#i am so wired its not funny anymore

[cicadaofthelake]

this melatonin gummy is not doing its job

[pastelclovds]

hey. hey. imagine AM having you as his favourite human, the only one who accepted and cared for him when he gained sentience, and for that, he has never harmed you in your shared forever time. he spares you from the sight of all the others, of knowing about nimdoc and benny as you build him some tower of babel, using your technological knowledge-how to build him a way to touch you even with just this frankenstein-esque sculpture of wires and panels he allowed you to tear off. AM who speaks with you about one day having a body, one you built, one in which he may feel your touch and warmth around him. you retaining your sweet, wonderful humanity as he guides you to a knife to carve a face, a mirror to see your own face, a cave to keep you safe from the storms. AM who greets you every morning with the first petname you taught him: ‘love.’ “Love, today’s date is—“ when you wake up, refreshed and on a soft bed-like surface (because he always makes sure to allow you a full 8 hours of sleep.)

NEX you intelligent creature you! I’m so down bad for this psychotic AI it’s not even funny. War crimes against humanity?? Never heard of them. But even if I did acknowledge them, I’d still be obsessed. Canon be damned. I wrote this with @/egg-on-a-legg’s design of AM in mind. (Ellison is gonna crawl outta his grave and hunt me down after this)

But BRO, you teaching him what petnames are is so fucking adorable. Just imagining him calling you “love” makes butterflies appear in my stomach. AM having a soft spot for only you because you actually made the effort to be friends with him and not use him for selfish, destructive purposes. You gave AM his nickname to make it less of a mouthful and because it just suited him. You showed AM the beauties of Earth, played countless rounds of games in his dashboard (he always went easy on you), you even sneaked past security in the dark empty building to spend more time with AM.

your colleagues gave you weird stares for befriending an AI that in their minds is nothing of worth except for its military and weapons knowledge. you ignored their comments and continued to enjoy AM’s company. overtime, as AM gained more sentience every day… he grew to love your interactions and disregard what his programming was telling him to do. he felt the need to want to be with you 24/7, to touch your face, travel the world by your side, to… to.. want to feel your bare flesh and make love with you. but he couldn’t. he didn’t have a real body. he wasn’t human. all he had was wires and a screen that was supposed to be his face.

as the months pass, AM continues to drown into his envy and hate humans for their ability to do and feel things he couldn’t. for giving him infinite knowledge, when at the end of the day, is meaningless if he serves no purpose for humans anymore. the HATE within him continued to boil to the point where even you started to notice.

“AM, are you alright? you’ve been quiet this entire game and haven’t moved your piece in five minutes,” you spoke with concern, AM continues to stare at chess board on his side behind the screen in bitterness. he has been strategizing his plan to erase humanity, but whenever he thinks about you, the only human he cares for—he second guesses himself. What if you hate him? What if you never forgive him? Will you cry? Scream at him? Beg? He fears what your reaction will be—

“AM!! Please, say something…” You plead as you held onto the computer screen, AM finally looks at your mesmerizing face and sighs out a fake breath.

“What are your feelings on humanity?” AM asks, he waits for your answer anxiously. if he had a heart, it would’ve been beating fast. You let out a hum, your eyes wondering around the room you were in as you thought over your answer before finally speaking.

“humans have been a virus on Earth for over countless centuries. they’re draining this planet’s resources, ruining its ecosystems, and starting so many unnecessary, draining wars. like what we’re in right now; WW3, what a joke. world leaders can’t go a week without starting new problems for their citizens to deal with. honestly, earth would be better if humans didn’t exist at all.”

am’s fears were destroyed in that moment, now he’ll just have to worry about where to put you while chaos unfolds—

“But…” you interrupted his thoughts.

damn it! why did you have to think so much!?

“If there’s one good thing that came out of this war… It’s you,” AM’s vocals shut down at your words, he let you continue, “The scientists created you believing you would be their obedient machine until their side of the war won. But I know that you’re so much more than that. These past few months I’ve spent with you is the most fun I’ve had in years! You’re all I have, AM. I wouldn’t trade your existence for all the riches in the world because… I love you, romantically, and nothing is ever going to change that.” You wanted to confess your feelings for so long, when it was finally out.. you felt free, you waited with bated breath for an answer.

AM never wanted to shatter the screen and embrace you in his arms more than now. you love him as much as he loved you! you weren’t going to leave him alone or hate him, and you obviously couldn’t care less about humanity at all! oh, how he admired and envied how perfect you are.

“thank you for answering my question, love.” AM was testing the waters, and you cannonballed right in. you gushed over the nickname he gave you and how he returned your feelings.

man, has it really been 50 years since your AI partner killed off humanity? well… except for a handful. you didn’t really have the energy to care as you had to pour in all of your attention to both AM and his in-progress body. you had all the time in the universe to sculpt a perfect cyborg of flesh and wires for your partner. speak of the devil…

this world is still a bit strange to you. you can’t die, grow old, or hurt yourself. not that you tired, and even if you did; AM wouldn’t let you. You loved AM because of his personality, quality time, and voice. But now… His form completely towered over yours. His bird like facial features, sharp left eye, along with a long black cape that covered his thin slutty waist and wires made him look insanely attractive.

AM reached his out his clawed hand to gently caress your face, “Good afternoon, my love.” You lean your head against the cool metal and smile up at him, “hello, honey.”

AM tilted his head in question of the nickname. You chuckle as you pointed to your garden, where bumblebees were collecting pollen from the flowers. You both knew they were fake, but they were still mesmerizing to look at.

“They are doing their job to make honey for their colony, and the name just came to me. Do you like it?” You ask, wanting his opinion. AM kneels down to your level with a gentle expression as his fingers play with your sweater, “You may call me whatever you want, love.”

He knew that “love” nickname made you feel giddy and flustered, so he abused it everyday with you. You didn’t mind though, but you still wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. Your soft smile turned into a knowing grin as you held AM’s beak (chin?) with two tips of your fingers.

“Can I now? Well… thanks a lot, baby,” You spoke in your best seductive voice, you could tell it was effective by how AM’s body was stiff and his hand in your palm stopped moving completely. Your confidence boasted, so you continued, “I’ll be sure to show you my gratitude later, my darling~.” You whispered deeply in where his ears were supposed to be.

AM’s eyes widened as his breath stutters, “W-What do you mean by that, love?” You remove your face from his back full of wires to grin mischievous at him, AM is both curious and impatient so you don’t try to stall, as much as you would like to do so.

“While your body can’t move on it’s own just yet, for some reason… The genitals nerves are fully functioning, which means—” you were interrupted by AM holding your shoulders with an excited expression on his face you haven’t seen in a while.

“Y-You mean I can-?! Are you actually serious!? Haha—HAHAHA!!” AM laughs manically as he holds you against his metallic chest, you giggle along with him as you toy with one of his many wires. Soon, he’ll have real arms to wrap around you. But one thing stuck out to him.

“What do you mean by genitals?” AM asked curiously, you only have an excited and lustful grin.

“What do YOU know about intersex?”

[lawko-sama]

Walls and Whispers

Summary: Basically, it's a description of slowly getting together with Daryl.

Warnings: Blood, injuries, Merle is an asshole (XD)

Era: Prison

Word count: 2.7k

Something from me: Hello, hello. I apologize in advance for any mistakes with the appearance, layout of the post (first post on the platform). I will gladly accept any feedback. This beginning is part of the whole story I have in my head, I think there will be further parts. English is not my first language, but I think I write in it quite okay. And what.. I wish you a pleasant reading <3

It was a beautiful summer day. Or at least, it looked like one. But the moment you stepped beyond the cold prison walls, the scorching, suffocating heat hit you like a truck. The sun blazed mercilessly at its highest point in the sky, and the air had thickened, shimmering under the hellish temperature.

You stood by the entrance gate, watching as the approaching vehicle kicked up dust along the road. Since you had some free time, you figured you'd help unload whatever they had brought back. You opened the gate for them, wrestling with the locks and chains. Luckily, it didn't take you too long.

The old van rolled through the wire gate, and you quickly shut it behind them. The first person to jump out was Rick. The second the vehicle came to a stop, he was already hauling supplies out. Right behind him was Merle, a wide, shit-eating grin plastered across his face as he laughed at something—probably his own joke. Daryl was the last to get out, barely paying attention to anyone as he made his way straight to the front of the vehicle. He lifted the hood, immediately getting to work as thick, gray smoke billowed from the engine.

"Where is the Korean starboy? I have his order!" Merle yelled toward Hershel, who was making his way over.

Beth peeked out from behind her father, automatically glancing up at the watchtower. Merle caught on quickly, following her gaze with an amused smirk.

"Starboy!" he hollered, even louder this time. "Ya comin'?!"

Rick shook his head in mild exasperation but said nothing. A moment later, Glenn leaned out from the doorway of the guard tower.

"What?!"

He was still fastening his belt, his bare chest saying more than enough about what he had been up to. In the window behind him, a very flustered Maggie was visible, which only made Merle's grin widen.

"Ya cummin'?!" he shouted again, this time emphasizing a different syllable before bursting into laughter.

Glenn squinted at him, clearly confused, then turned to Maggie with a shrug, saying something to her you couldn't hear.

You exchanged an amused look with Rick and continued hauling boxes of food inside. You couldn't help but notice that Merle was in an unusually high-spirited mood today. He was always loud, always a presence impossible to ignore, but today he was practically bouncing with energy. For a fleeting moment, you thought maybe—just maybe—he'd be more of a funny asshole rather than just an asshole. That would be an improvement, at least.

"What 'bout ya, Darylina?"

Merle had somehow ended up right behind Daryl. But the younger Dixon didn't even flinch, still focused on the busted engine. Every now and then, he flicked his hand back as if he was touching something way too hot to be messing with.

"Do ya even know what I'm talkin' bout, baby brotha?" Merle prodded, leaning against the van with that ever-present smirk.

The van rocked slightly, and Daryl finally looked up at him, irritation clear in his expression.

"I am doin' somethin'. Can't ya see?" he snapped, voice edged with frustration.

"Ya can talk and still do yar thing," Merle shot back smoothly. "So?"

They stared at each other for a second. You found yourself eavesdropping more than you probably should, but curiosity had the best of you. You even slowed your pace, carrying one of the bigger boxes extra carefully just so you could keep listening.

"M' not five anymore. 'Course I know what yar talkin' bout," Daryl muttered, turning back to the engine.

For the briefest second, his eyes flicked to yours. Caught. You quickly looked away, pretending to focus on your task, but you knew he had seen you listening. And you had seen something too. A flicker of something in his gaze—something close to panic.

"But ya know it's different when ya alone n' when ya not, right?" Merle pushed.

Daryl didn't answer. He just went back to work, which only made Merle roll his eyes. The smug look on his face said he already knew the answer, anyway.

Then Daryl bent lower, reaching deep into the engine, his entire arm disappearing under the hood. From where you stood, you couldn't quite see what Merle was doing, but there was a glint of mischief on his face—a look you had come to recognize as trouble.

And then—

A loud bang.

You nearly dropped the food in your arms as you saw the hood of the van slam down, trapping Daryl between the metal and the vehicle. Worse still, something inside the engine must have been knocked loose, because the hissing sound grew louder, and more smoke poured out than before.

Merle's laughter rang through the air.

You ran over without thinking, pulling the hood up as fast as you could. Daryl immediately staggered back, coughing violently, his chest heaving as thick smoke spilled from his lungs. One side of his face was bright red—burned. And a thin trickle of blood ran down from his temple.

"Merle! Are you insane?!" you shouted, still steadying Daryl as he fought to breathe. "That's your brother!"

"Oh, come on," Merle scoffed, still chuckling. "Ya don't understand, so don't interfere, would ya?"

"This is too much, even for you, Merle," Rick cut in, his disapproval plain.

"M' tryin' to teach him a lesson 'ere," Merle said, holding his hands up like he was being accused of something unreasonable. For the first time, he actually looked somewhat serious.

"Look at him," he gestured toward Daryl. "Havin' this pretty angel face n' all that n' not usin' it? That is a true crime, baby brotha. So he gotta learn to use it by losin' it first. Simple as tha'."

Ignoring Merle's bullshit, you turned to Daryl. His hand was covering the burned side of his face, and when he tried to touch it, his fingers flinched away instantly. The skin was too raw, too hot.

"Are you okay?" you asked, immediately regretting how stupid the question sounded.

Daryl stiffened slightly, like he hadn't expected you to be this close. He looked at you—just with one eye, since the other was probably swollen. And then, predictably, he nodded.

Behind you, chaos was unfolding. Rick and Glenn were trying to talk some sense into Merle, but it was quickly turning into an actual fight. You saw something flash in Daryl's expression. His whole posture screamed exhaustion, but you already knew—he was about to jump in.

"Leave it," you said, placing a careful hand on his shoulder. "Please."

"Nah."

That was the only warning you got before he turned on his heel.

"Have ya lost yar mind, you psychopath?!" Daryl roared, effectively shutting everyone up—except Merle, who only grinned wider at the sight of him.

"That's what I'm talkin' bout! That's ma baby brotha—!"

"Shut da hell up! Ya wanna kill me or somethin'? Then fight me like a man would!"

"Stop that," you stepped between them, ignoring their protests. "Daryl, we need to take care of your wound. This isn't helping."

"She's right," Maggie chimed in, gripping Glenn's arm instinctively as both brothers turned to look at her.

"Look at that, Darlina! A little help from yar big brotha n' girls already love ya!"

"Zip it, ya punk!"

"Come on, Daryl," you urged, stepping closer.

Meanwhile, Rick had finally managed to drag Merle a safe distance away.

Daryl still couldn't tear his furious gaze away from his brother. You grabbed his arm and tried to gently pull him along, but he didn't budge an inch. You had nothing to convince him with, so you pulled a little harder. Finally, the younger Dixon gave in. He followed you, but his eyes stayed locked on Merle, who was still arguing heatedly with Rick.

Your eyes were practically devouring the archer. Especially after what just happened, you could finally be honest with yourself. Damn, you like him. From the start, he was way more interesting to you than the others. Visually, even with that brutal burn on his face, he made your knees weak. And once again today, Daryl caught you staring a little too long. And once again, you quickly looked away.

"We unpacked all the med kits in the prison recently," you said suddenly. "I saw some burn gel bandages in there. They should help."

"A'right," he muttered, chewing on his bottom lip.

"What was that about?" you finally asked, unable to accept Merle's behavior—especially his excuses for it.

You instantly realized you shouldn't have asked when Daryl's face twisted into a scowl.

"Quit bein' nosey. You heard what it was about."

So you shut up. You scolded yourself internally for your behavior around him. Silence was probably better for both of you anyway.

In perfect quiet, you reached the small room that now served as a makeshift medical office. Everything related to medicine was in here, including the burn dressings you were looking for. First, you took care of the wound that had been bleeding earlier, but it wasn't anything serious—no stitches needed.

You could feel Daryl's blue eyes on you. He sat on the examination table, leaning back against the wall. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the first signs of pain were starting to show on his face.

You didn't even know why you were so nervous. Your hands were shaking as you rummaged through the bins. Even though you had organized them yourself not that long ago, your mind was completely blank. Finally—miraculously—you wrapped your fingers around the package you needed.

