#i’m filled with rage guys you don’t even understand

[the-irrelevant-trumpeter]

shut up about girl dinner shut up about girl maths shut up about girl whatever just shut up SHUT UP SHUT UP

[calliesmemes]

EVEN MORE ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED SENTENCE STARTERS FROM AROUND THE INTERNET, including quotes from Tumblr, Pinterest, TikTok, and X (formerly known as Twitter), for when a muse wants to lighten up the situation at hand.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   It’s sea shanty time once again my fellow bastards of the ocean! ”

“   Partner, I reckon that I ain’t been feeling very yeehaw lately. ”

“   I don’t study; I consult the lore. ”

“   Yeah, I understand women — they all want daggers and swords. It’s all quite simple, really. ”

“   Lord forgive me but I may have to make a nonessential purchase. ”

“   Those are bold words for someone in stabbing range. ”

“   Yes I’m a gatekeeper and a hater. I’m also God’s most favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. ”

“   My primary motivations are fear, spite, and aesthetic longing. ”

“   Man — if I had a sword, I wouldn’t be worried about shit. ”

“   It’s not blood that runs through these veins but glitter gel pen ink. ”

“   If I was in a Jane Austen novel, I would be the one sent to the seaside for my health. ”

“   Half of me is a hopeless romantic, and the other half of me is … well … an asshole. ”

“   I am the nicest, sweetest, most rage-filled person I know. ”

“   I hope I give off the vibe to all animals that I am their ally and their friend. ”

“   I see you’re paying attention to someone who is not me. Why is that? ”

“   Normalize letting me talk without making any sense. ”

“   Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus my psychic visions have predicted the outcome of this encounter. ”

“   I could be so much worse. For example, I could start acting like my father. ”

“   Sorry for acting so strange and irregular; It will happen again. ”

“   i love sitting in my room.....alone....a girl in her cave....scheming and plotting and drinking tea. ”

“   These man made horrors are beyond YOUR comprehension. I get it though. ”

“   I’m a goth girl on the inside. On the outside? A father figure. ”

“   I don’t need to face reality; I’m not just that type of girl. ”

“   DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A frickle-frackle? ”

“   I’m about to cha cha real smooth off a fucking cliff. ”

“   Sorry I told you about my trauma. Do you still think I’m hot? ”

“   My priorities aren’t straight and neither am I. ”

“   I have felt permanently guilty for no reason since I was like eight years old. ”

“   Of course I have a lot of pent up rage, you fool! I’ve been the same height since I was twelve years old! ”

“   I was born for shock value. ”

“   Good morning! God has let me live another day and I’m about to make it everyone’s problem. ”

“   Oh, I slept miserably because I was tormented by terrible visions all night. I hope none of them were prophetic! ”

“   Be the surreal nonsense that you want to see in the world. ”

“   Being smart has never stopped me from being a complete fucking idiot. ”

“   My hobbies include knowing things and being right. ”

“   This is good advice, but don’t tell me what to do. ”

“   I hate the idea of authority. What the fuck is someone being superior to me? Bitch I’m gonna take your kneecaps. ”

“   Stop forgiving my crimes! I worked so hard on those! ”

“   My hobbies? Uhhhh, symbolism mostly. Metaphors and implications and the like. ”

“   I may not have any braincells, but I make up for it by having many heart cells. ”

“   I can’t mansplain manipulate manwhore my way out of this one guys! ”

“   Not all your life decisions have to be smart. Some can be purely for cinematic value. ”

“   Sometimes I wish I looked more fragile and feminine like a dainty flower, but I do enjoy looking like I hate everyone. ”

“   Any dream can be a prophetic dream if you’re willing to do some really weird shit. ”

“   girl help there is not enough enrichment in my enclosure. ”

“   BRO, you NEED to stop SUMMONING DEMONS in the FRAT HOUSE. ”

“   I just gave your address to some spiders! ”

“   I disappoint my father as a hobby now. ”

“   I think that the dark circles under my eyes add to my aesthetic actually. ”

“   Good news! I’ve successfully replaced all of my emotions with jokes! ”

“   I have half a braincell left and I’m very scared to use it! ”

“   Listen, son — in this world, it’s either yeet or be yeeted. ”

“   I appreciate the advice, but I think that I’m old enough to make my own bad decisions. ”

“   I’m disappointed in me too. Y’all aren’t special. ”

“   Running from your demons is the best exercise! ”

“   Sorry; I can’t commit any crimes with you. My mom says that I have to study. ”

“   Time flies when you don’t know what the fuck is going on. ”

“   If I run out of tacos, I can no longer maintain my human form. ”

“   Bestie, I don’t think that I can girlboss under these conditions. ”

“   Yeah I’ve had combat training; I can do anxiety attacks! ”

“   Swag is earned, not learned. ”

“   Contrary to popular belief, violence solves a lot. ”

“   I CANNOT STAND YOU ALL so I will SIT DOWN. ”

“   Please God no … I don’t need any more character development right now! ”

“   If you can’t beat ‘em, yeet ‘em. ”

“   Do not put me in a situation. I’m at my limit and I am very tired. ”

“   I may be depressed, but at least I’m not basic. ”

“   It’s MY LIFE and I’ll sabotage it myself, thank you. ”

“   Think twice? Bold of you to assume that I think once. ”

“   At the next inconvenience, I will start biting people. ”

“   Oops I think that I just experienced an emotion. ”

“   Did you know that rats spelled backwards is star? ”

“   One day, I’ll be reincarnated as a pigeon, and I’ll shit on your head. ”

“   On the outside, I’m a baddie — but on the inside, I’m a saddie. ”

“   My grandma bullies me through the Ouija board. ”

“   I’m a cool person if you can just look past my personality. ”

“   Beetles don’t have to do taxes, and I think that is a beautiful way to live. ”

“   I hope that you get your character development arc soon. ”

“   Those are some nice kneecaps … It’d be a shame if someone stole them … ”

“   I’ve wanted to be a trophy wife ever since I was a little boy. ”

“   I’m done being baby; I want POWER ”

“   Wait, “Just Standing There Ominously” doesn’t count as socializing? ”

“   Yes I am smart, and yes, I am stupid. It’s called being flexible. ”

“   I am NOT delusional!!!!! I am OPTIMISTIC! ”

“   I deserve compensation for not being the menace to society that i could be, like i'm skipping out on a lot of fun here. ”

“   Do not ask me if you should or shouldn't do something !!! Before I am a friend I am an enabler !!! ”

“   i am the WORLDS PRETTYIST PINK PRINCESS and im gonna KILL YOU WITH MY HUGE FUCKING HAMMER ”

[diorctrl]

FAVOURITE SECRET PT 2 nishimura riki x reader

𓂂 ˳ older sister’s best friend riki, fluff warnings: intentional lower case, swearing , angst, hurt comfort

pt 1

there’s a lump in your throat as you stare at your older sister, she stares at you and the boy on the floor in shock, a mixture of confusion, anger and betrayal, written on her face.

she opens her mouth, then closes it. she opens her mouth again, “get.out.” she whispers quietly, her gaze solely focused on the boy on the floor.

riki sits up slowly looking at minji with confusion, “me ?”

her gazed sharpens, “yes, you !” she grabs his arm lifting him up from the floor and pushing the boy out your room. “you know where the door is.”

you stare at your sisters rage in shock, you most definitely knew that she would be mad about you and riki but never like this, you thought that she would just give you guys some type of lecture,“minj-”

“shut up yn.” she turns to you sharply, you flinch when was walks closer to you, “my best friend really?” her voice is filled with anger and sadness.

you sit still not really knowing what to say, it’s not your fault that you like him.

you hang your head low as her stare burns into you, you feel your tears burning at the back of your eyes, you don’t think you’ve ever seen her this angry.

“oh look, she’s gonna cry like she always does .”she narrows her eyes at you “like the baby she is.” she says laughing sarcastically, “I should be the one crying.”

your face scrunches up, “I’m not crying.” you say with a tearful tone, your voice cracking, your throat is burning, it always hurts when you try to stop yourself from crying. “I don’t even understand why you’re so mad.” you say bitterly. “ it’s not that big of a deal.”

minji’s body tenses, she shakes her head at you disgustingly, “obviously you would say that.” she steps back from you slightly. “you don’t get it do you ? why can’t I just have one thing for myself.”

she walks back and forth in front of you. “gosh, you’re so insufferable yn, you just suck everything out of everyone and you don’t even realize.”

a tear drops form you eye, you don’t know where this is all coming from, why is she so mad ? did she always feel that way about you ?

“and I had one thing, one thing! to myself and you take him away from me, you took my escape from me yn.” she says raising her voice slightly. “my escape from you, my escape from having to deal with the favouritism that everyone has with you, because I was his favourite.” she runs her hands through her hair, “and I knew he was acting weird these past couple months.” she whispers to herself.

“minji I don’t understand.” you say quietly. “how do I have favouritism ? you’re the scholar, you’re the one with your tests on fridge, you’re the one with the grades, you’re the one with a feature.” you say harshly, “I’m the disappointment.”

“yeah, you are.” she says just as harshly, “but you’re also the one with loads of friends, the one that gets the jokes, the hugs and the “at least you’re doing your best honey” , you’re the one that everyone is drawn too because of your free attitude, when I have to be the perfect poster child.” she walks closer to you again. “you’re like a black whole yn.”

“I finally had someone who saw me, who saw that I was just more than what people see me , and you sucked him in like you do too everyone else.”

both anger and hurt filled you, why is she being like this? did she always feel these things towards you ?

you impulsively say something.

“you’re acting like he’s your boyfriend or something.”

“he was going to be!” she yells, you jump back at her loud voice bouncing off the walls of your room. “he was going to be.” she repeats but quietly this time. “you don’t understand yn.”

“you will never understand, the feelings that I have towards him.”

her eyes widened in shock at the words that come out of your sister mouth, she loves riki.

you look down at your room floor, taking notice that one of his rings are on your carpet.

you look at your sister, you see tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “I think you should leave.” you whisper. “please get out of my room.”

she wipes her eyes quickly letting out a shaky breath as she walks out of your room not saying a word.

how did things go bad so quickly?

you sit on your bed staring at the ring on your floor then at the rain that hits your window and without thinking you grab of one your sweaters and you put on your running shoes.

you open your window and you climb down the ladder outside your window.

your stomach turn’s slightly as you hit the ground, you make sure that the ring is securely in your pocket, and make a run for it.

your breath slightly going out as you run, the rain hitting your body and the breeze running through you until you make it to your destination.

you take notice of the car in the driveway meaning his parents are home so you make your way to the side of the house where his bed room window is.

you find yourself self climbing the ladder that he leaves out for you when you used to sneak to his house.

you look through his window to see the boy laying in his bed, you softly knock on his window and you see him jump when he notices you rushing towards his window.

he opens his window pulling you in right away.

“holy shit yn, you’re soaking.” he say’s putting his arms around you pulling you further into his room.

“I think you have some clothes here you can go change in my washroom.” he says nonchalantly, like you guys didn’t get caught by your older sister like two hours ago.

after you change (making sure to put his ring in your new pocket) you come back into his main room and sit on his bed. “this is bad riki.”

“what?” he asks as he lays on his back staring up at his ceiling.

“minji riki. minji.” you say frustrated. “she’s mad like really mad.”

“you know minji, she’s like that.” he says without a care in a world, pulling you closer towards him.

“no, this is different, she said-” how do you tell him that his best friend is in-love with him.

“ah, I don’t wanna know what she said.” he says pulling you to lay in his chest. “that’s between you two.”

“but riki-”

he sits up completely, lifting up his comforter, “let’s talk about this later.”

“but riki” you say looking at him slightly concerned about his reaction.

“no, I’m tired and I just wanna lay with the person I love.” he says pulling you under the comforter.

your phone vibrates on his night table and you see a text from minji.

at his house I’m guessing?

and too think I came to your room to talk with you and apologize

you go still completely at the messages, you don’t know what to do.

you turn off your phone when riki puts his face into your neck, “riki ?”

he hums at you in response, “I think it’s best if we end our relationship.” you feel him tense in your hold. “it’s hurting minji.”

he doesn’t take his face form your neck, “minji will be minji yn, she’ll get over this in like a day.” he says tiredly.

you let out a deep sign, “this is different, she told me things really harsh things and some shocking things too…” you trail off wondering if you should tell him. “please don’t make this hard.”

he tightened his hold on you and let’s out a sigh, “let’s just talk about this after we take a nap, yeah ?”

“riki.”

but he doesn’t doesn’t respond and then you hear his light snoring, how does he fall asleep so fast ? and why is he being so nonchalant about this ?

you try your best to stop yourself from falling asleep, knowing when you wake up you’re gonna have to break up with the person that you love, but if you want to fix your relationship with your sister then that’s just not hat you’re gonna have to do.

sleep over takes you and all the stress releases from your body and you let your dreams over fill your mind.

music fills your ears and the sun from your bedroom window practically blinds you wait my bedroom window ?

you feel a weight on your chest and you look down to see riki sleeping, um ?

