#he makes me so happy and i wish the same for you

[demonic0angel]

Can we have more Tim thinks Danny is a vampire please?

Part 1, part 2, part 4

(Man, two people asked me this lmao)

Tim was silent as he walked through the college campus. Stephanie was by his side, trying to search through her tote bag while walking at the same time. “I’m so glad you’re back, Timmy!” Steph said when she found her lip balm, looking up with a light, fake smile. “Is college treating you well?”

Code for: ‘Why the fuck did you make me do this, are you happy???’

Tim nodded and returned the smile, though actually genuine. He was actually rather pleased that Stephanie was willing to help him hack into the college database and get another copy of Danny’s schedule, since most of his classes had been able to be switched around since he had discovered Tim’s observation.

“Thanks for showing me around,” Tim said. “I’m glad to be back.”

Stephanie snorted and then leaned in. “By the way, I hate you for this, but I did a thing for you. I made friends with the tall redhead that you said was named Wes.”

Tim inhaled sharply. “Seriously?” For a moment, he was extremely thankful that Stephanie was such a good friend that would put herself in danger for him. “Thank you!”

Stephanie nodded. “He didn’t seem very… vampiric to me, but yeah, we had a few classes together. His name is Wes and he’s sweet.”

“He could be dangerous,” Tim warned, before adding, “like Danny.”

Stephanie gave him a strange look before nodding slowly. Then she said, “You’re paying for me.”

Tim blinked in confusion but then Stephanie pulled him into a coffee shop situated on the campus. Inside, Tim gasped at the sight of Danny and this ‘Wes’ guy sitting together, silently doing their assignments. Tim quickly tore his gaze away, giving an alarmed look to Steph, who just smirked.

She pulled him by the arm over to them and plopped them both down on the seat. Danny looked up with wide eyes, but Wes didn’t even twitch. “Valerie, since you’re here, can you tell this bitch that I wish he’d drop dead?”

Danny covered his mouth to hide a smile, just as Stephanie grinned and said, “I’m not Valerie.”

Wes looked up with wide eyes. “Steph! I mean��� I—! I didn’t—!”

Danny burst out laughing and Tim watched him carefully. To check for fangs, of course. His laugh was light and carefree, pleasant to the ear and cheerful enough to make Tim want to smile too. He was still snickering while Wes stammered and stuttered to an amused looking Steph.

Danny finally settled enough to look at Tim. There was still laughter in his bright blue eyes as he smiled. He put out a hand and said, “Are you Steph’s friend? Sorry for that asshole, he’s usually nice. The name’s Danny.”

Tim eyed his hand. Calloused, solid, with short fingers that told a story of art and hard work.

Tim shook it firmly. “Tim. I’m new.” He was colder than Tim’s hands, and he fit so nicely in his palms.

Danny grinned. “Welcome to Gotham University then, Tim!”

Tim returned the smile and nodded. He silently thanked Steph again. After all, without her, how would he have been able to interact with Danny in person?

[secret-moonstruck]

STUCK ON ME | Y.JW

— Pairing: Jungwon x fem!reader | (Masterlist)

— Synopsis: Y/N found an abandoned kitten in the rain but she didn't expect things to end this way.

— Genre: smut

— Warnings: unprotected sex, cum inside, making out, begging, hickeys, blood, overstimulation.

— Notes: I'm new to this writing thing, and English is not my first language. Sorry for not writing so well, I wish to improve and bring better and well-written stories.

The rain fell heavily as the shadow watched Y/N typing on her laptop. 

When he noticed that she started to pack her things to leave, he smiled, his fangs showing. 

- This is going to be an interesting meal. - He said before transforming.

Y/N was focused on finishing writing a chapter that she didn't notice the heavy rain or how dark it was, as soon as she noticed this, she started to packing her things to leave.

Running home she heard a meow and stopped to see where it was coming from, she then saw a kitten hiding from the rain in a corner, without thinking she picked it up and hugging it to protect it from the rain took it to her apartment.

Y/N dried the kitten and fed him, when she made sure he was comfortable, she went to take a shower and warm up as she was still soaked from the rain.

While sleeping that night Y/N woke up nervous feeling like she was being watched, but she ignored it and went back to sleep.

The next day Y/N returned early from the cafe after finishing a chapter of her book. She looked for the kitten but couldn't find it, until she heard a noise coming from her room. When she opened the door she screamed in panic and tried to run away after seeing an unknown man lying comfortably on her bed. But barely taking two steps out of the room she was grabbed and thrown against the wall.

- A panicked prey always makes the meal even better. - He said, inhaling her scent, feeling her fear.

- Who are you? - Y/N asked shakily.

- Who i am? I'm Jungwon and you're Y/N, my sweet prey.

In the midst of her panic, she remembered the kitten and asked if he had done anything to him.

- So sweet, worried about me? - A falsely sweet smile appeared on his face. - Don't you understand yet? There is no kitten, it was me all along. So easy to fool, a little transformation and you're down immediately.

As soon as he finished speaking, he bit her. The pain at first was horrible, but soon she felt something strange, a shiver ran through her entire body, she was feeling pleasure.

When Y/N moaned Jungwon stopped immediately, he didn't expect that, she must have been screaming to death in pain. Only then did he realize how there was something different in his blood.

- What are you? - He asked confused. - Whatever, it doesn't matter

Before she could think about running away he bit her again. Her blood wasn't just sweet, it wasn't just something that satisfied his hunger, there was something more powerful, something that was messing with his head and his body. He wanted more, but not only that, it made him want her. Her body, her soul, everything, she should be his.

Fear still hovered over Y/N, but at the same time she wanted it, the feeling was too good, she wanted him to devour her in every possible way.

- Damn, I can't believe I'm going to do this. - Jungwon decided to keep her alive at least for now.

- Do what? - Y/N asked scared. But instead of giving an answer he kissed her.

This shocked her more than if he had killed her. The kiss was fierce, his body pressing hers against the wall, while he firmly held her waist, the other hand grabbed her right leg, his claws squeezing it tightly, making it bleed. 

- Please, devour me. - Y/N begged between moans. He more than immediately obeyed her. 

Both clothes being quickly removed from their bodies, he ached to possess her.

He picked her up on his lap, his cock desperate to be inside her, and soon it was. 

She could die there and she would be happy, the way he fucked her as if he had been waiting for this for centuries.

Y/N was grateful that he was holding her because she was sure she couldn't stand, her legs were weak, her whole body was losing strength as she felt him going so fiercely deep inside her. 

Nothing felt like enough, Jungwon wanted more from her, more and more, as his head spun with the sensation of being inside her, he varied between kissing her roughly or drinking some more of her blood. 

With her blood dripping down his lips as he sucked her, he knew he couldn't take it anymore, the way she clenched around him as she felt the pleasure as he drank her blood.

Y/N's moans could be heard in the distance as she reached her orgasm, tears streaming down her face as he finally came inside pushing more and more into her. Y/N head falling onto his shoulder in exhaustion when it was finally over.

Even overwhelmed she thought about how she would probably be killed next, an ironic smile on her lips as she thought that at least it would be a good death. Soon after, she fainted.

When she woke up Y/N was confused, she thought she would be dead by now. She tried to get up, but felt her hand trapped. Of course she was alive, but it was too much to ask for him to leave and let her live as if nothing had happened.

- Finally woke up. - Jungwon's voice came from the other side of the room.

- Why am I arrested? - Y/N didn't mind asking rudely, death no longer scared her.

- Because my sweet Y/N, I don't want to have to chase you if you try to run away. - I don't have the patience for that kind of thing.

- But why haven't you killed me yet? Are you going to keep me trapped here so I always have a snack at your disposal?

- I wish that was it. - His expression was a mixture of anger and disappointment. - Unfortunately, I can't kill you. 

Jungwon sat on the bed next to her touching her face with a smile full of sarcasm. He looked increasingly angry.