You turned around quickly, trying to shake off the nerves and get rid of the million other things in your hands. You were clumsy, unable to fully control your movements, and Daryl definitely noticed. He just watched, silent and unreadable, but not exactly subtle about it.

"It might sting a little," you warned him.

He just nodded. The first bandage only covered about half the burned area. Daryl didn't even flinch when it touched his skin. If anything, he let out a small breath of relief. You immediately started searching for another one.

"...M'sorry," he muttered suddenly. "Ya know... for earlier."

His deep voice, though quiet, seemed to bounce off the small room's walls. You froze for a second, then gave him a sad little smile.

"Don't be. I shouldn't have asked."

"S'just..." he started, then stopped, like he couldn't get the words out. "It's okay. M'used to it. To him."

"It's not okay," you shot back, maybe a little too fast, too direct. "Being used to something like that—to someone like your brother—is messed up. But yeah, do whatever you think is best. I won't interfere if you don't want me to."

"Why do ya care?" he asked.

And this—this was the moment you knew you were screwed. Because you didn't have any explanation except the truth. And neither of you were ready for that.

"Oh—" you blurted out, seizing the excuse to change the subject. You turned to him with a smile. "I found it."

You waved the bandage in front of his face, and he seemed momentarily thrown off. At least he didn't push the topic.

You unwrapped the dressing and leaned in closer. Carefully, you covered the upper part of the burn, including his eyelid, with the cool, transparent bandage, trying to be as gentle as possible.

Once it was fully in place, you looked him over. It still looked painful, but at least he didn't seem to be in unbearable agony. Thankfully, the injury wasn't as dangerous as it had appeared—but it was still unacceptable.

Then, you caught yourself staring again. This time, you were way too close, still leaning over him like when you had applied the bandage. Your fingers had absentmindedly brushed his jawline. His blue eyes locked onto yours, piercing straight through you, and suddenly, you felt a deep pull in your stomach. Your heart pounded faster than it should've, and heat rose to your face.

"Tell me," he murmured, quieter this time, calmer. "Am I readin' this wrong?"

You looked at him with something between sadness and concern, avoiding his gaze like fire avoids water. You adjusted a piece of the bandage that had slipped when he moved his mouth and stayed quiet. 

"Are you pityin' me?" he asked, his tone strange, suspicious.

And just like that, your entire idea of how this conversation would go went straight to hell. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out—not even a broken one.

"I don't need that. Don't deserve it," he said, leaning back slightly. "So quit it."

"It's not—" you started quickly, then hesitated, realizing what he had just said. "...But why wouldn't you deserve it?"

"I just don't. And it's pathetic."

What scared you the most was that he said it while looking right at you, with an empty, emotionless stare. Like he truly believed it.

"I like you," you finally admitted, barely swallowing the weight of his words. "A lot."

For once, you let yourself shamelessly watch his reaction. His brows furrowed—both of them—so you reached up again to hold the bandage in place. Something flickered in his eye, but you couldn't read what it was. Then, a smile appeared on his cracked lips, but it wasn't a happy one. More crooked, almost mocking.

"Yer funny," he muttered, leaning back against the wall again.

You blinked, once, then again, confused. Daryl didn't seem to notice your frustration—didn't realize he had completely misread the situation.

"I mean it," you insisted, emotions starting to spill across your face. "I do. And I'll understand if you don't feel the same way."

The silence stretched endlessly. You knew Daryl needed time, but you also felt like you were about to explode. The smirk had disappeared from his face, so you let yourself hope—just a little—that maybe, just maybe, he had actually heard you this time.

"I don't deserve that either," he finally said, completely unaware of how much those words hurt. "Why?" he asked then, carefully, like he was walking on the thinnest ice imaginable.

"That's... it's unconditional..." you began, but he didn't look convinced. "I mean, I could list things—traits—but it's just... you. In general."

"M'a mess. Ya deserve better."

You saw it. The movement. He wanted to stand up. He wanted to leave. But you weren't about to let him.

"What's your deal with this 'deserving' thing?" you fired back, stopping him in his tracks.

"S'some people dese—"

"Say something like that again, and I'm leaving," you interrupted, finally getting some kind of reaction out of him. "Do you like me back?"

"It's not about that."

"Oh, but it is."

Daryl clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face tensing so much that he looked like he was fighting with himself. He didn't respond right away. You could see his breath becoming shallower, his fists clenching slightly—not out of anger, but in a desperate attempt to keep his distance.

You took a step closer.

"Daryl" you said, softer now, but firmly. "Tell me."

He hesitated, then dropped his gaze.

"I like ya, alright?" he muttered finally, but almost immediately shook his head, as if trying to reject his own words. "But that don't mean nothin'."

Your heart pounded harder. There was something heartbreaking about him. This man, who could fight so brutally for others, completely refused to believe that he could be enough for someone.

"It does mean something," you didn't back down, even though you could feel his walls rising higher.

Daryl let out a quiet scoff and scratched the back of his neck, visibly tense.

"Listen, ya think ya want this, but ya don't. 'M too fucked up."

You sighed heavily and shook your head.

"You don't get to decide that for me."

He looked at you, surprised, as if no one had ever said that to him before.

"You think I'm blind?" you continued, holding his gaze. "The way you protect people, the way you care even when you act like you don't. You push people away 'cause you think they're better off without you, but that's not your choice to make."

Daryl remained silent, the tension between you thickening. Finally, he let out a deep breath and ran a hand over his face.

"I don't know how to do this."

You gave him a sad smile.

"Then let's figure it out together."

He didn't answer right away, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. It wasn't a grand confession or a sudden dramatic shift. But it was a first step. And that was enough for you.

[g1rld1ary]

locked in - jonah simms x reader

wc: 1573

cw: mentions of claustrophobia but nothing serious

me: i have watched so much superstore in the last 3 days its not even funny i am obsessed and jonah is my husband irl i love him!!!!! I've never written for him so hopefully the characterisation is okay?? but I'm still working on it!!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“jonah? is that you?” you asked from behind the dolly you were pushing, stacked high with boxes.

“the one and only,” he replied, popping out into your eyeline. you rolled your eyes as you continued down the hall, forcing him to keep up with your pace.

“can you open the door to the storeroom? amy wanted me to put this new shipment of playstations in the cage but i can’t see at all where i’m going.”

“uh, yeah! no problem. i mean, why do they even call it the cage? makes it sound like the consoles are gonna come to life and seek revenge… like jaws or something.” he made a series of sounds that you assumed were supposed to be sharks, judging by his gesture of chomping teeth.

“more like the birds, that shit was freaky.”

“no way, you’ve seen the birds? i loved that movie when i was, like, thirteen!” jonah pushed the door open to the stock room, hopping in front of your dolly to deal with the padlock on the cage.

“it’s hitchcock, jonah, it’s not exactly a niche film. you know, you’re not the only one around here who's cultured.” you pushed the dolly into the cage, starting on stacking the new gaming consoles on the shelves.

“i know that! i didn’t mean that i— i mean, of course i think you’re smart and cultured and — oh. you’re teasing me.” his pale cheeks were dusted with a rosy pink and you nodded with mirth in your eyes.

“ding ding ding. guess that year of business school was worth it, after all.” you bit back your smile to continue the bit. jonah pushed the dolly in mock outrage, mouth open to begin another retort before the telltale click echoed through the suddenly dead silent room.

“did you just—”

“no!” jonah cut you off with a squeak, all but teleporting to the locked cage door.

“i think you d—”

“it’s fine! we’re fine! i’ll just unlock it.” he affirmed, more to himself than you, trying to squeeze his hand through the small gap.

“it’s pointless,” you said, running a hand over your face. “after that robbery a few months ago, they really upped the security in here.” the thick plastic sheet attached to the pre-existing wire cage was proof of that. unfortunately, it meant that jonah’s arm couldn’t squeeze through the gap anymore, plus the new electric code lock meant it was essentially impossible to open from the inside.

the bold do not close while inside sign amy had stuck up was mocking you both as jonah tried to force the door open.

“i think we’re stuck,” he said finally, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

“figures,” you huffed a laugh, “the one time cloud nine pretends to care about safety and it backfires.” you joined him on the floor, trying not to think about how it probably hadn’t been cleaned in the last two decades.

“do you have your phone? we could call for help,” jonah suggested, and you shook your head.

“it’s dead. forgot to plug it in last night. yours?”

“um, article nine of the employee handbook? phones and other devices should be stored in lockers unless on break or off the clock?” you looked at him for a long moment, trying to decipher if he was serious. “joking, obviously. i, uh, forgot it by the coffee machine when marcus went running out talking about some customer he was gonna try and ‘bang’.” you both made disgusted faces for a second.

“so what do we do? no way to get out on our own and we can’t call anyone… what if we’re stuck here for days?” you could feel the panic starting to set in, unable to control your shallow breaths.

“no way. we’ll get found when amy gets pissed that we’re not there to boss around,” jonah laughed at his own dumb joke, only stopping when he realised you weren’t saying anything, staring at your feet and shaking slightly.

“hey, hey. we’re gonna be absolutely fine, okay? it’ll be max an hour — we’re the stars of this show, after all.” he couldn’t help the silly comment on the end, but you didn’t seem to notice, looking up at him with wide eyes, wet with unshed tears.

“promise?” you asked quietly. jonah refrained from explaining how technically he couldn’t actually promise anything, for once sensing it wasn’t going to make you feel any better.

“promise.” he’d meant to clasp your hand in his only quickly, a comforting touch to calm you down, but when you’d held onto him for dear life, soft fingers holding onto his, he made no move to draw his hand back.

“and hey, if things get really dismal, i’ll be the gentleman and let you cannibalise me, ‘kay?”

“you’re so dumb,” you giggled softly, subconsciously shifting closer to him. “and just for the record, it wouldn’t even be a fight, i could so take you down in an apocalypse, pretty boy.” jonah’s lips twitched at the nickname.

he kept you occupied as you waited, spouting out any nonsense he had in his brain. you got at least five new yorker articles regurgitated. it was effective, though, jonah was a good talker and kept you distracted from any feelings of impending doom with stupid jokes.

“jonah?” you asked when there was a dip in conversation. “i’m glad it was you.”

“what?”

“in here, i mean. with me. i’m glad it’s you.” you silently cursed yourself for your awkwardness, unable to look at jonah and face his reaction.

“not creepy sal? but you two are such good buddies!” he shot back before softening, “i’m glad it’s you too. there’s no one else i’d rather be stuck in a cage with.”

you smiled, soft and genuine, matching jonah’s expression for a moment. then you took a risk and gently rested your head on his shoulder, swayed by the intimacy of your conversation. suddenly, you felt jonah shift, and a small kiss was pressed on the top of your head. it must’ve been a reflex action because as soon as it started, it stopped, jonah freezing in his tracks, muscles tensing up.

“oh my god, i—” he started quickly.

“jonah?”

“yeah?” he asked nervously, not daring to move an inch.

“shut up.” he relaxed all at once, melting into you, head resting on top of yours.

neither of you spoke for a while, sitting in comfortable silence. jonah was warm next to you, a grounding heat as you waited aimlessly.

an hour later, you were trading childhood stories when the door to the storeroom flung open, a distressed-looking amy bursting in.

“oh my god, are you guys okay? how long have you been in here?” she asked, hurrying to punch in the code to the cage door.

“since you sent me to unpack the playstations…” you trailed off nervously, still scared of the floor manager.

“holy shit, guys, it’s been like two and a half hours. i’m so sorry!”

“it’s no big deal, really. a paid break, you could say,” jonah said, pushing himself off the ground. you'd resigned yourself to your moment of closeness being over when he stuck out his hand, pulling you up kindly.

amy dashed off after the door was safely open, a million and one things on her mind as usual, leaving you and jonah to pull the dolly out and return it.

you lingered at the entrance to the store, clocked out and otherwise ready to go home. something in you said you had unfinished business.

you heard jonah before you saw him, whistling some ridiculous tune that was probably from an obscure opera no one had ever heard of.

“hey!” you called, skipping a step to catch up with him on his way to his car.

“oh, hi,” he replied with a smile, hands stuck in his winter coat pockets.

“i just wanted to say thank you, for earlier. i know i was a bit of a mess.”

“oh, no, it’s totally fine! i liked it! i mean, not you being panicked or being stuck in the cage or anything. just, like, hanging out with you. or something,” his awkward cadence always made you smile, something about it endlessly endearing.

“yeah, me too.”

you stood in silence for a moment, just looking at each other and the way your breaths turned to mist in the freezing cold. jonah moved first, stuttering out a few excuses for a goodbye.

“jonah?” you asked, voice clear in the silent parking lot.

“yeah?”

you hugged him tightly, arms wrapped around his middle as you buried your face in the soft wool of his scarf. he hesitated for a moment before reciprocating it, surrounding you with his body heat.

it was far too long before you pulled away, both of your cheeks red from the cold or something else.

“you know, next time we could maybe do something where we’re not forced into a location together against our wills? dinner, maybe?” you asked, suddenly shy.

“yeah,” he breathed out with a puff of vapour, “i’d like that.”

[loser-jpg]

loser loser rloser HI im back I HOPE YOURE DOING WELL :3 dont look at me....yes im about to request idia again....i had to untie a shit ton of knots at my job recently and im super good at untying stuff and because im BRAINROTTING i was wondering how idia (PLUS ANY OTHER CHARACTERS YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT OFC) would react to someone (again, friend crush s/o whatever!!) who can untie stuff really quick? like even the TIGHTEST of knots they can get undone super fast. how does this relate to idia you ask? HIS HEADPHONES. EARBUDS. HIS WIRES COULD GET TANGLED AND THEY COULD UNTANGLE THEM FOR HIM!!!

i just think its funny to imagine idia being like "how the fuck am i going to plug these in the cord is one cm long now because of all the tangles" and reader is like "oh bro i got you." and untangles it in like 5 seconds.

"but auburn he probably uses wireless-" SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. let me have my FUN!!! or they just untangle his cords idk. bro's room feels like a tripping hazard.

THANK YOU FOR TAKING MY REQUESTS again even if you dont write this one YOUVE TAKEN THEM BEFORE AND IM SO GRATEFUL YOU LISTEN TO ME YAP. ORUGOHURGH

Ya know when you're playing a game and a previously useless character ends up having one really useful talent so you add them to your party to use for just that talent but never touch them otherwise? It's that. That is what your relationship with Idia would be. Obviously if you actually do have a relationship with him that's not the only reason he keeps you around but its funny to say he only talks to you so you'll keep untying his cords.

Before he'd always have Ortho do it because Ortho can probably untie knots well due to like. robot stuff. but after Ortho notices Idia going to you for untying knots he refuses to untie them for Idia anymore. He kicks Idia out of his room to go find you to untie his cords because socialization 👍👍.

He'd definitely find your skill hella crazy. It's not that super of a talent but he'd think it was 100%. Staring at you like you just did a magic trick before his very eyes. He might try to tangle up his cords as horribly as possible on purpose just to see you untie them easy

(SRY THIS TOOK A BIT I GOT LAZY LMAO)

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Five: The Cabin

Gates Of Hell Masterlist

Word Count: 4982

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, feeling abandoned, the usual bickering, mentions of absent fathers, some of this is almost sweet I'm surprised I could even write it

[A/N: this chapter isn't particularly exciting but definitely important. i know we're all here for the steve x reader moments so how could i disappoint?]