“riki, wake up.” you tug on the boys hair, the hums sleepily slowly rising form you, “what ?”

“what’s going on ?” he looks at you confused, before putting his head in the crook of your neck, “what are you talking.” he mumbles.

“i’m-”

your door opens, "yn I wanna get snacks wanna com- ?”

you and riki separated form each other quickly, you hitting your head on your head board and him falling off your bed with a big thud.

"ow !" you both say as minji looks at the two of you shock.

"what the fuck ?"

✰ AHAHAHHA

taglist @hikyeom @rizzyl @doublasting @heartsforhyunjin

[steviewashere]

What's A Boy in Love Supposed To Do?

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Biphobia, Eddie Being Kind of an Asshole at First, Use of the Word Queer (But not as a Slur) Tags: Post-Canon, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Aware of Own Bisexuality Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Angry Steve Harrington, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Temporary Unrequited Love/Feeligns, Rejection, (But not completely because Eddie doesn't know how he feels yet), Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Confident Steve Harrington, Bitchy Steve Harrington, (And he deserves to be here), Eddie Munson Being an Idiot, Eddie Munson Figuring Things Out, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, (But He's Not in Love Yet), Mild Resolve, Dialogue Heavy, Author is Bisexual For @steddieangstyaugust Day 24 Prompt: "Go, see if I care." Title from "Oh l'amour" by Erasure

🏳️‍🌈—————🏳️‍🌈 “As flattered as I am, Steve, I don’t want to be somebody’s experiment.”

He blinks at Eddie. Rigid to the cushion he sits on. It’s an instantaneous reaction: the flush of his cheeks, the pull to his lips, the narrowing of his eyes. A rage, he doesn’t think he’s felt since Jonathan Byers and his camera, begins to fill him. Can feel it low in the pit of his stomach and pulsing in the center of his forehead.

The gall of this asshole, Steve thinks, I can’t believe this shit.

Steve clicks his tongue on the back of his teeth. “Excuse me?” he asks thinly, “what the hell are you talking about?” His hands lay on his knees and squeeze harshly, fingernails digging through the denim of his jeans.

Eddie’s mouth twists. A sharp breath shoots through his nose. He looks away from Steve’s face, shrugging. “I mean,” he says slowly, “I mean…you like girls, Steve. This could just be a fluke. Like a…like maybe you should put more thought into this.”

Can’t help himself, Steve scoffs loudly. “Genuinely, Eddie, what the fuck are you talking about? I come out to you, I tell you that I like you, and you—what—turn this around as if I’m stupid about my feelings?”

“I guess?” Eddie answers, honest in a way Steve thinks he shouldn’t be. “You’re just…you’re confused. You’ve got some wires crossed or something. Maybe it’s just because I share some features with Nancy. But you don’t like me, Steve. Not really.”

He’s honestly not sure how to respond to that. Part of him is wilted. Part of him is alive with fury and flames, with tension, and unease. This feeling through him is the thing he doesn’t know. Steve falls back into his seat on the sofa, arms crossed over his chest, and avoiding all of Eddie he’d be able to see.

“Can’t believe this,” Steve mutters, “can’t believe you’re treating me like this, too. Why does everybody think that.”

“What do you”—

“I’ve been to queer bars, y’know,” he explains bitterly, “been in there searching for people who catch my eye. Because, get this if you can, I’m not a picky person.” Steve glares daggers at Eddie. “Because, and if you can believe me on this, I know what I want. Surprising, I know. But you wouldn’t know that because you treat me like everybody does—like I’m some brainless fucking low-life who only knows how to use his dick and bat his eyes.

“I go out and tell these people at the bars that I’m bisexual. That I’m into guys, that I’m into girls. Tell ‘em that, yeah, I only have experience getting in bed with a girl. But it’s not like I’m not interested in that aspect with guys, too—I just haven’t had the chance, you understand me on that, I’m sure.” And that maybe hits a little too hard; knowing that Eddie’s gay and that his experience with sex is very limited. He continues, though, “Yet, as soon as I try and explain myself, I get pushed away. I get looked at all weird. One time, a guy told me I wasn’t queer enough to be with him. Like…what the fuck does that even mean?”

“Steve, I”—

He points a finger in Eddie’s face, hand shaking and palm sweating. “Don’t interrupt me. You came out to me and I listened all the way through; you get to hear me out, too.” Steve huffs. Draws his hand back towards his lap, immediately going to his habit of picking at his fingers. Trying to allocate the nerves he has, the ones that were so intense a few moments ago. “How queer do I have to be to want to kiss a guy?” he speaks rhetorically and quietly, “how queer do I have to be to appreciate the way they smile at me? Or…or how queer do I have to be to want to hold your hand, Eddie? Seriously. What’s it gonna take? Is it ‘experimenting’ if I know that I want it? Is it ‘experimenting’ if I know how much I already love you?

“Because I do, if you can believe that. I fell in love with you before I really had the words. And I fell in love with you before I came to the realization that I like guys, too. But I know my own feelings. I’ve been in love before, I think I can understand that part of me.” He looks down at his hands in his lap, eyes burning, throat stinging, and face flushing hot. “I wish I didn’t have to explain something I already know. But I guess I will for however long people question the authenticity of my sexuality. Including you, I guess.”

The room fills with tense silence after that. Air so hot and so thick, he can feel it heavy on his shoulders, weighing him further and further, and making him sink deep into the cushion underneath him.

Sure, this isn’t the first time he’s been rejected. Nancy did. Robin did. Now Eddie is. He’s been rejected by guys at the bars and clubs. Maybe he doesn’t have the whole knowledge or ‘etiquette’ to this yet, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to learn. He wants to call a guy his baby, hook his finger into their belt loop, drag them into a dark corner and kiss them soundly and breathlessly. Wants to take a guy home at the end of the night and hold his hand as they figure out each other’s bodies. Kiss him in the morning, if the guy sticks around. Wants to relish in the scratch of facial hair on his sensitive skin.

He could see himself with men, that’s the thing. He knows that in his fantasies—whether it be imagining himself with the men in the centerfolds of gay magazines, or the daydreams of being in love with Freddie Mercury—that he’s completely comfortable with the thought of being with a man. Loves the thought of it so much, that he finally realized he wanted that with Eddie especially. Because a night-in with Eddie, watching a movie, arm around his back, cushioning his cheek on Eddie’s shoulder, kissing each other slow and soft—all of that sounds like heaven, a dream that could animate and he could make real.

On the couch, distance between them, Steve’s never felt so far away from a dream of his. Even that initial daydream with Nancy sounds more probable than falling in love with Eddie slowly and surely. He sort of, really, hates that.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes. “I don’t know what to say.”

An apology might be nice, Steve sourly thinks. He just shrugs, though. “I don’t know what I want you to say, so,” he states quietly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Eddie give one sharp nod. “This is…a lot to take in. I should just leave.”

Of course. Run away, Eds. Run away like you always do. “Go. See if I care,” Steve murmurs. Face at his lap still, tears ready to spill down his cheeks. A part of him thinks that he’ll never see Eddie again. He doesn’t want that. But maybe…maybe it’s for the best? It’s the one thing he doesn’t know.

Eddie stands up, walks towards the door, but stops in the doorway to the living room. He raps his knuckles on the doorframe. Steve can’t help but look up. “I accept you,” Eddie says quietly, “even if it’s too easy to say or too easy to hear, but I do. Just let me have a little bit of time to think about your confession, Steve. I think I feel the same, but I want to be confident like you. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

He inhales slowly and lets out a soft breath through his mouth. Steve wants a better apology, but one thing at a time, he supposes. It was hard when he figured things out for himself; it’s harder to hold a grudge against somebody doing the exact same thing. “If you find out you feel the same,” Steve says hopefully, “can we hold hands?”

“Stevie, when I’m confident about how I feel, we can do whatever you want. I’ll be back, I promise. I’ll have better words and a better apology, too.” He lets go of the doorframe, where he rested his hand after knocking on it. But before he can leave, he looks Steve directly in the eyes. Says, “And there’s no such thing as ‘queer enough’. You’re perfect as-is, Steve. I’m just stupid. And those other guys are complete assholes for not even attempting to get their heads out of their asses and go out with you.

“You deserve the world. And I want to give that to you.”

“Let’s cool off first.”

Eddie nods again, smiles small, and Steve returns it. “Yeah, we should do that,” he whispers. Lets out a deep sigh. Softly, “Take care of yourself tonight, okay? I’m sorry for…I’m sorry for being an ignorant pile of shit. I’m gonna do better, no matter how long it takes to prove myself to you.”

After that, Eddie lets himself out. And Steve lets him leave, doesn’t chase after him, even when every part of him panics about letting Eddie get away. But this is for the better, he thinks. Knows that not everything works itself better overnight. It’s a start, though. Not a satisfying one, but it’s the beginning of something.

🏳️‍🌈—————🏳️‍🌈

[oizysian]

Secrets | Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanoff

Requested by @sashawalker2

Summary: How do Wanda and Natasha react to finding out Y/N was a victim of Hydra?

Word count: 1.2k

•

“When were you going to tell us you were experimented on by Hydra?”

“I don’t know, Wanda. There never seemed to be a right time.”

“Would’ve been nice if we had known before going to bed with you.”

“What’s the difference, Nat?”

“It’s like we slept with a stranger. We don’t even know you anymore.”

I blinked at them, pushing the tears back as the two women that meant everything to me looked at me as if I was a total stranger.

“I’m still the same person.”

“You’re not.” Nat insisted. “You lied to us.”

“I didn’t lie! I just … neglected to mention it.”

“What else did you neglect to mention?”

“I may have forgotten to tell you guys that I maybe have … some powers.”

Nat all but rolled her eyes and Wanda just continued to stare at me.

“What powers?”

“Not many!”

“What powers, Y/N?” Nat had clearly lost her patience.

“I’m strong and I can heal, okay?” I was ashamed of my past, of my powers, and being forced to out myself in front of my girlfriends was embarrassing.

“How strong?”

“I can hold my own against any of you.”

“Not without proper training.” Nat mumbled and I glared at her.

“Try me.”

“Okay, okay,” Wanda finally spoke, getting in between us before we started fighting right in front of her. “Y/N,” her voice was soft. “Why didn’t you just … tell us?”

“I was scared, okay? I was scared and ashamed.” I turned away from both women, my hands shaking with rage. “I hate what happened to me. I hate what they made me. I pushed down all my strength and all my abilities so I could just be normal.”

I turned back towards them, tears threatening to fall as I pleaded to them with my eyes.

“Is it such a crime to have wanted to put all that pain and torture behind me and just … pretend?”

Nat swallowed roughly as she listened to my words.

“You could’ve told us.”

“I couldn’t.” My voice broke. “I worked so hard to put all of that behind me. Telling you would’ve undone everything I did to be the person I am today.”

“But we told you who we were. That wasn’t fair of you, Y/N.”

“I know,” I turned to Wanda, hoping that at least she would understand me. “And I’m sorry. I just didn’t want either of you to think that I was some Hydra agent undercover or something.”

“And what if we do?”

“Do you?” I directed the question at Natasha, but then turned my attention to Wanda. “Do both of you really think I’m a Hydra agent? After everything I told you? After all we’ve been through?” I yelled, my chest heaving and my tears finally falling.

Wanda’s eyes shifted to the ground, but Nat continued to stare straight at me.

“Wouldn’t I have killed both of you already? Maybe while I was fucking you so hard you were screaming my name -”

Natasha’s fist collided with my face before I even had the chance to react. I barely flinched at the blow, even though she had used all her strength and channeled her anger into the hit. I sighed, knowing full well that I deserved it for how I spoke, but disappointed that she resorted to violence.

“Natasha!” Wanda cried, but I raised my hand up toward her, telling her it was okay.

“I deserved that.” I breathed, watching as the realization finally crossed her features that I had taken a hit from her and didn’t even take a step back. “I shouldn’t have brought that up, I’m sorry.”

“Y/N,” Wanda said my name softly, slowly approaching me. “I don’t think you’re with Hydra. I don’t think you have an evil bone in your body.” She took my face in her hands and looked deeply into my eyes. “You need to be honest with us from now on. No more secrets.”

I nodded, my eyes filling with tears once again at the softness of her voice. I thought she would’ve been angrier than Nat, but I guess she understood my desire to put it behind me to an extent.

“No more secrets. I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. It’s okay.”

Nat stood back and wordlessly watched us, still as the dead while Wanda comforted me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me to her, hugging me, and I watched Nat from over her shoulder. Her face was unreadable, blank, but I knew her well enough to know that she was mulling over everything that happened.