- There is a story, which I never believed, about how vampires are supposedly always destined to find someone, the person they would give their life for in exchange to protect. A person to whom they would give their entire being, whom they are destined to serve. Baseless idiocy. - He said, squeezing her face while analyzing her.

- I always thought they were just stories, but guess what? Apparently this is real. - He released her face angrily, moving away.

- Why did I have to drink your blood? Why didn't I choose another victim? Just you with your stupid blood that bewitched me. - If I didn't want to have you so much for myself I would kill you now, not because it's normal for me, but because I hate you so much for doing this to me. - He was clearly in agony.

- Is that what they call karma? - Y/N said laughing loudly. - You tried to terrorize me and kill me. And now you're saying you stuck with me?

He looked at her in disbelief. Y/N was nothing like he imagined, she wasn't afraid of him, the look of superiority and control she had over him made him feel small. It should be the opposite, he is the monster here, he is the one who should have control over her, not the other way around.

- Let me go. - Y/N ordered. Even though he was angry, Jungwon couldn't help but follow Y/N's orders, her voice had some kind of power over him, it was like a spell, and now he was the one who couldn't escape.

— Note2: Sorry if it's not good, I'll try to improve it.

[slippery-soapbox]

...Matthew went into the dining room and returned with an envelope. “Take it,” he said to Marcus, his voice gruff.

“I never wanted to be grand master,” Marcus said.

“You think I did? This was my father’s dream. Philippe made me promise the brotherhood wouldn’t fall into Baldwin’s hands. I’m asking you to do the same.”

“I promise.” Marcus took the envelope. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I’m sorry, Marcus.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and rested my warm fingers lightly on his cold flesh.

“For what?” His smile was bright and true. “For making my father happy?”

“For putting you in this position and leaving behind such a mess.”

“I’m not afraid of war, if that’s what you mean. It’s following along in Matthew’s wake that worries me.” Marcus cracked the seal. With that deceptively insignificant snap of wax, he became the grand master of the Knights of Lazarus..

“Je suis à votre commande, seigneur,” Matthew murmured, his head bowed. Baldwin had spoken the same words at La Guardia. They sounded so different when they were sincere.

“Then I command you to return and take back the Knights of Lazarus,” Marcus said roughly, “before I make a complete hash of things. I’m not French, and I’m certainly no knight.”

“You have more than a drop of French blood in you, and you’re the only person I trust to do the job. Besides, you can rely on your famous American charm. And it is possible you might like being grand master in the end.”

Marcus snorted and punched the number eight on his phone. “It’s done,” he said briefly to the person on the other end. There was a short exchange of words. “Thank you.”

“Nathaniel has accepted his position,” Matthew murmured, the corners of his mouth twitching. “His French is surprisingly good.”

Marcus scowled at his father, walked away to say a few more words to the daemon, and returned.

Between father and son there was a long look, the clasp of hand to elbow, the press of a hand on the back—a pattern of leave-taking based on hundreds of similar farewells. For me there was a gentle kiss, a murmured “Be well,” and then Marcus, too, was gone.

I can’t do this. I don’t want to. You think I did? But Philippe wanted to keep The Congregation and the Knights separate. So he made me promise him that the brotherhood would never be run by Baldwin. And I’m asking you to do the same.

[first-edition]

Wishes

Spencer reid x reader

(Not proof read my bad)

Soencer is turning 30 and you are the only one who remeberd

Confession kissing Spencer crying fluff

(Hes a blurb while i get back into writing sorry I disappeared lol)

You’ve been planning this for 2 weeks getting the decorations and presents and setting up his schedule so he’s be free. You’ve been talking to Emily about it but somehow it got lost in all the work and she’s forgotten you’ve tried to do the same with the others but they forgot as well.

“Hey! Spence.” You call to him. He spins around in his chair to face you.

“Hmm?” He asks

“What are you doing tonight?” You ask.

“I was gonna go see my mom but that got cancelled hospital difficulties so I was gonna go to the library of olden books.” He says giving you a small smile.

“Oh I’m well did you wanna come over maybe I could go with you?” You ask.

“Yeah sure that’s be great I can talk about the making and weaving of how hard covers and soft covers were made.” He chuckles

“Yeah!” You smile and nod walking off passed Morgan’s desk. As he eyes you in confusion.

———

The entire rest of your evening is filled with the large library soencer taking your hand and leading you to each book talking about how they were made and crafted and the kind of paper they used.

You actually found it quite interesting it helped that you had been crushing on him for the past 2 years and him as wel to you.

He bought a few books for an obscene price before you faked the realization that you had to rush home and since he drove you both hurried into his car and drove to your place.

“It’s fine Spencer I can just grab it and we can continue to another library before it’s too late out.” You smile as you open your door all the lights off not helping with the time of night as your home seems to be a menaching place to be.

“Light switch to you left.” You say as you disappear into the darkness. He closes the door behind him and turns on the light. The sight of balloons and presents with a mini banner that says happy birthday strung across the ceiling.

“Happy birthday spencer!” You exclaim holding out your arms. His expression drops as he looks around at all the things for him. You rush to the fridge to take out the cake you had made of his favorite flavor.

“I also got a cake. And custom ordered the flavor as well as the decor. The presents are all for you and I-“ you stop as you look at him setting the cake down. Tears fall down his cheeks and his bottom lip quivers.

“S-Spencer…oh I-I’m sorry I know you like cupcakes more but they didn’t have any and I just through may if you wanted you could eat it by your self if yo-“ with out saying anything else he cups your face and presses his lips to yours in a deep kiss which you kiss back.

It lasts for a few seconds before pulling away.

“Thank you..thank you so much you have no idea how much this- how much you mean to me and not just for doing this.” He says his voice breaking you wrap your arms around his neck kissing him again before pulling away to speak.

“You’re welcome I wouldn’t miss your birthday.” You say a smile on your face.

The rest of the night is spent with him opening every present he could’ve ever wanted eating cake and watching a movie before you’d both fallen asleep on the couch.

A few months would go by before the case in Vegas where he and Emily would be talking and she’d ask him how old he was.

“Common it can’t be that far how old are you 29.” She says rolling her eyes before Spencer has time to correct her.

“I’m thirty.” He says her expression changes in shock as she realizes.

“We missed your birthday?”

“No..not everyone. Y/n remeberd planned a whole thing.” He says smiling looking over at his girlfriend who talks with jj.

“Fuck….i forgot she wanted me to come over for that. I’m so sorry.” She apologizes Spencer shakes his head adjusting his glasses.

“It’s okay.”

“Hey! There’s a spot new place down past Luxor if you’re hungry.” You skip up to him holding onto his arm.

“Actually I made a reservation as Caesars palace for us.” He says.

“W-what!? Why.” You smile looking up at him. He leans down to you ear whispering to you.

“Happy birthday.” He says this time it’s his turn to remember your birthday.

[girl-lostconnection]

unsweetened lemonade anon here again! (my anon tag can be 🍓, if you do those!) i just have so many ideas!! sorry for spamming you 😣

like they start dating at the beginning of their senior year (or the british equivalent ?) and everyone is like… “wot.” because they’re used to these two being so small, defensive and awkward. but nerd!reader has grown into herself and starts recycling her clothes to make them nicer, and punk!simon is working at a macca’s part time and making a bit of money, and he starts thrifting for himself and finding her secondhand jewelry. omg you’ve actually created a monster with this AU (me.)

AGHHHH they’re like two mangy dogs finally getting adopted and bathed and taken care of 🥹 and nerd!reader writes her own book and the first page says

“to that boy from school. i wish you well.” and simon keeps that damn book with him always. omg i’m so sorry but it’s so cute to meeeee

Sure thing, 🍓 anon! And don’t apologise, im so happy to talk about these two and you just give me another opportunity to do so. So feel free to hop on and share whatever comes to your head.

Also

Anon, what have you done. What have you done, anon, im tearing up at these two. And the book???? Stop, im gonna full on cry.