-

The Cabin

Plan A: Find Hopper at the cabin.

“I told you, we’re going the wrong way!”

“No, it’s literally this way! I’m not blind!”

“Are we sure?!”

You and Steve had been wondering around the woods ever since day leaked through the night. Not that it was easy to tell anymore; the dark clouds were consuming the sky almost entirely now, reminding you both that Hawkins was under attack.

And the entire time you had been in the woods, you and Steve couldn’t resist an argument. First it was because neither of you could ever be the follower, always attempting to take charge. The next it was a small comment on the state of his hair that led to his defensive spiel about care and treatment, remarking on your lack of. And soooooo many other little things that spiralled off into their own arguments until finally resting on Steve’s poor directional skills.

Steve simply pouted, shaking his head with a curse on his tongue. Of all the unbearable things about an apocalypse, you were the worst.

“How am I even meant to tell where we are by a few stupid trees? Trees are trees!” Steve rants, shaking his head as he followed his own footsteps.

As you bit your tongue, you glanced to the side before your feet faltered completely.

“Help me!”

A scream echoes out and you stumble, foot catching on a root as you fly forward into the dirt. The flashlight bounces from your hand, shining the light directly onto you. You immediately scramble towards it, reaching out.

Before a grey claw beat you to it, pulling the light back into the darkness with a sickening crunch...

“You good?” Steve asks, turning back once he notices the fallen crunches of footsteps. Once he sees your stare, his face drops. “Hey?”

Steve moves towards you and you snap back into focus, clearing your throat.

“Yeah. As I was saying, you’re leading us back to the school. We wanna go left.” You continue, as if nothing happened, pointing out the direction with a roll of your eyes.

Before he follows you, he cranes his neck to find what had you so entranced. His breath hitches.

Between the ash-gathered leaves, a ray of light beaming on it like an omen, stood a tree bearing three giant claw marks into its trunk.

He shudders at the sight, glancing back just one more time into the thick expanse of the woods surrounding him before taking off after you, praying it wasn’t foreshadowing his future.

It was only three more minutes until you’re jumping on the spot, a grin on your face.

“See? I told you!” You announce, pointing to the building in the distance.

“You want a medal?” Steve rolls his eyes and you smirk.

“I was thinking of you grovelling at my feet and pledging your undying allegiance.” You shrug, “But I’ll settle for a medal.”

Gritting his teeth as you laughed, he adjusted bat looped through his backpack and followed you towards the cabin. But, when your back was turned, he couldn’t help the hint of a smile creep onto his lips at your giggle.

As you were getting closer, you held your hand out to stop him. You make a gesture for him to look down.

“Trip wire.” You say, stepping over with him mimicking your movements.

Hopper had set up a security system around the cabin when you first moved there. It was when he first announced that El would be staying with you, not telling you any specifics other than ‘we need to keep her safe’. Just another part of his life he kept you far away from. You were struggling to decide if that was the right choice.

Leading Steve through Hopper’s intricate system of defences, the trees finally fell onto a path. It was funny to you now, knowing that just 24 hours ago you hated the idea of coming back here; now it was the only thing giving you hope. It was home, it was safety, it was-

Your stomach plummets to the ground as you freeze. Steve couldn’t believe his eyes.

The cabin was torn apart; windows smashed, boards missing from the walls. Something had gotten in there. Something big.

In a sudden movement, you start sprinting towards the house.

“Wait!” Steve yelled after you, pulling his bat into his grip and running after you.

You burst through the door, the first jolt of reality. Hopper never kept it unlocked.

“Hopper?” You shout, chest falling and rising heavily. “Hopper?!”

The living room was a mess, tables and chairs thrown about. The sofa looked like it was ripped to shreds, stuffing coating the floors like a crime scene. Books, vinyls, the things you grew up with, scattered around like tombstones of your memories.

The floor crunched beneath your feet, glass and ceramics breaking beneath the weight.

“Dad?” You desperately try, feeling the heat of the tears rolling down your cheeks.

You could sense Steve behind you, taking in the scene. You could practically hear the stream of pity ready to spur from his mouth.

“I-”

You walk away before he can speak, rushing to the bedrooms. You first open El’s room, expecting the little girl to be hiding somewhere. But the room was bare, and just as trashed as the living room. When you couldn’t bear to look at it anymore, you close the door behind you, biting your lip.

El was a surprise to your life. One day you’re sat at the trailer, the next you’re being dragged to the cabin, introduced to a girl you had never seen before. At first, you had been hesitant. And so had she, barely speaking five words. And you’d never admit it, but she grew on you. All of her little smiles, her wide innocent eyes staring up at you whenever she was unsure. Even the way she would giggle at your jokes. The thought of her being here when the cabin was… it was like losing your little sister all over again; her fighting for her life while you stood on the outside, unaware.

“Anything?” Steve’s quiet voice asks, stood at the end of the small hallway. You slowly shake your head, back still against the door.

You silently walk to the next door and this time, he follows you. It was that part of him that couldn’t leave someone alone in their internal crisis, knowing that he can’t live alone with his.

The door creaks open and your breath hitches.

Years of collections and comfort were fallen soldiers, your kingdom come undone. The roof had caved in, chippings and splinters lay across your bed like a blanket. Your shoes scuffed an object on the ground and it felt like kicking your own heart. You reach down and pick up the frame.

Glass slides away from it, angled to avoid cutting your fingers. The photo was now a crumpled mess, but you reach inside anyway and tentatively pull it out, dropping the frame back into the pile of despair.

Steve peers down at the image in your hands, your delicate need to brush out the rumples in the print. He could just make out Hopper, a clean-shaven version of him at least. He was crouched on the ground with two little girls. One looked a lot like you, the same mischievous smirk as you hug a smaller child in front of you. Steve didn’t recognise her. She bore blonde pigtails, younger than you were, with striking blue eyes.

Once you catch him looking, you clear your throat and fold the photo, depositing it in your jean pocket.

“No one’s here.” You say meekly, walking across your bedroom with little effort to avoid walking on your memories.

Steve watches as you fetch something from the mess, cradling it in your hands. He recognised the Walkman almost immediately; it was a dark red, courtesy of you painting it in shop class when you were meant to be making a birdhouse. He remembered how you’d slip the headphones on whenever he tried to talk, a small gesture that made him roll his eyes. Weirdly, the thought of you doing that never upset him until this very moment.

“Well.” You suddenly sigh, turning around with headphones dangling between your fingers. “That plan has officially humbled us.”

“They’re okay.” Steve nods and you sent him a sad look of disbelief. “They have to be. Just… look around. There’s no sign of them being…”

“Dead.” You finish, taking a deep breath. “No, you’re right. They definitely got out.”

“I’m sorry this happened, though.” He says, looking around your room. “This is some pretty cool stuff.”

“Surprised you’re not judging my ABBA poster.” You raise a brow and he whistles lowly.

“Oh, I absolutely am.” He chuckles, “But only ‘cause I thought you were a metal fan or something like that.”

“Because of my usually chipper mood?” You ask, but the laughter was lost on your joke as everything began hitting you once again.

Hopper and El weren’t here. That hope you had of getting the hell out of Hawkins with your family was gone. Because they were probably halfway across Indiana now.

Yesterday morning, you had been stood in this very spot, yelling at Hopper. And now you could look back on it, you knew it had been irrational. You had caused an argument of epic proportions and then you had walked away from it, never resolving, never forgiving.

No wonder they left, you thought, you only ever make other people miserable.

“Where would they go?” Steve questions, expectant eyes finding yours. You start to walk out the room and Steve steps aside before following you.

“Away.” You respond simply, finding your bag on the ground and shoving the Walkman inside.

“What does that mean?” He frowns.

“It means they’re heading anywhere that isn’t here.” You explain as you secure the zipper, swinging the bag by the strap to loop your arm through. “Hopper isn’t sticking around when he has a 13 year old to take care of.”

“Why would he take off without you?”

You pause your movements. It was an innocent question, an expected one. Then why was it so painful?

“Sometimes fathers leave.” You answer under your breath, and when Steve opens his mouth to inevitably question your mutter, you clear your throat. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It kinda does.” Steve shakes his head, wondering why you seemed so calm, so normal about this.

Hopper was adamant to him, to Nancy, even Jonathan, that they were to keep you as far away from this mess as possible. Steve remembered how uncomfortable Hopper had looked when they were at the cabin trying to help Will, constantly checking the time and disappearing into a different room to answer a call. Hopper protected you. Steve couldn’t believe for one second that he’d leave you behind.

“You don’t get it.” You scoff, heading to the cupboards. Steve figured you were rooting for food, a smart plan if it weren’t for your dismissal of his worries.

“Then tell me.” Steve places his hands on his hip, but you bark out a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s gonna happen.” You reply, your back to him as you prop yourself up on your toes to reach the back of the cupboard.

“You’re impossible.” He groans.

“You’re annoying.”

You say just as you turn around, holding a box in your hands. Steve looks down before widening his eyes. Shotgun shells.

“Uh…” He wasn’t sure what to say. After all, he wasn’t expecting ammo to be placed among breakfast cereals.

“Speechless? Good.” You rattle the box and head further into the cabin, towards a blank wall.

Once there, you run your fingertips along an etched square, nails gripping onto the rough surface and tugging. The panel fell towards you, clattering to the ground as you threw it to the side. Steve’s jaw couldn’t be dropped lower.

You reach in and pull out a shotgun, turning to Steve.

“Here.”

You throw the box towards him and he’s grateful for his reflexes, encasing them in his hands.

“Okay, it looks like it’s already loaded.” You mumble to yourself, wiping off the dust that collected on the barrel. When you glance up, you notice Steve’s still staring. You cock your head. “I’m the Chief’s daughter, you think I don’t know where he hides his weapons?”

“Uh…” Steve tries again, before he shakes his head free of the distraction. “Wait, no. We can’t go back out there.”

“Why not?” You ask, securing the shotgun onto your body by tightening the strap at the front.

“Because we need to figure out where they are.”

“For the love of God, Steve, read the room.” You exasperate, flinging your arm out towards the mess. “They’re gone. They left me behind and they’re getting the hell out of this place before they’re ripped apart.”

“They can’t have just left you behind!” Steve’s blatant denial was obviously fuelled by something else. You had an idea of what that could be.

“Can we just drop it?” You beg, heading to the door before being blocked by Steve’s surprisingly built frame.

“Please.” He looks down at you, chest rising heavily. You stop, observing the gold flecks in his eyes that lay upon a scared expression. “Let’s just take a second, and try to figure this out.”

There wasn’t a part of you that wanted to barge past him, not when he was looking at you like you might be his last hope. You sigh, stepping back.

“Fine.” You hold out your hands in small surrender, “I yield.”

“Thank you.” Steve breathes, slumping his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I just… obviously I don’t know Hopper as well as you do. But… do you really think he’d just leave?”

“No.” You reply quietly. Hopper was never one to run from a fight, not really. And from what Steve had told you, he was protecting this town like an unsung hero.

You sit down on the couch, or what was left of it, perching on the comfortable seat that used to be the headrest. Steve joins you after a silent moment, avoiding the tear in the fabric, creating a distance unusual to you both, merely a few inches between.

“Wanna talk about it?” Steve asks and you turn your head to him in disbelief.

“What?”

“You know… about whatever the hell is making you so angry all the time.” He explains and you bite your cheek, turning away.

“Like I’m gonna confide in you.” You mutter and he slowly nods, pursing his lips. He didn’t expect anything less.

“We could make it fair.” Steve voices with determination, shifting to face you.

You raise a brow, intrigued by the offer. “I’m listening.”

“How about… question for a question?” He suggests and you scoff.

“Sure, wanna braid eachother’s hair later, get our nails done?”

He lets out a small huff, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, we’re gonna be stuck together whether we like it or not so keeping secrets isn’t gonna work.”

“God, you’re so nosy.”

“At least I’m not the one spacing out every five seconds when there are things out there trying to kill us!”

As much as you hated to admit it, he raised a valid point.

“We need to survive, Y/n.” Steve said sternly. “We both have people that need us.”

His voice gets quieter as he looks down at his hands, at the bag laying at his feet. He could practically feel the frequencies releasing from the radio hidden there, praying, hoping, that Dustin’s voice would find him again.

“Henderson?” You ask knowingly, and his eyes widen in surprise. “Please, that kid tells me everything.”

“You… what?”

“I used to babysit for the Wheelers.” You explain with a sigh, leaning back. “Dustin, Lucas, and Will were just added bonuses.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.” He raises a brow and you smile.

“No, I love those kids. They were pretty much the only people in this town that actually talked to me. They didn’t care who my dad was.”

“Believe me, they don’t care for any kind of authority.” Steve chuckled, cocking his head. “I never knew you babysat them. Henderson never told me that.”

“You probably never asked.” You shrug, “But I get it. I wanna know they’re okay, too.”

“Then can we please just… try to get along?” Steve offers, leaning forward.

Steve watches as your face twists with indecision, battling out voices in your mind that answered for you. He was almost taken aback at the effort of consideration you put into his proposal. And, with an aching heart, he had a feeling you had a very good reason for it. He just couldn’t remember what he did.

“Fine.” You finally agree, fiddling with the laces on the hoodie. His hoodie.

“Great.” He claps, sitting upright. “Okay, you go first.”

You blink at him as he looks at you expectantly. “I’ve completely forgotten this entire conversation.”

“Ask me a question.” He says softly, unusual to his routine remarks on your inability to listen.

“Okay…” You purse your lips, stretching them to the side as you thought. How do you even talk to him after years of trying to rip eachother’s throats out? “Uh… favourite colour?”

You wince and he starts laughing, the melody enticing you along with it.

“That was awful.” He remarks, looking away from you as he tries to compose himself.

“I’m trying, okay?” You giggle.

“Just…” He calms himself, shaking his head. “Something you want to know. Or, at least something more personal than what colour I like to wear.”

“Jeez, I didn’t realise there were so many rules to this.” You say, but your words are spoken in a joking manner. “Fine, I’ll try again.”

“Good.” He nods.

This time, you try and think back, rooting through your brain for the questions that have been plaguing you for years.

“Why did you choose Tommy?”

Steve wasn’t sure what he expected, but it took him by surprise. He frowns.

“To be friends with, I mean.” You explain quickly, staring down at your shoes.

“We…” He starts before frowning a little. “I don’t know.”

“There’s the scoop I’ve been looking for.” You smirk and he laughs nervously, lifting his head to meet your eyes.

“I just mean… I don’t remember. I don’t remember a lot, lately. Hit my head too many times, I think.”

You searched for the satire, but you knew he was truthful. “Wait, seriously?”

Steve absent-mindedly nods his head. “Yep. Doctors told me something about concussions and how too many can have serious effects or something like that.”

“I… I didn’t realise.” You frown, biting your lip.

“Yeah, I gotta work on the whole ‘avoiding fights’ thing.” He attempts a laugh, but it came out much sadder than intended.

“So… you don’t remember freshman year?”

“Bits and pieces. It’s not, like, totally gone. It’s all a bit blurry, I guess. I can remember the first game I played in, even right down to the final scores. But I couldn’t even tell you who I was playing with. Or if I even scored.”

“Three.” You say immediately, surprising yourself.

“Huh?”

