S. I glanced over this, so it’s technically considered un-edited, so forgive any mistakes!

Read Part 1 here

~~~~~~~

Peter tapped his pen against his Chemistry notebook rhythmically, eyeing the clock on the wall with keen interest as the seconds ticked by too slowly for his liking. He was ready to get out of here and back into Mr. Stark’s—Tony’s lab and work on some upgrades for his web-shooters. He had a few ideas he thought up last night and he was excited to run them Mr.—Tony. 

That one was still taking a while to get used to. 

Ned was scribbling down notes next to him, something Peter should be doing too, but instead he was sketching out a new formula for his web-fluid and he wondered if Ned would mind being a bro and letting him copy his notes after class. 

“—and I know everyone is anxious to get out of here, but if you could spare a few minutes of your time, I want to discuss the end of semester project with you guys—”

Peter fought back a groan. 

While admittedly, Chemistry was one of Peter’s favorite subjects and he had no problem knocking out the homework for this class, however, a project was something that was time consuming and time was something Peter was in short supply of these days. Ever since becoming Spider-Man, Peter’s attention to school and his work and his grades had started to waver. Luckily, May just blamed it on teenage rebellion and his commitment to his “internship” with Stark Industries. A few weeks ago, when Tony had shown up to his school completely out of the blue and offered him one on one time with him (and a rather starstruck Ned) and his lab, he held true to his promise of having Peter over again and now, Peter was over at the tower three or four times a week, working on upgrades for his suit or helping Tony with his suit (Peter wouldn't admit it, but it still blew his mind that he got to actually touch the Iron Man suit, let alone help design new features for it) or Tony’s more recent project, developing new legs for a now paralyzed Rhodey. 

Tony was determined to make a set of robotic legs that would allow Rhodey to walk normally again and Peter was happy to help him. Besides Germany—and even then, after getting a plane dropped on him by Captain fucking America, Peter’s recollection of the events were hazy at best—he had yet to meet the iconic War Machine, but he could remember Tony’s agitation on the way back to his apartment, his fingers drumming on the leather seat, constantly checking his StarkPhone for news. Tony being Tony, he tried to hide it underneath jokes and sarcasm, but Peter could see the worry in his eyes, the tension in his jaw and he knew that Tony was afraid. Afraid of losing yet another person and he knew that his fear, his guilt at not being able to save Rhodey, pushed him to make him the best prosthetic legs that would best even human legs. 

And Peter knew, that if anyone could accomplish it, it would be Mr. Stark. 

Whoops, Tony.

The bell rang, bringing Peter out of his thoughts and he heard his chemistry teacher sigh, “Alright, I thought we had more time and I know you guys are ready to get out of here, so I’ve taken the liberty of typing up the project requirements, so please collect them on your way out and have a good weekend guys.”

Peter hastily shoved his notebook into his (new) backpack—he had a bad habit of misplacing his backpacks and was now on his fourth one—and walked up to the front of the classroom, where a small line had formed in front of Mr. Smith’s desk, students jockeying for a position at the front of the line in order to get an information packet and leave.

He ended up behind Flash, who glanced over his shoulder when he heard someone approach and visibly paled when he saw it was Peter, but tried covering it up with a dirty look before turning back around. 

Peter hadn't heard much from Flash since Tony’s verbal annihilation of him in front of the whole school a couple of weeks ago. He seemed to be heeding Tony’s warning and keeping any unnecessary snide comments to himself. 

Peter overheard part of Ms. Potts’ rather…colorful phone call to Tony, his heightened senses picking up her ire with him until they got ten blocks away and her angry voice and Tony’s pleading had faded into the honking horns, the clanging of the trains and the thousands of voices in the restless Queens neighborhood. 

He wasn't sure what became of that particular situation, anytime he’d ask, Tony would just distract him with a new idea for his suit or deflect his question with a sarcastic comment and finally, Peter just decided to give up. Whatever happened, though, seemed to work, because Flash hasn't even bothered to even look in Peter’s direction and seemed to be going out of his way to not even be within ten feet of Peter, which was more than fine with Peter. 

When it was Peter’s turn, he grabbed two packets, one for him and another one for the slowly approaching Ned, who was still writing down notes in his notebook. 

Peter raised an eyebrow, “Dude, why are you still taking notes? The lecture ended like, ten minutes ago.”

Ned looked up, startled from his hasty note taking and for the first time since class had started, made eye contact with Peter. 

“Didn’t you hear Mr. Smith? Our final’s on Tuesday and I was finishing the review notes.”

At Peter’s horrified look, Ned paused, giving Peter a strange look, “Um, weren’t you paying attention at all?”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, giving a nervous laugh, “Uh, heh, see I was working on some new ideas for my,” he gave a quick glance around the classroom, and seeing a few lingering people, he lowered his voice, “you know, project.” He said, giving Ned a meaningful look. 

Ned just continued to look confused, “Uh, we just found out about the project, like, five seconds ago, how could you—oh,” he muttered, eyes widening in realization when Peter mimed his web-shooting, “—that project. Right, I knew that.”

“Uh huh,” Peter said, completely unconvinced, as he began walking out of the classroom and into the busy hallway, “so anyways, review notes—“

Ned, however, seemed completely oblivious to “Hey, do you think I can help you? You know, with your,” Ned took a surreptitious look around the hallway, “project? Like, I was thinking and you could use, like, an arsenal of your, stuff—“

A girl walking past them shot Ned a disgusted look and Peter flushed, “Look, Ned, I appreciate it, but Mr. Star—Tony, has it covered. I’ve seen the blue prints and he has like, five hundred different web combinations and they’re so awesome—“

“You’re on a first name basis with Iron Man?!”  Ned said loudly and the people still lingering in the hallway turned and glanced in their direction curiously. Peter laughed nervously, giving them an awkward wave before turning back to Ned, shooting him a glaring

“Dude.” Peter hissed, annoyed. 

Ned gave him a weak smile, “Sorry.”

Peter sighed, shaking his head, “Look, right now, I need to worry about passing Chemistry and that starts with this project,” Peter said, staring down at the paper in his hands forlornly, “which sucks because I was supposed to help Mr. Stark with more Iron Man upgrades today and I had this totally awesome idea for my web shooters that I thought of in Chemistry that I was gonna run by him and now I have to cancel—“

“Cancel on who?” A familiar voice said from behind him. Ned squeaked in surprise, seeming to forget that he’d met the man before and even played with his robots, “and kid, what’d I tell you about the whole Mr. Stark thing? It makes me feel old and I’m clearly anything but old.”

Peter closed his eyes, wincing, before turning around and giving Tony a panicked look, “Uh, hi um, Tony, what are you doing here?”

Tony gave him an assessing look and Peter swore he could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, but when he blinked it was gone, “I guess aside from a new phone, I also need to get you a calendar, you see it’s Friday and you usually come to the tower on Friday—“

“No, I know that, I just meant, well, usually Happy picks me up.” Peter said lamely, twisting his hands nervously. 

Tony raised his eyebrow, eyeing his hands, “Happy’s waiting in the car, I came to see what was taking you so long.”

Peter��s eyes widened, Oh, well, it’s just well, I uh, something’s come up so—“

Both eyebrows raised this time and Peter stuttered, “Uh, well, you see, um—“

“Peter’s flunking Chemistry,” Ned blurted out, “and we got assigned this ridiculous project today and it’s worth half of our final grade and we only have until Monday to do it—“

“Ned.” Peter whispered harshly, shooting him a betrayed look over his shoulder. 

He at least had the decency to look sheepish. 

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, Ned,” Tony said approvingly and Ned preened at the praise. Turning to Peter, he nodded to the paper still clutched in Peter’s hand and held his hand out, “normally I have a thing with people handing me things, but c’mon, cough it up.” he said, wiggling his fingers and reluctantly, Peter handed it over and Tony read it over. 

“Chain reactions blah blah blah, build a model of a paper maché volcano and pick two chemical elements from below that can cause a chain reaction in the volcano and make it erupt, blah blah, science stuff, or if you can think any other natural disasters that can cause a chain reaction, blah and more science stuff, due Monday, worth half of you final grade—“

Tony blinked, “Huh, I didn’t know they were still making you do these things—seriously, a paper maché volcano? The education system needs a serious reboot.”

Tony folded the paper in half and then tucked it in to his suit jacket, “Right, well, this sounds important so we better get started—I’d say you could tag along, Ned, but the Audi only seats two, so.” He nodded at him and turned on his heel and began walking down the hallway. 

Ned was torn between staring after Tony’s retreating figure and staring at Peter with disbelieving eyes, “Dude, are you sure that spider that bit you is dead? Because honestly? I could go for a radio-active spider bite if it means I get to work on my school project with Tony Stark—“

“Underoos, you coming? We’ve got a few stops to make before we head back to the tower, so get a move on, a little pep in the step.” Tony said, stopping at the end of the hallway and gesturing to the door with a dramatic sweep of his arm.

“Good-bye, Ned.” Peter said with a roll of his eyes. 

“Well, fine—I’ll make my own radioactive Spider since you don’t want to share! An army of radioactive spiders, an army Peter—“

Ignoring the stares from the few students that were still at the school, Peter followed Tony out to the front of the school and to his illegally parked, sleek candy apple red Audi R8 Spyder. Peter practically salivated at the sight of the car—barely managing a half-hearted wave at Happy who was parked behind Tony in the town car—running his fingers reverently over the door handle, all but whimpering at the warm paint and fiberglass underneath his fingertips. 

He jumped when the wind rolled down with a barely audible hum, Tony’s body craning over the gear shift to stare at Peter impatiently, “Are you gonna stand there and drool all over my car or actually get in it?”

Peter flushed, hastily opening the door and situating himself in the plush leather seats, “Where are we going?” he asked as he closed the door gently.

Tony revved the engine, darting out into the late afternoon traffic, “My lab isn’t stocked with everything we need and I know just the place.”