God, the way Simon would TREASURE it. The way he’d hold onto it, bringing it with him everywhere and reading it and keeping it as close to himself as possible.

But if we push my tears aside for one sec, imagine tall awkwardly wide and lanky Simon bringing Nerd!Reader second hand jewellery like he’s bringing them the game from his hunt.

The way he’d loom close by the first time he does buy them something because it’s really nothing special and he found it at the tiny thrift store and it’s just a small thing. Nothing flashy or expensive, probably a bracelet with charms he thought would look nicely on them.

(He’s too embarrassed to buy them a ring because he’s definitely gonna think too much about it and end up making them a weird proposal. He then would proceed to crawl away and roll under his bed, asking the ground to swallow him (im sorry))

And Simon who’s working as a butcher apprentice and finally starts eating a little bit better because his boss sees the way this big lad comes into work and everyone in the neighbourhood know of Simon’s dad so he just starts writing off some things here and there.

Nothing much because Simon is prideful and allergic to anyone taking pity on him and he would rather starve, but here it seems harmless and it’s just small things here and there. So he takes them and he proudly brings them to Reader the first time it happens.

The same way dogs/cats would bring you a small animal they caught, literally smirking with how satisfied he is. It doesn’t dawn on him until they ask that…he has no idea what to do with it. Simon doesn’t know how to cook meat — his mom usually did it. But with the way Riley-senior looms around the house he doesn’t want to bring it home.

So Reader offers to cook it at their place and later just packs it up carefully in neat containers and gives Simon the bag to bring it home to his mom and Tommy. So they can all eat without Simon’s dad finding out about the meat.

God, im gonna go spin in my chair and come back with something more coherent.

Wait for me, anon, im gonna bring you something decent, you brought me such good idea seeds I could grow fanfic sequoia in three days with it.

[zepskies]

Omgg girl I'M so excited to see what you thought of Part 3! It's a bit slower than Part 2, but we've got some big emotional hurdles in this one... (loll mommy needs some you time. 💜💜)

I love this description btw Really painted a picture in my head 😍👏

Aww thank you so much! I went to Seattle a few years ago in the fall, and it was absolutely beautiful with the trees changing their colors and basically painting the ground with different colors. 💜

Ouch. That line probably haunted her afterward 😂🙈 (but I loved their banter! You can totally see they have a close and loving relationship 💕) And her dad's optimism and "fate" was so adorable ☺️

Oh definitely, poor thing. She's so very done with bears too. 😅 Aww I was hoping people would see that, even in this small glimpse of her and her dad's relationship. I always find it so adorable when dads are the bigger "sap" in the relationship. 😂

Ah, our boy entered work mode 🤓

Oh you BET loll!!

Oh God 🙈 No, I can't watch him leave alone. At least get Sam!!! Oh God, no, no, no, no... 🫣 I also realized in that moment why my readers are usually "from the same foxhole" because this is exactly what I can't do. Freaks me the fuck out and gives me so much anxiety. Like, I have to be there 😂 I don't know how you do it. Bravo, friend 😅👏

The tensiooooon loll.

Ooh that makes sense loll. For me I thrive in that angst for some reason. Like, making it through all the uncertainty and fear appeals to my hopeless romantic heart to have the battered hero eventually come home to the one he loves. 🥹💗

But yeah, she really shouldn't be going out there on a suss ankle in the middle of winter. 🫠🫠 (Also I'm saving that worried Ross gif LLOL)

Ooooh, btw, super interesting what you said about the bear meat! I figured something like this. They did wear bear fur, right? And I know people back then never wasted anything, so makes sense they'd eat the meat, too 😄

Ooh yeah I learned about that from watching modern survivalists talk about their experiences on Joe Rogan's podcast lmao. They literally eat the whole caribou, moose, etc. Cartilage and bone and all. 🤢 So it still goes on today, believe it or not! But oh yeah, when America was still being settled, for example, certain Native Americans tribes would trade with European settlers and American traders for furs.

I cackled 😂 Love her feistiness!

bahaha I'm glad you liked that little internal monologue. 😘

Aww 😭😭 Poor thing... 😢 (Loved how she explained not taking his room. While invasive, I think if Dean came back to this in his room, he would've melted 🫠🫶)

Honestly you're probably right loll. At first he'd be like "wtf?" But then he'd probably melt and smile ruefully/soft. 💕

I knew it was a long shot, especially when her father wasn't with Dean, but still breaks my heart for her 💔😢

Yeah I feel like we all knew it was headed here, but it was still heartbreaking for me to even write too. 😭💙

The anxiety is long forgotten. All is forgiven... *sighs dreamily* 😍😍

Ahaha that's what I hoped you'd say. 😏💓

Oh no, you come back here, young man!!! It wouldn't be Dean, though, without the "you can't date me, I'm dangerous and not good enough" freak out 😂

LOLL I imagine you grabbing him by his ear. 😂 But right? I feel like in any kind of canon setting, you have to deal with Dean's (lack of) self-worth, as well with his fear of being a danger to the ones he loves. 💙💙

Legit crying right now 😭😭😭 This is exactly why we always want what's best for him in fanfics. He deserves it so much 🥺

Honestly this is why I keep writing that "deal with your self-worth" stuff when it comes to Dean, because I really wished he could've found his happiness like Sam got in the end of S15. 😭

Love that little detail. Makes such a huge difference ❤️

Aw thank you!! That's one of those details I hope people notice when they read this chapter. 🥹

Oooooh, I so can't wait to read the finale now! This is absolutely amazing, Alex! It's got the right amount of angst and heartbreak, only to haul me back into this sweet cabin romanticism 😍🤍🤍🤍

I so hope you enjoy the final part, my friend!! 🥹🥹 This little series was so fun, especially to explore the omegaverse trope/world with some Alpha Dean, giving those post-S15 angsty feels. In a way, it's kind of a S15 fix-it fic. And idk if you remember, but our convo way back about spicy goodness in a cabin in front of the fireplace is more or less what inspired the next chapter (and the whole fic, really). 😂💜

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases. 

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.” 

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself. 

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father. 

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes. 

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it. 

Wendigo. 

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say. 

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin. 

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside. 

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back. 

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser. 

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either. 

But you’ll have to try. 

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open. 

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive. 

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt. 

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says. 

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door. 

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes. 

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him. 

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place. 

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure. 

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss. 

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.  

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair. 

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion. 

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer. 

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance. 

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”  

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin. 

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands. 

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin. 

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.” 

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free. 

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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[idiopath-fic-smile]

for @nudistcat, who gave to Friends of the National Center for Atmospheric research, and who expressed interest in something with space exploration, any fandom. oops, this got longer than 3 sentences but basically it's what little i know about star trek as an amis au, contain your surprise.

-

The Starship Patria was a small craft, with only the minimum mandated common areas; it shouldn't have been a shock to see Grantaire hanging around the bridge after his shift. In Security Officer Enjolras's defense, he didn't think anyone would have been prepared for the sight of his endlessly cynical, sarcastic, hard-drinking Communications Officer simply curled in a vacated chair with a mug of tea, surveying the stars.

It felt like a private moment, and Enjolras was willing to let it pass—he had been meaning to get an update from Captain Courfeyrac anyway—but his eyes met Grantaire's for just long enough that it would have been more awkward to walk away. Instead, he stepped closer.

"Hard to look away from, isn't it?" said Enjolras softly.

Grantaire laughed without joy. "Like a six-ship collision, maybe." Enjolras recoiled, and Grantaire added, "But ignore me, I know most of the Patria crew can't get enough of the sucking void."

"It's not a void." Enjolras tried to say it without bristling, but this struck close to home. "It's the opposite of a void."

"You'd be singing a different tune if you were out there without a suit," said Grantaire. "And none of that frontier shit if you please. Anyone who's been on the other end of a pioneering encounter knows it's only a happy story if you're the one doing the killing."