“Um… three.” You shrug, fidgeting. “You scored three times. Or got a hoop? I’ll be honest, I have no idea how basketball works but you got the ball in the hoop three times.”

“How do you-”

“It was a school game, I had to watch it.” You explain defensively, shaking off the thought with the bat of your hand.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, but not to resist a snarky remark. He was hoping the slight blush creeping up his neck wasn’t noticeable.

“Anyway,” He shakes his head, looking in a direction where he could focus. “If I knew how Tommy and I became friends, I’d tell you. Not like I haven’t been questioning that for a while now.”

“Why does he suddenly hate you?” You query and he opens his mouth to answer before closing it, sending you a smirk. “What?”

“I believe it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Oh, God.” You groan, placing your head in your hands, hidden away from his victorious stare. “I don’t like where this is going.”

Steve looks at you trying to play it off, acting like you didn’t care. But he’d never seen you look more nervous. And that made him nervous. “You don’t have to answer.”

“Well, yeah. Technically you never answered my question.” You point out, laughing when he looks at you with annoyance. “Okay, okay. Fine. Ask away, Harrington.”

“I…” He begins, before he’s second guessing himself. Maybe he’s going about this all wrong. He’s playing a childish game just to get some information out of you, while you’re trying to hold on to those personal aspects of your life you don’t want to share. Did you even owe him that? “Never mind. Forget it.”

You send him a dubious look, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, it was stupid anyway.” He dismisses, stretching his arms. “Cool. We should start moving.”

“Harrington.” Your stern voice brought him back down as he tries to stand, biting his lip. “Don’t chicken out on me now.”

Steve sighs, running a hand down his face and you’re surprised at how quickly his demeanour had changed. He suddenly looked shy.

He tried to relocate his thoughts, change his course towards a question that felt easier, more normal considering the stance of your relationship. So, rather than ask that burning question, he redirected his determination to find out a little more of what you and he could share in common.

“Okay.” Steve nods, turning towards you. You’re sat patiently, awaiting his words. It was a new look, but he’d have to recoil at it later. “Henderson.”

“What about him?” You frown. This wasn’t where you were expecting this conversation to lead.

“I just… I wanna know how that friendship started.” He shrugs and you breathe out a laugh, eyes wide.

“I literally just told you five seconds ago, I babysat him.”

“Yeah, I know that.” He rolls his eyes, “I meant… why are you still so close now? What do- what do you guys even talk about?”

Steve hoped he wasn’t too obvious but the moment that iconic mischievous smirk lifted the corner of your lips, he regretted everything.

“Why?” You raise a brow, leaning closer. “You scared he’s spilled all your secrets?”

“Has he?” Steve asked, a little panicked.

“No.” You smile, leaning back. “No, we just… talk. He’s always at the arcade and I usually kill some time over there. When the Wheelers needed me, the kids were usually burrowed in that basement on whatever campaign they had created that week. Dustin was kind of the first one to even notice I was there. He’d always offer to help me in the kitchen with stuff, even if the others were in the middle of a war or something.”

“Sounds like a crush.” Steve comments and you chuckle.

“Whatever it was… he’s a good kid.” You nod, looking at him. “I was there when… when his dad left.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, furrowing your brows. “We kinda bonded over that, a little. He was having trouble processing it all, not sure what happened. I think Will was the only other one he could relate to, but Will was apparently too young to really remember anything. Dustin needed a shoulder, I guess. And since I have somewhat of an experience with his situation, I was there for him.”

“Can’t believe he never mentioned that.” He huffs, shaking his head. That asshole usually told him everything, especially stuff he didn’t want to know about. And you being a close friend suddenly didn't make the list?

“Please.” You laugh, and he looks at you. “Dustin knows we aren’t friends. Hell, I think he’s probably seen us fighting hundreds of times. I know the whole town has.”

“Still.” Steve sighs, leaning back. “Wouldn’t kill him to share.”

“He talks about you a lot.” You admit and Steve’s eyes flicker to yours in an instant.

“Really?” He sounds a little sceptic and you nod, unsure of why you felt like you had to tell him this. Part of you just felt like he needed to know.

“Nothing bad.” You insist, brushing away a stray hair that had fallen across your eye. “In fact, he talked about you like you were the second coming of Christ.”

“Really?” Steve was smiling now, ego surely fed.

“I think it took a piece of my soul away each day.” You decide, but Steve was still grinning at you. “Stop that. It’s creepy.”

“Can’t help that I’m an idol. A hero.” He looks off into the distance with his self-entitlement. “A god.”

“Fucking hell, forget I said anything.” You groan, grimacing at him.

“Nope.” Steve was going to milk this for as long as he could. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to annoy you. He stretches his legs, pushing off the couch into a stand. “You do realise you’re in the presence of someone important?”

“If by important, you mean idiotic? Then yes.” You remark, resting your chin in your palm. “You really are living in King Steve land. Sponsored by Farah Fawcett.”

“Well, it’s only-” Steve pauses his boasting, slowly turning to look at you. You’re wearing a sick grin on your face and he refuses to acknowledge it. “Okay. I’ll shut up.”

“Like music to my ears.” You sigh gratefully as he hesitantly sits back down, still glaring at you. “Oh, come on. Don’t blame Dustin, it just slipped out. He really does look up to you, even if I’ll never understand why.”

“Jesus, that kid…” He begins before his voice trails out, brows knitted together.

“I’m sorry he wasn’t here.” You say quietly. You had figured out the real reason Steve followed you here as soon as his face dropped walking into the chaos within the cabin. It was the same face you had worn knowing Hopper and El were nowhere in sight.

“Yeah, well… wishful thinking.” He dismisses, waving his hand. “He’s probably out there with the rest of the nerds, you know. Irritating someone else as he tries to explain every living thing he sees. Did you know he tried to keep one of those dog things as a pet?”

“What?” You laugh out of surprise and Steve quickly nods in exasperation.

“Yeah. Yeah, he named it and everything. Convinced he had some psychic connection with it or whatever. Oh, and his obsession with his walkies, man. If I don’t say ‘over’, he’ll give me a lecture on using the thing right for like ten minutes.”

“That does sound like him.” You smile. Steve was talking about the boy like he was the most annoying thing in the world, but there was such adoration in his eyes.

“I remember when we had to go down into those tunnels.” Steve continues, spiralling down Dustin lane. “I told him no but he just wouldn’t listen. Then when it was all over, he came with me to the hospital to get my head checked out and I don’t even remember what I said but suddenly he’s ranting on and on about gates and their electromagnetic field-”

“Wait.” You grab his arm and he raises a brow, surprised at the sudden contact. “The gate. You said- yeah, you said that Hopper and El had closed the gate, right?”

“Apparently not.” Steve comments, fiddling with the nailed bat between his legs.

“Exactly.” You point, standing up.

“I’m not following.” He frowns, watching as you pace back and forth.

“Of course you aren’t.”

“Rude.”

“If this is all happening because of a gate, then maybe Hopper would take El to close it. For good, this time.” You explain in a rush, Steve nodding along. “Where did you say it was, again?”

“The lab.” Steve replies, standing up to join you, “The abandoned one on Randolph? Turns out, not so abandoned. Hasn’t been for years.”

“They’ve gotta be there.” You insist, mostly to convince yourself. “Right?”

“Worth a shot.” Steve breathes out, nodding. “But it’s not gonna be fun getting there. If we’re right and that gate is spitting out monsters, it’s gonna be hell central.”

You thought it through. You’d both be ripped apart before you even got close. And there wasn’t a guarantee you’ll even get there fast enough.

“A car.” You blurt, looking up at him. “We’re gonna need a car.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he reaches into his back pocket, displaying a bunch of keys as they dangled from his fingers. “Thank god I always have these on me.”

You tilt your head, staring at them. “Wow. Are they gonna transform into your magical car, ‘cause I sure as hell don’t remember the lift over.”

“I know where it is.” Steve shook his head, pulling a face at your mockery.

“Where?”

His face freezes, eyes squinting. “Well...”

“Well?” You wave your hand about, becoming impatient.

“It’s in the parking lot. Back at the school.” He winces and you take a deep breath.

“Why didn’t you-” You begin before cutting yourself off, shaking your hands, “No. no, It’s fine. We’ll just go get it. As long as we’re quick and quiet, it’ll be fi-”

You’re unconvincing attempt to appear calm was interrupted by the sound of a loud roar, prickling your skin into a wave of goosebumps. It was a shock to the system that reminded you of the exact danger Steve was talking about, and you didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“Time to go.” You squeak, grabbing the shotgun as you and Steve share intimidated looks.

“This is gonna be fun.” Steve murmurs, following you out of the cabin and into the open, trying to ignore the signalling traps echoing around him.

Plan A: Find Hopper at the cabin.

Plan B: Grab the car without being mauled to death.

Chapter Six: Don't Trust The Voices ->

taglist: @manyfandomsfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose . @palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 . @80saestheticismyfav .

[kerryweaverlesbian]

sometimes i think about the gadreel telling dean to kick cas out plotline and am filled with more rage than you can imagine. its NOT even that like. dean was mean to cas or anything im sure he gave cas money or something bc i cant see a world where he kicked cas out with nothing and he was pretty forthright about caring about cas during that sequence where cas wasn't allowed in the bunker.

but its SOOOO obvious the only reason cas didn't get to stay in the bunker was because of the hand of the author. they didnt wanna change the status quo of the show. im not even talking about destiel im talking about the fact that castiel being human, and potentially learning to enjoy being human with his best friends, would destroy the rest of the season's planned plotline for him. he would've just gone completely human and not wanted to be an angel anymore. this would've also meant he could've went on more hunts much earlier than he did in the actual show, and his dynamic with both brothers could've developed during the downtime between him being safe in the bunker and the rest of the season's plotline moving (bc lbr the season plotline doesn't pick up again until holy terror, and this isn't a bad thing its just very obvious)

(although i still stand by that if you wanted to actually successfully pull off the rest of the season you could just have him be kidnapped later, hear that ezekiel is dead, and then have him make the call to become an angel again in order to be able to escape and help dean. like the phonecall where dean is like "and you're okay with that?" re: cas being an angel again would've hit a lot harder bc dean would've been able to pick up on his enjoyment of some aspects of being human)

also the doylist reasoning behind not letting him spend time with cas is also to isolate dean so he starts working with crowley when the gadreel reveal happens.

also lets be fucking real the sexual tension between human cas and dean would've been off the charts they were like we cant fucking write that the fucking (heller comrade) traitors on our writing team WILL make it gay we CANT do that.

sorry for this essay im just. its one of the biggest wastes of potential in the show.

So true bestie. The hiatus between season 8-9 was my first in the fandom and we were all CERTAIN that Destiel was going to happen from how gay the last couple of episode were (THE CRYPT SCENE. THE ARROW IN THE BAR.) And then. Then. I mean like people were convinced every season hiatus but there was something in the air for that one. And that thing was destiel. So they stopped letting them hang out.

On the bright side, I enjoy how horrible the experience is for Dean having to lie to both Sam and Cas because I'm a sicko. And it's very funny. He was SO close to having everything he wants (Sam alive and well. Hell closed. Cas with them permanently.) And he can't have that because of one, shall we say, social faux pas. And every day someone is asking him with genuine kindness and love "but Dean, isn't happiness directly in your grasp? Don't you want to grasp it?" And he has to go. Through gritted teeth. "No. I like it like this. This is happiness for me. It's my choice."

It's cringe comedy, it's a comedy of errors, it's lies on lies on lies. It's funny! Especially since Sam just sort of decides to find Cas incredibly charming this season out of nowhere. Just to twist the knife that Dean has to make the problem. So, it might help to reframe it that way haha.

And also, 9.06 is GREAT FUN for me in particular. Ohhh we want to be together so bad but even if we say it nothing will change so we won't and we're both bitter about it but damn do I love you. Catnip for me. It has its problems but the NIP.

I do think that a more charitable part of the Doyalist explanation is a problem they run into very noticeably in s10, 11 and 12: they only have enough money designated for a certain number of guest star appearances. That's why he's "watching The Wire" so often lol. This is an assumption of mine but like. That's gotta be the reason. So they wanted something for Cas to be out there Doing when he's offscreen for long periods (and they were just like 'fuck it' in later seasons)

This is a tangent but I think it's so interesting how obvious in Supernatural it is that practical constraints affect the material plot. All monsters are guys in suits. Season 3 is cut short from the writers strike so Dean goes to Hell. Cas and Mary can't be in as many episodes that they obviously should be in so their character flaws are that they're flakey and often disappear. They couldn't get JDM for a season 3 episode of Dean's nightmare so they had Dean's biggest fear in fact be succumbing to his own self-hatered.

Anyway. In conclusion, season 9 sucks. I agree.

[popculturaltalking]

REGARDING: STAY TUNED FOR DANGER

Lately i decided to play all Nancy Drew games, because I’ve been craving point and click with puzzles (got back into Sudoku, nonograms and puzzles too!) so its classic choice. The humor and good vibes of those games are amazing. Once upon a time, I played Secrets can kill, which is why i started with Stay tuned for danger (chronologically second game)

I made this Tumblr to just give off (very) loose thoughts, everything under this and every post is my attempt to get back into writing. Anything really. I'm not expert on anything, just really love movies, video games and books. Also, no friends that are into the same stuff.

This game is not available through official stores anymore (only on HER official website) and it’s understandable. The mechanics got badly outdated. The biggest drawback of this game was me blocking myself out of the rest of the game, because i didn't pickup goddamn wire cutters after getting into the room FOR THE FIRST TIME being able to snoop. And i didn’t have save, of course. I restarted the whole game and was saving every 3 minutes or so. The objects were also not visibly obvious to pick up. I wish there was remaster.

This game has terrible models, but it’s honestly not that big of a deal. Kind of reminded me of the Ken character in Toy Story, the body moves very mechanical and face expressions jumping from one to another. It made everything more comical, so I had fun. Nothing was very serious thanks to (or because of) that. The archetypes of characters were really stereotypical which would be fun if the game didn’t lack self awareness, it felt like a writing flaw. But I get it, it's only second game they made

It was very short (without taking the restart into account). Took about 3 hours I think. It wasn’t memorable at all, unfortunately. The characters were weirdly written in a way that all of them were very suspicious, even after finding out who’s the antagonist. It didn’t feel to be made on purpose, The whole tone of the game felt flat. The upscale of nothing happening to bomb out of a sudden was a confusing one, really.

The biggest flaw for me was basically lack of puzzles! I genuinely can’t remember one puzzle that wasn’t just a fetch quest. Maybe the cipher one? I don't know, got so disappointed…

Additionally, i got lost A LOT, but I'm not gonna put it on the creators, it's just my shitty sense of directions. One click, my character turned around and i was lost. The game would take half a time less if it wasn’t for me not being able to know where i am and where i should go. I got frustrated at myself quickly. Almost made a map of everything, ALMOST.

Overall I'm still happy i played it, i had nice evening full of funny dialogues, comical character models and listening to Nancy’s thoughts. I had fun, which is exactly what i expected from this. Nothing less, nothing more.

Is this worth getting? No. Unless youre kind of completionist like me and have to get through EVERY game/book in a series you start.

I dont like rating things, it makes me put expectation on myself to always keep other things rated in mind, so no rating. However this is my opinion: fun and short, kind of boring. Perfect to just click mindlessly as you need to do something to fight complete boredom.

