#literally started this at 3am last night oops

[a-lonely-dunedain]

“Who did this to you?” For the Situations prompts!

this week on: Taz Continues to Not Actually Use the Exact Prompt Dialog in the Ficlet! Elain finally found a way to get Margim talking a little bit about her past! did not know what she signed up for.

Warning for mentioned past harm to a child (nothing spoken about in detail but it is very briefly discussed. comes with the territory of Margim's backstory)

To call the newest resident of Lhan Tarran ‘quiet’ would be an almost comical understatement.

No one knew much of anything about her, besides the fact that she had come from somewhere far to the south, and that a hard road had led her here. That much was clear from the numerous battle scars all over her. No one knows exactly where she’s from, or why exactly she looks… like that, but no one is particularly inclined to pry into her past much.  She is strong and willing to help them with just about anything they could ask of her, the least they could do is offer a little privacy in return.

That isn’t to say none of them were curious, Elain most of all. She had taken a particular interest in this mysterious newcomer, and was determined to eventually learn of her past.  Not by trying to force anything out of her of course, but she hoped to befriend Margim, and maybe then she would be willing to speak more openly about her past. And even if not, at least she’ll get another friend out of it, a victory either way as far as Elain was concerned.

But befriending her proved a much harder task than she expected it to be. Margim wasn’t exactly unfriendly, but she was very difficult to talk to, only ever giving short responses to questions and rarely asking them herself. It did not seem she was trying to be rude so much as she was just… very shy. Which Elain found quite strange, as she was clearly a battled-tested warrior. Anyone else with that many impressive scars would jump at an opportunity to boast of their exploits.

Not Margim, though. She rarely ever spoke unless spoken to.

But Elain had a plan to coax Margim out of her shell, and it seemed foolproof. 

She offered to teach Margim the art of bone-carving, to pass the time on sunny afternoons when it was too hot to get any work done. She noticed Margim would always retreat beneath the shade of the trees during this time anyway, and it seemed like a good excuse to spend more time with her. Margim, who seemed to have a very hard time saying ‘no’ to anyone and didn’t have much to do around that time anyway, of course agreed to it. Elain hoped that after sitting in silence for hours working on their craft, Margim might finally get bored enough to be willing to engage in conversation.

She might have underestimated Margim’s patience, though. The first few days of this passed in almost complete silence, save for Elain’s attempts at striking up short-lived conversation and Margim occasionally asking a question or two about the task at hand. It was a little awkward, but Margim was at least consistently showing up to their meeting spot, so at least she seemed to enjoy her lessons? Hopefully? She is very hard to read.

But Elain is nothing if not determined, and Margim did make for a great listener at least. Slowly but surely she started to speak a little more openly.

Elain was recounting the tale of a fierce battle she had with one of the Dragon-Clan’s pet worms. It was truly the largest of their kind she had ever seen, and a victory she was most proud of. She still wore a necklace made from the worm’s teeth, and always jumped at the opportunity to tell of how they earned her that rugged scar on her leg.

“Oh, I got this one from a worm too.” Margim observed quietly, motioning to a shallow scar running along her shoulder that was mostly covered by her garment. “Or… was it the orc riding the worm…? It was a long time ago.” she shrugs without looking up from the small figurine she was working on.

“Oh! You fought both at once?” Elain asked excitedly, eager to finally hear something of Margim’s past.

Margim nodded “orcs don’t really like to fight fair.”

“Heh, I guess that’s the one benefit to living in Trum Dreng, we’re far enough from the mountains not to have many problems with orcs or goblins. I’ve never fought one myself, but I hear they can be quite fearsome.”

“If you’re lucky you’ll never have to. Their stench is almost as deadly as their blades.” Margim says dryly, the corner of her lips bearing the faintest hint of a smile. Elain chuckles, that’s the first joke she thinks she’s ever heard from Margim.

“What about that one?” she motions to the deep scar running over the bridge of Margim’s nose, almost from one cheek to the other “I’d imagine there’s quite a story behind that. What sort of foe was it?” her curiosity finally won out over courtesy.

Margim’s hands stopped and she looks away “oh, this one… this one did not come from a battle.” she nearly whispers, absentmindedly running her fingers over the ridges of it “It’s very old, from my childhood actually, though I guess you couldn’t tell on account of how poorly it’s healed.”

Elain’s brow furrows and her heart sinks “...Was it some sort of accident?” She isn’t sure if she should be asking more about it, but she did anyway without thinking, hoping it was merely a freak accident. The thought of someone intentionally- it’s too horrifying. Elain hopes it isn’t that, but she knows a scar left from a blade when she sees it.

“You might say that.” her eyes remained fixed somewhere far away from Elain “I accidentally looked at someone the wrong way I guess. This was the repercussion.” Her voice is flat and her face seemingly emotionless, but there’s a certain intentionality behind it, as if she is afraid to express anything else. “I… don’t remember much else about it.” her voice became ever so slightly unsteady.