"It's possibility," said Enjolras, because snapping Then why are you here didn't feel conducive to building positive ship morale. "It's a chance to do better next time."

"With what?" Grantaire bit out. "Human nature is what it is. 'Second verse, same as the first, a little bit louder and a little bit—'"

Enjolras couldn't help it. "What's the point of anything, if that's true?"

"Ah," said Grantaire, raising his mug in a bitter toast, "now you're catching on."

"I have to believe we can change," said Enjolras, eyes tracing the makeshift constellations. "I have to believe if we try hard enough, push ourselves far enough towards empathy and wisdom and courage, we can surprise ourselves. Surprise each other. That's half of why we've ever reached out to the stars, isn't it? We want to discover what's out there, but at the same time, we hope to see ourselves in a new light."

Enjolras took a breath. He knew, from his years at Starfleet, that others sometimes found him intense. Intimidating.

Grantaire didn't look intimidated. He looked thoughtful. "Well," he said, "don't wait up for me to surprise you. I'm pretty much the same thing all the way down."

"You already have," said Enjolras, and when Grantaire blinked a second too long, "Is that tea?"

Grantaire laughed, this time with an echo of amusement. "Me and the replicator had a disagreement about what makes a hot toddy."

That felt like a good place to leave things. "Have a good night," said Enjolras, turning to go.

"You, too," said Grantaire. And then, so incongruous Enjolras nearly wondered if he'd imagined it, "I wish you pleasant surprises."

[theocddiaries]

Shadow: Honestly, you've always known what to say and helped me a lot. Sonic: It's nothing. Anyone would have done the same. Shadow: You know that's not true. Everyone here looks at me with fear. Rightfully so. You're one of the few who has never done that and tried to include me. Thank you for the effort. Sonic: It wasn't any effort. Shadow: Hm. [gives him a peck on the cheek]: Good night. [leaves] Sonic: Yeah, night… um… [runs to his house] --- [Shadow arrives home, where Rouge is lying on the couch watching TV] Shadow: Rouge. Rouge: I'm watching TV. Shadow: I kissed Sonic. Rouge [turns off the TV and sits up]: Come on, sit with me and tell me everything! --- [Sonic has arrived home and is telling his brothers and Amy] Sonic: It was just a peck. Knuckles: Did you like it? Sonic: I think so. Tails: Damn it. Amy: Shut up! --- Rouge: Talk! What else happened??? Shadow: Nothing else happened. He just looked at me and I left. I think I shouldn't have done it. But I like him. He's always kind, efficient in the field, remembers personal details about me… Rouge: I'm so happy for you that that sounds like the most romantic thing I've ever heard. Shadow: But I don't want to pressure him. I just wish I could talk to him about it. Rouge: Well, don't worry about that, I've seen Blue strike up a conversation with the ATM. --- Sonic: I don't know what to say to him. Tails: 'No' is a nice word. Amy: Tails, stop. Knuckles: Sonic, what do you want to do? Sonic: Well… not mess it up. Like I almost did with Amy. Amy: Sonic, that was different. We weren't compatible in that sense. Sonic: And how do I know if I am with Shadow? I don't want him to think there's something wrong with him, or worse, that he realises there's something wrong with me. Knuckles: There's nothing wrong with you. Tails: Just your taste. Amy: He's very lucky to have such a supportive brother. --- Rouge [typing on Shadow's phone]: You're so lucky to have such a gossip sister. This is my element. Shadow: What are you typing? Don't send it without letting me see it fir-- Rouge: Sent. [hands the phone back to him] Shadow [frowns] Rouge: You're welcome! --- Sonic: He sent me a message. Amy: What does it say, what does it say? Sonic: "I'd like to talk to you. I don't want to pressure you. Tell me when you're ready." Tails: Well, okay, he's earned some points. Amy: Oh, how cute, let me see-- Sonic: Wait, I closed it… damn, I gave him a missed call! --- Rouge: Oh, look, he gave you a missed call! How cute. That's a good sign. Shadow: You think so? Rouge: Of course. Shadow: So what should I do? Keep talking to him or wait for him to sort things out? --- Sonic: What should I do now? Talk to him or wait it out? I can't sort it out. Amy: Think about what you'd like. Sonic: I’d like to be more than friends, but I don’t like the idea of a conventional relationship. Knuckles: If it helps, I don't think Shadow does either. Amy: I think that's your sign. Tails: Why don’t you make a list of pros and cons? --- Shadow: I like lists. Thank you, Rouge. Rouge: Anytime, sweetheart. [Phone beeps] Rouge: Oh, another missed call! Put that in the pros. --- Sonic: Stupid phone! Someone take this thing away from me!!!! Here, just hide it under a cushion where it can't make me mess it up more!

[rockybloo]

I feel like bitchin so I'mma bitch bc I always see people going on rants on their Tumblrs and I'm long overdue for one. Anyways, this is a long one so be aware you are gonna be scrolling for a good bit if you view under the cut.

ANYWAYS, I know that that rude anon from last week is old news but their whole "I'm sad that Glitter and Guilt is a m/f relationship" thing is just a part of a never ending situation I am going to experience til the end of time (or til I stop posting stuff online) just because I focus on primarily m/f relationships in my art.

And they aren't even straight m/f relationships, which is what annoys me the most about comments like this. They're all bisexual. But because people see bisexual characters as better than straight but less than same-sex attracted orientation, I will always have to deal with these passive aggressive ass comments.

I dealt with this typa stuff SO OFTEN in my early days on Instagram, especially when I posted some of my gender nonconforming OCs like Danny (my pink demon man who dresses like a bimbo Barbie doll). It got to the point I stopped sharing him over there for a bit because I would get comments where people were hoping he had a boyfriend in the past, or they were disappointed I "never" drew any Sapphic couples because they mistook Danny as a woman in a pic where he was kissing Karrie.

And I get the whole desire to want more representation. Trust me, I'm bi, black, and nonbinary. I am NEVER going to get any type of representation outside of the indie artists I find in small niche circles online. I completely get the whole "m/f relationships are EVERYWHERE in mainstream media" mentality because I also agree but only to a point.

There's a ton of trashy m/f media, but there's also good shit when you dig because you can find people who don't just shove a guy and girl together and call that a done deal - they actually give them personality and chemistry and a fun dynamic.

I'm a firm believer that the gender of a ship shouldn't dictate if it's good or not. An interesting dynamic is what motivates me to care about a couple of characters dating. That's why it bugs me whenever someone suggests any kind of series to me and simply tells me "It's gay" before telling me the actual plotline. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT A SERIES IS ABOUT! DO NOT WASTE MY TIME!!! (Please do not pop into my inbox after reading this and suggest me stuff btw because I've never been a big suggestions unprompted person - I typically find stuff myself bc I have weird tastes ANYWAYS BACK TO MY RANTING)

When it comes to my art, I draw m/f relationships as a primary focus because it's fun to mess with gender dynamics and flip them on their head, as well as to give younger me the food I wish I had. Growing up, before I realized I was nonbinary, I rarely saw any black girls in loving relationships in animated series I enjoyed. And occasionally I would get flash banged with the long despised trope of "Disposable Black Girlfriend". So I never felt like m/f relationships were oversaturated in my eyes because there were barely any good ones that featured a black girl with a happy ending - which means from DAY MOTHERFUCKIN ONE I was starving for content.

So that obviously means that when I grew up and adopted my "Make your own food" mentality, I started cooking. AND COOK I STILL DO! Because in the end, I make all this food to please myself. OTHERS MAY EAT OF COURSE - I am always happy when people come to my restaurant to dine because they enjoy my meals, but I hate how every blue moon I will get someone who waltzes into my little eatery and tells me that they wish I cooked the meal they get from other restaurants.

Because it would be so much more productive to just go eat AT those restaurants since they already got the food you like.