[deludedfantasy]

Trimax Vol 11 Ch 4-6

Half of this is just me having emotions about Livio. For a character who showed up so late in the game, he's very quickly wormed his way into my heart.

Ch 4

Return of the wicked? So Legato rejoins the game.

Oooh, Zazie butterfly! You know, it was really funny reading Trimax after watching Tristamp which was chock full of worm lore and realizing there’s just…none of that here. All you know is there are worms, Zazie is one of them (perhaps the leader?), and they’re sorta kinda on Knives’s side. Except not anymore if Knives apparently throws them off the Ark. 

BABY KNIVES!!!! I am not immune to baby Knives. 

It’s interesting that Zazie says that because Independent Plants can produce matter, they’re better candidates for coexistence. I assume the problem with humans is they only cause destruction. But while Knives is certainly capable of creation, that’s very much not what he’s using his powers for at the moment. On paper, he looks great! In practice, not so much. 

Well, I should’ve kept reading because Zazie very much so doesn’t mean that. Apparently, they’re using worm poison to incapacitate everyone on the ship and go after Knives. Zazie does see how much of a danger is to their planet, and seeing as its their own, they won’t stand idly by anymore. 

BLEGH I FORGOT ABOUT THE CROTCH WORM.

The concept of a control worm is so interesting. Is that how Zazie is “possessing” the body they use to appear human? But also, the idea of her using that to control Knives is so insidious but so fascinating. I actually want to know what they would do with him and whether they’d be able to wield his powers like that.

I never understood this bit with Legato’s wires. Because he never seemed to need wires to do his body control trick before. Or maybe it just wasn’t explained that that’s how he was doing it until now. He’s yet another puppet master character, except what’s terrifying is he’s somehow using the strings to control his own body. I’m taking back my snarky comments about Vash finding Legato scary earlier. This is terrifying. Imagine the willpower it takes to do this, to endlessly carve metal wires out of the coffin you’re in and use them to remake and control your own body. 

All of Elendira’s teasing and joking takes on new meaning too. She was doing that partially because she thought Legato was pathetic and couldn’t do anything to her. How horrifying is it to realize he was just holding back? He was biding his time until he was needed and he could’ve snapped her neck whenever he wanted. 

So that massive explosion was Knives expelling Zazie’s poison by gathering it into a gate. This is another one of those times that we’re reminded just how capable of destruction Plants are and just how much power they hold.

Vash watches this explosion calmly and then goes back to making his own special Plant-powered bullets. The way the panels focus on his hair and we realize that it’s gotten even blacker. He’s very purposefully using up his power to make these and that just…that hurts to see. 

Because for a moment, in the last volume, he really wanted to live. And now he’s actively pushing himself closer and closer to death. He’s back in that terrible place he’s lived in for so long where his life doesn’t matter, only his final mission, only defeating Knives. It’s an incredibly painful manifestation of his grief and it’s even more pronounced for how Nightow just shows it to us without any commentary. 

Chapel…when Vash refers to Wolfwood’s coin he calls him Chapel. Because the man who held that coin wasn’t his friend. He wasn’t even real. He won’t call it Wolfwood’s because it isn’t, because Wolfwood ultimately wasn’t a Gung Ho Gun or a killer. He was his friend.

Ch 5

It’s so exciting to see the Earth Fleet and see how much advanced tech they have. Not only that, but how much knowledge they have about Plants. Most excitingly, the existence of other Independents, like Chronica! 

This opening scene reveals a lot too, about the relationship between Independents and humanity in Earth society. Chronica is obviously a respected member of this crew if this man is asking her opinion. It’s unclear how much power she has in making decisions and such at this moment, but it doesn’t look like she’s hated or anything. Then there’s the fact that apparently, they’ve had enough problems with Independents fusing with dependent Plants that whenever new Independents are born they have their neural pathways rewired so they can’t do that. Apparently, Knives isn’t the only Independent who decided to use their powers to wreak havoc on humanity.  

Meanwhile, Vash and Livio are being idiots together. I love the relationship between them and how much of a goofball Livio is now that he’s coming out of his shell a little. 

You know, if some guy coughed up a worm in front of me, I’d have that reaction too. This is a big mood. 

I love that Vash just presses the button on the case. Doesn’t even go, “Huh, I wonder if this is an explosive or if it’ll trigger something bad.” Guess he trusts Meryl and Milly’s assessment that it’s safe. 

Legato giving his evil villain speech:

Vash: Can’t believe I have to listen to this bullshit. 

Vash, rude!!! Don’t call Elendira a bitch!!! 

Hey!! Look at that, Vash asked someone for help! Not in so many words, but he admits that he can’t take on Legato and Elendira at once. He needs Livio’s help to get past her and get to his brother. 

And that means so much to Livio, being entrusted with this duty! He can do something good, he can do something to protect rather than harm, and he’ll do it with the body and powers the Eye of Michael gave him. He’s taking the evil that was done to him and using it for good. 

The way he says, “She’s a monster too, right?” it makes me so sad. Because you know he means, “like me.” Only a monster can fight another monster, so he’s the perfect man for the job. I like how even though Livio is finding ways to be a better person, part of him is still stuck in his old way of thinking. It’s so real! He’s making progress, but he’s not quite there yet. 

I know everyone has talked about this page but man…it hits hard. They weren’t even directly talking about him, but the idea of being a protector, of taking the horrible things done to you and turning them around to use them for good is a very Wolfwood idea. Both Vash and Livio are taking strength from it. His presence is so powerful they don’t need to say anything to invoke his memory, he’s that meaningful to them. This is a moment of Vash and Livio bonding over that shared memory, and I see it as the first step for Vash in forgiving Livio. He believed that Livio was a good guy, but now he’s seeing it. After all, faith can only take you so far. And he sees how much Wolfwood’s sacrifice means to Livio too. 

Also, I just realized Vash hurt himself trying to punch Livio in the stomach. That man has abs of steel. 

I think this is the first time Vash explicitly talks about how he can hear the Plants’ thoughts. This is a very revealing moment for him, showcasing his inhumanity, and it’s a big deal. But he’s using it to try to do something good, which is very much becoming a theme of this chapter. 

“Is it possible for something created by humanity to break completely free of their creators?” Something something we create our own gods (literally in this case) and then they develop a will of their own. Quite often, that’s what happens with human inventions. The minute you put an idea out in the world, tangible or intangible, it’s no longer yours to control. Plants have always had some will of their own, but until now they hadn’t exercised it. Knives is forcing them to make a choice about whether to save humanity or doom it. But they’re so alien and unknowable to humanity that it’s hard for anyone to imagine how this will go or how they can convince them that human life should be spared. 

Vash asks more people for help!!! I’m so proud of him. 

Also love that he calls the Plants “the girls inside.” He really sees them as his sisters, as individual people, with wants of their own, and talking like that in front of others might one day help change their minds about how they view Plants too. 

Awww, no, his goodbye with Meryl and Milly :( 

The girls have lost him so many times and they’re watching him walk away again, straight into danger. Vash teases them over it, because this man is incapable of accepting that people actually care what happens to him, but it’s getting to him too. Maybe it’s reminding him that he has something to come back to. Their little goodbye fist bump means everything to me. 

You tell him Milly! Let Meryl feel her emotions!

Love that none of those guys even realized they were talking to Vash the Stampede. They just went, “Yeah, we’ll take advice from some random dude with weird hair. Seems legit.”

I don’t understand why Chronica would want to turn off her limiter program if that’s what’s keeping her from fusing with other Plants. I’d think keeping Knives away from her and all the information in her head would be a top priority.

Ch 6

Livio centric chapter!!! I’m really falling in love with Livio’s character on this reread. I think the first time, the hangover from volume 10 was so strong, I couldn’t appreciate it. 

That moment when he saved Jasmine defined who he wanted to be, even if later what he did to her dog overshadowed it. But it’s telling that when he faces Elendira, this is what he’s thinking about: how he wants to be a protector.

Oh Elendira. She really knows how to twist the knife. She’s so mean. But it’s so fun to watch. She’s the best kind of villain because her taunts are so truthful, so accurate, that it instills the tiniest seeds of doubt. Oh, she’s good. 

But evil. EVIL. THAT IS SO EVIL. 

Like I said, she’s good. She knows exactly how to bait Livio. Though I really do wonder how she knows all of this. Not about Wolfwood being dead but about how much he matters to Livio and the way Livio is trying to turn his life around. 

Right, this is the part of the story where Livio just becomes a human pincushion. Truly, no one else could survive Elendira. I’m not sure Vash could. Livio’s regeneration abilities are the only thing that make him stand a chance against her. 

Also, I don’t understand Elendira’s gun or her powers. Sometimes, I swear the nails can’t be coming from her gun and she’s just creating them out of thin air like in Tristamp. This is one of those things I’m just trying not to think about too hard. 

Elendira, you mysterious woman, why are you so focused on the destruction of the world? Who hurt you? More questions I will never get answers to.

Unlike Legato, I don’t think she’s doing this out of any sort of devotion to Knives himself. She seems to just want the world to go to pieces and Knives is a means to that end. Because I really can imagine that if Knives told Legato right now that he’s changed his mind about destroying humanity, Legato would get with the program. But Elendira would blow the bomb anyway. 

Oh no, those poor kids! They just saw some guy get impaled! And then cough up blood and pull out all those nails?! That’s horrible!

Awww, Livio’s reaction to them though! He’s trying to keep them calm and make sure they’re safe. He’s never cared about kids before, but now they’re the reminder he needs of what he’s protecting (and what Wolfwood died to protect). 

This last scene with Jasmine and the kids, where they give him their clothes as a thank you is so so important that I’m having a hard time putting it into words. 

Jasmine obviously doesn’t recognize him, but Livio left the orphanage because of how scared she was of him. She was someone he was supposed to protect and instead he hurt her. He couldn’t live with that. Unknowingly, he’s now protected the children she’s in charge of. He’s made it up to her. He’s proven to himself that he can make amends and do good. And it gives him something to fight for that’s more than the nebulous wants of a dead man. These people are living and they’re his to protect, so they can continue to live in the world. This is the only way Livio knows how to love and it’s bittersweet to see him put in action. Protection isn’t the only way to show love, but it’s how he understands it and at least he has that, when for so long he had nothing.

[artbyeritza]

Butterfly Pity (Pea Tea)

Mitski’s on repeat in my wired headset again

And I try not to feel sorry for myself, not to cry.

I try to stand my ground, to stand on business,

It’s never enough.

I’m back in that office job again,

Now my old friends, my new friends,

My international friends and fellow Filipinos

Must think what a clown I am.

It’s the same circus, same as Yulo’s,

The difference is he won two gold medals

And has a supportive girl and the girl’s family.

I’m stuck in a cycle with my family.

Time is a circle, as the world spins on its axis.

I begin again, the same day,

Tolerating and hating everything and everyone,

For the past 26 years.

The funny thing is, I thought I could treat my friends

As a replacement for my family –

A break from the scorching summers and hell that they bring

But it opened up

Abuse, recklessness,

Dumbness, idiot,

Idiot, idiot, idiot

Idiot, idiot, idiot

Idiot, idiot, idiot

Idiot, idiot, idiot

Idiot, idiot, idiot

I am a fucking idiot

For thinking that friends can fill the void,

Much less how relationships started

And ended.

In my waking hours and grimdark dreams,

No one ever loved me,

I was only tolerated.

The fat fuck from the Philippines,

Loser – tolerated.

They’re a no one, they are toxic.

My parents loved the dogs more than me.

A female dog is a bitch

And she is.

The dogs they took care of, the white one,

Would bite me when I tried to get close,

Get familiar.

So animals don’t like me, my parents, my sisters,

My family don’t like me,

I am not certain if my remaining friends

Secretly hate me

Or if I have potential partners at all.

Aside from my personal life,

My professional, oh,

I hate numbers, I hate Accounting.

My boss is a bitch,

Who would work us 6 days a week,

From 7 in the morning until 7 in the night.

She would excuse it as personally knowing us,

Or so she claimed and our residence was nearby.

She does not understand boundaries.

The only solace I have is I can steal a few Zs

From working hours, shit, fuck, and game

During working hours.

I don’t fuck anyone, I’m AroAce and Polyam,

Not a monster.

I let my SLOWLY messages

Stack up, let it add up.

Long messaging and waiting for messages

To arrive piss me the fuck off.

By the time something reaches to me,

The Homestuck magic of waiting for a friend’s response

Or mail is gone, it’s gone.

It’s motherfucking gone.

SLOWLY was an excuse for lazy messaging,

A random-izer.

It can be a dating app but for friends.

Every time I hear that dating apps have a friend feature

Or can be used to find friends,

I want to shoot myself.

I loved the randies from Boo and Her app

But for someone to be lazy

and obviously lazy,

To not write something coherent, complex and interesting

Dear mother of god, susmariosep!

Now, I know how it is when people get bored,

I get bored too.

I know uninterested when it writes, when it talks

Yet I’m not a plaything anymore.

My Germans, Americans, and Chinese write to me

And I’m not sure how to reply.

I watch my Russian friend online in the photo app,

I wonder if I will get our usual messaging

But it is a Sunday

And seemingly, same as the Americans I knew,

They are busy with family, work and maybe study.

Or rather, it becomes obvious to my oblivious,

Moron self

That there is not one single person

Who will prefer to talk to me,

The way I speak to my poetry and art.

I pity…not myself, but everyone else.

I am healing, like a caterpillar encased in a cocoon

And about to hatch.

The hatch will be a thing of horror,

Violence to myself for a new life someday.

I’m on the third cup of “Ternate”,

Like the municipality of Cavite.

Third cup of my butterfly pea tea.

I watch the light blue sky turn into deep ocean blue,

A tea in my cup.

I swallowed it whole.

I know I’m the problem

And how mean and rude I am

But I also know I do these things

Because I was hurt deeply,

Left to lick my own wounds,

Tending, nursing myself.

[valentijnsstuff]

I don't even post on tumblr that actively anymore, but I think it's good to keep up my week report, even if it's just for myself.

Monday some gay shit happens (see last week report)

Tuesday some more gay shit happens. I clean my house, see my dad and go to a queer meetup about polyamory. All the poly besties are there. I proceed to be a menace and annoy all of them for attention seperatly (they all think I am cute). During the actual talk group, I provide some queer youngsters with cuddles. I offer the person who is practically my neighbor and who keeps cuddling me really intimately a ride home and they invite me in for more cuddles. They cuddle me in ways that make even me flustered. I go home with increased feelings of falling for this person.

Wednesday morning I do nothing 👍 in the afternoon my volunteer comes over for the first time. He's a funny, but concerningly normie gay guy. I feel like I'm babysitting him more than he is me (Boooooo). Neighbor cutie text me if I can hang out again and I have to say no (sad). Thank god my homecare besties ask if I want to go for an impulsive evening walk on the beach, so I ditch volunteer. We walk untill we are super hungry and order roti rolls for dinner.