“I’m- Margim I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have asked, that’s-” she eventually stammered, equally horrified at the reason behind her scar, and shamed for making Margim tell her of it. She had been able to gather that Margim did not come from a good place, but she had no idea the extent of it. For someone to hurt a child like that…

“It’s fine. You didn’t know.” she assured, low voice once again carefully composed, but still unable to look at Elain. “But… can we please talk about something else?”

“Oh, of course” But the conversation quickly died after that, and they finished their work for the day mostly in silence.

She didn’t expect Margim to want to continue the bone-carving lessons after that. Elain felt as if she had stepped over a line in asking about her scars. While it might be a normal topic of conversation amongst warriors, it’s clear to her now why Margim never wished to engage in it before, and she fears she may have pushed her too far too quickly. While it was true she couldn’t have known, she still felt awful about it and wouldn’t blame Margim for wanting to avoid her after that.

Yet, much to her surprise, she found Margim waiting for her there in their usual spot the next day. She looked at Elain expectantly, she didn’t smile –she almost never did– but Elain did get the impression that she was happy to see her. At least, she did not seem unhappy to see her. Margim remained very hard to read, but she was there, and that must count for something right?

[mikelogan]

Tagged by: @lesbianiconsteveharrington the true mvp

Fave color: blue, pretty much any shade. as a general rule, cool colors, not warm!

Currently reading: nothing, but I read Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica a couple days ago in three hours and it was pretty good!

Last song: currently listening to Lavender Haze (and Midnights 3AM version on repeat) by TSwizzle

Last series: The Patient on Hulu, easy 10/10. I’ve watched a shit load of TV in the last couple weeks so: The Devil in Ohio: 8/10, KinnPorsche: 9/10 (-1 because no KimChay reunion), The Watcher: 9/10, The Midnight Club: 6/10, and then all of Mike Flanagan’s other shows which are like 12/10s for me.

Last movie: The Shining. Watched it for the first time last night and I was pleasantly surprised at how much I liked it. It could have been like an hour shorter and I absolutely lost my shit laughing when they show Jack frozen bc meme, but I gave it 7/10 on IMDb

Currently working on: I have so many WIPs it’s disgusting, but here are just some of them:

1) My massive Ben x Perry fic that I’ll never shut up about. It starts in 1977 and goes from there and follows Ben and Perry’s lives if they met in college in CA when Perry’s a junior and Ben is a freshman. I usually go months without touching it despite thinking about it/them all the time, but just in the last couple weeks, I wrote about 8k words!

2) A second installment in what hopefully becomes a series for JDox daddy kink oops

3) A Ben x JD x Perry OT3 fic

4) A JDox fic with established JDox who’ve been having Problems and then JD gets hurt (wild idea, I know)

5) Another JDox fic with established JDox where JD gets hurt right before their wedding (yes i absolutely hate myself) 

6) literally a massive document with fic/oneshot ideas in various stages of planning from just an idea or quote to a nearly finished outline

Share 10 different favorite characters from ten different pieces of media in no particular order, then tag 10 people 🎥🎬📺:

1) Perry Cox, my beloved (Scrubs)

2) JD because he’s so flawed and fucked up but I see so much of myself in him and god I love that man (Scrubs)

3) Remus Lupin, absolute angel who has never done anything wrong (HP)

4) Elijah Mikaelson (The Vampire Diaries/The Originals) I will never get tired of him and his nobility also ELIJAH IS NOT A CUTLERY DRAWER

5) Ben Sullivan because actual golden retriever?? And like yes, my HCs that I treat as canon... aren’t canon, but I made him even better so deal with it (Scrubs)

6) Sirius Black because name a more tragic character i’ll go first (HP)

7) Carla Espinosa aka my wife but also momther. Carla gets like .5% of the recognition she deserves in the fandom and i literally love her so much (Scrubs)

8) Jordan “Godzilla” Sullivan bc her character is actually complex and she’s not just a heartless heart-eating demon, though she definitely sleeps upside down hanging from the ceiling wraaaaapped in a cocoon of her own wings (Scrubs)

9) Elena Gilbert bc I know she has her annoying moments, but at her core, she’s a girl who lost her entire family and did the best she could and who deserved so much better (The Vampire Diaries)

10) Can I just collectively say all the characters (not you, Bev Keane) from The Haunting of Hill House, The Haunting of Bly Manor, and Midnight Mass? Mike Flanagan, pay for my therapy

I tag: literally anyone bc I love doing these and seeing other people’s answers! so say I tagged you if you want to do it 😊

[papergirllife]

The Way I Hate You

Na Jaemin Smut

warnings: explicit sex, unprotected sex.