“They took me as a child,” I began, looking Nat directly in the eye. “I was tortured for years, injected with god knows what until I was finally able to escape.” I swallowed roughly, blinking away tears. “I can’t tell you how many of my bones were broken, how much of my body was destroyed just for it to repair itself within minutes and for the torture to start all over again because of it.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to …"

“I want to.” I gave Wanda a slight squeeze, letting her know it was okay, and continued. “I wasn’t the end goal. I was just a guinea pig. They were just going to use me until I finally died.” I scoffed. “Unfortunately for me, they made it almost impossible for me to die from anything other than natural causes.”

I sniffled softly and I felt Wanda’s arms tighten around me in support.

“I can’t even kill myself.”

“Y/N, don’t.” Wanda spoke against my neck and I could feel her own hot tears against my skin. “Don’t say that.”

“I tried.” I grabbed onto her, burying my face in the crook of her neck. “I tried to kill myself so many times, but I always wake up. I always wake up.”

I could sense Nat approach before I felt her arms around the both of us. Wanda was full on crying at this point and I was doing my best to hold and comfort her. As Nat embraced us both, and I could’ve sworn that I heard her crying too.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

I looked up at her, her eyes shining with tears. I leaned toward her and pressed my lips to hers and she responded in full, kissing me back while we held Wanda.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered against my lips and I shook my head.

“Don’t apologize. I was the one who was wrong.”

“I was an idiot. I … hit you.”

“Which I deserved.”

“No, you didn’t. I lost myself.”

“It’s alright. I’m fine, see? Not even a scratch.” I tried to make light of it to try and make her feel better.

I knew it happened in a moment of passion and I truly did deserve it. I had deserved everything that happened to me. I knew that.

Before I could voice another thought, Wanda lifted her head up and kissed me, her lips trembling.

“I’m - I’m fine.” I breathed softly, her green eyes searching mine. “I’m fine, Wands. I promise.”

“I don’t want anything to come between us ever again.” Wanda’s voice was small and she sniffled softly.

“Nothing will. Ever. You two mean so much to me. More than you’ll ever know.”

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter eight

Summary: Confessions.

Warning: Mentions of John Walker. Mentions of Cheating.

Word Count: 1848

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A/N: I can't wait for the John Walker parts to be over. Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @thetorturedbuckydepartment

Two weeks had passed since John’s disappearance, and the news reports were all the same, no new leads or theories, it became tedious. Yet, there was a cloud of suspicion lingering over you and The Avengers, simply because the others were known as the ‘tough’ guys in the city, they were associated with trouble whether deservedly or not. 

As you settled into your usual seat in the bar, the dim lighting cast shadows that danced across the wooden table, and a warm sense of familiarity washed over you. Your friend's laughter filled the air as you caught up with each other and your lives. 

However, the moment of tranquility was shattered as the door swung open, and in strode a woman, a mask of rage and desperation over her features. You noticed her as she scanned the room, her eyes locked on your booth, a shiver sent down your spine as you retreated your gaze over to Bucky. 

“Where is he?” she demanded, her voice sharp as she pointed an accusatory finger toward the group, mainly aimed at Steve. “I know you lot had something to do with it.” A tense silence fell over the bar, you exchanged wary glances with your friends. You knew who she was, her face had been plastered all over the news the last two weeks. 

Steve was the first of you to respond, with a calm but firm voice. “I’m sorry, Miss, but I think you have the wrong people,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed, her fists were clenched at her sides. “Don’t play dumb with me,” she spat, her voice began to tremble. “You’ve always been into trouble, you can’t expect me to believe any of you are innocent.” 

Natasha rose from her place in the booth, her demeanor was composed but unwavering. “We understand that you’re worried, but we genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about,” her voice was steady.

Sam nodded in agreement, “We may have a reputation, but this wasn’t us.” he tried to explain without letting his frustration get the better of him.

You couldn’t shake the unease that ate at you. You knew the truth - John had cheated on this woman with you. Even though you knew you hadn’t slept with him, the guilt of even going on dates with him and kissing him, bubbled up inside you. Your gaze flickered nervously to the floor as you tried to keep your composure. 

Her gaze flickered between each one of you, rage and frustration taking over her features. “I won’t rest until I find out what happened to him,” she vowed, determination thickened in her voice as her gaze landed on you. Staying there for a moment longer than they all liked. 

Bucky stood, his presence snapping her out of the haze that set her focus on you. “We understand you’re in pain, but coming here to accuse us… won’t bring him back,” he said, his voice calm. 

With a final glare, toward you, she turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving a tense silence behind her. The bar remained quiet for a moment before the chatter resumed. As you and your friends got comfortable in your booth again, the weight of the accusation and your own guilt pressed down heavily on your mind.

~

The accusation from John’s wife cast a shadow over your gathering, causing the rest of the evening at the bar to become a stark contrast to the usual atmosphere. Although everyone tried to return to their conversation and laughter, the tension was undeniable. 

Ever perceptive, Bucky, noticed the worry that clouded your features. He stayed quiet as the night wore on, it wasn’t until the other became engrossed in a conversation that he leaned in closer to you. “Hey,” he said softly, searching your gaze. “You okay?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind,” you replied, trying to sound upbeat and casual. He wasn’t convinced, he knew you too well. He noticed the slight tremble of your voice and the glossy coat over your eyes. 

“You sure?” he pressed, “You seem more shaken than usual.”

Sighing, you remembered you couldn’t hide your feelings from him. “It’s just… the whole John situation,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I can’t shake the guilt, Bucky. What if someone found out about us?” 

His expression softened as his hand reached under the table, resting his hand against your thigh, his thumb brushing against your bare skin. “Hey, listen to me,” he said firmly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. He was the one who was married, not you. And, you had no idea about his wife, right?” 

You shook your head, confirming his suspicion. “It’s just hard not to feel responsible,” you murmured, glancing around to make sure your other friends weren’t listening. 

As Bucky began to respond, Steve interrupted. “Alright, I think it’s time to call it a night,” he announced, standing from his chair at the head of the booth, stretching out his back. Everyone murmured in agreement, and soon you dispersed. Each other your friends heading their separate ways. Expect Bucky, as always, he lingered behind, waiting for you as you gathered your things. 

“Want a ride home?” the concern was evident in his voice.

You nodded without hesitation, you loved the feeling of the cool night air against your skin, it helped clear your mind. 

~

As you reached your apartment, you turned to Bucky. He smiled warmly before pulling you into a comforting hug. “You know I’m always here for you,” he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. 

With a final squeeze, he let you go as he watched you enter your apartment. He waited until he heard the click of the door lock before making his way out of the building. 

Once inside, you leaned against the door. Everything from the evening replayed in your mind. You knew you had to try and find a way to move past this, but that was easier said than done. 

~

The next few days at work are blurred from the routine tasks and your colleague's hushed whispers. You tried to remain focused on your job, yet the memory of John’s wife’s confrontation lingered. The office gossip showed no signs of dying down and the sense of dread consumed you every time you heard his name. 

One afternoon, as you were packing up for an early finish, your phone buzzed.

Bucky ❤️‍🩹: Bar? Could use some company… 

You smiled at his timing, grateful for the attached photo showing both his beer bottle and a cherry cold waiting in front of your usual seat. You send a quick reply, packing up the last of your things and heading to the bar.

~

The bar was a lot less crowded than it usually is when you arrive. You stopped Bucky already waiting at your booth with the pictured bottle still waiting in front of him. He greeted you with a smile as you slid into the seat opposite him. 

“How was your day?” he asked, handing you a straw.

“Same as always,” you replied with a shrug, placing your straw in your cola before taking a sip. “Just trying to keep my head down.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his beer. “Yeah, it’s been tough with all these rumors flying around.” 

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “I just want it to be over,” you admitted. “I can’t keep worrying about someone finding out.” 

His eyes softened with sympathy. “Look, whatever happened, we’ll deal with it,” he assured you. “Anyway, it’s not like you slept with him…” 

It took you a moment to think about his choice of words, you couldn’t recall ever telling him you hadn't slept with John or not. Shaking your head, the thought left your mind. Of course, Bucky knew you never slept with John, no one in this friend group can keep anything to themselves. 

Just as you were about to change the subject, the door swung open, and again, in walked John’s wife. Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on you. Marching straight over, her expression was a mixture of determination and desperation. 

“You,” she said, pointing a finger in your direction. “We need to talk.” 

The bar fell silent, and everyone’s eyes turned to you. A sinking feeling settled in your stomach as you met her gaze, knowing there was nowhere to run. 

Immediately standing up, Bucky positioned himself protectively in front of you. “Look, lady. We’ve already told you,” his tone was firm but calm. “We don’t know anything,”

Her eyes flicked to Bucky, then back at you. “She does,” she said, her voice trembling. “I need answers, now. John was last seen with people like… “She looked Bucky up and down before continuing. “... you. And, now he’s gone.” 

You took a deep breath and began to fidget with the sleeves of your cardigan, trying to steady your nerves. “He wasn’t honest with you,” you began, your voice trembling. Bucky looked at you, his expression unreadable. Turning back to John’s wife, you noticed a mix of hope and fear in her eyes as she looked back at you. “I, I didn’t know he was married. I only found out after he disappeared. He… we were dating.” 

Her eyes widened, her face draining of color. “What?” she whispered, taking a step back. “You’re saying…?”

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat as your eyes began to well. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea. If I had known, I never would have agreed to go with him.” 

For a moment, she started at you, her emotions were conflicting on her face. Then, she looked down, her shoulders slumping as the reality of your words sank in. “I knew he was hiding someone,” she said softly, mostly to herself. “That doesn’t explain why he started coming home with his face black and blue…” she trailed off. 

You noticed Bucky subtly move his hands to his pockets, concealing the marks on his knuckles that seemed like a permanent feature.

“I promise you, we had nothing to do with his disappearance,” you said, your voice shaking as the tears began to spill. “But, you deserved the truth about him.” You felt a pang of guilt knowing the pain that your words had caused. 

Her eyes filled with tears as she looked back at you, “Thank you, I needed to hear it, even if it hurts,” 

With a final moment in silence, she turned and left the bar. She left you and Bucky standing there, the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air. 

Bucky turned to you, his eyes full of empathy as he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You did the right thing,” he said softly, pulling you into a tight hug.

The ambient noise of the bar returned as the conversation resumed around you. Sitting back down in the booth, the feeling of your confession set heavy on your shoulders. Despite Bucky’s reassurance, you still felt a sense of doubt.

---

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[thatidiotsuds]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem Reader

Hard To Love

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or images used in this work, nor do I claim any rights to them.

Warnings ⚠️: None, maybe grammatical and spelling errors 😅

Authors Note: hey! Kit here! I wrote this fic based on the song "Hard to Love by Lee Brice" I'll link the song down below. Hope you guys like it and let me know if you guys have a request.

Simon Riley, known to most as "Ghost," had always struggled with trust. His mantra, "the people you love can hurt you the most," shaped his interactions and made relationships complicated. He had grown accustomed to solitude, and working alone became his signature.

Once you get used to being alone, it becomes an addiction. Yet, there were moments when Simon would catch glimpses of others—friends and partners laughing over a barbecue, sharing stories, and enjoying each other's company. He would be lying if he said he didn’t yearn for that connection sometimes. Shaking his head, he would look away, he couldn't let anyone hurt him again because he trusted someone....even family could betray you and it hurts but it also makes you stronger, muttering to himself, "Let’s get back to work," before diving back into his tasks.

Then one day, everything changed when he met you. From the start, there was an undeniable tension between you two, thick enough to slice with a knife. You were a light in his shadowy world, your bubbly aura shining even in the most serious situations for a person in this kind of work field. It was obvious you loved your job,When the medics hesitated to approach him, intimidated by his fierce demeanor, you stepped forward without a second thought.

No matter how many times he threatened to push you away or sent you off, you always found your way back to him. He would make insensitive comments, testing your patience, but you would respond with a hopeful smile, reminding him that there was still light in the darkness. When he pretended to be busy, you would leave a cup of coffee on his desk, a small gesture that made him feel guilty yet endeared him to you even more.

You both shared a penchant for drinking, and there were nights when you found yourselves slumped on the couch, nursing terrible hangovers. Simon was a short fuse, a wrecking ball crashing into the walls he had built around his heart. But you could read him like an open book, the only one who could talk sense into him during his fits of rage without raising your voice or getting striked on the face.

You were his soft spot, the one person who saw through the tough exterior to the man beneath.

"I can be insensitive," he would admit, his voice low and rough. "I have a tendency to focus on what I need, and sometimes I drink too much. I don’t know why you stay with me." He said bring up the topic as you two talked under the moonlight as you both took the first watch during a mission.

You would smile softly, your eyes filled with understanding. "Because I see you, Simon. The real you. And I know you’re worth it."

He would shake his head, a mix of frustration and admiration swirling within him. "I’m hard to love, you know. I don’t make it easy."

"But I love you anyway," you would reply, your voice steady and sincere. "You don’t have to be perfect for me to care."