~~~~~~

Hobby Lobby to Tony, Peter was learning, was what most candy stores were to toddlers. 

He weaved in and out of the aisles with such ease that led Peter to believe that this wasn’t his first trip here and Peter followed him, for lack of any other options and watched in disbelief as Tony threw item after item into the cart, not even bothering to look at prices.

“Mr. Stark—there’s no way I can afford all this, May only gives me twenty dollars a week and this looks like it’s way more than twenty dollars—“

Peter looked down at all the supplies in the cart mournfully, his wallet physically aching at the amount of…stuff Mr. Stark had piled into the cart. This was supposed to be a little chemistry project and Mr. Stark was treating it like one of his projects. Expensive, flashy, but bound to impress, as usual. 

Tony seemed to be paying him no mind, however, holding up a box of plastic palm trees with an interest that would be amusing if dancing dollar signs weren’t obscuring Peter’s vision and making him vaguely nauseous. 

“Nonsense, kid,” Mr. Stark said dismissively, reading the back of the box with a quirked brow, “do you think twenty-five of these things would be enough? We don’t want it to be too tropical looking because Chile, believe it or not, has a nice balance between palm trees and regular trees—and hey, didn’t I tell you stop calling me that? It’s Tony or nothing.”

“Okay, Nothing,” Peter said cheekily and at Tony’s glare, his smirk faded, “s-sorry, uh, Tony.” 

Tony’s lip twitched into a smile, as he tossed two boxes of the plastic palm trees into their cart and continued down the aisle, giving Peter no choice but to follow.

“Seriously, Tony I can’t accept this—“

Tony stopped so suddenly that Peter narrowly missed hitting him with the cart, once again thankful for his quick reflexes, stopping the cart just shy of ramming him in the ankles. 

Tony turned to Peter, eyes unusually devoid of his signature sunglasses, giving Peter a rare opportunity to see the depth of emotions flash through his dark eyes.

“Kid,” Tony started, but stopped himself, letting out a sigh. He looked tired, like he was fighting an internal battle and losing and suddenly, Peter felt a surge of sympathy for the billionaire standing in front of him. 

“Look, my dad never…took an interest in this—stuff,” Tony said, gesturing to the cart full of merchandise, everything from a papier mâché kit, paint, fake grass to the plastic palm trees and those little foam building kit things Peter remembered making in kindergarten, “actually, I’ve never made one of these things before, can’t exactly turn one of these things in at MIT and expect to get an A in chem lab,” Tony continued with a snort, “anyway, my point is, I don’t really mind helping you with this, homework, projects, whatever.” He finished, waving a dismissive hand

Peter was taken aback, not expecting something that…vulnerable to come out of Tony’s mouth, especially in aisle eight of Hobby Lobby, but either way, Peter was touched. 

Uncle Ben always helped him with these projects and while he always said he was never as smart as his brother, Peter’s dad, he was still good at putting things together and as long as Peter did all the science-y stuff, as he liked to call it, he’d help him piece it together. 

Peter knew that Tony couldn't ever take Uncle Ben’s place, no one could, and while he wasn't sure why Tony went out of his way to help Peter, he knew Tony would never try to replace what Uncle Ben was to him. And Peter himself hadn't quite figured out where Tony fit into his life, but he cared about Tony like he did Aunt May and Ned and possibly MJ, in her own little twisted way. 

And he knew that Tony cared about him, in his own way, because if he didn’t, he wouldn't be dropping, what Peter was sure, well over three hundred dollars in Hobby Lobby for Peter’s dumb little science project that was soon becoming something to be featured at next years Stark Expo if Tony’s rough outline he’d drawn up in the car on the back of the project packet was actually brought to life. 

“Besides,” Tony continued off-handedly, “I already knew you were flunking Chemistry, your rather attractive Aunt called me and told me your grades were slipping because of the ‘internship’—which we’ll discuss later, by the way—so I thought that until they get back on level ground, we won’t be working on any upgrades anytime soon and focusing, instead, on getting you through the tenth grade.”

Peter opened his mouth to protest—his grades weren’t that bad, with all things considered. And while maybe they weren't up to his usual standard (Peter had never gotten a grade lower than a B before in his life) they were still passing. Peter sometimes wished he had an average level of intellect, because if he hadn't been such an overachiever with all the extra-curricular activities and maintaining a 4.0 GPA in the process, well, his grades dropping to B’s and C’s wouldn't seem like the end of the world—but Tony was already off again, weaving through the aisles and tossing random things into the cart, that, at this point, Peter was sure had nothing to do with his actual project and were more so there because Tony thought they were cool.