Having people comment their displeasure about me drawing a guy and a girl together in a healthy (and occasionally insane) relationship is always baffling to me. It's never going to make me stop, it'll only make me draw more Red Beans or more Licorice. It's also so baffling because I know that if the tables where flipped - and I was drawing primarily same-sex bisexual couples (OR JUST SOME GAY OR LESBIAN COUPLES IN GENERAL BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE JUST DON'T CARE ABOUT BI FOLKS AT ALL), it would be so fuckin' frowned upon to comment "I wish you drew more m/f! 🥺"

But because I draw m/f bi couples, it's totally free game. IT'S DEF STILL FROWNED UPON but one is way more likely to make you look like an asshole than the other. Because even in cases where people have said they agree it's a dick move to complain about m/f from me, there's still that vibe of it being more acceptable just because of mainstream media having so many m/f couples and that being the standard of offline society.

But I'm not mainstream media. And I disagree with a lot of standards of offline society which is WHY I poke fun at gender norms with my OCs.

That's why getting a ton of new followers is such a "oh boy here we go" thing for me, because with old followers that have been around for awhile, they know what's up. They understand what I draw, what I write, and how my OCs typically behave. They get that my m/f ships have rabies.

But new followers don't know this. And this has led to some real big "OOF" moments. Like people calling Jack and Nana a "het" couple. Yes, I know that that's a term that doesn't JUST mean "heterosexual" and can refer to them being different genders. It still feels hella weird for me - it's why m/f is my preferred descriptor because it lacks that confusion.

New followers are typically the ones that leave the passive aggressive comments about me mostly drawing m/f. OFTEN because they think I am one of those artists who will draw whatever it takes to please my audience. BUT I AM NOT - THERE IS NO AUDIENCE INFLUENCE HERE ☝🏾

I am not a taxi where I pick people up whenever they call me and I drop them off wherever they tell me.

I am a roller-coaster. Specifically those ones where you can see the entire track layout in the distance so you know what you're in for. You may sit in the front or the back or somewhere in the middle but that is the last input you got before I take off at my own speed (that will be stated RIGHT on the warning sign you read as you walked in) and once I am done, you may get off and carry along your merry way through the rest of the park OR you may get on to ride again.

This entire passive aggression towards m/f ships is just so tiring to deal with because there will never be an end to it. Even after I post this, I know days, weeks, months, YEARS down the line - someone will see some Jack and Nana art, or some Bitterbat and Sweetheart comic, or ANY of my other m/f couples, and type up some comment about how they wish the couples were same-sex. Or someone will lament over the fact they thought a couple was same-sex but it turned out the dude was just hella feminine.

Because it just ain't enough to have bisexual characters that are dating the same sex because then people will call them "straight passing" and not count them as being queer. And having all my OCs being bisexuals ain't enough to mark me as a queer artists in some eyes because "making all your OCs bi is just lazy" and not me representing an aspect of myself that I constantly see sidelined online.

Me drawing bisexual m/f couples is viewed as something that can be tinkered and tampered with so I can be more appealing and inclusive to others like I'm some mainstream Hollywood series and not just some random person online who draw the fictional beings in my mind kissing each other whenever I got the crumb of free time. Primarily drawing m/f couples means I gotta just vibe whenever I see a moot or a friend post or reblog some weird sentiment referring to how lame m/f couples are and I just gotta HOPE that they aren't including bisexuals when they engage with stuff like that.

I'm in this weird space where I am wedged between "You're not a straight artist" and "You aren't drawing enough gay stuff" online.

And I'm fine with this since I've been online for over a decade at this point. This isn't a vent post, this is a rant. I don't need cheering up or comfort after posting this. This is just some real talk because I typically post lighthearted stuff since I like to keep my blogs positive.

But I also like to keep my shit honest and I think it's important to just state a piece of my mind. I wouldn't say I'm being vulnerable, this is just some insight to why I draw what I do and why I get so annoyed by certain interactions with people and certain sentiments online that are antagonistic of m/f ships that put them all down without hearing them out.

Blah blah blah I'm tired of typing and I've said most of the main points I've needed uuuummm

If you read this long have some m/f fluff

[flamesignite]

He listened to his words, waiting till he asked the question, of course he's thought about it. He doesn't just make decisions like this. He's never considered marrying someone before. He was scared at the thought of hurting someone he loved with his blood stained hands.

"Atem, I don't think you understand." He squeezes his hand. "We both have been through a lot in our time, and its obvious we feel like we don't deserve to be happy because of the pain we've caused people we've cared about. Yet, those people we love are still with us, still loving us and wanting to be near us. Do you ever think they would want us to be happy? I can say I never thought I deserved to be happy, but yet... here I am happy when I am with you. I had so much self hatred for myself and what I've done that I never let myself be happy with another person, but when I met you, I wanted to be happy, I wanted to enjoy every moment with you that I could." He admits softly.

"The guilt you feel still is understandable. I always feel it deep down, it never truly goes away, even if I wish it did. I really never thought I'd be able to think of marriage because I thought that was unreachable for a man like me." He swallows softly, squashing down the nervousness he felt.

"That was till I met you and you showed me differently, you showed me I was able to love and be loved by someone, no matter what flaws and choices I had to make in the past." He looks at him softly, but seriously.

"I've thought long and hard with my decision. I know what you've done, and I still accept you, flaws and all. No matter what you have done in your past and what we have went through when things happened between us, we worked it out and moved on from it. I still choose this, I still choose you, I want you. All of you. Some days will be tougher than others, but we're going to get through those days together."

He can understand why he was hesitant in all of this, because he felt like he didn't deserve it. Well, Roy is here to assure him that he does deserve it.

"I could say the same, do you really want someone like me after all that I've done? You kept telling me that these blood stained hands deserve to hold the man I love. What's the difference? You deserve this just as much as I do. I want to be with you, through sickness and health, till death do us part. I want that with you, Atem. I love you. I love you, Atem. So much." He squeezes his hand again, this time hoping he'd look at him in the eyes.

"I've thought long and hard, Atem. I want to marry you. There's nobody else I wish to marry."

"No, listen to me, please." Atem kept his gaze down and away, unable to bring himself to look at Roy at the moment. "I don't think you understand what you're saying. It's because you mean everything to me that I want you to know what you're getting yourself into, what you're asking here. This is a mere human you're asking to vow your life to, yes, but... Are you really sure? Me?" His hand began to tremble in his Colonel's hand.

"I've... kept you from your own world, I've hurt you so many times, I've caused you to put your own feelings on hold because I can't keep up. I've... been a terrible husband in the past. I've hurt so many around me, those I've considered near and dear to me. I was too late to save the life of someone I wanted to walk down the aisle with. I have enemies all around, and even came close to death so many times. Never mind I have this dark... thing inside of me that completely exposed me and nearly hurt you. Stop feeling for once and think! Is that what you really want? Someone like that?"

He closed his eyes, feeling his whole body start to tremble and his chest to hurt even more. "You can say it, and I can say it... as much as we want that we want to be happy... but it means nothing if I haven't done a thing to deserve it. I may... say I want to be happy, but honestly... I know that I've done far too much to others to even think about such a thing. Please, just..." He had completely looked away, keeping his head down so Roy couldn't attempt to read his eyes.

"Just think about what you're saying, who you're talking to. Is this really what you want?"