Simon often felt like a wrecking ball, crashing into your heart, leaving chaos in his wake. Yet, you were like a Sunday morning—full of grace and warmth, a reminder of everything he wished he could be.

"You’ve given me a million second chances," he would say, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I don’t want to take you for granted."

He knew he was hard to love, but your unwavering support made him believe he could be better. "I don’t deserve it, I'm not a good man and you can see that..." he would confess, "but I love that you love me good."

In those moments, Simon realized that maybe, just maybe, he could learn to let someone in. And as he looked at you, he felt a flicker of hope—a chance to be more than just a ghost in the shadows.

[mykoreanlove]

backseat love.

You lay in the back of his red mustang.

His beloved car was parked in a secluded stop near the beach.

It was a warm summer night in late August.

The sky was clear, the air was crisp.

The moon illuminated your beautiful features effortlessly.

You closed your eyes.

Jackson’s musky scent clouded your mind completely.

You felt his plush lips exploring your neck.

His kisses were sweet, restrained even.

His body hovered above you, always leaving a bit of space as to not smother you.

Your hands trailed along his strong arms, rubbing circles on the spots in which his skin was tattooed.

Jackson stopped kissing you for a moment as he giggled under your touch.

“That tickled.”

You smirked diabolically.

“My bad��.

Not even a second later you had your hands on his sides tickling him on purpose.

Jackson got startled and tried to escape your nimble fingers while laughing hysterically.

You learned to love that high pitched laugh rather quickly.

He easily freed himself out of your touch and reversed the roles.

Now, he held your hands in place and laid directly on you.

Feeling him felt nice, being this close to him felt even nicer.

The mood changed as quickly as his eyes did.

You did not understand how but his dark eyes turned even darker somehow.

Jackson looked at you intensely.

“Y/N, don’t you ever do that again. Unless…”

He stopped talking and observed your face instead.

You felt his eyes linger on your lips.

Excitement rushed through your whole body.

You licked your lips in anticipation.

“Unless?”

Jackson’s eyes lit up from arousal, swallowing hard.

“Unless you want to get punished, baby girl.”

He crushed his lips onto yours and kissed you with his all.

Desire, longing, yearning, passion – you couldn’t think of a word to describe him.

Describe this.

Your fingers found the back of his head, tugging on his Cruella hair.

“Need you closer.”

You mumbled in between kisses, not wanting to break contact with his lips.

Jackson complied, thrusting his hips onto you.

“Like this?”

You moaned.

Your eyes shot open from embarrassment.

Jackson’s lips turned to a smirk, watching you very closely.

“I wanna do that again.”

You looked confused.

“What?”

“I wanna hear you moan again. No, I-”

He thrusted his hips again, making you understand how desperate he was for you.

“I want to make you moan again. And again. And again.”

Jackson’s lips found yours again, kissing you until you ran out of breath.

His almond shaped eyes looked down at you, requesting.

“If you let me?”

Fuck, he was good.

Your hands let go of his hair and travelled down to his crotch instead.

You were kneading him through his pants, smirking at him.

“Let’s go then.”

You had no idea how long the two of you had been at it.

The car was rocking.

The windows were fogged.

The air smelled like sex.

Both of you were sweaty and out of breath.

You still sat on his lap thanks to the last position he had you in.

You were covered in bite marks.

Neck, tits, inner thighs – Jackson marked you everywhere.

“I had no idea our date would go like this but I liked it.”

He laughed shyly.

You mirrored his laughter and pressed your forehead to his.

Jackson took your head into his hands, watching you with the biggest smile.

“You are so beautiful, y/n. Like really, fucking beautiful.”

He placed another kiss on your lips.

The kisses before were hungry and hurried.

Now they were sincere and sweet.

“How the hell are you still single?”

Ouch.

That one hurt.

“Because of guys like you, Jackson.”

You wanted to get away from him.

And his car.

You wanted to get up and cry.

“Because of guys like you. The ones that get to know me and tell me the sweetest things. Y/N, you are so beautiful. Y/N, you are so great. I wanna date you and do this and do that blablabla. Guys like you Jackson, they only want to fuck me and then they leave for someone else. You tell me why I’m still single.”

You practically spat out those last words.

Rage filled your whole body.

“Hello? Y/N? You okay?”

You snapped back to reality, leaving your blame game fantasies.

An awkward laugh left your lips.

“Sorry, got lost in thought.”

You smiled, hoping he would let it go.

Jackson was not sure what to do next.

Your vibe had changed completely.

You were cold and reserved now.

Your body tense.

Your smile fake.

“Did I.. Did I do something wrong?”

You turned your head away, laughing again.

“Of course not.”

His hand grabbed your face smoothly and turned it back so you could face him.

“Don’t do that y/n.”

You looked at him surprised.

“Do what?”

“Don’t hide from me, please. I know that I said something that triggered you and I’m sorry. But please, don’t shut me out.”

Jackson’s eyes were filled with sorrow – something you had never seen before in a male counterpart.

Slowly you regained your composure.

“You asked as a joke, I overreacted. It was really not that deep.”

“What if it was?”

He tugged back the strands of hair that fell into your face.

“What if it was deep? Why not talk about it? Don’t hold everything in, y/n.”

You were resistant.

This was not what you wanted.

This was supposed to be a careless date.

How did it turn into this?

“Do you trust me?”

Strangely enough, you did.

You nodded your head.

Jackson beamed you a smile.

“I trust you, too.”

His words touched you.

He touched you.

You felt yourself relax, as if weight had dropped off your shoulders.

You let out a deep breath.

Jackson took your hands into his and squeezed them.

“Wanna know how this normally goes?”

He nodded quietly.

“Well, I am still single because I meet the worst kind of people. You know the ones that don’t want to commit but behave as if they fell in love with you? It’s always the same – they tell me the nicest things, just like you did. Y/N, you are amazing. You are beautiful and smart and funny blabla, how are you still single?”

Tears were starting to fill your eyes.

Jackson didn’t say a word.

He knew it was hard for you.

He knew what it felt like to be in your shoes.

He knew how hard it was to open up about your struggles.

Tears were running down your cheeks.

“God, I feel so stupid telling you all this. I am still single because guys only think of fucking me. That’s all they do. They use me and then they throw me away. Like I meant nothing. Like I was trash. They delete my contact, they block me, they are out of my life without a single word. That is why I am still single, Jackson. I’m just not made for love.”

Your last words lingered in the air for a while.

You felt his thumb on your cheek, whiping away your salty tears.

“That was hard, wasn’t it?”

You nodded.

You felt small.

You felt vulnerable.

You made a giant fool of yourself on this date.

Great.

“I admire you, y/n.”

Your reddened eyes shot up, looking at him with confusion.

“You.. You what?”

Jackson laughed, adoring your cuteness so much.

“I know what it’s like to go through hard times. And how it feels to be rejected. And how it feels to bottle it all up. I am sorry that you had to go though all this. But you haven’t closed off your heart and I admire you for that.”

Now you wanted to cry more.

Not out of sadness, but out of gratitude.

“What? Did you expect me to kick you out of my car after you confessed all that?”

Jackson laughed and started kissing your tears away.

He looked at you sternly, whispering.

“I would never do that.”

All of you wanted to believe him.

All of you craved for someone that was good to you for once.

But all of you was suspicious because of your past.

„You said this happened normally, right?“

You nodded.

„Good.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, closing the space between the two of you.

“I’m sure you already know that I am not a normal guy, right?”

[alexsoenomel]

Feelin’ Baby Blue (Dean Winchester x Reader smut/fluff)

Requests: can you write a story where dean is just like touch starved and wants to cuddle so he doesn’t have nightmares while he sleeps.

Could you write a story where dean just needs a little comfort? like he’s had a rough day or is just feeling off and wants to be held and feel safe in the readers arms

Summary: Dean set you free by accident, not knowing you can feel the pain he was in and not knowing you’re able to give him what he secretly craved.

Pairing: Dean x Genie!Reader 

Warnings:  18+ MINORS DNI, Reader is a virgin, Dean is broken and pathetic, sweet love making, and Big O’s

Word count: 3.8k

Note: I added a little bit of fluffy smut because I’m a pathetic horny bitch and Dean deserves to get laid.

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)  

Wake up. Go to work. Collapse on the coach. Wake up. Make lunch for tomorrow. Shower. Sleep.

Over and over again.

Every day. The concept of time didn't exist, only work and work alone. You didn't know who you were, your true authentic self was buried deep in you, along with your dreams and goals. In this world dreams and goals were considered unnecessary, plus you didn't even know what your dreams and goals were. You were only aware of one thing and one thing only – you had to work in order to survive. This job was your bread and butter, financial issues disappeared but you could still feel the world crashing around you. Your life became only your 9 till 5. You had no one, with family scattered around the country, and friends being in different stages of life, you were left to only interact with people in your dull office job which made you hate this life even more. Empty conversations, small talk, gossip…

You didn't even remember the last time you genuinely laughed while talking to someone. Once you entered this machine, this cursed cycle called the capitalistic society, your life lost all meaning.

It was the same day over and over again.

****

North Platte, Nebraska

Sam and Dean just killed a nasty witch. She had been cursing family homes all over Nebraska, making family members eventually kill each other in fits of rage and insanity – reasons unknown. She was an old one – old as time. Her house was filled with endless shelves of books of ancient dark magic, ancient artifacts chattered all over, herbs, talismans – whatever a witch’s heart desired, she had it.

"Poor guy!" Dean said, looking at the white rabbit lying on the coffee table. His eyes were closed, his little body completely relaxed and spread out – it looked dead. "That bitch was creepy as hell!" He added. Dean was never fond of witches.

"I still don't understand why she was killing all those families!" Sam wondered, looking around her messy living room.

"Beats me!" The older Winchester shrugged his shoulders and put the gun with witch-killing bullets back in his jeans.

He was just about to tell Sam that it was time to go since the place was giving him the heebie-jeebies when he saw something that piqued his interest on one of the bookshelves.

"Sam, look!" His fingers were gently holding a medium-sized bottle filled with floating whiteish, blueish puffs. He was smiling like he just found his favorite childhood toy.

"Are those clouds?" Sam asked, trying to see what was inside the bottles. Nothing apart from "clouds" his eyes registered.

Dean, being Dean (childish and chaotic at times), started shaking the bottle, hoping something would happen. It didn't. The "clouds" were just floating in the bottle as he was shaking it.

"Dean, put it back where you found it, and let's get the hell out of here!" Sam told him.

"Fine."

As he was about to put it back on the shelf, a light bang echoed through the living room causing both Winchesters to turn around with their guns ready to kill whatever made the sound. Dean didn't even notice that he dropped the bottle, shattering it completely. The clouds were floating right behind them as they put their guns away realizing it was just the rabbit that Dean thought was dead on the coffee table. It jumped on the wooden floor knocking a little stone in the process. It just stood there looking at them.

"He ain't dead!" Dean's eyes widened in surprise. He couldn't help but smile – he'd always feel sad for the poor animals that were used for witchcraft.

Instinctively, both brothers then glanced at the dead witch lying a few inches away from them. She was still dead as a doornail. Good.

The rabbit sniffed the witch's face before urinating all over it. Both brothers chuckled. Even better.

In the meantime, the cloud behind them started growing bigger and bigger. It reached Sam's height and exploded as both brothers were hit with a force so strong it knocked them to the floor. Dean hit his cheek, and Sam his nose, causing a few drops of blood to appear seconds later.

"What the –" Dean said and looked behind him.

Sam did the same as he whipped the blood coming from his nose. "Holy crap!"

****

Five minutes before.

As you were about to answer your next call, bored out of your mind, staring at your computer screen and seeing the calls pile up, you noticed something unusual. Your colleague Dave was in the middle of a conversation and yet you couldn’t hear him behind his computer anymore – which was unusual considering he was the loudest one in the office. The telephones around you stopped ringing– all of them. You looked through the window and saw the rain that was pouring outside just seconds ago, frozen in the air. You turned around and there she was; Karen stiff as a statue, mouth open, holding a chocolate bar inches away from her face.

"What the–"

***

You woke up. Finally, you woke up. The hell was finally over. You were finally free.

Right in front of you was a sight to see– two gorgeous-looking men staring back at you. One of them seemed more broken than the other. They seemed puzzled.

“How did you free me?” You asked, looking down at your body, seeing you weren’t in your business attire anymore. Instead, you were wearing your baby blue summer dress again. You missed that dress – haven’t worn it in 5 years.

“Free you? Who are you?” The shorter one asked. His hand then went behind his back…he had a gun.

“That gun is useless on me.” You said and glanced at the taller one who also tried the same. You tilted your head to the right, squinting your eyes, looking at the taller one…the name immediately pooped in your head. “You’re Sam.” And a few seconds later the shorter one had a name too. “Dean.” You said looking at him. “Sam and Dean Winchester.”

Both brothers stared at you before Dean finally asked: “Who are you?” His voice was deep, sharp, and kind of intimidating.