“Do you think this place has food dye? A good volcano has to have red lava and no kid of mine is going to have a volcano with substandard lava. What do you think about actual fire coming out of the top of the volcano? Is that too much? Nothing crazy of course, just a few minor pyrotechnics to give it that extra pop—“

Peter rolled his eyes, but silently agreed that fire coming out of the top  would be pretty awesome, even if it was slight over-kill, and trailed after Tony, who was muttering something about color schemes and an earthquake involving batteries, and tried to ignore the smile that threatened at the corner of his lips at Tony calling him his kid. 

~~~~

After their very expensive trip into Hobby Lobby—Peter still felt dizzy and vaguely nauseous at the memory of Tony, not even batting an eye at the grand total, whipping out a black Amex and swiping it without even a sign of hesitation that Peter may or may not have been searching for—they made their way back to the Tower, Tony gesturing to Happy to grab the bags as he took a call from Pepper about the newest StarkPhone release. 

Happy shot him a reproachful look, but it was replaced by something that resembled a smile, at least, by Happy’s standards, when Peter silently walked around to the trunk of the car and helped gather some of the bags. Peter, with his super spidey strength, managed to grab the majority of the bags, leaving Happy with two. 

“Show off.” Happy muttered grumpily, which Peter gracefully ignored and lead the way down to the lab, where Happy deposited his bags and made a quick escape before Peter could even blink. 

While he waited for Tony to get off the phone, Peter pulled up some ideas for his volcano on the internet and began scrolling through the websites google had offered up. 

He didn’t have much time to browse before Tony came down to the lab, trading his three piece suit that Peter was sure was worth more than six months worth of May’s rent, for his usual lab attire—an old band t-shirt and grease stained jeans, an outfit, Peter was sure, was still worth more than any meager possessions Peter had combined. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., please pull up the blue prints for Underoos school project,” Tony said, clapping his hands together and Peter was a bit taken a back by the amount of eagerness that gleamed in his eyes.

Following his request, the lights in the room dimmed and in the center of the lab, a hologram of a real life volcano appeared, scaled down to about an eight feet by ten feet measurement and glowing brightly in the dimness of the lab. Peter’s mouth dropped open in awe, his cracked phone lying forgotten on the lab table behind him as he made his way over to study the diagram more closely. 

It was the same sketch that was on the back of the paper explaining the project, only this time, Peter could see the added details that Tony must’ve added on the car ride back to the tower. Everything from the layers of the volcano, down to the last of the fifty palm trees Tony had insisted on buying. 

“This is amazing,” Peter breathed, eyes wide, hungrily taking in every detail. 

Tony hummed in satisfaction, coming to stand beside Peter, eyeing the hologram with a sense of pride he didn’t even bother to hide, “It is, isn’t it? I took some artistic liberties, modeling it after the actual volcano but adding more aesthetically pleasing attributes, like if Mount Vesuvius was in Hawaii. If there’s anything on here that you don’t like, we can take it out, scrap it and start over—“

Peter wasn't really sure what possessed him to do it—he knew how Tony felt about emotional displays of affection, let alone physical displays of affection, but he was just overwhelmed with all the time Tony had put into this little chemistry project and the lengths Tony had gone to help Peter with it. No one, no one, had ever gone to such trouble for Peter, especially for something that was so small and seemingly insignificant in the grand scheme of all the things Tony Stark had to do that were far more important than Peter’s Chemistry grade—but he found himself pressed against Mr. Stark’s strong chest, his arms that were still bony even after the spider bite, wrapping around Tony’s waist and squeezing. 

“Thank you, Tony.” Peter whispered, his voice a few octaves higher thanks to well, not quite completing puberty and the amount of pure excitement flooding through his veins. 

Tony froze, clearly caught off guard, arms flailing awkwardly at his sides before he settled them on Peter’s shoulders, squeezing them quickly, his discomfort with the situation quite obvious, “Um, is this a hug, right? It’s just, I’m not quite sure, it looked like you were reaching out to touch the hologram so this would be a little awkward if that was the case—“

Peter huffed a laugh, stepping away from Tony’s stilted body, cheeks flaming in embarrassment, “Uh, sorry, Tony, heh, my bad.”

Tony couldn't help but smile, rolling his eyes and clapping Peter on the shoulder, “C’mon, kid, we've only got the weekend to do this, we better get started.”

Peter bobbed his head in agreement, taking one last look at the holographic blue prints still floating in the middle of the lab before he began wandering back to the lab table, where all of their supplies were laid out and ready for use. 

Before he could wander too far, a hand reached out and grasped him on the shoulder. Tony gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, smile slightly unsure, but his dark eyes were sincere, “Don’t mention it, kiddo.”

~~~~~~

“Alright, so test one—DUM-E, don’t make me regret putting you on fire duty again, one wrong move and you get demoted—Peter, hit the button on my mark, F.R.I.D.A.Y, give me a little mood lighting please and three, two, one—“

Tony gestured for Peter to hit the button and with a small click as Peter complied, they waited for it and—

Nothing

DUM-E chirped unhappily from his designated spot by the corner of the lab table and Peter shared his sentiment. 

Tony visibly deflated, sighing, “Well, that was anti-climatic. Alright, Underoos, strip it apart, we've got some requiring to do—and hey, DUM-E, don't think I can’t see your little trigger happy fingers, no fire, no extinguishing, capiche?”

If a robot could sound contrite, DUM-E’s little defeated hoot would fall into that category and Peter couldn't help but laugh.

~~~~~

“Alight, test two on my mark—DUM-E, look alive—and three, two, one—“

BOOM!

The volcano exploded, red dye going everywhere, splattering all over the table, a flabbergasted Peter and an equally as surprised Tony. Flames erupted from the top, like someone flipped on a blow torch and couldn't shut it off and right on cue, DUM-E blasted the volcano with the fire extinguisher a little too enthusiastically and Peter coughed violently, his heightened senses going into overload at the overeager assault. 

“Okay, DUM-E—DUM-E,” Tony shouted, snapping his fingers to get the overzealous bot’s attention, “That’s enough—no, DUM-E,” Tony said warningly when the bot’s claw reached for the trigger again, “do you want to wear the Dunce hat again? Because I will, so help me.”

DUM-E gave a petulant chirp and Peter reached over to give him a consoling pat on the head, to which DUM-E hooted brightly. 

Tony gave Peter an exasperated look, “First rule of parenting: don’t reward bad behavior and look,” he said accusingly, gesturing between the two, “you’re encouraging it.”

Peter scowled, putting a protective hand on DUM-E, “He’s just trying to help, he’s just…committed, see? No more fire.” Peter said, nodding towards the rather thorough job DUM-E did, where the previously flamed-engulfed volcano that was threatening to set the lab on fire was now extinguished, smoke curling still curling in the air and only occasionally letting out an ominous hissing sound that Peter tried not to think too much on.

Tony rolled his eyes, but seem to let it go and focus on the now fulling hissing volcano, “Okay, that was too close to an actual volcanic eruption and while cool, that’s not safe for any classroom, we’re not trying to reenact Pompeii or anything.” 

Tony gave the volcano a gentle nudge, jumping back when a flame flared and DUM-E, still on standby, gave it another keen dousing from the fire extinguisher. 

“DUM-E, that’s—no, DUM-E no—“

~~~~~~

It took them a few more tries and a few more explosions and Tony eventually revoking DUM-E’s fire safety privileges and threatening to turn him into a blender, for them to get a volcanic eruption that didn’t burst into flames or just trickle sadly out of the soda bottle that was serving as their prototype for the volcano. 

F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupted them in the middle of building the platform to remind Tony that he still had yet to actually eat anything and as if on cue, Peter’s stomach growled loudly.

He gave Tony a sheepish smile, “I didn’t eat lunch today.”

Tony sighed, rubbing his eyes, “Alright, c’mon kid, I can’t have you passing out on the lab floor, U still isn't that great with a broom yet, let alone picking up actual humans, so let’s get you some food—you like Thai, right?”

Peter nodded the affirmative and he let Tony lead him out of the lab up to the main floor of the tower to the kitchen, gesturing for him to take a seat at the counter. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., pull up some menus for the kid to look at and while you’re at it, go a head and put in my usual order.” 