[kiszjuli]

BREATHING .ᐟ

✸ donghyuck x reader | genre. angst w happy ending | w.c. 1.1k | ╳

"hey...can...can we talk?" donghuck, your ex as of only a month ago stood outside your front door. his breathing heavy; as if he had ran to your house. the moonlight shinning dimly behind him, you stared with parted lips. your heart pounding as you silently step aside letting him in.

when i just want to settle down heavily you approach me like the moonlight and talk to me

you and donghyuck had a hard break up, neither one of you wanting it in the first place. it was fueled by a string of misunderstandings and frustrations with life. he had gotten home late, exhausted from his whole day of working, so he was already not in a great mood. not that you were either, your boss having been on your ass all day. needless to say, you two got into an argument that you had been trying to avoid.

i'm so up and down that i can't stop i am full of unanswered questions

during the heat of the argument, you both said things you didn't mean. you wish you had know what this stupid argument was going to do to your relationship.

letting out a frustrated sigh you stand from the couch. "you don't get it hyuck! you've been so distant lately, and i feel like i'm the only one trying to make this work. i get it, you're busy, but i am too! and when you are here, it's like you aren't even really here!"

donghyuck stands and raises his voice slightly. "baby, i'm trying! you think this is easy for me? i'm working nonstop, and it's not like i don't care about you anymore...but i can't just drop everything to reassure you of that! i'm tired of you making it seem like i don't wanna be with you!"

you feel yourself getting emotional.

"that's not what i'm saying...i just..i feel like you don't have time for us anymore," your voice cracking as you speak.

donghyuck is hurt by your words, but he masks it with his frustrated voice. "what do you want me to do, y/n? you don't think i feel the same way? every day i can't be here? it hurts me too you know..."

there's tense silence before he speaks up again. "i can't keep trying if you keep making it seem like i'm the only one messing up here..."

your head tilts, feeling your emotions take over your words completely.

"i can't do this anymore donghyuck..i don't wanna keep trying if you've already given up!"

this makes him angry. he felt like you weren't even listening to a thing he said.

"you know what, maybe we're better off apart!" he yells across the couch in your living room.

your heart sinks. "..maybe we are!"

"fine!" he storms passed you to the bedroom to grab a bag and some of his clothes.

you follow him, obviously not wanting him to leave. "wait..." you say as you stand in the doorway.

"this isn't how i want things to end, i think we both just need to cool off," he says and walks passed you to leave, afraid if he actually stopped he would stay.

as he walked out of your house, your words died in your throat, being choked up by tears. you didn't see him again after that, nor did you two speak to each other. that whole month felt like hell. everything seemed to remind you of him, haunting you of your immature words that night.

i've been searching for another meaning will we be able to see each other?

which all leads to the reason why you let him in without another word, shutting the door behind him. he steps in, his familiar and comforting smell enveloping you.

you look up at his once so bright and lively face, seeing his beautiful eyes red with small bags forming under them. your heart clenched.

he takes a deep breath trying to steady his voice before speaking. "i don't...know what to say really. i've been thinking about everything, every day. and.. i hate myself for how thing ended. i should've fought harder- i should've said more." he looks up at you with a pained look.

your face softens a little, trying to hold it together. "donghyuck... it’s not just about the words. you weren’t... there. it felt like i was invisible, like i didn’t even really matter."

his eyes fill with immense regret and pain knowing that he caused this hurt for you. "i know. i know i messed up. i got so caught up in everything—my work, my distractions—that i forgot about us. and the worst part is… i didn’t realize it until you were gone... until you weren’t there anymore,"

donghyuck steps closer to you, reaching for your hands slowly. your warm hands in contrast to his cool ones. you squeeze them a little.

"y/n, i- i feel like i don’t have any air without you. i don’t know how to exist without you in my life, without your voice, without your smile. everything feels so... empty without you. i need you.."

your eyes well up with large tears that spill over without being able to hold them back.

you're my last chance to go back i don't have any air without you

"you don't know how hard it was to watch you leave like that..after what i had just said to you about never being here-" you break down.

his heart seems to break all over again and he pulls you into his arms. you immediately wrapped your arms around his middle, tucking your face into his chest.

"i'm sorry baby, never again will i make you feel that way. never, m'so sorry for hurting you..so sorry.." he holds back his own tears, as he tightens his grip around your frame.

"missed you so much," you say between huffs of air from crying.

breathing, inhaling all the air think about you i reach out and hold you, who shined on me in the darkness

he needed you to understand that he would never make you feel that way again. he pulls away just enough to grab your cheeks in his hands, wiping away tears that stained your face. looking deeply into your eyes he spoke firmly. "i swear to you, i will never let you feel that way again. i'll make sure you never feel invisible or unloved again. i'm gonna fight for us, always." he never falters in his words.

"i love you, donghyuck," you mutter looking up at him.

"i love you baby, always."

when i open my eyes i am at the end of a long night it's warm when i feel our hands holding each other's and my heart starts beating

—

🎧 — breathing by nct dream

[illegalpaladin]

Drabble request: spones arguing over how to approach Jim about becoming mcspirk

Thank you for the prompt!! I am ALWAYS down for Spones arguments.

I hope you enjoy what I came up with!

“Would you stop acting like this is so goddamn simple?”

McCoy is standing next to his desk in his office. Spock stands only a few feet away. While McCoy has his arms crossed over his chest, Spock's hands are still clasped casually behind his back.

“I fail to see why you believe the situation is so complicated,” Spock says flatly.

McCoy could scream. He wants to grab Spock by the shoulders and shake him. “Because Jim is the one that pushed us together in the first place, you pointy-eared calculator!”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “Once again, I fail to see the significance.”

“Do you really not understand?” McCoy leans in closer, until he's inches away from Spock’s face. “If he wanted us that way, he would've said something then!”

Spock's eyebrow remains arched, and his head cocks slightly. He makes no effort to step away. “You have miscalculated, Leonard.”

“I haven't! We've got to play our cards right! We can't afford to mess this up!”

Spock stays calm and collected, and it's enough to make McCoy feel like he's losing his mind. “If we wish for Jim to know how we feel, Leonard,” he sighs, “we must tell him directly.”

“How you feel about what?”

McCoy's head snaps to the side, towards the doorway. Jim steps into the room, and the door slides shut behind him.

Shit.

“What must you tell me directly?”

Jim steps closer, and it takes all of McCoy's willpower to keep from stepping away.

“Nothing important,” McCoy says quickly. He feels the panic rising. “Just–”

“Leonard and I wish for you to join in our relationship,” Spock interrupts. “He insists that we must win you over. I believe a direct approach to be best.”

Silence.

McCoy feels his cheeks heating up. His heart pounds. His breaths are coming so quickly that he feels dizzy.

He gathers the courage to look at Jim just in time to see the shock on his face morph into laughter.

Jim laughs so hard he doubles over, and McCoy doesn't know what to feel when Jim wipes a tear from his eye.

“I'm afraid Spock wins the argument this time, Bones,” Jim chuckles. He straightens up, finally having composed himself enough, and looks to McCoy with a bright smile. “You’ve already won me over. I've wanted both of you for a long time.”

McCoy opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. He looks to Spock, who looks unsurprised, but McCoy can still see the flicker of joy in his features.

He turns back to Jim. “Why the hell did you set the two of us up, then?”

Jim shrugs sheepishly. “You two were so obviously enamored with each other that I figured I didn't stand a chance. But that didn't mean I didn't want you to be happy.”

McCoy's heart clenches. “Why, Jim–”

“I believe we can both agree definitively that my stance on the matter was correct.” Spock straightens up and looks to McCoy with a twinkle in his eye. “Right, Leonard?”

McCoy narrows his eyes. “You want me to admit that you were right?”

“It would only be appropriate,” Spock answers with the slightest shrug.

“He's right, Bones. It's the least you can do.”

McCoy looks to Jim to find him grinning, and McCoy scowls back. “Is this how it's gonna be now? You're gonna start taking sides?”

Jim shrugs. His eyes are bright, and McCoy has a feeling Jim couldn't stop smiling if he tried.

McCoy deflates as that same joy sweeps through his own body and the fight fades away. “Fine. Just this once, I'll admit that Spock may have had the better approach.” He turns to Spock. “Happy?”

“I am quite satisfied.” Spock's lips are turned into the smallest of smiles. “And this will not be something I allow you to forget.”