“Call me G,” you said.

“How do you know who we are?” Sam asked. “Are you even human?”

“I know the people who summon me. In this case, you didn’t exactly summon me, you freed me.” You explained, “I’m a Genie.”

“A Djinn?” Dean asked in confusion and partial disgust. By the sound of his voice you could tell he wasn’t a fan of actual Djinns. You weren’t either. They were far more chaotic and evil and somehow humans would always mix you with them.

This man is wearing a mask, even his younger brother cannot see. His soul is aching.

“You humans always put me in the same basket as them. No, I’m not a Djinn.”

“Explain!” Dean demanded.

“Who else is a genie and wears blue…or rather is blue?”

Sam's eyes immediately widened as he connected the dots. “The Genie?”

“Bingo!”

Dean then connected the rest. “Like The Genie from Aladdin?”

“Something like that.” Your mouth smiled for the first time in so long it almost felt unnatural.

“I need a drink!” Dean said looking at his younger brother who just stared back at him, not knowing what to say.

“Oh, the bitch has a fine whiskey collection in the cabinet behind you, take your pick and I can explain everything.”  

“Don’t mind if I do!”

“Pour me a double Dean!”

“Roger that!”

After both brothers were intoxicated enough you started talking. You were born in 1992 when the original Aladdin came out. It was an absolute hit all over the world, children loved it, young adults and parents loved it. Genie became a star and that was how you were born. Children especially, desperately wanted their favorite character to be real and to grant them those three wishes and voila…

You didn’t remember much from your birth. You just knew one day you became sentient, real and aware of your purpose – making humans smile. From that day forward you were traveling all over the world and granting wishes – healing the inner child of each broken adult who would summon you and making the world a better place. It wasn’t until the witch found you and bound you to be her slave and used your magic whenever she pleased. The thing that separated you from the real cartoon Genie was – you could grant as many wishes as once heart desired. She used you for revenge, hatred and to satisfy her undying greed for riches – everything you didn't stand for. You were more than glad that she was dead.

“So wait, you’re actually a tulpa?” Sam asked. You were surprised by his logical thinking.

“You can say that.” You confirmed.

Dean took the last sip of whiskey not really knowing how to feel about all of this. Tulpas were a familiar concept for him for sure, but a tulpa of a fuckin’ cartoon character not so much. One thing puzzled him though…

“Isn’t Genie supposed to be a blue man with a ponytail?” He finally spoke.

“Kids didn’t imagine me to be a blue man with a ponytail.” You said, feeling how tired he was. No sleep could subside that.

Sam was hanging by the thread of sanity and good mental health, while his older brother had waves of sorrow and pain crashing into him every second of the day. He was craving something so desperately he was embarrassed of it.

Dean’s lips formed a small O. “Oh, okay.”

“How do people, or kids, summon you?” Sam asked. Real world was a bit different than the cartoon. The part where you live in a lamp at least.

"You just have to rub the lamp the right way" Dean was just waiting for the moment to make this reference since he was secretly a big Christina Aguilera fan. You chuckled, remembering the first time you heard that song in a bar of all places. Sam just looked at Dean like he was about to punch him. Dean grinned.

“That’s gross, Dean.”

“You just have to think of me long and hard before you go to sleep and I’ll pay you a visit.” You finally explained, eyes fixed on Dean. You knew what he craved, you could see right through him, even though he tried to hide it by avoiding your gaze.

“What are you going to do now?” Dean asked you, still avoiding meeting your eyes. He was looking at the book shelf right behind you.

You smirked and stood up. “Might pay you a visit.” Was all you said before you disappeared, leaving both brothers perplexed and a little tipsy.

***

When Sam and Dean came back to the bunker, the younger brother decided it was time to rest while the older one was pondering over your last words.

“Might pay you a visit.”

He couldn’t help but remember your sharp and rather strange gaze. Something about it intimidated him – he felt naked whenever you would look at him. He was a closed forbidden book, only Sam could open it and yet in your presence he was completely exposed – or at least that was how he felt. The thought of you was consuming him slowly, in the shower, in the kitchen, before dinner, after dinner… When he finally went to bed he caved in, remembering your words.

“You just have to think of me long and hard before you go to sleep and I’ll pay you a visit.”

He was slowly drifting, his mind scattered and consumed with only your picture. As his eyes became heavy he heard a whisper – he knew he wasn’t dreaming yet.

“Dean!”

His head left the soft surface of his pillow as he opened his eyes only to see you standing next to his bed.

“G?” He whispered as his hand reached over and turned on the lamp on his night stand.

“I can feel it, y’ know” You said and sat on the edge of his bed. He sat up, back against the headboard.

“Feel what?” He asked even though something was already telling him the answer he thought he didn’t know.

“Your soul is aching, Dean. There’s not enough alcohol and meaningless night stands in this world to ease your pain. It’s too sharp, too deep. You broke my heart as soon as you set me free.”

You knew pain. You felt it all. In sick children, in traumatized adults – you knew every shape it would take, but Dean’s pain was impossible to feel. It was too much even for you.

“I didn’t realize you’re a shrink too.” The sass was evidently just a coping mechanism – one of the masks he would wear to survive this terrible life he was living.

You weren’t bothered by his words. You knew he would eventually say the forbidden words. Without warning you climbed into his bed and sat on his lap, both of your legs on his sides. You stared at him, fingers tracing along his cheeks, jaw, until you reached his perfectly full lips. He was beautiful – one of the most beautiful humans you have ever seen. His genetic blessings didn't outshine his blessings from within. His soul, even broken and in pain, was still full of love and compassion. It was such a beautiful mix of love and tragedy. Your face was inches away from his and as you got closer, the pain got sharper. You were ready to make him feel whole again, but he had to say the words.

“I know what you crave, Dean. I can feel it.”

“A sexy chick wearing a Zorro mask on top of me?” Still with the humor. You found it cute to an extent. Silly Dean.

“Meaningless sex won’t fix that, y’ know?”

“Yeah,” He finally gave up the shenanigans when he saw you weren’t buying the shit he was trying to sell. “I’ve learnt to live with it.”

You could feel his hot breath against your face as you got even closer. Dean’s eyes softened, jaw relaxed as he cupped your cheek. He only now noticed how beautiful and angelic you look, even under the light of his shitty lamp on the nightstand. Your soft skin under his fingertips felt a little too intimate for him, and yet he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop.

“You don’t have to live with it though. I can make it go away, you just have to say the words.”

You cupped his hand with yours, his touch sending shivers all over your body. You really liked the sensation. You were craving more. His hand was hot, soft and human. No man nor woman has touched you like this.  

“You mean like, make a wish?” He was finally starting to get it.

“That’s how it goes, right?” You smiled.

“Christ.” – he muttered before swallowing nervously – “I wish I didn’t feel like this.”

“Like what? My magic cannot read minds. You have to be specific.”

He took a deep breath, feeling like he was about to embarrass himself. Verbalizing emotions wasn’t something he was comfortable with. “I wish the pain I feel didn’t exist,” He stated and the words just kept coming. “I wish I wasn't so... broken? I wish for more than just meaningless night stands.” He confessed before it hit him. “Wait, does this count as 3 wishes?”

“You can wish as many things as your heart desires, handsome. Now, close your eyes!”

Dean closed his beautiful green eyes as you went in for a kiss. It usually doesn't work like that. You weren't a crossroads demon. You would usually just snap your fingers and disappear right after. Your magic was powerful and yet simple. But this time it was different. This time a man with a broken soul asked to feel whole again, to feel again. He wanted more than meaningless transactional touches and kisses so you decided to give him what he wanted. You have never come across such a special soul like Dean Winchester. He was giving too much and yet the world was consumed by greed and constantly wanted more. His brother Sam was everything he had, his rock, his world and yet even he couldn't heal things inside of his older brother. Dean was tired of feeling like this.

The kiss was innocent and your first. You didn't exactly know what you were doing but you liked it. His lips were soft and lonely. He was hungry for a connection he didn't have. His body was desperate to be touched. His hand went in your hair as he slowly deepened the kiss, leaving you hot and panting. You have seen people kiss and sleep with each other. You were an avid watcher of rom coms – your favorite pastime whenever you would roam around the world, traveling and making people smile.

Even The Genie needed air, so when you couldn't breathe anymore you broke the kiss. Dean's eyes full of adoration refusing to stop looking at you. How strange how now he was ready to strip his soul and actually look at you.

Your fingers intertwined with his as you pushed them above his head, your face dangerously close to him. You wanted to kiss him again.

"Am I supposed to feel different now?"

"No, this isn't something I can fix with a simple kiss. Your soul is craving another soul and I intend to give you mine. Kiss me!"

Dean lifted his head from the pillow and kissed you again this time slipping his tongue right away in your mouth. His kisses were coded with mint and you liked the taste.

It felt like an instinct almost when your hips started moving, grinding against his dick – only your panties and his boxers separating you. He was already hard and desperate, moving up and down trying too hard to satisfy the need that was only growing stronger.

You have never surrendered yourself so freely, letting a human touch you, let alone kiss you like he did, but you have never had a man like Dean asking you to fix something within him that the world so joyfully broke.

His hands were roaming freely all over your body, studying the shapes along the material of your dress as your lips never left his, until he started kissing your jaw and neck, sending you into a blissful euphoria you never knew existed in the first place. You let out a sigh as your hands went into his hedgehog like hair.

"Love me, Dean!" You spoke between pathetic moans and sighs. "Love me and I'll be yours forever!"

He heard you but his lips were too busy getting drunk on your neck to say anything so he just took you by the waist with both hands and like you were nothing flipped you over.

His lips found yours again in a desperate sleepless hunger as your hand took his and guided him to your already wet underwear.

"Touch me! I'm yours!" You said, letting him know he could. It has been a long time for him and you could feel the nervousness pumping through his veins. As soon as his fingers touched the wet fabric of your panties, pushing it lightly against your wet cunt, you moaned.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" He asked, again showing you how beautiful and carrying he was.

You placed a kiss on his lips. "Yes, I am sure."

Your voice was sweet like honey and Dean was experiencing a sugar rush.

“Oh and you can leave my dress on. I can feel how much you like it.” You added and winked.

Dean didn’t quite understand what you meant by that so he asked.

“Can you read minds?”

You smiled. He was adorable. “Not exactly. I can feel it. Your desires, what troubles you – everything. It comes in waves.”

You didn’t let him say anything, instead you crashed your lips on his as your hands went underneath his shirt feeling his soft skin covered in scars. If only he knew his soul shared the same resemblance. Dean realized where your hands were and in a second got rid of the t-shirt.

“I want you!” You whispered into his ear.

He was hypnotized, not really aware of his surroundings, his hardships, his name. Only you existed in his brain, heart and soul.

He took off his boxers, and your panties moments later – leaving you only in your dress and pressed the tip of his dick against your entrance. Nose touching, eyes locked, feeling each other’s breaths on your faces he entered you slowly. It didn’t occur to you that it would hurt since it was your first time. You gasped at the new sensation.

“You’re so tight!” Dean whispered. “Jesus!”

“Move! Please!” You begged. He didn’t need to know. He was your first and only one. After this night your soul will be bound with his, forever.

He moved slowly first, letting you adjust and relax under him. Your fingers dug into his shoulder blades as soon as waves of pleasure started splashing you. The pain was gone and you were in pure bliss.

“God, you’re beautiful!” He told you, placing kisses along your jaw.

You moaned his name in response as his pace became faster, his thrusts harder. Your body was on fire and yet you felt a sense of calm. You could feel his pain slowly fading. His worries disappeared. You were stitching him back together.

“You’ll feel whole again!” You said before kissing him.

As he was pounding into you, you could feel something building up in the lower part of your stomach. Your eyes, usually sapphire blue, started fading, replacing the shade with a very light baby blue color. You grinned when you realized what was happening. His wish was about to come true.

“Your eyes –” Dean noticed but you sealed his mouth with a kiss. As he was slamming into you, your climax hit you like a truck. Your body was stiff, pure pleasure engulfing you completely – nothing you have ever experienced before. Dean didn’t stop until he came seconds later, panting and whimpering – completely falling apart from pleasure. He collapsed on you, burying his nose in the crook of your neck.

“This feels different.” He said, trying to catch his breath.

“How so?”

“Feels like love.”

“Your wish is my command!”

You didn’t leave that night. He fell asleep in your arms, for the first time and in a long time, snoring. No nightmares.  His pain was gone. Since sleep was an unfamiliar concept for you, you just enjoyed his presence while your soul was warming up his now healed one.

You knew you weren’t free to roam the world anymore. You were content with being his – forever.

[webslingingslasher]

pregnancy scare with frat!peter… what would he do? would he ghost her completely or support her no matter what the test says?

this is different than ya'll wanted but... IT'S WHAT I WROTE OK??