“It’s already been done, sir.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded as she brought up local Thai menus for Peter to peruse.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Tony asked the dutiful A.I.

“As my memory serves me, sir, you’ve never actually used those particular words to express such outwards displays of affection before, so no, you have not.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied dryly 

Tony frowned and Peter snorted in amusement at the sass, but stifled it at Tony’s glare. 

“Uh, I’ll just have two orders of Larb with a side of white rice and sticky rice pudding for later,” Peter said hastily, tapping away the menus. 

“Got that, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Tony asked and the A.I. replied in the affirmative. 

“Yes, sir, ETA is twenty minutes.” She confirmed. 

When the food arrived, they sat at the counter and ate their respective dishes and chatted amicably about their day. Tony watched as Peter all but inhaled his food, much to Tony’s amusement and slight concern that went unnoticed by Peter, who was too absorbed in his sticky rice pudding and shouting trivia questions at F.R.I.D.A.Y. for his history homework. 

He wasn't sure if it was just basic teenage growing pains—Tony could remember his mother chastising his eating habits at that age, comparing him to a garbage disposal with the amount of food he could pack away—or if his metabolism, along with everything else in the kid’s DNA, had been enhanced as well. Which, come to think of it, wasn't that far fetched and Tony made a mental note to hack into Oscorp’s files to see if he could dig anything up on the spider that had given Peter his powers and compare it to the serum that was responsible for Captain Righteous and his abilities. 

Tony found it ironic how he could care less about his own eating habits, but yet, here he was, watching as Peter basically licked his plate clean and the worry just continued to gnaw away at his stomach and he had to wonder if it ever went away. 

This thought continued as they finished their meals and went back down into the lab and continued working on Peter’s project that was shaping up to be pretty awesome if Tony did say so himself. They worked well together, both of them focused and bouncing ideas off of each other that always seemed to be on the same wave length and Tony lived for it. The only other person who ever shared his love for science was Bruce and he hadn’t heard from him since Ultron and that familiar ache settled into his chest at memories of what used to be.

But that ache was soothed when he turned to see how Peter’s attempts at papier maché were going and a small, fond smile crossed his lips at the sight of Peter, passed out on the lab table, head cushioned by the pile of newspaper, shoulders rising and falling in soft snores. 

Glancing down at his StarkWatch, he noticed they’d been down here for over four hours and it was heading closer to ten o’clock and after taking another look at Peter’s face, seeing the dark shadows under his eyes and ever growing bags, he deiced against waking the kid to take him home. 

Instead, he told F.R.I.D.A.Y. to text May and let her know that Peter would be crashing at the tower tonight and then he scooped the kid up from the chair in a bridal carry, tucking his head underneath his chin and made his way out of the lab and into the elevator, murmuring to F.R.I.D.A.Y. to take him to the penthouse floor. 

When they arrived to Tony’s floor, he ambled down the hall way, stopping a few doors dow from his room, to what used to be a guest room, but had been re-decorated and personalized for the kid currently snuggling into his chest. After the kid’s first visit to tower, Tony had decided to give Peter his own room in case he ever wanted it or needed it, whatever the reason, he wanted the kid to know that he had a place to come to, that he was always welcome here. 

He pulled back the dark blue comforter and matching sheets, placing Peter gently down on the California king bed, untying his ratty Converse and tossing them to the foot of the bed so the kid wouldn't trip over them in the morning.  

Peter murmured something in his sleep and for a moment, Tony was afraid that he’d woken him up, but Peter simply settled against the pillow, snuggling further into the blankets and seemed to relax against the soft sheets. 

Something warm and unfamiliar unfurled in his chest at the sight of kid snoozing away in the too big bed and not for the first time, Tony was struck with just how young the kid was. Peter carried himself with such maturity and a level headedness that Tony had never seen before in some adults, let alone teenagers, that sometimes, Tony forgot that he was in fact, a teenager, who still had school projects to do and had a weekly allowance and worried about pimples and zits and when puberty would finally end and if the pretty girl at school even knew he existed, let alone knew his name and it made Tony so angry, to think that this kid had been robbed of a normal childhood.

Tony learned at a young age that the world was a cruel bitch and he wished, more than anything, that Peter could’ve been spared that lesson for just a little bit longer. Peter was just so good and kind and he deserved so much better than the hand that he’d been dealt. He didn’t deserve to carry the weight of being a teenager and a superhero all at once and looking down at the dark shadows lurking underneath Peter’s closed eyes, Tony vowed to himself that he’d do anything he could to shoulder some of that weight. 

He brushed Peter’s dark hair off of his forehead, a small smile dancing on his lips when Peter leaned into his touch. 

“Goodnight, Peter.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It took them the entire weekend, but they got Peter’s volcano finished and the end result was worth all the time they’d spent in the lab. Tony couldn't remember the last time he threw himself into something so heavily, the last model of the Iron Man suit or the first prototype of Peter’s suit or Rhodey’s legs, maybe, but despite the exhaustion, it felt good to be of use to someone again. 

And the giant grin on Peter’s face as he stood back and admired their work was worth any re-painting he was going have to the lab after the many explosions they faced in the beginning of the project. Red dye was literally everywhere, but chose to put that thought out of his mind for now and enjoy the look on Peter’s face as he took in his school project. 

It was Peter’s idea to use the earthquake in Chile as a catalyst for the volcanic eruption that occurred three days later. Underneath the board, they’d built replicas of tectonic plates that visibly shifted, simulating a real earthquake when they pressed a button. After the ‘earthquake’ was over, the volcano rumbled and hissed, steam rising and Tony got his wish for small flames to burst from the volcano—even though Peter was pretty sure that there weren’t actual flames involved with a real volcanic eruption, but Tony looked so excited at the the prospect of flames in a classroom that Peter didn’t have the heart to say no—and rocks tumbled down into the small town with roads, a replica of the ocean and little foam towns with little G.I. Joe figures serving as the town’s occupants. 

Peter was definitely getting an A

“This is awesome,” he breathed, turning wide brown eyes to Tony, “thank you so much, seriously, this is…” he trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief, “so much more than what I imagined.” he finished softly, looking back up at Tony with so much admiration and gratitude that Tony shifted awkwardly, unsure what to do. 

“It’s no problem, kid, seriously,” Tony said finally, clearing his throat, “like I said the other day, my dad never did…anything like this with me,” Tony paused, “not to insinuate that you think of me as your dad or anything, heh, it’s probably best that you don’t, I’m not the greatest role model and why do you think I never had kids? It’s not something I’m meant for, you know, the whole soccer dad vibe isn't really my style and with the whole superhero thing too, I mean—“

Tony was cut off by Peter wrapping his arms around him—seriously, this kid had a bad habit of catching Tony off guard with all the random displays of affection—and settling his head on his chest. 

Tony, despite his hesitation with such obvious displays, he wrapped his arms around the kid and gave him a squeeze. He hated to admit it, but the kid was growing on him, a lot more than he originally planned. 

Peter pulled away, cheeks beat red, but a small smile was playing on his lips, “For what it’s worth, I think you’d make a great dad,” Peter glanced down at his shoes, scuffing them against the white tiling, “I don't really remember much about my dad and Ben was the closest thing I’ve ever had,” he faltered, biting his lip, “but, you’ve kind of filled that void? I mean, you didn’t really take his place, but, you remind me of him, in a lot of ways? Like, he used to help me with this stuff and it just means a lot to me, that you’re here for me and I—“ Peter coughed, glancing up at Tony with a sheepish smile, “So thank you, for well, being you.” he finished lamely, blushing. 