*gif credits to owner.

full masterlist

to request

It was 3am and the deafening noises that came from your new next door neighbor was causing you sleepless nights on end and a pounding headache, resulting newly advils in your nightstand drawer.

You looked at the time displayed on your digital clock, 3:36 A.M. . You won’t take any more of his shit tonight, you had work in a few hours and you aren’t going to waste anymore of your concealer on an ass like him.

You put on your baggy sweater and stomped out of your house, fist banging on his door. Just when your fist was about to come in contact with the door once again, a boy swung open the door. You nearly hit his face with your face if he wasn’t holding onto it.

“If you wanted to touch my face you could’ve just asked, cutie. No need to ruin a masterpiece and scar your soft little hands, no?”

You snatched your hand out of his and looked him in the eyes.

“Turn down your music! It’s going to be 4am soon and I have work in a few hours.”

“But I’m bored, and all alone, only music to keep me occupied. Maybe you can come over and entertain me.”

You took in his appearance, big eyes, perfect nose, and tousled greyish blue hair. He’s a prick, but he’s a darn attractive one. But he’s still a stranger.

“We don’t even know each other. If your looking for a hooker for the night I’ll direct you to that asshole down the hall, he’ll know the direction to the nearest strip club.”

“Feisty, I like it. That can be changed. Nice to meet you, I’m Na Jaemin, you can call me Nana or Jaemin.”

“Y/N.”

He placed his hand out for you to shake, but you just ignored it and went back into your home, banging the door.

The next day you felt like a zombie, your lifeline was literally solely supported by cups and cups of caffeine. You still slapped on a heavy amount of concealer, since you had an important meeting with investors. According to your boss, if your presentation pulled the investors off, you’ll be getting a bigger paycheck and a nice bonus.

When you got home that day, Jaemin wasn’t home yet, it was obvious, from the lack of noise pollution next door. So you took the longest nap you ever had in ages.

You stirred from your slumber when Jaemin began blasting his speakers, you looked at your clock, 8:45 P.M. . Instead of cooking pasta like you had originally planned, you decided to just eat a bowl of ramyun and a bottle of soju to go with it at the nearest convenience store.

When you got back, the noise from Jaemin’s place hasn’t died down. With the alcohol in your system giving you a kick courage, you rang his doorbell many times to disturb him from his ‘music’.

Jaemin opened the door to reveal how disheveled looking he was, you took in his appearance, baggy sweats and hair sticking all over the place, the bags underneath his eyes were much heavier than usual.

“I’m not in the mood, cutie. Just leave please.”

You were taken aback at his bratty attitude towards you, how does he dare tell you to scram off during his bad days, when you were having bad days on no end because of him and his wretched music?!

You had enough of Na Jaemin. Before you could process the things he said in your brain properly, the words were flying out of your mouth

“One bad day and you think you’re the king of this place?! Do you know how many sleepless nights I had because of you and your shitty music blasting at such a volume?! You nearly cost me my job if I haven’t got my shit together with the amount of coffee I drank! I’m getting my liver killed because of you! Do you know how much of a nuisance you are in my life ever since you moved in?! How can you be such a self centered selfish  whiny bitch?!”

With every word you had said, you poked him in the chest once, making him stumble back once or twice back into his unit. When you were looking him in the eye spewing complaints at him, you didn’t notice the way Jaemin clenched his jaw, and the way his fists were held tight, his knuckles turning white.

Jaemin was holding back every fiber in his being not to lash back out at you, even if he did, he knew he was going to regret it in the morning. He knew he was being a dick for blasting his music, but his job was putting pressure on him, and the only way to vent it when he didn’t bother going to the gym was this. Jaemin holds no grudges towards you, but his temper wouldn’t hold up for long if he doesn’t do anything to get himself out of this situation.

“Why can’t you just shut up?!”

“Why don’t you make me, Y/N?”

Maybe it was because of the alcohol, maybe it was because of the stress mounted on your shoulders these past few days, but the irrational part of your brain took reins of you, and you smashed your lips against Jaemin’s, effectively shutting him up.

Well technically it didn’t stop the noise from his speakers, but in your head every little noise faded into nothing. Your body could only register the feeling of Jaemin’s lips against yours. Just as you were about to push him away because of his lack of response, Jaemin kissed you back with much more ferocity, his hands grabbing onto your hips, not letting you go.

You leaned against Jaemin, motioning him to invite you into his house. He picked up on your hints and backed himself into his house. When the both of you were in the house, Jaemin kicked the door shut and spun you around so that your back crashed against the door with a mild thud.

“I hate you Na Jaemin.”

“Are you sure, cutie? The signals your body is sending me tells me otherwise.”

That idiot winked at you. And you were a bigger idiot for liking it.

Jaemin patted at your butt, signalling you to jump.

“Are you sure? I’m heavy.”

“If I fail I’m switching gyms.”