For the first time since he’s met you, Peter is filled with rage and is only seeing red. He’s never been this pissed in his entire life, this was his life and his future on the line and you didn’t say one word to him. What if he hadn’t come over? What if he hadn’t gone to the bathroom? 

It had fuck all to do with the results, it was the fact you hid it from him. Something that big, that life changing, needed to be talked about, at least shared with the guy you’ve been fucking. A common fucking courtesy if you will. And he knows he should give himself a moment to breathe and calm himself down before asking questions but he is so mad he could rip a car apart. 

Mid piss he looked around and his eyes fell on your trash can, eyes skipping to the next focal point. Then his mind registers what it saw and his eyes widen, chest tightening and a paused inhale. His gaze slowly traveled back to the trash can, clear as day, a pregnancy test. 

Zipping his pants with shaky hands, Peter reached down to grab the plastic. A clear negative, but it didn’t make him feel better, it made him feel worse. How fucking selfish could she be? Doesn’t she know this affects me too? Why didn’t she tell me? It went from panic to anger in a millisecond, he gripped the sides of the porcelain sink with white knuckles. 

Throwing himself away from the sink he ripped the door open, and sped walked to your small kitchen before slamming the test on the counter. 

“What the fuck is this?” Pure venom, it made your shoulders tense. Turning to blink at the negative and shrugging, feeling uncomfortable for the first time around him. “A pregnancy test?” Wrong answer, you just lit a fire in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, do you think this is funny? Or cute?” 

You feel like you’re shrinking under his glare, you didn’t know he could be so intimidating. 

“Why are you so mad? It’s negative.” 

His hand slaps the counter, “what if it wasn’t? I mean, were you just going to spring that on me? Would you even tell me?” 

“Peter,” Futile, he’s running his mouth. 

“Do you understand that this involves another person? This is my life and my future and you don’t say a fucking word to me? You spew a lot of shit about trust and then leave out this really fucking big thing?” Hands moving as his thoughts tumble out, you went from neutral to guarded, it’s his fault you didn’t tell him. 

“Is it my fault I thought you wouldn’t care? Or I don’t know, throw me out of your house? Tell me to fuck off and never talk to you again? How was I supposed to tell you I was late without you backing out entirely?” 

Insulted, “I wouldn’t do that. You really love painting me as a giant asshole when I’ve never been one, unless that’s some boyfriend bitterness seeping through.” Peter might be right, maybe you do paint him as a bit of an asshole, but throwing the boyfriend thing in your face was too far. 

“Fuck you, Peter.” 

As much as you tried to fight it, tears collected in the corner of your eyes, your throat felt raw and tight, blowing a breath out you swerved around Peter, you couldn’t look at him anymore, you needed to walk away and hold yourself. Arms blocked your path, wrapping around your waist, trying to push them away, but tugged into his chest. 

“C’mon, don’t walk away.” Pushing against him, sadness leaving and frustration piercing your skin, harshly fighting against his grasp. “Let me go! You’re a fucking asshole, like this time you really, really are.” Peter holds you tighter, “I know, I know I am.” 

Faulting in his hold but gently pulling his thumbs, “you do?” 

“I shouldn’t have said that to you, that’s unfair. It just really hurts me when you say I don’t care, I really, really, really care about you, trouble. And when something this big happens I want to know you can talk to me, it fucking kills me you think I’d kick you out or cut you out of my life.” 

Your bottom lip trembles, “I was petrified it would be positive, you know why?” Peter’s hands rub up and down your back, “cause you might ask me to be your girlfriend.” His head tilts, “that’s a nightmare for you?” 

“I want to be your girlfriend because you want me to be, not because you feel indebted cause we have a kid.” 

Peter takes a deep breath, “hey,” his palms cup your face, giving you a fish face he smiles, “I’m sorry, and,” he gives you a soft kiss, “the next pregnancy scare, I promise you you’ll be my girlfriend. So there’s no question.” 

You kiss him this time, humming when you pull away. “You could do it now, you know.” 

His voice is low, “nah,” his thumbs brush your cheeks, “let me earn it, make all the waiting worth it.” 

[cherrysurf]

try again (osamu miya x f!reader)

Prologue; the end of beginning

warnings: read at ur own risk, slightly ooc but for good plot purpose

10 years and 6 months going strong with Osamu Miya. It started as a silly middle school relationship being first years growing up together, getting teased a picked on by friends, being at all his volleyball games until high school even talks about “middle school sweethearts”, “I want something like Yn and Osamu” floating around the people in school.

Life was beautiful, it was youthful, full of happiness and reasons to live for, people to die for, planning the future underneath the stars, the scent of oranges from the tree you two would lay under since your guys’ first year of high school that you had found on your walk home that now had your initials engraved in it signifying the ever lasting love you two believed you had.

“The soulmates” as you two would say, the smell of cigarettes that lingered and mixed with the oranges from the tree in high school due to the stress of finals, and the will to try something new and being cool, whatever that was for you. The giggles and soft kisses between conversations from two of you that stayed between each other and the urges to run away and start a small family, The lazily drunk make outs at parties. The rush and excitement from sneaking out just to see each other more, the family dinners you shared, the late night ramen texts, the secret sleepovers, the one time Atsumu actually caught you sleeping over. The jealousy from Atsumu because he didn’t find love quite like your guys’. Moving into college together with him helping you set up your dorm room, him sleeping and almost living in your dorm, The amazing food he made for you on your periods, or stuff he’d take you in between classes to try, The ideas he had for his own business, the thought of him proposing after college. It was all a fever dream…

“Are you seriously running away from all of this just because you think you can’t grow without me anymore?” you say screaming next to the orange tree where it was once filled with love, now with hurt, tears and pain.

“Yn, come on, we’re not fucking kids any more, I can’t keep wasting my time.” Osamu was exasperated, running his fingers through strands of hair in annoyance.

“So what, Was this was all some fucking pastime for you till you felt it was convenient to let go?” you yell, hitting his chest in a fit of rage.

“Back away from me Yn, I’m doing this for me,” He huffed, stepping back.

“Okay but what about us? You promised me,” you dropped to the grass in tears.

“That was years ago,” He crossed his arms and looked away while pausing. “I don’t have time for your pity party, Yn.”

“You’re a fucking joke Osamu,” you paused, eyes narrowing in anger, “I fucking hate you, for ruining all that we built.”

The palm of your hand met his face, his eyes widen in shock.

“I don’t understand why you can’t see that this is the only choice we fucking have! It doesn’t matter what you want, we’ll never grow if we stay together— I’LL never grow. I’ll be stuck chasing stupid dreams with you forever, I don’t want that, not any more, not ever.” Osamu spits out meaningless words, clutching onto his cheek as his heart raced in a flurry of rage.

“I hope this is worth it, I hope all this pain you're putting us through is fucking worth it. I’ll check out of this relationship as well. You’re not the only one that can turn heartless Osamu Miya,” you muttered while walking away from him, not bothering to spare him one final glance.

You left for college abroad after your second year of university in Japan. After you broke up with Osamu, you knew you needed to change your life and put as much distance between the two of you, for the sake of your mind and heart. You knew yourself, you knew that you’d fall back into whatever it was that you had with him, whether you were sober or not. For the first time, you needed to pick yourself, just how he did himself.

taglist: @sahrii @dearru @gumims @angeleilee @istann @chloiyoomi

[in1-nutshell]

How would the tfp autobos react to kid seeker bot buddy thinking starscream looks cool when flying and wants to be like him someday?

Seeker Buddy is in for it when their admiration of their idol gets heard. Since you did not specify which characters you wanted, I chose some at random.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the kid Seeker having Starscream as their idol with Wheeljack, Bulkhead, and Optimus Prime

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

TFP

Wheeljack

“…Excuse me? Can you repeat that? Cause I thought I heard you fan about Starscream.”--Wheeljack

“I did.”--Buddy

“…You do remember that guy tortured me, nearly killed Arcee and Jack, right?”--Wheeljack

“Yeah, but have you seen how he works in the air! I can barely make any of those turns without nearly clipping my wings and thrusters!”--Buddy

“…”--Wheeljack

Wheeljack understands that everyone has an idol or someone they look up to.

Miko for example. She looks up to all the Wreckers, even though they have more extreme methods, they are at least one of the good guys!

Starscream is the farthest thing from being a good role model, or descent mech.

He makes it his personal mission to get Buddy to find another idol or mentor within the team, he’ll even settle for Knockout or one of Vechicon’s that’s strangely nice to humans.

What was his name again? Sean? Shirley? Stephen?

To a point Wheeljack understands why Buddy sees him in such a way.

Starscream isn’t the Second in Command of the Cons for nothing. Also taking into consideration that Buddy is on a team that is all land-based vehicles, he understands that Buddy might fill left out of the mix.

If Buddy feels lonely flying around, Wheeljack is grabbing the Jackhammer and is going to go flying with them.

Is this going to make Magnus nearly blow a gasket? Most likely.

Will it be worth it in the end? Absolutely.

If he sees Starscream try and recruit Buddy to the Cons ranks, the Second in Command is leaving the battlefield without a servo or entire arm. Buddy isn’t going to go anywhere near that Con if he’s around.

Wheeljack does tell Buddy after the ordeal is over that they are a valued member of the team. Just in case they didn’t already know that.

“…You know we care about you kid.”--Wheeljack

“Hmm?”--Buddy

“You’re a good kid, Buddy. A brilliant Autobot Seeker and the best air support we could ask for. Don’t forget that, okay.”—Wheeljack

“…Thanks Jackie.”--Buddy

Bulkhead

“What?”--Bulkhead

“What?”--Buddy

“You sounded like you were complementing Screamer.”--Bulkhead

“I was.”--Buddy

“Why? You know he tortured Wheeljack and nearly offlined me in that cave, right?”--Bulkhead

“All I’m saying is that the way he did his barrel roll was awesome!”--Buddy

“…Hey, how about we go see Ratchet…”--Bulkhead

Bulkhead is seriously going to have a sit-down conversation with Buddy about this.

Like Wheeljack, he is going to make it his personal mission to find Buddy another idol/ mentor.

He does see how Buddy might feel different from the rest of the team based on their alt mode so he tries to be as inclusive as he can in other activities.

Buddy feeling bored? Now they are lobbing with him and Wheeljack.

Buddy feeling lonely? Just wait until its night-time, then he can go drive underneath Buddy’s flight path and the two can talk about anything Buddy wants.

If Starscream tries to get Buddy to come to the Cons ranks, Bulkhead is going to get nervous, but that nervousness is going to turn to rage as he uses his wrecking ball to make some brand-new dents along his chassis.

He does ask Buddy later if they are okay with their spot on the team, and if they aren’t to tell him why. He wants his friend to know that they are wanted on the team, not just as air support, but for the bot they are.

“You okay Buddy?”--Bulkhead

“Its gonna take a bit more than just a couple of baby missiles to take your air support down Bulk.”--Buddy

“I’m not asking about our air support. I’m asking my tiny friend if they are okay.”--Bulkhead

“… I’m not that tiny.”--Buddy

“Its okay if you don’t want to talk now. But just know I’m here and so is the team.”--Bulkhead

“…Thanks Bulk.”--Buddy

Optimus Prime

“Pardon?”--Optimus

“I just really like how Starscream, despite all the odds against him in the air, he was still able to get away using some of those complicated moves! If I tried those right now, I’d have to go to Ratchet for repairs and be stuck there for a month!”--Buddy

“…I see.”--Optimus

Prime is troubled.

On one servo, he understands why Buddy might feel this way about Starscream.

As Second in Command of the Decepticon army, Starscream has gain feats and recognition as a terror in the skies amongst the Autobots. He is wild foe that while not always efficient but a near master in the artistry of flying amongst the Seekers. Buddy being young and a seeker themselves is going to look up naturally to one of the biggest names in Seeker history.

But…

Optimus does have a talk with them about Starscream.

He respects Buddy wanting to look up to the Seeker, for his flying abilities, not morality.

Everyone has someone they look up to whether it be good or bad, it is on the bot themselves on how they want to interpret that idol.

However, Optimus does draw a line when Starscream tries to get Buddy to join the Cons.

Dad mode activated.

He is going to make one clear warning to Starscream to leave Buddy alone before the blaster starts firing.

After dealing with the Decepticons, Optimus makes it clear to Buddy that if they want to talk about anything, that he is there to listen.

“We are a team Buddy, a family. If you feel that you are, otherwise, you are sorely mistaken. You may think that you are not, but you are and always be a part of this family.”--Optimus

“…”--Buddy

“If you ever have the need to talk about something, you can always come and talk to me or anyone else on the team. But please reach out so we may be able to help you with whatever you may need.”--Optimus

“…Thank you Prime… really it means a lot… Thanks.”—Buddy

“Thank you, Buddy for being a part of our family.”--Optimus

[yanderejustforyou]

Give It All

dean x reader

You could feel the tension between you and Dean grow with every passing moment. It wasn’t something you could ignore anymore. The long nights of hunting, the quiet moments after a fight, the look in his eyes that he didn’t want you to see—but you saw it anyway. You always did.