Tony was taken aback by the kid’s confession, but his heart warmed, “Kid,” he began gently, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder, “I hope you know that it’s not my goal to take your Uncle’s place or replace him in any sort of way,” he paused, considering his next words, “I just want you to know that I’m here for you, whenever you need me.”

Peter smiled and Tony clapped him on the back, “Now, c’mon kid, let’s get you home. Your hot Aunt probably thinks I’ve kidnapped you or something, I’ll have Happy drop your project off at school tomorrow.”

~~~~~~

Peter did get his A, but there was a…slight mishap with the flames and Flash’s eyebrows (or lack thereof) and that was how he found himself, along with Tony, in the principal’s office, facing a very unimpressed Mr. Morita. 

“Mr. Stark, while it’s an honor to meet you, I wish it was under different circumstances. We encourage ingenuity here at Mid-Town and we wish for our students to get creative with their projects, but flames, in a classroom—“

“In my defense, that kid was standing way too close to Peter’s project to begin with—“

“And that kid, Mr. Stark, happens to be the kid you verbally assaulted out on the front lawn a few weeks ago—“

“Okay, have you met that kid? He was asking for it, what kind of name is Flash anyway? And besides, that kid was picking on my kid—“

Peter shrunk down in his chair, but he couldn't hide the grin on his face. Peter could admit that the flames were too much,but he got an A and was no longer flunking Chemistry, Flash no longer had eyebrows and Tony called him his kid again. Whatever repercussions he was facing was totally worth it.

~~~~

Thank you guys for reading! Let me know what you think or if you have an more suggestions for more stories or where you’d like to see this one go!

@bonza-bear @ohheyitssophaye @clara-angi @bsicthought  here you go guys, I tagged you like you asked ! :) if you want to be tagged, let me know! 

[its8simplejulesblog]

My Best Writing Comes From a Lot of Emotion

I think that can probably be said of most people. The best songs come from love or heartbreak or excitement. The best books come from really crazy or strange experiences in someone’s life. I think it’s safe to say that really beautiful things can come out of really horrible things. With that being said, it’s 4 am and I’m listening to a piano cover of Stairway to Heaven so you KNOW I’m about to spit some facts (haha). Here’s a topic that has been hard for me to grasp lately: Trust. Buckle up kids. 

I do my best (and worst) thinking at the absolute witching hour. The time when not even my friends are up (actually they probably are, quarantine really fucked everyone over). Anyway, here’s something that I still struggle with every day. Do we ever owe anyone anything? When I think about my relationships with people I always come back to this. I can and will talk to you for hours on end about any topic that interests you as long as I feel like that interest is reciprocated. If I feel like there’s a mutual care going on then I will confide in you, simple. I just..don’t know how far that stretches. Lately I’ve been on this kick of stepping back. If people want to tell me about their lives they will. If people want to let me in they will, but what if they don’t. What if I have the utmost urge to be the most raw version of myself with you but you won’t do that with me. 

Do I deserve that from other people? I don’t know. What if what I’m seeing is what I think is the most raw version of someone but it turns out not to be. That’s what confuses me the most. The worst thing about being so open to other people is that you kind of form a web of relationships and while it’s so widespread, it’s also thin. It’s not really hard for people to cut a connection with me because we know each other so well it’s like...if you mess up bad enough there’s no coming back from that. 

A lot of people have the misconception that a solid foundation of trust takes a lot of time. That’s not the case in my eyes. Time only allows you more time to trick yourself into thinking that you know someone better than you really do. I was reading a Malcolm Gladwell book a few months ago, Blink. It’s about first impressions. I loved it. Our guts aren’t wrong. If I have a doubt about you, and I change my mind, and you let me down, I’m even more inclined to trust myself after the fact. I’d like to think that I have pretty good intuition. I know when people are speaking from their hearts versus telling me what they think I might want to hear. 

In highschool, I took one of my favorite psychology classes. We had to take a research psychology course before we took AP, which I also loved. However, in the research course we talked a lot about ethics. You know what I mean, the: “if you had the choice between saving 1,000 people or you mom which would you choose” kinds of questions. One of them that stuck with me was this. “You and your husband/wife have recently broken up because you found out they were cheating. One day, you’re driving down the street and you see your ex spouse’s car so you pull to the side of the road. They’re with their new lover and they were involved in a hit and run. The person they cheated with is injured, but their bleeding can be healed within 15 minutes if you put pressure on it. Your ex spouse is significantly more injured, and it is unlikely they will make it without you driving them to the hospital immediately. There is no one else around, and for whatever reason, you only have room for one person in your car. Who do you choose to help?” Fuck. 

Obviously, I can think of a few ways you could save both people. I am definitely that kid that would be like “well ACTUaLLY you could meh meh meh blah blah blah” and then everyone would tell you to shut up and that wasn’t the point of the exercise. That’s besides the point. The point is it’s hard to forgive people when they deceive you in whatever way, life or death or not. Anyway, going back to Blink, I thought it was very intellectual and well written, but what I also know is that life gets in the way so many times. Can first impressions give us integral information about someone’s personality, absolutely, but sometimes their choices are an amalgamation of things that you never would have thought to put together. 

After going on the longest tangent ever, I’m back to where I started. It’s hard for me to trust people. I hate saying it because it sounds like I’m looking for pity or concern, but I’m not. It’s just a fact that I know what it’s like to constantly be lied to over the phone, on facetime, and in person by the same people..AND by people that knew about the previous time and lied by omission about something completely different. Don’t get me caught up in your lies. I was talking with a friend last week about whether it’s better to spare someone’s feelings/save face or tell them the truth and to that I say: the truth, every time. My pride is my concern and my concern only. You aren’t my savior for keeping something painful from me. In retrospect the hurt that would come from someone only showing me half of them permanently is far greater than the temporary hurt I would get from knowing the truth.  

I wish people would realize that at the end of the day there is truly nothing more I want for them than the best. I realize that it is never my place to tell you what to do with your life. But..the second that involves me, it is. I want to be my own person just as much as anyone else. I want to grow and learn and support you the entire time I’m doing it too, but I can’t do that if you’re dragging me into something I didn’t sign up for. I asked for your full transparency and I didn’t get it so yes, I’m hurt. 

I don’t really cry about this type of thing that much anymore. A little bit, yes, but then it kind of just..goes away. If anything, I’m always thinking about it. I’m less emotional and more inquisitive. Less combative, and more passive (that one took time though haha). Someone’s trust in anyone else is an absolute gift. It’s not given freely and not given lightly. Just don’t take it for granted. 

I don’t ever think there will be a time when I will stop trusting people. It’s in my nature to give you the benefit of the doubt. Could that be stupid? Yeah. However, if you break my trust, how I react to it is up to me. I know that people who care about me make mistakes too, but if you break it and run away from the fact that you did then there is no place for you here. So own up to everything you say and do. There is nothing more attractive in a friendship, relationship, etc. than accountability. 

Moving on takes a lot of time. You may be surprised to know that this particular post was only 40% about my ex, 60% about other things going on in my life. People are often made up of more than one bad experience. Often times it’s three steps forward and one back. You think that after your trust is betrayed once that it can never happen again but it can..it can. 

I still love everyone that is currently in my life and has ever been in my life. Just please be communicative with me. All of your devotion to transparency is all I could ever ask for at this point. I know what’s best for me, so never think that hiding things from me is doing me any favors. Thanks 

-Julia 

[butmaybeitwasnt]

some sweet boy with a good smile and a shaky heart

author: mira / bravelikealady rating: teen word count: ~2350 archive warnings: none summary: Battered and near broken in the aftermath of TLC 2017, Seth and Dean can't make the drive and stop for a hotel. With an offer of food Dean follows Seth back to his room, another exercise in remembering who they are, in trying on who they could be. 

read the fic here on AO3 or continue under the cut. 