[anneangel]

Past - I wish I hadn't come across this author's work, but unfortunately I did. There's no way to separate myself from reality, to pretend it didn't happen. While I was trying to process all of this, I talked to several other people who were fans of the work, some for decades, some who have tattoos of some work, some who named their pets or even their children after a character. My point is, it's not like it's possible to forget our own history. Whether we like it or not, this author's work was part of our lives and this is a chapter that we can't erase or pretend didn't happen. There's no way to erase our own past. The truth is that we consumed something by this author at some point in our lives and that was, for a time, significant to us (whether we like that reality now or not).

Present - it's an ambivalence of feelings, at the same time affection for what this work meant, and at the same time hatred for what it means now. It's both, affection, for the good vibes and people I met through the work, and hatred for knowing that, while I was happy, other people were hurt by the author without us knowing. Every time I look at something related to the work, at the same time I feel attached to what that universe, characters and fandom meant to me, and at the same time I remember the article released this week about the victims and it seems like the work is radioactive. I can't forget the work, but I also can't consume it. I can't stop liking the characters, and at the same time I can't like them anymore like I used to. And that doesn't make sense. And it's driving me crazy. I don't know what to do with this ambivalence of feelings now.

Future - there is no chance of me acquiring other works by this author, any and all works that I haven't had contact with but wanted to know have definitely left my shopping lists (I will never get to know Coraline, Stardust or Sandman). I'm discouraging anyone from acquiring them. If you buy something, you are giving money to the author. And even if you consume it from a used or pirated item, you run the risk of getting attached to the work (the universe and characters), and I think that the feeling of "love the work, hate the author" is not worth it (it's not worth it for me), the more you can not buy anything and not get sentimentally attached to any work that belongs to him, better for you, better for everyone. Try as much as possible not to get involved with the works, if you never know it, you will never have to let this infiltrate your heart.

Now - I fear that the victims will never see justice. I fear that he will continue to be published worldwide. I fear that I will never be able to resignify and overcome the affection I have for the only work of his that I have consumed (Good Omens). And all of this makes me bitter. It's like being a hostage to my own feelings. I don't wish this on anyone. So, the only advice I have to give is: if you don't know any of this author's works, continue not knowing it!

[moonlight-tmd]

Hi

I'm a little bit possessed by the headcanon that Longarm as an individual bot had existed at some point and he was working with many autobots before he was captured by Shockwave, who stole his frame.

I LOVE dancing around the idea that Shockwave was controlling someone's dead body, using it as a shell to camouflage.

Just imagine that somewhere in a secret laboratory, on the operating table, there is still a disassembled bot, from which the frame was taken, the optics were taken,the voicebox were taken, but the hearing was left so that he could hear all the reasons why he could never return to his friends again and could not do anything about it.

Yes, Shockwave would definitely tell him what he has done in details.

One more thing!

Shockwave is a mnemosurgeon, right? I'm sure he had been messing with Longarm's brain many times in order to get information about bots or behavior that he must comply with.

Anon... you have just send me the worst path of angst-filled romance i've ever imagined.

It's so sad- like, imagine you meet someone you were close to and they seem different than the last time you met them. Everything just seems so off but you don't know what...

Bumblebee and Longarm have started their friendship in boot camp. Even thought they were quite different from one another they got along perfectly and knew so much about the other without even asking.

Then one day Bee had to switch programs due to trouble he caused and was doomed to repair crew training just outside the campus. He snuck in whenever he could do meet with Longarm but eventually he had to leave cuz the program was finished.

They stayed in contact all the time, Bee messaged Long when he was working and Long called whenever he had breaks from lectures and training. But then everything went dead on Bee's end... the crew he was assigned in was declared missing. Longarm swore that he'll find them- he'll find Bee- once he becomes part of the Guard.

Years passed and there was nothing, Longarm did his duty and earned a status raise. During one of his missions the ship was attacked by a fleet of Decepticons, most of the crew were found either dead or missing. Except the temporary captain of the ship, Longarm. He was found wandering the wastelands cycles after the tragedy.

In the meantime Bee was missing his companion, even tho he was in stasis so long it felt like a nap, but the few years he spend on Earth felt like eternity stretching on. They had no contact with outer space nor anyone who could help them, their only chance was to wait and hope someone picks up a signal from their crashed and sunken ship. He wished to see Longarm again, to chat with him and hug him once more.

And his wish was granted since Elite Guard with Sentinel on board was came to the planet to investigate, and Longarm was on board...

He couldn't contain his excitement when he saw him and ran to him, embracing all he could reach. He was so excited and happy but when he looked Longarm in the optics- something was off.

It was the same as he remembered, the eyes, the smile, the voice... yet something didn't feel right. Even when he spoke the same way Longarm spoke to him it still felt different. Even in private when Longarm was much more relaxed and open Bee felt it.

Longarm was a prime now, much higher position than when he last heard from him. it would make sense he's gotten more mature and busy in the important tasks and not have much time for his friends but Bee expected something more when they met...

He knew people's relations change when they're far apart or not in contact for long, he knew how little it was for him to be in stasis and how long Longarm had to live thru without him... he really hoped it wasn't the case.

He yearned for the moment where Longarm would hug him unexpectedly or call him one of the nicknames they used in boot camp but it never came...

Decepticon activity on earth was growing stronger, both Elite Guard and Team Prime was working together to hold off the enemy. Still, it was most often than not that the teams followed their own plan instead of coming with a shared one, Sentinel could never talk with Optimus peacefully. Bee was assigned to infiltrate the landing site of the ships that recently came to earth.

Things have been going smoothly, at least until he spotted a familiar face wandering the zone. Longarm was there, seemingly doing the same as he. Bee wanted to call him over but he hesitated, he had questions and he needed to know the answers... He knew it was wrong but he stayed back, watching what the Prime was up to.

He watched him wander around a bit before boarding one of the ships, he discreetly followed and hid inside. He was talking with someone, but he couldn't see who. The conversation was interrupted by a sound of a turbine powering on and ship's system activating. They were taking off. Bee tried to get away but he had no way of safely booking it to the exit, before he knew they were leaving the orbit. He couldn't contact his teammates, something in the ship was blocking all signal. He chose to stay in hiding for however long the ride took.

It was few hours until they landed, Bee had managed to slip out and hide inside the hidden facility on a small planet. The more he wandered the more he realized that the facility in question was one big crazy workshop. He found Longarm once more and followed him, he planned to confront him about whatever was going on but it all came to a full stop soon...

He followed Longarm but lost him just few moments later, he didn't have enough time to look around when he heard someone else coming his way. He hid inside one of the rooms- it was a laboratory. Wires and computers hanging from walls, tools scattered on various tables, and parts... actual mech parts along with vials of energon neatly put aside.

He had mere seconds to hide when the doors opened and Longarm walked in, holding something. He was talking to someone,.. Bee managed to peek out of his hiding- he saw Longarm standing near the medical station, the same one Bee was crouched next to a moment ago, but this time Bee could see what was on it; there on the diagonally angled table laid a wreck of a mech. Longarm talked to him sweetly, almost like one would with a pet, telling him all about team prime and elite guard and his tasks... Bee felt his own frame going cold at the scene, listening to every word Long said in silence...

But what happened next truly made his tanks drop; Longarm's frame shifted and merely a second later stood a Decepticon in it's place. It continued speaking about recent events and tests... eventually ending one of his sentences with the same name he's been using. "...won't you agree with me, Longarm?"

Another mech entered the lab, calling out to the Decepticon. They both left and slowly, Bee crawled out of his hiding spot. His optics landed on the remains of the mech on the table...

Its limbs were gone, uninstalled in a professional way, more than half of its plating gone revealing the skeletal-alike structure inside and vital mechanisms, parts missing and empty slots left in their place,... its helm was baren and cables plugged to processor slots, facial parts uninstalled to prevent recognition more so contact from the mech...

Bee looked at the unfortunate mech, unknown feeling swirling in his spark... he found himself focusing on details left behind; the specific attachments at shoulders, size and layout of the inner support, the headlamp remaining on its head but most importantly the spark... it pulsed is it's casing, uneven, scared... yet the feeling of its light was unmistakable.