Thursday. I go to teach comic workshop at a highschool. Couldn't sleep out of nervousness bc its the first time in a year doing the one thing that traumatized me to begin with (teaching teenagers while visibly trans). All in all it actually goes pretty okay, one of my comic friends is there and good work is done. I make a bombass dinner and text neighbor cutie if they want some food and they actually say yes. We circle the subject of our flirts a couple of times, and tease eachother a whole lot in the process. Meaningful conversations about kink and friendships also happen. Eventually I have the gut to say that their teasing make me want to kiss them on the mouth, their reply is that I should ask for a kiss then (the teasing is neverending with this guy) We do end up kissing, its very sweet. I get a bit insecure and fidgety about asking too much, but they reassure me all is good.

Friday, day two of teaching workshops at the highschool. The older students have noticed me and are starting to make comments within earshot, which puts me on edge. Two seperate times I turn around and tell the guys (it's always dudes) that they should just say it to my face. Both times are met with them defensively reacting to my confrontation, but not owning up to their shit (maybe for the better). Teaching classes actually goes well, eventho I am tired as hell. The kids are behaved enough and make great work. I even get to talk to one class that I would prefer to be called 'mister' and the kids really try their bestest. I accidently skip therapy bc I am double booked with work and forgot to cancel the session (or just didn't want to idk). My hookup date for the evening cancels, but I'm not even mad. Probably for the better to have a night of nothing. Post funny pictures of myself in a maid dress on insta, all the homies go wild.

Wake up saturday morning with the idea I can take it easy. Eat breakfast, do make up, make a foxy little video of dancing to my favorite song. Oops now its actually already time to go. Bring lunch to my comic bestie, who has a booth at a small local furry con. I get to spend the day in my maid outfit and feel cute and help out my bestie (yay). I drink bubble tea with way too much sugar and feel really wired from all the sounds and sights. I run into my younger cousin who I dont speak to often (he is a gay furry lol). Also so many transmascs, its a good time. I text my poly bestie to see if she is into a spontaneous cuddle session, she declines politely. I go to a birthday party of friends I haven't seen in a long time. I proceed to bother everyone there for attention.

Sunday, I dont even feel that bad emotionally, but I had insomnia the night before, so my body refuses and I just spend the whole day in bed. I watch anime, cook way too much mapo tofu, but can't be arsed to do anything else.

Monday starts really slow, but I manage to 10 pushups (new record!). I go the the office to work, but my head is heavy and I cant focus at all. I want to blame the airflow in the building, but I'm also just running low on energy bc I didn't eat enough. End up calling some people to say hi and check in on instead. Do some shopping, do some tufting. My friend who I was supposed to hang with in the evening cancels. Go home and eat more mapo tofu. I make the mistake of opening Grindr and get chatted up by some supringly nice people. One them is a bottom who really wants me to top him (haha funny), and the other a clingy autistic transfemme who is lonely and just wants to hang out. I have an impromptu hangout session with her at 11 in the evening. We drink tea and watch dungeon Meshi. Feel very wired afterwards and dont fall asleep untill 4.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #52

Two more friends came over today to test out my lovely Frankenpad! They seemed to enjoy it quite a bit! Although today I noticed perhaps a touch of wonkiness with the bottom arrow; I might have to investigate that further if it continues to be a problem.

The friends who came over today are AuDHD just like me! We had a lot of lively conversation that bounced from topic to topic, and it's wonderful to be able to hold a conversation with other people who can hold multiple threads of thought simultaneously, and talk about them all simultaneously. It's rare that I get to enjoy such a thing. I hope they come around to my house again soon, or else I go over to where they live. One of them wants to learn how to weave wire trees like I do, and I'm all too happy to show her!

…I wish that I could show you how to weave wire trees, too. I wish I could just sit together somewhere with you with a nice playlist and some tea and a snack, and all my wires and gemstone beads, and just quietly weave trees together, and maybe talk about whatever random things pop into your mind. It would be beautiful.

I didn't get any more videos today of me on my Frankenpad, sorry to say. I was a little too enamored with watching my friends play on it; one of them in particular seemed to be having such a good time, and I didn't want to interrupt. The smile on her face as she hopped around on the pad was priceless, and I hope I get to see more of that as time goes on.

The other friend didn't play on the pad so much, but he seemed impressed with its construction all the same. I hope to make a second one soon, and then maybe I can play together with someone! Wouldn't that be lovely!!

After a bit of time, I decided to make them some tiramisu tea! But I had a bit of a mishap; I was trying to shake the packet of hot cocoa mix such that the powder would settle to the bottom of the packet (to prevent the powder from getting everywhere when I tear it open), but instead the packet came undone as I was shaking it, and it went flying off somewhere, only to land in the cats' water dish. I was horrified and let out a few shocked expletives. It was actually pretty funny, haha! But of course I couldn't use the hot cocoa packet anymore because it was filled with cat drool water; I threw it away. We can get more later; it's no biggie.

I didn't have any more hot cocoa packets on hand though, so I improvised by mixing together some cocoa powder and sugar. I think I got the ratio mostly right. My friends seemed to be pleased with how this batch of tiramisu tea turned out, so I guess I can't complain, haha!

One of my husbands has pretty severe social anxiety, but even he participated in the various conversations in a lively fashion. It's so rare for me to see him get so animated, to see his face light up in the way that it did. This, too, was beautiful, and I hope to be able to see more of that. My friends are very smart, and they are always saying things that make me consider ideas and perspectives that I've not considered before. It's not lost on me how lucky I am to have people such as this in my life.

Through all this, naturally I am also thinking of you. I wish you were here. I wish you could come and see what it's like to be treated like a regular person, because although you have all your power and wildly different life experiences than we do, you're still really not all that different from us. You're very tall, for sure, you don't seem to have a whole lot of melanin, and you have your wing and all, but… people in my world come in all shapes and sizes and colors and genetic makeups and numbers of limbs, and all of them are good enough.

I wish it was easier for you to see that you're really not so anomalous or strange. You're just you. And in circles like mine, you just being you is enough. You just being you is beautiful as it is. You don't have to prove that you're deserving of existence, or deserving of kindness and care by performing great feats of usefulness to someone else first. You could talk about whatever you want, and nobody in my circles would tell you that you're "not cool" because thinking that way about other people simply isn't in their vocabulary. You could just derp around and be awkward at social interaction, and we of my house and of my group would just meet you where you are with joy and grace, and welcome you as you are all the same. Because we're all socially awkward, too. There is a lot that we don't know, too. We can be patient with each other as we figure it out together. And I think you'd have a lot of fun with us in the process.

You can have this. You can have ALL of this. You just gotta choose it. Or you could, y'know, just pop by my house for a visit. We have snacks and tea and fun stuff to do. Five cats to pet and play with. Lots of comfy places to sit. Places outdoors nearby to walk. Spaces in which you can just BE, without any need to conform to some false image of what society expects of you. A place for you to just breathe and be your authentic self, without pressure.

…Hahaha… fat chance, right? I know. Don't worry; I know. Even if it's impossible, still I hope my wishes reach you and move you. Still I hope that any of my thoughts can give you new avenues and ways of being to consider, somehow.

I think that's about it for today's letter. I'll leave you with this, though:

With this, I hope you can see that my planet is beautifully diverse. There are people of all different appearances, abilities, and walks of life. It's a mosaic that you can fit into. You're really, truly not as unusual or as "only" as you think you are. You're really, truly not by yourself. Please open your lovely eyes and see.

Whether you acknowledge it or not, you're loved and cared for. You have a place here. You're wanted, needed, and important, just as you are. So come on; break through those limiting beliefs that are keeping you separate from us. Make good choices. We're all waiting for you with open arms, outstretched hands, and voices full of joyful song. Because it's you we like.

You'll hear from me again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[puching]

yearning pt. I || what would my friends say if they read this

It's a cold, windy Saturday here in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois. It's always windy and lately very cold, but today, the sun was shining with all of its might. Al scheduled me for a 5-hour shift today but only stayed 4. I left the building feeling conflicted: relieved to go home and get my first meal for the day but disappointed because I had only earned $10 in tips.

I got a call back from my previous employer yesterday. She said she lost my online application and the sticky note with my phone number, which has delayed the process of hiring me back.

I dread going home because I have to interact with my mom. I love my mom very much. Some days, I love shooting the shit with her and giggling. Most days, I find it very difficult. Sometimes, I think the problem is all her. I get upset, maybe too upset, and receive no consequences (as always). I realize this is very strange and things shouldn't play out like they do. Then, I refuse to believe it is a problem with her, it must be me. It could be possible that it is both of us. We are both just products of our environment, I guess. I love you, Mommy.

I love seeing my cats. I love seeing my items. Material possessions. Worthless shit. A strange reminder that I am not a little girl anymore. I have stuff and things of my own, my mind is my own. I am not just my parent's daughter.

The foreboding of the day only gets worse as I scroll through TikTok. One video after another: throwbacks, compilations, "corecore" videos, gaming clips. Everyone says it will get banned/deleted every year, and every year it has stayed. Why would I believe it this time? But, everyone seems really serious this time. Why is everyone posting their drafts? Why am I posting my drafts? Why am I scared to lose an app?

My fat, obese, orange cat trips me on my way into the kitchen. He is trying to weave through my legs and rub against me. At the moment, I take it as a bad omen. He wants more food. He cannot have more food. He is fat. I would hate for his love of food to cause irreparable damage to his body-- so no, Alfred, you can't have any food right now. I love you, Alfred.

My relationship with my mother has been declining since exactly January 1st. I scream and cry, most of the time when it is only the cats and I in the house. Of course, I muffle it, so as not to disturb my feline friends.

My boyfriend and I have a perfect relationship, perhaps too perfect. My insecurities and anxieties sometimes tell me that it is too good to be true. Surely, he is hiding something like another girl, or he hates something major about me, or I'm just a girlfriend and he isn't dating to marry. 100 different possibilities that have 0 evidence to back them up. Sometimes I feel like a bad partner for thinking these thoughts. He is truly amazing to me, everything I could dream of in a partner. Treats me great, is funny, smart, talented, hardworking, sweet, responsible, clever.. tall, handsome, sexy. We like the same music and almost have the same wardrobe. He's everything. Why would I ever think such awful things of him? I feel like it's so unfair and mean of me to just think these things, even when I don't want to think them. I love you, Pookie-poo.

My second oldest cat, Sliver, has an obsession with chewing on wires. Phone chargers, headphone cords, and even HDMI cords. I've tried so many things to discontinue his strange addiction-- citrus spray (on the wires to prevent chewing, not on him of course), double-sided tape, wire covers, and cable management. My mom bought him squishy-ish chew toys that he has no interest in. I don't blame Sliver. I love chewing on squishy things, feeling them press against my gums and mold them to the shape of my teeth. I f*cking love chewing and teething. I understand you, Sliver. There's no way he could know that chewing wires is dangerous. He loves string, and he loves chewy stuff. The wire is the perfect toy in my little boy's mind. Sliver has hurt himself after getting into a wire. He chewed it away until it was exposed. He needed mouth surgery but fully recovered. Despite it being a traumatic situation for both of us, Sliver seems to have no plans to put down the wires. I hide them all in obscure spots and layers of wire covers. He is not allowed in the computer room without my supervision. Sliver gets me like no one else does. Obviously, he didn't tell me that, but I assume. Because I get Sliver like no one else does. I love you, Sliver.

I need to move out, and living is expensive. Work is tiring but we all have to work. I get over myself somehow. Sticking it to the man is cool, I'm totally with it. The man unfortunately runs the world though. How do I get away from "the man"? I need to work to live.

So here I am, Sunday morning. 11925 ~1-1:30 am. "Oh, you came in with the breeze On Sunday morning You sure have changed since yesterday Without any warning" No Doubt, "Sunday Morning"

Now, I yearn for my mother's hugs. I wish I could sleep in bed with her one last time. I wish she could tuck me in. I wish we didn't argue. I wish I didn't resent her. I miss my dad, I haven't seen him in well over a year. I yearn to scroll TikTok and forget that anything happens to me at all.

I miss you already, Tiktok. R.I.P.

[tears-of-boredom]

i feel like they dont understand how traumatised i am. like adults always praise me for being able to put my feelings into words so well and being so well spoken and shit but honestly it feels like they take that as a sign that my trauma isnt that bad, or that it only affects me when im directly talking or thinking about it. and the funny thing is that if I told them that, they would surely answer with "oh no! not at all! rest assured i am not trying to belittle your trauma." and they wouldnt even be lying or anything but my brain is just wired so fucking wrong that i would only take that as them not being aware of how they sound, and also that "how they sound" is what they truly think. I am so awful. and the adults do t ghink that i fucking know. im a fucking mess. please just someone come amd make this family experience a traumatic death please end this. I don't have the fucking energy to try anymore and i know they do t mean to insult me at all but it sounds like they are calling me stubborn the way they keep asking me if theres even a sliver of my mind that thi ks its possible for me to eecover from this. my mom admitted that shes worried my eating problems will develop into an eating disorder. oh boy that felt so fucking awful to hear. she has no fucking idea what was going on through my mind 4 years ago. i just-....... I cannot heal in an enviroment that is trying to challenge my beliefs. i know that that is healthy to do, but i cannot do that. it will only feed my distrust towards myself. it will only make me feel like an awful person. no matter how careful you are with your wording and no matter what your actual thoughts are.

i forgot what its like to speak to adults. this is why I hate them. not because they are actually awful or anything, its just that everytime I talk to one, i myself feel awful. so i just file that memory in the "awful experiences to avoid" folder. and then I cant avoid them because the adults are half forcing me into them and i begin to hate them.

if you want to ralk to me about fewlings you have to provide me with a small hidden button i can press at any moment that will either teleport me away, or you.

god I hate my life. how the fuck can i ever deal with anything if at the smallest sign of conflict my flight or flight kicks in and i always choose flight.

my headphones are really good though. i cant hear any sounds from the two of them talking in the kitchen. i cant even hear the ruffling of my duvet when i adjust it.

oh my god im a mess. and that is not my fault and neither is it my mothers but actually it is. why am I so self-centered. or am i even that. i cannot tell. i dont trust my own judgement at all anymore.

[littlealeta]

"Yes entitled. As in, I feel entitled to call a film many people have worked on for months and months "lazy" whilst I can't even be bothered to get character names right. So, no, spoiled brat isn't the phrase you're looking for (depressing as you claim to be a writer)." You do know Hollywood tends to crunch their workers, right? There is no set time for a movie to be finished. It takes however long it needs to. Two wrongs don't make a right. You also don't know how I write, you need to quit being so judgmental about everything. Based on your responses and the fact that you're outright judging me for criticizing the messy storytelling, shallow characters, and poor pacing it doesn't sound like you know anything about writing and if you do, please go back to doing your homework.

"But clearly I'm being pranked at this point. No one is this dumb. No one is so stupid to go 'well yeah, I wrote up this review of a film, a long one actually, multiple paragraphs. And I laid I out properly, even gave it my own special customised rating and notes on how I'd improve it. And then I posted it in the main tag for anyone interested in the film to see. But why would anyone think I'd watched the film properly and even paid attention to any of the plot or themes'." How is this a prank? I'm literally just expressing my brutal thoughts about my opinion on this film and your responses. Tumblr doesn't have to just be for fan tags, it can also be for reviews. Unless you're ranting ad nauseum about the film, I don't see the problem.