“I want to kiss you. Like big, fat kisses. Or angels. Or stars. Or something. I don’t know. Love poems never make sense to me. Poets say things like “Your teeth are flowers.” or “Your eyes are miracles.” But you aren’t miracles. Or flowers. You are some sweet boy with a good smile and a shaky heart. Come kiss me. I’m in love with the miracle of your body beside my body.”

-love poems, clementine von radics

“You wanna go out?”

As Dean asks this, he’s slumped over, back to the wall, hands on his ankles, hardly able to look up in the elevator of the hotel they ran to a half hour outside of town. They’d survived, but just barely. Driving was out of the question tonight, but Seth looks at him and knows he isn’t kidding.

“Out? No, man.”

“Not out out, food out.”

Seth sighs, “You need sleep.”

“I need coffee.”

“Rest.”

“Diner,” Dean somewhat yells, standing to mock punch at Seth.

“No diner,” Seth groaned. “Alright, alright, man, listen… if I make us eggs will you just… come back to my room and pretend you’ll try to sleep?”

“You got a kitchen?”

“A kitchenette.”

“Oh, is that like a kitchen for girls?”

Seth rolled his eyes, trying to hold back his smile. The joke was stupid but he was so tired, so full of adrenaline, so glad he got Dean out of there in one piece. He knows I’m weak.

“That’s a dumb joke, I’m going to make eggs,” he gets off the elevator at his floor, hoping a bold move will avoid an argument, hoping strutting forward will compel Dean to follow.

One step, two step, three step…

“Okay, okay, slow down, Sassafras. I’m coming, too.”

Seth smiles as he drops his gym bag and runs the keycard, Dean making pained faces at him as he half jogs to get to him.

“Come grab a plate! There was no butter, this is… gonna be a whole deal. Dean! Dean?”

Seth shovels the scrambled mess onto one plate, grabs two forks, and heads into the bedroom off of the suite. He sees why Dean isn’t responding to him. He’s face down on top of the covers, boots still on, not asleep, but somewhere else. Dean was prone to spend more time in that in between than he was actually committing to sleep. That’s something that hadn’t seemed to change.

“Hey you.”

“Hm.”

“Food.”

Seth kneeled by the bed and tried to coax Dean into moving with the smell of food, taking a bite himself. They weren’t terrible but he did feel a little bad about denying Dean a diner.

“What happened to you, Mister ‘I’m buzzing, I can’t be still, blah blah blah’…”

“It was a mistake, I stopped moving,” Dean said, turning his head to face Seth, but keeping his eyes closed.

“So maybe I made a good call?”

“Made an alright call,” Dean said, smirking, his eyes opening but remaining heavy lidded and noncommittal.

It had been a long time since Seth had gotten this Dean, sleepy eyed, free of defenses. He knew he missed a lot of things, wanted a lot of things back, but he hadn’t thought about this… the deepness of breath, the soporific blinking, his blue eyes beginning to water. He is right in front of me... Seth could reach out and touch him but something sank in his stomach and pulled at his chest, a pang of nearness but loneliness. He was missing a thing they’d never had.

Dean gave a concerned hum, “I got something on my face?”

“What,” Seth said with half a gasp. “No, no, sorry.”

“Zoned out?”

“Ha, yeah.”

Or in, he thought, reflecting on how much time he lost, on the damage done. It was hard to move forward, to not think about the other world where he took his insecurities to Roman and Dean, where he saw who he was, where he saw who he wanted, and made himself worthy of Dean a long time ago. Instead of running to Hunter. Instead of running, running, running.

“Hey,” Dean said, near a whisper, and Seth was worried he was about to call him on his zone out bullshit.

“Yeah?”

“Feed me.”

“I brought you a fork.”

“Not moving my arms,” Dean shrugged as best he could still pinned to the bed.

Seth snickered, “I hate you.”

“That’s my line.”

It was sharp. Rough around the edges. It happened sometimes… residual anger, hurt, whatever it was… I deserve it. Still, it took Seth back, forced his eyes to the carpet, the early fraying of his boot strings.

“Seth,” Dean said. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m not--”

“I know.”

Dean rolled off of the bed, slid his back against it, his legs curling around and over Seth’s like day one, like they’d never used their bodies to hurt each other, “I mean it. I’m not...”

Seth fell silent as Dean’s words tumbled away from him, picking at the eggs in front of him. He didn’t want to seem petulant, but he didn’t want to speak either. Sometimes, no matter how close they felt, no matter how much better it felt, Dean lashed out. In a look or a word. In the starts of kisses quickly extinguished. He knew he being by Dean’s side at all was… a miracle… or…  

So he took it in stride, any lashing worth it for the proximity, for the privilege of touching him again, for the practice of his trust. But tonight… it got to him.

Dean’s middle and index finger running up the side of his hand that held the plate, his thumb resting lightly on Seth’s knuckles, brought Seth back from the deep end of guilt. He finally to the nerve to look up again, his eyes meeting Dean’s.

“Hey,” Dean spoke softly, it sent chills dancing along Seth’s neck and spine.

“Hey.”

“I asked you to feed me.”

“Ugh, Dean…”

Dean opened his mouth insistently and gave a very cheesy wink and so Seth pretended to just loathe scraping up a bite and serving it to him, groaning dramatically for his fork’s entire journey.

“I didn’t do a very good job.”

“No, you did fine,” Dean gave, but the way he chewed spoke otherwise.

“Sure.”

“Yep.”

Silence fell between them, Dean pulling at the bedskirt behind him, staring at nothing. Seth tried to drink him in without staring straight on. He wondered where Dean was right now. He could be nowhere, or the wherever he checks out to all the time. He could just be reliving the match… it was a brutal thing and the more than once it made Seth feel that he’d failed him. But this was one of those nights where the air between them felt white hot, on edge. It was intoxicating, dizzying, held the potential to be heaven or hell. And it was in Dean’s hands. It had to be now. Dean had to decide what Seth was worthy of, friendship, punishment, the great yawning other than Seth had seen clearly as the choice he should’ve made three years ago.

“Put the plate down,” Dean spoke, just as Seth’s breath quickened and he felt like something might spill over.

“Oh c’mon, it’s not that bad.”

“No, put your plate down,” Dean said, his hands busy.

“Why?”

“Wanna try something.”

“Dean, I’m tired, you’re obviously tired, what are w-”

“SETH. YOUR PLATE. DOWN. MAN.”

He jumped at how loud Dean was and Dean laughed.

“Down,” Dean scolds, smiling, snapping before pointing to the ground, so Seth finally sits it down. Dean slides it across the floor, eggs flying everywhere.

“Hey man, c’mon!”

Dean just laughs at Seth’s exasperation and he can’t help it, he’s laughing too. Dean straightens his back, becoming as upright as man on the floor of a hotel room can be, and his legs encroach on Seth’s space even more, “C’mere.”

“C’mere? I’m here. You got me trapped basically, you threw eggs all over my floor,” he can’t finish. He’s laughing so hard he’s crying.

Dean starts laughing just as hard, “are you okay?”

“I’m so tiiiiiiired,” Seth yells at the ceiling and Dean laughs even harder.

The hum of the AC and their sleepy joy are the only sounds around them and Seth thinks that if this was it, it’d be okay. For however long… however long Dean can stomach him, forget, forgive, whatever it took. However long. I’ll take it.

“Seriously, come here,” he says, slapping at Seth’s hands.