Fear and sorrow had overtaken Bee as he realized this was his Longarm. The one and only.

Shaking, he reached out his servo and as gently as he could placed his digits on the mech's cheek structure. Bee could feel him shiver under the touch, he couldn't hold his tears as he uttered the same he's been misusing the whole time. "...Longarm?"

It was dark and quiet, he lost all senses so long ago and has felt nothing but fear since, all he ever knew was the enemy digging his claws into his mind and tearing it apart bit by bit. He wanted to die, he only wished to be killed and taken to the Well... but then there was a voice. Soft and warm, one he always would recognize, but now oh so agonizingly broken. He almost didn't believe it, he didn't want to fall for another lie, but his spark, oh his spark could feel another presence and it was not the enemy he always felt on him... he tried to speak, to call, to yell, let out any sound but all he could was force static electricity out his unconnected cables, hissing the desperate words he could not say.

"What did he do to you?" Bee wanted to cry, to wail and embrace the broken mech but the sounds of others approaching snapped him out. He couldn't stay here, no matter how much he wanted. "I'm sorry, i have to go. I'll come back for you, I promise." He whispered into Longarm's audial before being forced to hide again. The two mechs returned and started working on something away from the door, allowing Bee to slip out and run. He will come back for Longarm, he'll bring help and save him. He had to...

He found his way onto the take off platform, desperate to find a way back home. He found a small ship, capable of being operated by one bot. Starting it off turned out to be harder that he thought, just as he was taking off the alarm sounded from the facility. He fled and managed to get past the orbit but his hopes to escape were cut short as the ship was shot down...

Bee woke up in a medbay, much unlike the one he saw in the facility. He was confused and skittish but then Sentinel walked in. Bee was found adrift in space by a space patrol and brought onto Steelhaven. Sentinel wanted to know what he was doing so far away from earth but Bee never answered his questions. Soon after he was treated he was let out to contact his team in the control centre but just when they were leaving the medical sector the other mech approached... the fake Longarm.

Bee's energon boiled as the his pained processor forced back what he saw and he charged at the mech with his stinger. Other Elite Guard had to hold him down as he went into frenzy out of nowhere and screamed incoherently at Longarm. He was put in stasis and locked in medbay until they arrived at earth.

The word around the ship spread out and soon Jazz was looking into the situation. Bee was his friend and knew that it wasn't like him to go crazy like that... Against Sentinel's orders to let this situation be handled by him he went and under no one's watch woke Bee up from stasis. Bee was panicked and it took Jazz a little bit before he could speak with him- Bee was muttering something about him overhearing and Jazz didn't know what it meant until Bee broke and told him everything he saw. Jazz was beyond shocked, he wanted to help but Bee insisted to not tell anyone they don't trust 100% as the info would spill back to the spy.

They came up with a plan. They snuck out during shift-change hours and stole an emergency pod. It wasn't long before the systems alerted the crew of its deployment, Bee barely managed to steer them out of the radar. Bee managed to call his team with the emergency signal. They were all so shocked and worried about him, it's been nearly a week since they lost contact with him and things weren't looking good back on Earth. Bee told them what he found, who he found and everything else in one desperate breath.

"I knew something was wrong. I knew it! I- Primus why didn't I do anything- why--" He knew something was off and he never did anything. By the Allspark why didn't he do something?! Jazz was quick to notice the sudden meltdown Bee was having and comforted him while Team Prime listened over the call.

Bee knew Longarm for a long time, he was the best mech he's ever met. Longarm was very dear to him, the two shared so many intimate moments back in boot camp. Longarm always looked at him with such adoration before calling him the sweet nicknames only he was allowed to say. They've known more about one another than the time they spend together and yet, both of them knew it was more than just simple love. Bee felt so guilty for ignoring the warning signs and getting fooled by the mimic.

The two told them their plan to get the real Longarm back, Bee knew the coordinates of the facility. All of them were much against only the two of them going but Bee assured them they were gonna be alright and that they need to work on getting the fake Longarm arrested.

It wasn't too long before they arrived back at the facility, after scanning the area from the orbit they made a quick and stealthy landing and got inside the facility. While Jazz worked on getting the alarm systems down Bee made his way back into the same laboratory. He rushed to his beloved and worked on getting him off this damned machinery. He carefully unplugged all the cables and binds keeping him there while hastily whispering words of comfort to Long. There wasn't any designed way to move him but Bee managed to get him onto the supply wagon along with the energon IVs. It was then that hell broke loose. Jazz was trying his best to keep the guards away so Bee can make the escape. Soon they were both running thru the corridors dodging blaster shots and other guards ahead. Jazz held them off while Bee got Longarm into the pod and started the engine. Jazz managed to make it just in time before Bee blasted off back home... but during that he got a serious injury. Once they were set on steady course Bee hurried back to them and patched him the best he could but Jazz was still losing energon quick... Bee panicked and scrambled to do anything to help, the pod shook at it got caught by an EM magnet and pulled into the slot of the bigger ship. When the doors opened Bee was greeted by the lesser crew of Steelhaven.

They took the injured mechs to medbay at once and set course back to Earth while Bee sat there, waiting anxiously for the outcome... When Bee saw Optimus ran into the control centre he bursted into tears, mumbling apologies over and over. Optimus just held him, glad that he was okay and safe. Soon the whole team reunited. Bee learned what battle ensued during his mission and that the fake Longarm was caught trying to scrap agent Blurr. The majority of Steelhaven crew was down on Earth with Team Prime, Optimus has let them know of what Bee discovered therefore they were able to catch the impostor. Ratchet was more than glad to disassemble every single part of Longarm's off this scrapheap's frame. (According to Jazz, he was fine and Prowler was worrying about nothing... which earned him a slap to the helm.)

It was weeks before the Longarm was ready to function again, Bee has stayed by his side every moment of it. When Longarm first woke up he was still adjusting to coordination and speaking, when he saw Bee again he tried to move towards him. Bee leapt off the seat and embraced Longarm for the first time in forever while Longarm tried so hard to hug him back as his voicebox garbled noises in attempt to speak to him.

Bee stayed by Longarm's side every day and night, he spoke to him and told him what happened. Longarm told his story the best he could- he still had a lot of recovery and rehabilitation to do but as long as Bee was there it would be okay.

The moment he was allowed to roam Sentinel came up to them informing him of the status and a high raise as a compensation for all he endured. But that didn't matter to anyone- "I don't want a compensation, I don't want a high rank... I quit. I'm staying here, with Bumblebee."

No matter how much Sentinel tried to persuade him to stay, that he shouldn't make serious decisions like that when still recovering, it was all for nothing. Longarm filed the official resignation and Optimus welcomed him with open arms to his team.

Bee has said a lot about Longarm in the past and now that they had real Longarm with them they were more that happy to get to know him. They've redone Bee's room to house the two mechs together and Longarm couldn't have it any other way. He missed Bee so much.

Once everything has calmed down, when the city has been repaired they would go on a dates. Bee would show him around the city and all his favorite places. They would find a secluded area by the river and spend the entire day there until both of them would perform their conjunx ritus at sunset, just the two of them alone, like they always wanted...

And Shockwave would still be locked in a dark cell, missing parts and plating to cover the painful wounds no one ever bothered to fix fully.

You give me angst, I give you a fic-sized post. Hope you're happy.

Oh, and Wasp was never really in the picture, he got transferred to a higher program when Bee was forced to switch and no spy rumors ever existed. No murder hornets for them, my bro.

[einaudis]

Lestat, struggling to ask Louis about September 8th.

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE S02E08 - “AND THAT’S THE END OF IT. THERE’S NOTHING ELSE”

[doverstar]

actually I love Tentoo and he is the Doctor and it was the only ending for Rose that worked and it is a huge gift to be able to have the man she loves grow old with her, they were always heading for that, y'all be quiet. I 100% understand the angst but it's okay, they're okay, good ending-