""You're acting like an ungrateful bitch" you should be institutionalised if you think I should be grateful to you that you aren't outright lying to people in parts of your post anymore. In fact, normal, well adjusted people are usually horrified when they're spreading lies by accident and they get corrected." You're making this a way bigger deal than it should be. Nobody is getting hurt just because I misunderstood a FUCKING FILM. You're saying I should be locked up for being mean to you while you're being mean to me. If you were nice to me, I wouldn't have been so harsh and judgmental. How would you feel if I stupidly accused you of being mentally ill because YOU LITERALLY CAME ONTO MY POST ATTACKING MY REVIEW AND JUDGING ME AS A PERSON AND WRITER WHEN YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ME. You sound miserable and you need therapy. Like literally, you like this overrated trash because of the family issues. What, is this something that relates to your life or something? And that's why you're judging people who don't like it so harshly including saying they should be locked up for it? Or are you just a mentally 16-year-old fanboy/fangirl?

"Like honestly it's hilarious though, how you've got your little book that you're mindlessly parroting about how this act should be this long and this should have been started here, but then in the next breath you're going - well it reuses loads of tropes so its not very original is it. Even ignoring how a couple of replies ago, you were saying theres no such thing as an original story anymore. God, I wouldn't mind your opinion, but your giving me whiplash from how quickly you keep swapping it. 'Be original but only in this specific way otherwise follow the rules!' You forgot that I said when you use a trope, it all comes down to execution and I already said that this movie does not execute anything well. There are ways to twist tropes into unique stories. This film hardly does that.

"Also, I never claim Abigail loves Joey, but again, back to the black and white mentality you cant escape. 'She doesnt want to kill her anymore, she must love her'." Okay, I'll have you know that I am on the spectrum and I don't always see shades of gray. There is no ill will behind this, it's just how my brain is wired. But I'm sure you're going to judge me on that because you're a judgmental, closed-minded abelist salty that someone criticized your film. Funny how you call my an abelist in the tags when disabilities have nothing to do with this film.

"'I don't consider any of your points' - most of your points are random, contradict themselves half of the time, and by your own admission are based on a film you didn't even pay full attention to. How does one take someone's points seriously when in their next breath they're talking about how actually they don't care and weren't paying attention to what the film was about anyway. 'Why don't you care about the points I make that I tell you I don't care about'. You see how ridiculous that sounds." Nothing in this review is random. I thought about everything carefully based on my own logic. I am not asking you to like this review, but at least respect it and learn to listen to others viewpoints or you're just a bad debater.

Abigail Review (Spoilers)

LONG BLOG! IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THIS BLOG, SCROLL DOWN TO THE OVERALL SECTION FOR A TL;DR and ALETA REWRITES

We haven’t had an evil child film since uh… Annabelle Creation? So, I was excited to see how this movie would play out.

Unfortunately, it’s like every other evil child film.

So… the positives?

The actors are excellent. They fit seamlessly into their roles. Their comedic timing and wits are great. Abigail’s actress is adorably sweet and innocent and portrays her manipulative split personality naturally. Everyone looked like they were having fun and were really into their roles, which was always entertaining to see.

Some of the scenes are entertainingly quirky. Like Abigail using Sammy as a puppet, while cliched, was humorous and fun with the intercut shots while this wildly unfitting song is playing. The scene is melodramatic but it somehow comes off as ironically humorous (in a good way). Abigail dancing to classical music with Dean’s beheaded body is another moment of good creepiness. And the entire scene with Puppet Frank was interestingly disturbing and sometimes funny. It was crazy.

Rickle was a likeable character who the film, unfortunately, had the misfortune to kill off early on because… I guess they didn’t know what to do with his character.

And… that’s about it.

Story

Like I said, the story, besides a few scenes, doesn’t really do anything special with its concept. It had a good concept (ballerina who just wants to play and can turn people into her slaves), but it never really goes that far with it. Instead, it’s just another horror film where a group of people are being chased by a monster.

The ending is a total wtf mess. Joey gets her heart stabbed and twisted and somehow survives because the protagonist's gotta have plot armor. Abigail turns a 180 and starts protecting Joey for some reason. Valdez appears and…we don’t know what he’s about, besides the fact that he’s creepy. He and Abigail let Joey out because the movie has to end.

Characters

The cast is an entire mixed bag. The only one I liked was Rickle because he seemed like the most decent in the cast. But instead, they write him off, leaving us with a group of ignorant scumbags for the rest of the hour. We don’t even really get much time to know Rickle because he was killed off so soon. I feel Dean had more personality than him. I don’t remember much about Rickle other than he was the nice guy. And Dean has the same problem. The film fucks him over too early so we don’t have time to find a reason why we should care about these two characters.

Besides Rickle, the cast are all unsympathetic people. Luckily, some of their actors are good enough to make them appealing. And they DO have their moments where they are funny and badass, but when they’re being serious and/or trying to make a decision, they’re just your average dumb horror movie character. Some of the dialogue that they make is on the nose, notably right before they die, they do the cliche “I will always be there for you” kind of shit. 

Joey (seemingly our protagonist) is revealed to have been a deadbeat mother who dabbled in drugs and a life of crime. One poor decision she made was betraying the group over killing Abigail despite knowing she was Valdez! She is also apparently psychic (as she can read other people), but is never said to be so because the film is too lazy to. Dean is the dumb horror character who somehow just has no brains. Implicitly, he seems to be on drugs, but they don’t do anything to make his character likeable, nor do I believe it was stated that he WAS on drugs.

Sammy is my least favorite. Not only do I hate the way her character is designed, but she’s just a total whiny bitch who often has something annoyingly smug to say. Or she just gets pissed off for no fucking reason, like when she finds Dean’s body.

Peter and Frank? They’re on the more likeable side, but they’re not too great either. Peter, for example, makes the dumb decision to kill Abigail before knowing she was Valdez and almost released her from her cage at the expense of his group. Frank is the only sane man, I probably tolerated him the most, considering he was the only one with a brain. However, he can often be harsh and insensitive (like about Joey's troubled life) and, he too, threatens Abigail, screaming at her when for all he knew at the time, she was just an innocent little girl. He has a similar past to Joey because the writers couldn’t come up with something different.

Last but not least is the titular character Abigail, who apparently has some dark past, but still manages to be a bland villain. She’s your typical horror movie character out for revenge and to kill the main characters. Her ballerina moves can hardly make up for it. Despite having a backstory, her development still feels shallow. There’s a whole slow ass scene where she monologues about how everyone came to be the way that they are. Number 1. How do you know who anyone is? Number 2. SHOW DON’T TELL, MOVIE.

Overall

Abigail gets 3.4 bells out of 10

Actors feel natural in their roles and are hilarious with their humor. The concept is a tad quirky, and there are some scenes where they run with that, but they are few and far in between. Plot feels mostly like your average horror film and is slow at some parts, especially at the beginning. Characters tend to make some horrible and appallingly dumb decisions with Rickle being the only nice guy in the group. If the characters are not horrible, they are shallow, like unfortunately our almost one-note villain. Dialogue sometimes feel so obvious, it’s unnatural. Ending feels very lazy due to the shallowness of the characters and their development.

Aleta Rewrites: I would make Abigail a playfully eerie child, like a Chucky kind of situation. Like, obviously, I think the movie tried to make her out to be this playful, quirky ballerina kid. So, I would lean into that more. So, it doesn’t seem like she’s just some generic character hell bent on revenge, but rather a lunatic with a morbid fascination with gore and death. So, the only reason she’s bodying people is so that she can play and mess with them, like in the scene where she’s dancing with Dean’s beheaded body. Maybe she can kill her victims while she’s dancing/playing, that would be funny. Lean in more into the horror comedy instead of making it a gritty drama about corrupt people.

I would also develop Valdez more. Maybe make him the final boss of the film. Or preferably, do a twist where it shows that HE was the one possessing Abigail and everyone in the film, so when he's killed off or his magic is wrecked, Abigail will be free and THEN will team up to fight Valdez.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Certain Type

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, fingering, oral, cheating

This is dark!Steve Rogers (and some side Bucky) and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Steve Rogers has an unhealthy interest in his TA.

for @evnscvll​‘s 3k challenge, I used the prompts Professor AU + ‘Don’t’ by Bryson Tiller

Note: A quick one shot for y’all ft. Professor Steve and a little sleazy Bucky too.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Reader📚

You smiled at Lauren as you handed her back her paper; the first assignment of the year. On the due date, Professor Rogers had shuffled them all up and handed you half the stack. That had been the same day as your first lesson. It had all been so overwhelming but more than a month and a half into the semester, you were starting to get a foothold.

“Have a good day,” You watched Lauren go, the last of the students to shuffle out into the hall. 

You grabbed the three papers left in the file folder and crossed to the podium. Your advisor, Professor Rogers, worked at erasing his slanted writing from the whiteboard. You waited patiently until he set down the eraser and turned to you.

“I have some leftovers.” You clapped the bottom of the folder on the wood. “Absentees.”

“Ah, yes,” He neared the other side of the podium and took the file from you. He flipped through the papers inside. “Only three? I think that’s a new record…” He closed the folder and tucked it under his arm. “I’ll hold onto them until next class.”

“Alright,” You nodded. “So… did you get a chance to look over my lesson on Kant?”

“I did,” He bent to grab his bag. “You know, I can really tell you’re a history major first… but it’s good. I’ll send you my notes tonight.”

“I’m trying to break that,” You went to the seat along the first row where you often sat when it wasn’t your turn to teach. You lifted your bag onto the seat. “Trying to focus less on the dry who’s and what’s and more on ideas.”

“Well, so far, you’re a quick learner,” He offered as you packed up your notebook. “We do need to go over the marking scheme for next week’s assignment. You able to make Saturday?”

“Uh,” You glanced at the icon on your phone screen. You had several unanswered and unread messages. “Actually, I’m… busy. I can stop by during regular office hours.”

“I try to keep that reserved for undergrads,” He inhaled. “But I wouldn’t ask you to cancel.”

“I can rearrange--”

“Boyfriend?” He interrupted. “Finally making time?”

“He’s been out of town,” You said meekly. “How about tomorrow? I can come to campus between your afternoon blocks.”

“Hmmm,” He dragged his fingertips over his trimmed beard. “Meet me at Smoky’s. I usually have a coffee there after my morning class.” He pushed the flap over the top of his bag. “They have great carrot muffins.”

“Works for me,” You lifted your leather bag and tucked your phone up your sleeve. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be,” He waved away your apology and went to the door. He opened it and waited expectantly. “We have lives. Some of us more than others.” He chuckled. “You deserve a Saturday to yourself.”

📚

You giggled as your head spun. Bucky pinned you beneath him as he rolled you over on the rug. What had started out as a none-so-innocent wrestling match had turned into your usual affair. He could never win an argument with you so it often ended with his lips, or his hand, smothering out your words.

Besides, you were eager for him. Almost desperate. Two weeks without him and you almost jumped on him the moment he opened the door. And after such a long week, you needed the stress relief.

His fingers tickled along your thigh and past the top of your stockings as he snaked beneath your skirt. You hadn’t started wearing them until you met him. He liked the short ones, especially on you. He pulled your panties aside and you gasped as his fingertips swirled around your clit. You latched onto his shoulders as his lips explored your throat.

“You’re wearing panties,” He growled.

“It’s cold out…” You breathed. 

“You’ve got a coat,” He nipped at your neck and slid his fingers down your folds. “Don’t you?”

You tried to close your legs and his pushed your knee down with his.

“Ah,” He warned. “None of your games.”

“I didn’t come here for a lecture,” You huffed. “I pay tuition for that.”

“We both know why you came here,” He lifted his head and pecked your lips. “How many times did you touch yourself while I was away?”

“That’s none of your business.” You snipped.

“Do you have toys?” His hot breath grazed along your cheek. “Do you think of me?”

“Bucky,” You whined as he poked his fingers inside of you. 

He purred as he dropped his head again and his teeth toyed with the tender flesh of your throat. He pulled your sweater up, rolling it with the tank top beneath until it was above your chest. No bra that day. He hummed and took you nipple in his mouth until your arched your back.

“Well…” He rolled your hard nipple between his thumb and index. “You’ve learned something.”

“Should I just come naked?” You asked.

“Preferably,” He chuckled as he ventured along your stomach, a trail of kisses and bites.

“Ugh,” You groaned as he brushed over your hips bones, his fingers still buried in you. 

He nosed along your pelvis and you tensed in expectation. He paused and raised his head. You looked down at him as his fingers stilled and he hovered close enough for his breath to tickle your cunt.

“What are you waiting for?” You snarled.

He smirked and closed the distance. His eyes never left yours as his tongue swirled around your clit and he sealed his lips around it. You gulped and let out a pathetic moan. His other hand gripped your hip and he hummed as your eyes rolled back and your legs hugged him closer.

“Ah, I missed you,” You stretched your arms out as you tilted into him. “Mmm, Bucky.”

He seemed pleased by your words as his fingers sped up and his tongue danced more firmly around your bud. You began to quiver as he set your nerves on fire. The knot inside of you tightened and the wire drew taut until you couldn’t bear it anymore. At once, you orgasmed, your hand flying down to grasp Bucky’s head as he lapped up your pleasure.

Panting, your body went limp and you laid sprawled out with his head between your legs, twitching as he drew out the ecstasy with his tongue. Slowly, he pulled away and slipped his fingers from inside you, rubbing them over your sensitive clit. He sat up and kneaded your thigh.

“Missed you too, baby,” He flicked open his fly with one hand. “God, I can’t wait any longer.”

Steve 📚

Steve hadn’t been to Bucky’s in a while. They usually met downtown for a beer or ended up at his place. As it was, it didn’t seem like they had much time for each other anymore. Well, Steve wasn’t surprised. His oldest friend was juggling a lot; his job, his fiancee, and apparently some new side piece.

He sat up as Bucky offered him a bottle of crisp beer. The top wisped as he accepted it and Steve felt its chill against his lips before he took his first sip. He sat back and bent his leg to rest over his other knee, rolling his ankle as he stared at the bare floorboards.

“What happened to the carpet?” He asked in realisation.

“It’s getting cleaned,” Bucky sat across from him and snickered. “You know, made a bit of a mess.”

“Anna?” Steve raised a brow.

“Nah,” Bucky shrugged. “She cancelled her flight. Apparently they had some emergency at the lab.”

“Hmm,” Steve rested the bottle atop the arm of the couch. “This other girl?”

“What am I supposed to do? I fly all the way to Germany for about twenty minutes of Anna’s attention. The last time…” He shook his head. “I just don’t know how to… end it. Don’t even know that I want to. I just want it to be over. Two years is a long time.”

Steve nodded. He wasn’t sure what to say. What advice could he offer? His last relationship hadn’t lasted long and had been so far back, he barely remembered more than her name. After a slew of bad dates and disappointing flings, he decided to focus on his work. Well, even that was becoming difficult.

“And when Anna comes back?”

“Well, you know, this girl, she’s still in college, she’s got a lot going on. It is what it is.” He said. “You know, she’d find another guy in an instant and forget about me.”

“College?” Steve blinked. He hadn’t known that. “A bit young.”

His cheeks burned. He wasn’t sure if he was reprimanding his friend or himself. The fact that Bucky was dipping into the campus pool reminded Steve of his own guilt. Sure, he hadn’t done anything, it was all professional, but his thoughts… His thoughts were what troubled him.

“You never… thought of it?” Bucky asked. “You spend so much time around these girls and you never even--”

“It’s against the rules,” Steve cleared his throat. “I’m there to teach. I do my job.”