“Alright, alright,” Seth scoots forward, weighed down by Dean’s own legs piled on and around him.

He stops, their knees are essentially locked. He’s mere inches from Dean’s face, “I’m here.”

“Yeah.”

Dean brushes a lock of Seth’s hair back and Seth has to coach himself to breath while Dean examines his face.

“So… you here for real?”

“You still have to ask?”

“You know that… I don’t want to but I... I got to.”

“I’m here. I’m here for real. For… for good,” Seth swallows hard, nervous, scared it was too much, the wrong thing to say.

But Dean just whispers, “Good.”

Dean’s hands grab either side of his face, hard, pull him closer, his lips pressing onto his own. It is full on, warm and lingering, in contrast to the quick attempts or abandoned, frightened tastes of the past few weeks. Seth closes his eyes, worried this is the product of some concussion, just a reckless impulse Dean needs to follow after the wreckage of tonight. Seth’s mouth opens instinctively for him and for the first time since that drunken miscalculation over three years ago, he tastes Dean, tongue padding against tongue. He feels awake. He feels awake and he didn’t know he was sleeping.

Seth doesn’t want to open the door for being a tool of self hatred or self harm for Dean. He doesn’t want to take advantage either, of how hard and terrifying today was, of Dean’s natural inclination to throw himself into flames when the other option was feeling. But he was scared to move, scared to break contact. It was like being in the center of a hurricane, if a hurricane was a thing you’d been praying for, was a thing you were born to be caught up in. Dean’s mouth is hungry, his teeth catching tongue or lip in the suctioned heat of the thing. Seth is kissing him back, but he doesn’t know if he should be. Dean bites his bottom lip hard then deeply takes in Seth’s tongue and the pure pain of the thing makes Seth moan. Dean pulls away to exhale something like a laugh, his eyes scanning the length of him, and then he straddles him, locks him into another kiss. Seth wants to just lie back, feel the weight of him, let him take him over. But he wants to be worthy, he wants it to be right. He raises his hands to cup Dean’s cheek as Dean wraps a hand around his throat and tangles the other in his hair and gently pushes him back.

“Do you want me to stop,” Dean asks.

“I…”

“I’ll stop.”

“No, no, I just… are you sure?”

They’re both out of breath, gasping for air. In the moment that passes between them Seth realizes it is not unlike any hundreds of paused moments in matches, when they wanted each other to bleed. The only difference is the feeling. Right. Good.

“Yes,” Dean says, pulling his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside. He places his hands under Seth’s shirt, swirling one finger delicately downward, “Yes.”

“You have to mean it.”

“I mean it,” Dean whispers, pressing a kiss to Seth’s cheek, this his forehead, before moving back to his lips, small, slow, punctuated things, as he lifts Seth’s shirt up and over his head.

Seth can feel himself melting, feels every part of himself desperate to let go, give in, to let the storm soak his skin, but he has to know.

“Listen.”

“I’m listening,” Dean says, as he plants kisses on Seth’s neck.

“Tonight was… crazy. I can’t just be adrenaline, or… or... residual nerve, Dean. I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you, I’d never, I can’t-”

“Hey, look…”

Dean stood and stretched out his hand to Seth. He took it, let Dean pull him up. Dean sat on the bed, placed his head in his hands. Seth walked to the sink, grabbing a paper cup by the coffee machine and filling it with water. He took a few sips, considering his reflection in the mirror, Dean’s silhouette still hanging his head on the bed behind him. His heart was racing and he ached, more from this than from the bumps he’d taken jumping off of trucks, ladders. His body felt overwhelmed, electric. And a part of him, the part he hated, considering running, shutting down, leaving, getting the hell out of here, before he drowned in any number of things he was feeling. He shoved it down, finished the cup of water. He filled it again and sat on the bed beside Dean, offering it to him.

“Thank you,” he took it, took a few sips before sitting it down.

Dean was breathing hard. Seth watched the rise and fall of chest, his eyes lingered hungrily on the curve of his collar bone, found the line of freckles along his shoulder, followed the dip between his pecs, down to his stomach, down. He thought about tracing all of it with his tongue.

“When I say this, it ain’t about hurting you, I just… I don’t know how else to say this,” Dean said, turning to look at Seth.

Seth braced himself for whatever was coming, “Okay.”

“It’s not… there’s not a moment where we do this where it isn’t me walking into a burning building. It’s a house on fire, no matter where we start. Yeah?”

“Yeah, I… I’m sorry, Dean. I--”

“No, I don’t… I need you to keep apologizing. I… I believe you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I just… it’s scary. It’s reckless. It’s a bad idea. But let me be kissing you, alright? Not because I feel like I’m dying or because I feel like I’m coming out of my skin, but because… it’s you, man. It’s… it’s you.”

“Okay,” Seth said, wearing his relief plain on his face.

He took Dean’s hand, pressed his knuckles to his lips, kissed each one in turn, “sore?”

“Little bit,” Dean let out a light life and Seth saw blush run to his cheeks.

Seth brushed the curls from his face, kissed his forehead, his temples, then softly his lips, “so where were we?”

[eyesaremosaics]

Manic depression diary Jan/30/17

Downward spiraling into a deep depression. Everything feels empty to me. The only times I have ever felt truly happy, was when I had love in my life. Not just romantic love, true love and friendship around me constantly. Like a warm buffer keeping me from the ugly world outside. I used people as shields from reality.

I had the sad realization the other day, that I have never known true love. Not reciprocal love. It was always one sided. Every time I ever loved someone, they never returned my feelings, at least not fully. When people loved me, I didn’t love them back. I tried to force myself, saying, oh he’s mind to me, he treats me right. Maybe I will feel differently later. I never do. I grow cold and cruel to them, I hate that I do that. I don’t know why I do. They roll out the red carpet and nothing is good enough for me.

Just like the character I’m playing. Prudence judges everyone so harshly. She’s a perfectionist, and nothing and no one meets her standards. She may be opposite my type physically, but internally–I know this character. Last nights rehearsal was a total failure. At least at the beginning. I put nothing on it, just saying lines. Cartoonish, caricature. Unbearable to witness. If I am being honest, I have not put in the work. I am working three jobs just to make enough money to live here and I am burnt out. When I get home, all I want to do is watch Gilmore girls and drink wine or do some drugs. I want to distract myself from how horrible the state of our nation/planet is right now, and from how completely alone I feel in this world.

I have been lazy. I did not apply myself. Depression is no excuse. I am ashamed. This is not how I work. I am a total professional when it comes to my craft. Usually I am always early to rehearsal, I am always prepared, I know all my lines, I am fast, efficient and insightful. Here I have been granted this great opportunity, and I have been wasting it. Going through the motions. I’m playing results, not appreciating the gift that has been given to me.

I just feel so hopeless. Life feels like it has ended for me. I can’t eat. Food feels like newspaper in my mouth. I can’t sleep, my mind is racing a mile a minute. My heart feels like an anchor in my chest. This horrible sinking feeling follows me everywhere I go. I derive little pleasure from anything. I just… Do things, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. You’re supposed to keep living, you’re supposed to participate in the world.

I don’t believe in love, or art, or anything anymore. Everything feels so hollow and pointless. So I become an actor, I make art, and then what? I save up, travel, have fun, come back, and then what? Sit and stare blankly at a wall feeling nothing? This older guy keeps trying to get at me, we’ve gone out on dates, but it’s just not there for me. He is sweet, intelligent and kind, he listens to me, he doesn’t judge me or bully me or tell me how horrible I am. I just don’t want him though. I don’t know what I want. I wanted _____, he doesn’t want me. I know he’s sleeping with other people I can just feel it. It doesn’t matter, he’s not mine anymore. It still breaks my heart into a thousand pieces. It feels like I’m fucking dying. My heart just bleeds and bleeds, but I don’t die.