Dean Winchester had a way of keeping everything inside, holding back emotions, hiding behind that cocky smirk and tough-guy persona. But you knew him better than anyone. You had spent enough time by his side, faced enough dangers together, to understand that there was a storm raging inside him—a storm he tried to hide from the world, but especially from you.

Tonight was no different. You had just finished cleaning up after a hunt, the sounds of metal clanging against metal filling the room as you worked in silence. Dean sat at the table, a bottle of beer in his hand, his eyes far away, lost in thoughts you knew were darker than he let on.

You didn’t know what it was, but something inside you snapped. You had been patient, too patient, waiting for him to see you—really see you—and tell you what you had been waiting to hear. But he hadn’t. And you were starting to lose your patience.

You set the knife down with a sharp clink, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t stay quiet any longer.

"Dean," you called out, your voice quieter than you intended, but still loud enough to break the silence. He didn’t look up at first, and for a moment, you almost regretted speaking.

But then he sighed, a tired, frustrated sound. His eyes flickered to you, and you saw that familiar guarded look, the one he always wore when he was trying to keep you at arm’s length. "What’s up?" he asked, like he wasn’t already aware of everything you were about to say.

"You know what’s up," you shot back, your voice sharper now, more desperate than you had intended. You didn’t even try to mask the frustration in your words. "You’ve been pushing me away for months now, Dean. I don’t know what more you want from me."

His gaze hardened slightly, but you could see the exhaustion in his eyes. "I’m not pushing you away, alright?" He stood up from the table, running a hand through his messy hair, but it didn’t fool you. You knew this routine by heart.

"No?" you asked, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. "Then why do I feel like I’m just another person on your list of things to ignore? Why do I feel like you don’t see me, Dean? I’ve given you everything I have, every part of me. And for what? So you can keep pretending I don’t matter?"

Dean’s expression faltered for just a second, a flicker of pain crossing his face before he quickly masked it again. But it was enough to make your heart ache.

"You matter," he muttered under his breath, but you didn’t let him off the hook that easily.

"No, Dean, I don’t." Your voice was tight, tears stinging the back of your eyes. "You don’t let me in. You never do. And I keep asking myself—how much more do I have to give before you love me? How much more do I have to sacrifice before I’m enough for you?"

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and you could see him struggle to find his voice. The silence stretched between you two, heavy and suffocating, and for a moment, you thought he might walk away, like he always did when things got too real.

But this time, he didn’t. Instead, he took a step forward, then another, until he was standing right in front of you. The space between you was narrow, but the distance he kept between his heart and yours felt like an entire ocean.

"I don’t know how to love you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were so tired, so worn down, and for the first time, you saw a glimpse of something in him you hadn’t expected—vulnerability. Real, raw vulnerability that you knew had been buried under years of pain and fear.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up at him, your heart aching for him in a way you didn’t even know you were capable of. He wasn’t perfect—he was broken, just like you—but you loved him anyway.

"You don’t have to know," you whispered, stepping closer to him. "You just have to try. I’ve been trying, Dean. I’ve been trying for so long to be here for you. But you push me away every time. And I don’t know how much more I can take. I just need to know that you want this, too."

Dean closed his eyes, like he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore, like he was ashamed. But he didn’t move. His chest rose and fell with every labored breath, and when he finally opened his eyes again, you could see the storm in them.

"I do want this," he said, his voice rough. "I’m just scared… of losing you. I’m scared that if I let myself love you, I’ll ruin everything. I don’t deserve you. And I don’t know how to be what you need."

The words hit you harder than anything else. Dean, the man who had been through hell and back, the man who had faced down monsters and demons, was scared. Scared of you.

You reached out, your hand trembling as you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing across his skin gently. "You don’t have to be perfect," you said softly. "You just have to let me in. That’s all I need. All I want."

Dean’s eyes searched yours for a long moment, the silence between you heavy with the weight of unspoken words. And then, slowly, as if it took every ounce of courage he had left, he leaned into your touch. He didn’t pull away.

[thezombieprostitute]

Dream Come True - Part 8

Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.

A/N: Reader is plus sized, femme. No other descriptors used.

Word Count: ~2000

Warnings: Insecure reader, Violence referenced but not written. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part 7 -- Part 9

Series Masterlist

Curtis tried to ignore his phone. Rogers was trying to get hold of him again, but he wanted the line clear for Jake. Unfortunately Rogers kept calling so Curtis had to answer if only to tell him to stop tying up the line. 

“What,” he snapped at the phone. “I’m waiting for Jensen. What’s so damn important?”

“We have her location,” Steve intoned. “I’ll give it to you if you calm the hell down.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Rogers? We got someone kidnapped! How is she not a priority?”

“Because if we’re not careful a lot more people will be hurt and killed. And I know you know that. The last thing we need is Berserker. Now get yourself together, Everett. Put away the axe and I’ll tell you where you can get her. Full stealth operation.”

When Curtis doesn’t answer Steve asks, “do you really want her to see you like this?”

That got Curtis’s attention. He’d been the cause of your tears once. If you saw the monster he could be…he couldn’t live with himself if you ever flinched away from him. If you looked at him with fear. “Fuck,” he muttered. He took several breaths and let out a primal, rage-filled scream he’d been holding onto before going back to the phone, “I’m keeping the axe but promise to only use it as a last resort. Now tell me where she is.”

Steve was quiet for a few seconds before telling him.

You’re startled awake by someone gently shaking you. You let out a scared gasp before you realize it’s Curtis. As soon as your brain registers it’s him you’re overcome with a sense of relief, “Curtis!” 

You move to hug him but he stops you, “we’ve gotta get moving. Stick with me and do exactly as I tell you.” You nod your understanding. Instead of taking you to the elevator he leads you to a side door and uses a small device to open the electronic lock. It’s a stairwell that you figure is reserved for staff or emergencies. 

Curtis leads you down a few flights, thankfully never letting go of your hand, before leading you out to one of the hotel floors. He’s frequently looking around before taking any turns, keeping himself between you and any other people on the floor. He takes you to a staff elevator and uses the device again. He moves to keep you behind him while he watches for signs of unwanted company. When the staff elevator doors open he moves you inside before following you and pressing the floor for the basement.

“Curtis,” you whisper, hugging his arm tight, “he said if I ran he’d hunt me down.”

“He won’t get to you,” Curtis vows. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

Curtis looks at you, surprised at your concern, “I won’t.” You search his eyes and nod when you see his sincerity. You trust Curtis and nod your acceptance.

The elevator doors open and Pine is leaning against the wall, holding an axe at his side. You move to hide behind Curtis without letting go of him, but neither man gives you any indication that there are problems. 

Curtis hands him the small device he’d used to unlock the staff areas, “thank you, again.”

“Yes, well,” Pine mutters, as he hands Curtis the axe, “when one gets told Berserker is heading towards their hotel, one tends to be inclined to amenability.” His tone is sharp and his look at Curtis even sharper, making him look down in shame. “Thank you for agreeing to my terms and not turning my hotel into a literal and figurative bloody mess. Please let Mr. Levinson know that we are now even.” 

You’re lost on what’s going on other than that Pine is helping so you whisper, “thank you.” He turns to you and gives a slight bow before gesturing to the way out for you and Curtis.

When you’re finally out on the road he seems to relax, if only a little, “do me a favor and text Hal that you’re with me.” You nod and do as he asks.

The drive is quiet. Curtis is focused on keeping an eye out for a possible tail and you’re lost in your thoughts, berating yourself for everything that happened. A few tears slip out and catch his attention, “are you hurt?”

His voice gets you out of your head but you don’t register his words. You’re beyond drained. All you can say is, “I’m so sorry. You were right, I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have been so stupid to think I’d be okay. I’m so, so, sorry you had to come rescue me. I’m sorry you had to put in danger because I was dumb enough to think-”

“Enough,” Curtis gently interrupts. “I was only partially correct. You going to Ransom’s gave us some intel that’s already saved lives.” He takes a calming breath, “so I may have been right about you being in danger but it wasn’t done needlessly.”

You take solace in his words before asking, “is it okay if I ask about the axe? Or the Berserker that Pine was talking about?” Curtis’s hands grip the steering wheel tightly and you clamber to apologize. 

He gently interrupts you, “do you remember me telling you not to work for Wilford & Gilliam?” You nod and he continues, “I told you that they’re horrible people who fund even worse people. I know because I used to work for them. My little brother, Edgar, got mixed up with their circles. Accidentally crossed the wrong people. When I protected him, I caught their attention by…I…I killed several of their people.” 

You can see his face contort in pain at the memories. You try to reach out to comfort him but he shakes off your hand before continuing his story.

“It wasn’t for the money or other…benefits. It was Edgar. As long as I followed orders, he’d get to live. I ended up getting sent into some of the worst areas. But the longer I survived the stronger my reputation became. I became known as Berserker because I would tear through people and not notice any hurt until well after. I couldn’t aim with a gun to save my life but I could wreak havoc with an axe.”

“But it was never enough for those monsters at the top. They kept pushing and pushing me. I fought so damn hard but, as you recently re-educated me, the human body can only take so much. I failed a mission and barely got out with my life. They killed Edgar in front of me and left me for dead.”

Curtis’s tears break your heart. It’s a sight you never thought you’d see and you wished you could comfort him in any way.

He wipes his eyes quickly before continuing, “I was rescued by Rogers. He offered me a place with their family. I’d witnessed them doing good for the people in their territory and wanted that for myself. I had no fire left in me but that worked in my favor. They didn’t want the Berserker. They still don’t. I’ve worked, ever since, to try to do good for people. To keep myself from losing it ever again.”

By now he’s wisely pulled the truck over, letting himself crumble a little. He doesn’t push you away when you go to hold his hand. Your own tears mirror Curtis’s.

You try to say something but he stops your thoughts when he says, “then you came along. You spin my world on its head and I don’t hate it. You make me take care of my team and things are going a lot better for them. You upset everything but make it all better, somehow. And all I want to do is keep you safe from my world. Safe from me.”

“Curtis, I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that and I’m so very sorry for my part in bringing it all back to you.”

As the silence filled the truck Curtis noticed the giant bruise on your arm. He gently held your arm and asked, “did he do this to you?” You nod and he brings himself to attention, getting the truck back on the road. “Gotta get back to work so that he never touches you again.”

“You’re taking me with you, right?”

“Absolutely. You’re not leaving my sight until I know you’re safe.”

“Thank you, Curtis. Thank you, so much.” You let yourself relax enough to fall asleep for the rest of the drive. 

When you arrive at the base-of-operations Curtis gently wakes you and helps you out of the truck. Inside feels like barely controlled chaos as different people are running different intel, follow ups, phone calls, and more. The only person who’s staying still is Jake. 

“Why is Jake wearing a pirate hat,” you ask Curtis.

Curtis huffs, “it’s his Focusing Hat. A compromise to get him to stop stripping down to his boxers to take care of a heavy task. He’s currently trying to hack the hacker who’s watching Ransom, and probably more people.”

“Curtis!” You both turn to see Mace marching towards you. “I’m still pissed at you for ditching us.”

“Understandable,” Curtis affirms.

“You’re going to be able to focus and help us?”

“Yes.”

“Apology accepted, Boss. Now get your ass to work,” Mace hands him some papers and updates him on everything that they’ve found so far. 

Curtis doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time. You’d think with the abnormal amount of attention you've gotten today you’d want to withdraw but you find comfort in his touch. And he seems to find comfort in having you around. When he gets stuck on a problem he rubs your hand with his like a worry-stone. 

Everyone jumps when Jake suddenly shouts, “YO-HO-HO AND A BOTTLE OF RUM, BITCH!” He’s thrown his fists in the air in celebration. “I finally got the fucker! All his systems are MINE! I’ve got trackers on Lloyd AND all of his friends!” He takes a second to look over things before yelling “Boss! They’re at Ransom’s place!

“Get the info sent to the appropriate parties,” Curtis barks. “Mace, call the Higher Ups and supplement Jake’s info with the stuff you and I got. Once that’s done, we’re going into standby mode.”

As everyone else bustles around you ask, “what’s standby mode?”

“We’re the intel gatherers and the cleaners,” he explains. “We only get called into fights when it’s desperate. Standby mode means we get ready to either fight or clean up, depending on how things go.”

“Does that mean I can get some sleep?”

“We don’t exactly have a bed or anything in here. Might need to fix that.”

“Don’t need a bed,” you groggily shake your head. You lead him over to a couple of the comfier chairs and set him down in one before moving the other directly next to his. You sit in the other and snuggle his arm as you let yourself drift off to sleep. 

You don’t see his face soften as his heart melts. It finally hits him, he’s in love with you. Has been in love with you for a while now. You drove him crazy in so many ways and he never wanted it to stop. If you’d have him, he’d treat you like the angel you are. If you didn’t want him…he couldn’t think of that right now. Didn’t want to think of you turning him down. Not now while you’re silently telling him that you trust him. That you feel safe enough to sleep around him. That you want him around. 