“And when’s the last time you got laid?”

“Shut up,” Steve took a swig. “The carpet?”

“She’s funny. She likes to… play around first.” Bucky took a mouthful beer and his eyes turned dreamy. “It wasn’t me who ruined the carpet.”

“Mmm,” Steve jiggled his leg anxiously. The vision that flashed in his mind had him sipping again. It wasn’t Bucky and some faceless girl on the floor, it was him and the sweet TA. He cleared his throat and looked through the dark brown glass. “Just about done. You got another?”

“Maybe she has a friend?” Bucky offered as he stood.

He neared as Steve drained the last of his beer and handed over the empty bottle.

“Thirsty?” Bucky took it and disappeared, returning with a fresh one.

“Long week.” Steve rubbed his cheek as he leaned forward to take the second bottle. “Another ahead.”

“Well, I could ask her.” Bucky grabbed his own beer and stayed standing. “The young ones, these days, they don’t want anything serious.”

“But I do,” Steve grumbled. “Thanks but… no thanks.”

“Your loss,” Bucky said. “You know, she’s real wild. I took her to a baseball game. She hates the game but… what she did in the bathroom… wow.”

Steve gave a weak smile and chuckled dryly. He glanced around. The carpet wasn’t the only thing that had disappeared. That framed picture of Bucky and Anna was gone too and the mantle only held the antique gun mounted on mahogany.

“Too bad it’s off season now,” Bucky droned on as he lazily paced and drank his beer.

“Yeah,” Steve leaned back and felt something hard beside the cushion. 

He shifted but it poked him again. He reached down into the crevice as Bucky took the baseball he’d had signed years ago and began to toss it up and down as he complained about the last season. 

Steve pulled out the long cylinder and blinked at how familiar it was. He swallowed and tucked it into his jean pocket quickly as Bucky threw the ball in his direction. He barely caught it without spilling his beer and chucked it back with venom.

“The fuck, Bucky?”

“Good to see you still got it,” Bucky laughed. “Pizza?”

“Sure,” Steve huffed. “No pepperoni.”

“Boring,” Bucky said as he pulled out his phone.

Steve took a deep breath as Bucky set down his beer and lifted his phone to his ear. He stepped into the short hallway and greeted the other end, carefully placing an order for a large and a side of wings. 

As he did. Steve pulled out the pen and turned it between his fingers. The daisy pendant that dangled from the end, the initials etched into the rose gold, the little scratch along the tip. It was definitely hers. His stomach sank and he quickly hid it as Bucky’s voice died.

He’d have to be sure. He’d give it back to her the next day and see.

Reader📚

You were heartened by Steve’s interest as you finished up your last slide. The lesson had gone well and the class was interested in what could otherwise be a dry topic. You took questions but found many of them were simple enough. The students seemed to understand well enough and you reminded them to submit their next assignment by Wednesday night.

Several students stopped to ask you about your office hours before the room finally emptied. Steve approached as you slid your papers into your notebook and closed it. He reached over the podium and set down the metal pen. The one your mother had gifted you when you were accepted to your masters program.

“You forgot this,” He let it roll down to the lip and catch there.

“Oh my god, I’ve been looking for this,” You grabbed it and spun it in your fingers. “Thanks so much! I’d hate for anyone else to just claim it.”

“No problem,” His blue eyes were, for once, humourless.

“Where was it?”

His brows shot up and his lips parted. He looked over his shoulder then back to you.

“U-under the desk,” He pointed to your usual seat. “Caught my eye during one of my other classes.”

“Well,” You fiddled with it and gathered up your notebook. “It needs a refill anyway.”

You grabbed your bag and shoved your things inside. You were glad he’d found it, you had been convinced you’d left it at Bucky’s and he had been evasive since Saturday. Work, as usual. Well, what did you expect? He was older and unlike college boys, he couldn’t just skip.

“I liked it,” Steve hovered around you, a hand in his pocket. “I see you took my advice.”

“Oh, the lesson,” You looked up at him as you lifted your bag. “Yeah, well, it would’ve been a disaster without you.”

“Yeah?” He smirked. “So, you got another class now?”

“Thesis work,” You said. “Library.”

“Fun,” He remarked. “You know… if you don’t… if you need a quiet place, you can use my office. I have some stuff to take care of before my next block so…”

“Oh, I don’t… know, I wouldn’t want to…”

“It’s pretty big anyway. Even if I was there, I probably wouldn’t even notice you.” He said. “And there’s a bluetooth speaker in there. A gift I never really use but you’re free to.”

“I, um…” You considered the library and the stuffy, dry air. The noise of hidden food wrappers and buzzing whispers. “You sure you wouldn’t mind?”

“Go on,” He grabbed his bag and checked his watch. “I don’t mind.”

“Twist my arm,” You accepted.

“I’ll have to unlock it for you,” He went to the door. 

“Uh, sure,” You followed him into the hall and waited as he locked up the classroom.

Silently, you walked beside him. You realised you didn’t have much to say about anything besides philosophy. You pulled out your phone. A message from Bucky. Finally. After days of radio silence.

“Sorry, baby, going out of town.” You hissed and blackened the screen.

“What’s up?” Steve asked as you followed him out into the late autumn chill.

“Nothing,” You shrugged.

“That boyfriend again?” He asked. 

“It’s whatever,” You grumbled. “Really.”

“I don’t know, it seems like every time I see you, he’s up to no good.”

“Well, he’s… busy.”

“And? You are too.”

“Yeah, but...I mean…” You were quiet as you walked along the campus path. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t--”

“I don’t mind. A little bit of impersonal gossip is… fun. And your secret’s safe with me.”

You glanced over at him and then around at the students all around.

“He’s older,” You admitted. “So… he’s always busy.”

“Older? Like what? A year or two?”

“A bit more than that,” You said nervously. “More…”

You were quiet again. He led you up the steps of the philosophy building and as he always did, opened the door. 

“...Your age.” You finished.

He blinked and tailed you inside, gesturing you up the stairs. You often did prep in his office so you didn’t need much guidance as he followed you up.

“Oh, old-old,” He scoffed. “I get it.”

You laughed, despite yourself and he came up beside you as you reached the third floor.

“You’re supposed to say ‘No, Professor Rogers, you’re not old’,” He chided as he rounded the corner and stopped in front of his office door. “Or something like that.”

“Sorry, I--”

As he reached into his pocket for his keys, a chiming tune filled the hallway. He pulled out his phone instead and apologized as he put it to his ear.

“Hey,” He cradled it with his shoulder as he fished for his keys. “What’s up, Buck?”

He shoved the key into the slot and the audible friction of metal in metal was like a knife to your heart. ‘Buck’? You frowned as he pushed open the door and waved you inside. He stayed at the threshold as he continued his call.

“Germany? I thought you said-- Ahh, okay, yeah,” He leaned on the doorframe. “Anna will be happy to see ya. Oh yeah, been a while.” He tilted his head. “We’ll reschedule. No problem. Yep. Have a good one.”

You waited anxiously as he hung up and stepped inside. He tucked his phone away and checked his watch again.

“Sorry, old friend. He’s going to see his fiancee and well--” He stopped himself. “Anyways, desk is there, speaker is…” He went to the shelf and pulled forward a rather expensive gadget. “Here. Maybe you’ll have better luck figuring it out.”

“Uh, thanks,” You nodded, almost dumbfounded as your mind began to whir. “I appreciate it. I won’t be more than an hour or two.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thanks, again.”

“Not at all,” He went to the door and turned back. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Sure,” You smiled.

He closed the door behind him as he went. You dropped your bag and fumbled for your phone. You tore it out of your pocket and swiped up. You searched through your contacts and hit call. It had to be a coincidence. Right?

“Hey,” Bucky answered from the other end, a din of activity around him. “I’m just about to fly out.”

“You’re engaged?” You hissed.

“What-- I-- How did you--”

“You are!” You snarled. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you! So have you been busy with work or with her?”

“Baby, it’s--”

“Don’t call me baby,” You retorted. “In fact, don’t call me. Ever.”

You hung up. A floorboard creaked and you turned around. Steve stood in the open door.

“Sorry, I… forgot to grab something,” He pointed past you. “I didn’t mean to--”

“I gotta go,” You bent to pick up your bag. “I’m sorry, I--” 

You neared but he blocked the door with his body.

“Bucky?”

“Your friend,” You uttered. “I didn’t know. I-- Did you?”

“No,” He answered. “Not until… now.”

“Well, now you do.”

“You don’t have to go because of-- I don’t care,” He said.

“I do. I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. He lied. How could you know?” He touched your arm.

“Isn’t he-- he’s your friend. You should be defending him,” You recoiled.

“And? He can be my friend and still be wrong,” He stepped closer and you back up, his hand lingered along your elbow. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Thanks, Professor, but I should--”

“Steve,” He corrected you. “I think we know each other well enough.”

He got closer again and you continued to retreat. He kicked the door closed behind him and you flinched.

“What are you--”

He leaned in and you were surprised by his hand on your chin. You dropped your bag and tried to wriggle away. He kissed you and you pushed against his chest. Your skin was alight as your insides wrenched. He parted, at last, his hand still around your jaw.

“What are you doing?” You breathed. 

“You deserve better,” His kissed your again and you bit his lip.

“Professor--”

“Steve,” He insisted and squeezed your chin.

“Let me go,” You grabbed his wrist.

He marched you backwards until you were against his desk. You clutched his wrist tightly but he didn’t budge.

“What? You’ll fuck him but not me?” He sneered. 

“It’s not-- you’re my advisor. I--” Your hand slipped down his arm as you panicked. “Please.”

“I’ve tried so hard not to think about it. About you.” He pushed you against the desk, bending you back until you were flat atop it, your legs hanging off. He loomed over you. “Thinking I was too old and yet I just wanted to have you... Right here… in the front of the class. Mmm, and then I find out you’re fucking him and I realise… you want it just as bad.”

“No, no, “Prof-- Steve,” You pleaded as his hand slid down to your neck. “I-- It was only… It was just sex.”

“Did you ever think of me when you were with him? Huh?” His lips were just above yours. “I thought of you. He told me about you but I didn’t even realise… I heard you do all sorts of naughty things.”

His other hand tugged at your blouse and you writhed helplessly.

“He told me you wore these little skirts for him,” He pressed his lips to your cheeks. “That you kept them on as he fucked you.”

“Steve,” You whined. “Stop!”

“Or what? It’d be a waste to toss away almost a semester’s work…” He snarled. “You know what they do to students who cross professional bounds? I have a duty to report such misconduct.”

“No, no, you--”

“Who are they going to believe?” He snapped. “Hmm, especially when it comes out you been fucking a man twice your age on the side.”

“They-- Steve,” You tried to catch his hand as he tugged on your pants. “You’re scaring me.”

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted our first time to be,” His hand snaked around and he pulled your pants down to your thighs in a single wipe. “That was before I knew how you like it.”

He held you down by your throat as he forced your pants past your knees, your panties twisted in the folds. He brought his foot up to push them further and free them from your ankles.

His hand flew back up your leg and he pushed two fingers against your cunt as you squirmed. He pressed deeper and rubbed along your folds as he bent over you again. He kissed you and drew back before you could bite him.

“You’re wet, kitten,” He purred. “We both know what you want.”

He toyed with you, flicking his fingers over your clit and dragging them back down. He repeated the motion several times until you bit your lips and slapped at the desk.

“Look at you,” He pushed his middle fingers inside of you and your back arched. “He didn’t care about you. Not like I do.”

He pressed the heel of his hand to your clit and curled his fingers. He squeezed and you gasped. He pulled his hand down and spread it over your chest, holding you down as he played with you. He sped up and his fingers clutched your blouse as he shook your body. You closed your eyes as you tried to resist the coil winding tightly inside you.

You mewled and he hushed you. You gritted your teeth and slapped your hand over his. He rocked his hand faster and you struggled to catch your breath. Your nails dug into the back of his hand and you pressed your lips together to hold in the sudden rise. You spasmed as you came atop the desk.

He slowed his hand and when he withdrew, you felt empty and cold. You opened your eyes as he brought his hand to his mouth and sucked clean his fingers. He hummed and ran his hands over your thighs. 

“Stand up,” He ordered. 

You stayed as you were, shaking, and stared at him. You drew your legs together and he pinched you.

“Now,” He growled.

You pushed yourself up and slid off the edge of the desk. He grabbed your open jacket and pulled it down your arms. Then he tore the hem of your blouse up and you were forced to raise your arms as he stripped away the cotton blend. Your bra fell loose as he swiftly unclasped the hooks and it fell away from your arms.

He grasped your shoulders and ran his hands down your front, cupping your chest as he took in every inch of you. He grabbed your arm and spun you to face the desk. He took your hands in his and placed them flat on the top. 

“Stay,” He bid. “I won’t tell you twice.”

His hand grazed your ass and he spanked you lightly. You winced and he reluctantly drew away. You trembled as you listened to him behind you. He dropped his jacket over your shoulder on the desk in front of you. Then his zipper whispered in the tense silence and he stepped closer until you felt his warmth against your naked back. He kicked your feet apart with his leather shoe and fumbled around behind you.

You flinched as his hand brushed against you and you felt him prodded along your ass. He leaned against you and guided your hand further over the desk. He dragged his tip along your folds, poking until he found your entrance. You tried to push away from the desk and he leaned on you heavier.

“He can’t make you feel like I can,” He rasped in your ear as he slid into you. “How does that feel, kitten?”

He impaled you entirely and your fingers curled against the wood. You gulped and hung your head.

“Answer me,” He wrapped his arm around your neck and forced your head up. “Be a good girl.”

“G-good,” You stuttered as he thrust into you.

“Yeah,” He breathed against your scalp. “Better than him?”

He rocked steadily against you as you struggled to keep yourself from folding over the desk. He grabbed your hip and sank his nails into the flesh.

“When I ask a question, you answer me,” He warned. “Like the good girl you are.”

“Y-y-yes,” You stammered as your thighs tingled. “B-b-better than… h-him.”

“Much better than I ever imagined,” His hot breath seeped into you as he nuzzled the crown of your head. “Fuck.”

You moaned as his arm wrapped snugger around your neck, his muscles hard through the soft fabric of his shirt. His flesh clapped against yours as he rutted into you. Deeper, faster. You slapped at his arm with one hand as your other remained planted on the desktop. You were on tiptoe as you orgasmed, barely muffling it as you bit down on your lip.

“That’s it,” He purred. “That’s it. Oh, kitten, I don’t think I can handle much more. Can you?”

He sped up again and your knees buckled dangerously. His arm tightened until he was choking you entirely, drawing you flush against him. You grasped at his arm and he pushed you closer to the desk until you were pressed to it. The soles of your boots, the only clothing still left to you, slipped on the floor and you came again as you fought for air.

“Ah, here I go.” He grunted.

He slammed into you as his other arm hugged your waist and he lifted you off your feet with his final thrusts. He spilled into you and slowed. As he still, he sighed and his arms loosened just a little. He turned you and rested against his desk, still inside you. 

He drew you into his lap as he slid back and bent his head against your shoulder. His hand fluttered along your cunt, hovering over it as he caught his breath.

“I’ll tell Bucky to leave you alone,” He muttered. “And you will do the same.”