I just keep crying and crying. Banging my head into things like a lunatic. I know our relationship was unhealthy, I know it’s broken and I can’t fix it. I just feel so sad and heartbroken about it. Every relationship I had was a total disaster. I just ruin everything. I don’t let love in, I don’t know how. Deep down inside, I feel like I don’t deserve it. I feel like honest love will never come to me. That there is something fundamentally wrong with me as a person.

I know that’s not true, that’s just how I felt the entire relationship. That’s how I felt in all my relationships. I just want everything to stop. I want blackness, and silence. I want to breathe quietly for a while. Even when I’m happy, a part of me always feels wistful and sad inside. I don’t know why that is. Yes I know all the cliches, yes they are all true and valid. I just want this to pass. I hope this wave of depression goes soon. I get so frightened when this happens to me. It feels beyond my control.

This has happened before. Men leave me because I’m crazy, I collapse like a dead star and nearly die (no joke, have been in the hospital or attempted suicide in many of my break ups, at least the ones that really meant something to me). Then said men return saying they miss me, which of course leads to having sex, and then they leave and I feel like a hooker and just want to die. I invited it in, I chose to do it. It’s just so hard for me to say no to the people I love. It’s hard for me to see them suffering, I just want to love all the pain and ugliness out of them… But I can’t. No one can. No one can save anybody else but themselves.

Here is a question: do I even want to save myself? Do I have the energy? Do I care? Not really. I feel like something is missing. People say: oh you just need to love yourself blah blah. That’s horse shit. Yes of course, self love is a key to happiness, success in career and hobbies is a part of that as well, and so is comfort, security, and loving relationships. Everyone who says they don’t need a partner is lying. It’s a fucking lie, a lie we tell ourselves to feel better about facing the prospect of dying alone.

No one wants to die alone. I have seen it. My mother did hospice care for a while, and seeing death, really seeing it… Especially an elderly person who is dying alone… It’s fucking sad. Who wants to go out like that? No one. We all want to be surrounded by people who love us, telling us it will be okay.

Everyone wants to have a best friend, who is their partner in life. Someone who makes you laugh, who spends quality time with you, who shares a lot of your interests, but also has their own hobbies. Someone who mixes well with your family, and you theirs. Someone who lets you be who you are, who loves you no matter what. Who holds you when you don’t feel strong, who is always there. Someone to rely on, a mutual core shared. Someone who is allowing, playful, who you have great sexual chemistry with. Who loves you for who you are, not just parts of who you are. Someone to care for you when you are sick, someone to have a family with. Someone to experience the joys and struggles of life, together.

Everyone wants that, and anyone who says otherwise is a Fucking liar. Yes you have to be happy with yourself to attract that kind of person. You have to be the person you want to ha r in your life. I know that…. I just don’t know if my heart has the strength to heal. I feel so broken by my experiences in life. I know many people have it way worse, but I still had a lot of challenges most people did not have.

Sexual abuse destroyed my boundaries, so relationships with people are challenging. There is this deeply engrained belief in me, that I am gross, bad, and that I need to be punished. So I attract people to me who punish me constantly. It even feels good, because it’s all I know. It was the only way I was able to survive. I found pleasure in the pain, that made it bearable.

Being so sensitive, so empathetic only complicated this. As a small child I was so deeply wounded by unkind things said to me. I took it straight to the core, like a harpoon shot through my chest. I took it in instantly, and permanently. It became a part of my identity. Being bullied in school was the result of my non-existent self esteem. I magnetized abuse, because they were only mirroring on the outside, how I felt inside.

For so long I have been working on this. For years I have been trying to change the thoughts in my head. It starts to go good for a while, and then like a drug addict I relapse. I relapse into depression, I relapse into escapism through drugs, violent sex, spending too much money. Chasing the dopamine. I always want more, more, more of it. I get greedy from the fear of not having. From the fear that there is not enough to go around. This comes from not being able to sustain my own source energy. Trying desperately to discover why that is.

My only choice is to buck up, get back on the horse and throw my whole body and soul into this character. Prove them wrong, prove what I am capable of. I have no choice but to grow and turn this situation around. It starts with self care, eating healthy, getting sleep. Taking a shower, being good to my body. Lovingly caring for my physical, will help nurture the ache inside. I think I just really needed to cry today, to get this out from inside of me.

I’ll just have to do better. That’s it.

As for him, I have to let go of my attachment to the outcome. He is not capable, nor willing to be here emotionally. Or physically. If he wanted to be here, he would be. He left you Megan, he doesn’t want to be with you anymore. You need to accept reality. You both broke each other’s hearts, slowly over a long time, and it is over. Yes you still love him, I’m sure he still cares for you too, but it is all over now. You have to let go. You have to let him go, and stop torturing yourself with “what is wrong with me?”, and thinking about all the things you wish you had done differently. The fact is: it’s done. You can’t change any of it now. He resents you for your mistakes, and he can’t forgive you. So he berates you for it because he is hurting.

I have to stop personalizing the pain, I have to stop letting it so deeply into the core of my being that it makes me want to die. You have crucified yourself enough over this relationship. You made mistakes early on, and you paid for it for the entire rest of the relationship. You paid for it in tears, gray hairs, stress, panic attacks, hospitalization from the stress actually. You were dying together.

It just makes me sad, that he is so bitter and angry inside. That it spills over into all his relationships, that he is always looking for something wrong. That he can’t let love in, he can’t let affection in. I tried so hard, to cuddle him and kiss him, and love all that sadness and anger away. I tried so hard to nurture him, and care for him when he was sick. I cooked for him, did his laundry, brought him lunches to work. I felt like I was always pulling on his energy. “Please love me”. Which just made him withdraw more, which made me spiral into depression and escapism. Which made him more angry and resentful.

I just wanted you was all. I just wanted your love and attention. I just wanted to be happy together.

I’m sad that we could never make that happen. I’m sad I made bad choices, and I’m sad that you couldn’t forgive me and that we just weren’t right for each other. Maybe all the chaos was really just a smokescreen for the fact that, deep down, we knew we were not right. We ignored the blaring fact that our end goals go in opposite directions. Yet we still loved each other, and tore each other apart because deep down we were sad, knowing how it would end. being so angry about that. Wanting so badly for each of us to be the one. Wanting so much for the search to be over, because it was so close.

When you attach so deeply, and invest so much, it feels like having your guts ripped out. That is how I feel. I have been avoiding this break up by binge watching television, by getting drunk or doing drugs. By hanging out with people I don’t really even want to be around, because I am afraid to be alone. When I’m alone, I have to face my emotions. They feel so powerful, so monumental, so insurmountable that I instantly go into a panic. I will do whatever it takes to avoid that feeling. So I numb out. I kill a bottle of wine to put me out, or stay up all night chain smoking cigarettes out my window on cocaine. I take Molly and roll on the carpet with music, and when the drugs wear off, reality closes in. The darkness, the stillness sets in to reality. The suffocation that follows.

People ask, what would make you feel better? Uh, a loving relationship and a successful comfortable life? Isn’t that fucking obvious? Yes I can distract myself from the pervasive loneliness by reading a book, talking to a friend, work, art, self help etc. I do all those things, and they do help, but deep down the feeling is always there. Core beliefs go so deep, it can take a lifetime of conscious caring work to excavate them. Let’s hope it doesn’t take that long.