A couple hours later Hal came running, calling for him, but stopped when Curtis gave him a glare and gestured to you. He whispered to Curtis, “the place got shot up. Rumlow is dead. Ransom is in the hospital. But Lloyd escaped.”

Curtis whispered back, “are we tracking him?”

Hal shook his head, “we can’t. He crushed his phone, removed all devices. We’re looking into security footage for a license plate we can use to follow him but it’s not looking good.”

Part 7 -- Part 9

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would. 

@alexakeyloveloki

@bigtreefest

@dontbescaredtosingalong

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@lokislady82

@texmexdarling 

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Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

[fictionstudent]

How to pull off "show not tell"

“Show, not tell” is a common advice that both emerging and emerged writers (lol) hear quite often. But most of us don’t really understand what it completely means, until really later.

Personally, I took the advice by heart. But I had the definition wrong. I thought the advice meant that you don’t write “he was angry” but rather “he frowned”, “he glared” or something like that. And it’s kinda right. But kinda. And you can really mess it up when you only half-know what it means—believe me, my first couple of novels were a mess.

So, you might ask what “show, not tell” even means—what it actually means. And I’m here to tell you everything I know about it.

***

What is “show, not tell”

Well, it’s actually a quite recent writing tool in the industry. I don’t really know how and where the term originated—and I’m too lazy to actually Google it—so I won’t get to that.

I’ve heard and read about this term a lot—right from the time I’ve begun writing. It’s quite famous. In fact, it’s a prerequisite these days. Many beginning writers would have heard this criticism that their prose doesn’t really show, it just tells. It’s filled with telling. You should show, not tell.

So, what does this “show, not tell” even mean? The advice is quite self-explanatory, you see. It’s when you show your characters doing or feeling something rather than just telling your readers what happened. So, on one aspect, it refrains you from narrating your story.

And by narrating your story, I mean the parts where the characters are not moving in real-time, but the writer is narrating what had happened. For example,

And we crossed the seas. The journey wasn’t long, but those days we had nothing to do. We were bored the heck out of our brains. Those days felt like an eternity. Until today, when we finally found what we were looking for—a piece of land in the middle of the Pacific. The Hirohoto Islands.

You don’t do this. It’s okay when a character is telling the story to another character. But a narrator should refrain from doing this.

According to this advice, you actually show scenes of the journey—maybe show that the MC was fiddling with stuff all day long, people were drinking booze or something day and night, and some just stared into the blue oceans day in and day out, until this one guy saw a green dot far away. In fact, whatever I just said can be used quite literally, if you don’t wanna go into the details of the scenes. Yeah, you can even go into more details and maybe write a little chapter filled with such scenes.

But, well, as you could have guessed, it’s on a macro-level. The advice can also be used on a micro-level.

For example, you don’t write,

I was angry at Sara. But she didn’t care.

Instead, you write,

I wanted to kill Sara on the spot. I wanted to choke her, I wanted to stab a knife in her chest. But Sara—the damn audacity! She just stood there, simply staring at me like nothing happened just now, like she never said anything to rage me up like this. She didn’t care about me, did she? She never cared.

The second one is filled with anger. And the dejection that the narrator feels, knowing that Sara doesn’t care about him anyway.

On micro-level, there are two actually two ways to imply this advice. And this is something that I had to figure out on my own—no one told me that there were two ways to do this, no article mentions this.

One way is to use visuals, the other monologues.

***

Visuals

Let me explain. When you see the movie, you don’t witness the inner monologues or thoughts of your narrators. You just experience the way the actors act—the way their gazes shift, their body movement changes, and all that. That’s using visuals. For example, read this scene where the character is just betrayed,

Her fists clenched hard. Her arms were trembling. And her eyes… They tried hard to fight back those tears. But the dam could break any moment now.

You get the feeling that the character was betrayed in some way, and that she was both angry and dejected at the situation. She wanted to cry. She wanted to punch.

But I never wrote,

She was so angry at them. She wanted to cry, but she controlled herself.

The second one doesn’t give us the same form of feeling as the first one. The first one obviously reads better, and everyone would prefer that.

***

Monologues

This is something that’s unique to the art of prose. It’s only in prose that you can witness the inner monologues of the characters, and use them to tell a story. Films, comics, and other visual media don’t do this.

And yes, that’s what I mean when I say monologues. Use these monologues to show what the characters feel, and how they react.

For example, let’s take the previous example where the character has just been betrayed,

She couldn’t believe this. Was this for real? Was this… really happening? Really?

How could someone do something like this? And… And to her? What had she done to be betrayed like this?

Again, you hear what the characters are feeling. You understand their tone. And you emphasize with them this way.

***

Visuals or Monologues - How to choose

Now, you might be wondering that if you can use the “show, not tell” in two ways, how do you choose which one to use and which one not, especially in a particular scene?

Well, for that, read the two examples above again—the ones about the betrayed character. Take about a minute to scroll up, c’mon.

You’d understand that on a subconscious level, there’s something oddly different between the two. It’s as if none of the two really give a complete picture of the scene. You get one aspect from the visuals, one from the monologue. But you don’t really get that the character is actually betrayed until I tell you that before you read the examples.

That’s the problem with using one over the other—you often miss out something or the other. In some scenes, maybe where you use stronger action verbs, the visuals might be enough, while in some scenes, visuals won’t really matter, but rather, the monologue will.

But in most scenes, you’d need to mix the two types. Read this,

She couldn’t believe this. Was this for real? Was this… really happening? Really?

Her fists clenched hard. Her arms were trembling. And her eyes… They tried hard to fight back those tears. But the dam could break any moment now.

How could someone do something like this? And… And to her? What had she done to be betrayed like this?

I simply mixed the two—both visuals and monologues. And now, the prose tells the whole story. It can stand on its own, without me telling the context. It feels complete.

See, visuals and monologues are not two ways to “show, not tell” technique, but rather, are two tools that complement each other. Yeah, you can always use one instead of both, but you don’t need to choose one over the other—choose both. Or rather, choose none, if you think that helps the scene better.

***

A common mistake to avoid

Some writers often make this mistake that you should try avoiding. This mistake is really hard to notice, sometimes, but with practice, maybe you can learn how to solve it.

And that mistake is that you often show and tell. For example,

She was angry. She glared at him, her fists clenched hard, like she’d just punch him in the face and get this crap done with.

It’s two sentences. Notice this—the first sentence clearly tells you that the character is angry. And then the second one shows it.

This way, you’re repeating the action twice. The reader would make one mental image in their head when they read the first sentence, and then you make it up for them, in which case, they’d need to adjust that image. That’s not how you make your prose flow.

Never repeat action. An action that happens once in the prose should be mentioned once. The later sentences can expand on it, but not mention the action again. Repeating actions happen a lot in “show, not tell”, and sometimes, it’s not so easy to point it out.

***

Solution

I’ve recently got a hold on this “show, not tell” advice too, to be honest. And as someone who’s recently cleared its basics, I’d admit it—it’s tough to just go and start implementing it.

Therefore, in my current WIP—in which I’m really making sure I follow this rule—I’ve developed a technique that might work for you too, for someone who’s just started out.

Don’t care about this rule in the first draft. You can tell as much as you want in your first draft—go for it. In fact, that’s what I’ve been doing currently too.

But when you’re done with the draft, mark all the places where you think you’ve told and not shown, and then when you’re writing the second draft, just replace all the telling parts with the showing parts. Simply replace them all, and rewrite.

It’s that simple, really.

Even if you’re far into your project and now feel you’ve not really stuck with the advice and messed up, don’t scrap the whole project. I’ve always scrapped projects because sometimes I felt I messed up quite hard, and that’s why I’d advise you not to. In your case, simply go for a re-read, mark the ­telling phrases, and re-write them. You’re done.

***

Conclusion

I hope this article will help you guys. I also wanted to talk about why you should follow this advice of “show, not tell”, why the readers today love it, and when to actually break this rule to tell stuff to the readers. But I thought that it’d deviate this article too much, so I stuck to the basics. I might talk about the other stuff in some other article.

Anyway, see you around!

[rachetmath]

Jaune's Last Man

(Hi sorry this has been my head and I completely forgot about this so let me end this with a kicker. A rap you may say. If you need a recap or you don’t know what this is about....he links here.;

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/rachetmath/681709097493659648/ilia-blake-i-want-to-come-with-you-blake-ilia?source=share

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/rachetmath/683991434179805184/can-we-please-get-a-sequel-to-the-post-about-jaune?source=share

Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/rachetmath/688883250974916608/so-i-know-ow-you-said-you-dont-normally-do?source=share)

Jaune: Mercury.

Mercury: Vomit Boy. How’s it hanging?

Jaune: I’m doing fine.

Mercury: Really? I mean since you killed your friend. Your girlfriend dead. And Atlas. I would think you be in a site of depression.

Jaune: Yeah. Except I’m in state of rage.

Mercury; Oh.

Jaune: I mean I haven’t seen my family in years to where I can barely remember their faces. I watched thousands of innocent people die. I was betrayed by someone I wanted to call friend. All because of my stupidity.

Mercury: Wow finally admit it. You don’t know what your doing.

Jaune: Still don’t… but I’ll take my chances.

Mercury: So what are you going to do torture me.

Jaune: Haha no. Of course not. Ladies.

Neo and Ilia walks into the room. Neo before she took a seat on the table, she gives Jaune a kiss on cheeks while Ilia a has weapon to Mercury’s neck. Mercury was still shocked with Neo.

Jaune: Alright. Let us begin. I’m here to make a deal.

Mercury: A deal?

Jaune: You bet. I want you on my team.

Ruby: What?

Jaune: Yes.

Mercury: Why?

Jaune: We need someone like you on our side. Guys like you come in very short supply.

Mercury: That doesn’t give me much of a reason. Why should I give you allegiance?

Jaune: I’m willing to give something that can’t refuse.

Mercury: Please, your not even giving me a right to choose.

Jaune: *sigh* Ilia.

Ilia removes her weapon and sits down.

Jaune: Fine, I’ll play by rules. Look, I understand. Your father he was bad man. But brother he’s dead.

Mercury: I know.

Jaune: I know it was by own hands. I get it wasn’t easy but you fail to get-

Mercury: Is?

Jaune: That you can be better. So much clever. Do really want to stay in his shadow forever?

Mercury: Please. Who are you to judge me? If I recall correctly didn’t you cheat. You went to a school filled with talent. With nothing to show but empty promises and values. You talk a big game but you can’t measure up. Face it bud, your only here because of luck.

Jaune: …. ….

Mercury: Got nothing to say. Guess the fun is over. No more debates. I guess I’m done now prison await. Besides Salem offered me world on a plate what’s better than that?

Jaune: Okay, little man, so what’s your plan?

Mecury: What?

Jaune: Yeah, little man, what’s you plan?

Mercury: I mean-

Jaune: What’s your plan? Tell me, little man, what you gone do when you got the world in your hands? You get all money and get some respect. You make yourself sound like you really are a threat. Yes its true, your right about me. I did what it took to follow my dreams. But now look at me. I am all three. Money, Power and respect. A threat guaranteed. I lost many people but yet I still breath. Yet I still believe in what we can achieve.

Mercury: … … …. What are you saying to me?

Jaune: We’re nothing like them.

Mercury: What do you want from me?

Jaune: Show me your bravery. Leave it all BEHIND and make history.

Mercury: But I-

Jaune: You’re nothing like him.

Mercury: I’m-

Jaune: You can still be better.

Emerald: *burst in door* And if your not sure we can explore it together. We’ll have each other.

Jaune: And if you believe-

Mercury: Believe?

Jaune: In yourself.

Emerald: And me.

Jaune and Emerald: There’s nothing you can’t achieve.

Mercury: Really?

Jaune: Right.

Emerald: You can fly. Again. Sore the sky. Again.

Jaune: Away from sun. Together with us. We can make history. Forge our destiny. Our story will be legendary. So-

Jaune: *pulls his hand out* What do you say?

Mercury: Hmm. Well-

Jaune: Yes, you will paid.

Mercury: And?

Jaune: Yes, come man, what do you say?

Mercury: *shakes Jaune’s hand* Alright you got a deal compadre.

RWBY: Dang.

Oscar: They went play by play.

Nora: So Jaune? Tell us, what’s now the team’s name?

Jaune JMNI. What do you all think?

Mercury: I got say, it’s got nice ring to.

Ilia: I accept the team name. No mistake.

Neo: *agrees with smile*

Jaune: Guess we agree. But before we celebrate we have demonstrate, how useful we are, leave no trace to debate. So let’s start on our first case. What do you say?

Mercury, Ilia and Neo(with a sign): Bring it.

Jaune: Oh this will be great.

Nora: Can we stop rhyming.