Jaemin successfully caught you when you jumped in his arms, his fingers digging into your upper thighs, sending shocks coursing down your body travelling southwards to your core.

Jaemin took you to his bedroom, the exact route you take to your bed in your own house, a sense of odd familiarity washing over you. You begin sucking hickies onto Jaemin’s empty neck, flowers blooming in your wake.

Jaemin could feel his length growing at your lewd actions, when the both of you got to his room, Jaemin threw you on his bed with a light thud, desperate for any sort of action after you had him riled up just now.

Jaemin quickly discarded his clothes, standing stark naked in front of you, showing you all his glory. You licked your lips and rubbed your thighs together at the sight of his nudity.

Jaemin reached forward to help you take off your clothes, he was surprised to see the lack of bra when he took off your shirt, his left eyebrow cocked up questioning you.You smiled seductively, playing dumb to his questioning eyes.

“Oops, so forgetful of me.”

“Now you’re just begging to be fucked by me, babe.”

Jaemin tore off your panties last, his fingernails grazing your thighs lightly, he quickly shoved a finger inside of you, prepping you for what’s to come, but to his surprise, you were much wetter than he thought.

“Someone’s dripping for me. Guess I won’t need to finger you open anymore.”

You spread open your legs for him, your hand sliding down your core to move your folds aside to let him see how wet you were, arousal flowing down the bed sheets underneath you.

Jaemin slipped inside you in one thrust, the both of you letting out melodic moans, even though you were wet enough for him to enter, your tightness shocked him, your cavern engulfed him whole, he felt like he was floating. When you opened your eyes as you recovered from the sudden pleasure, you saw Jaemin’s fucked out expression, from just being inside of you. So you decided to play a little game and clench your pussy on his dick. Jaemin curled his toes at your further provocation. It must’ve been a long time since he had gotten laid.

“So that’s how you wanna play, babe?”

Jaemin pulled out and reposition you, ass up face down. He thrust himself back in without any warning, his pace relentless as he plowed you into the bed, you wouldn’t be surprised to see a mark shaped like you after this.

“Fuck, Jaemin!”

“That’s it, babe. Scream my name, let the whole floor know who’s making you feel good.”

Your nails dug into Jaemin’s sheets, back arched, Jaemin’s cock was rather long and it was hitting your sweet spot over and over again, you could feel tears running down your face, his fingers digging into your ass, definitely leaving marks, but you loved the combination of pain and pleasure Jaemin is giving you.

Jaemin found a new addiction, other than the loud music filling up his head’s empty void, he finds your moans as he wrecks you as addicting as nicotine, pumping adrenaline into his veins as he fucks into you.

Jaemin finds your ass an amazing sight to his eyes, a thought crossed his mind. He spanks you as he thrusts into you, once, twice, and had no sign of stopping.

“What the fuck are you doing, Jaemin?!”

Jaemin pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail, yanking your head up to speak into your ear.

“Bad girls need to be punished, babe. Don’t act like your sweet little pussy isn’t clenching around me so hard after I started spanking you, you’re just in sweet denial.”

“I hate you, Jaemin!”

“I can change that.”

Jaemin propped his leg up and moved your hips higher, the angle giving him deeper access into your warm cavern. The new angle had you screaming his name as his cock was giving your sweet spot more attention than before with every stroke clouding your head in a pleasure-filled haze.

Jaemin’s hand slipped to your clit, stimulating you further, if it weren’t for his hand keeping your body in place, you would’ve collapsed form the overwhelming pleasure.

Just as you were about to reach your high, Jaemin pulled out.

“What the fuck, Jaemin?!”

“You want to cum? Beg for my dick. Beg for it like the cockslut you are.”

“No!”

“Suit yourself then, I’ll just jack myself off like I always did.”

You were beyond mad, the anger pumping new found adrenaline and energy into you.

You pushed Jaemin down flat on his bed and straddled him, smashing your lips against his as you sink down onto his cock harshly, the sudden pleasure clouding Jaemin from forming any incoherent thoughts on how to fight for dominance, his body submitting to your will.

You bounced on his cock with a feral speed, the anger, stress, and pent-up frustrations leaving your mind every time Jaemin’s cock brushes against your sweet spot.

Jaemin’s hands were loosely hung around your waist, hardly taking in anything other than the pleasure he was receiving, his eyes lolled back into his head, lips agape.

You moved one of your hands secured around his shoulder to his throat, closing off most of his airway, a sly smirk playing on your lips.

“Tell me how you feel, Jaemin. Can’t? Cat caught your tongue? Or are you just too far gone when I’m fucking you dumb?”

You loosened your hold on his neck and smashed your lips against his as you cum after fucking yourself onto his cock one last time, Jaemin followed soon after, his head throwing back from all the immense pleasure he was receiving, a muted but still audible pretty little whine leaving his swollen lips.

You and Jaemin’s hips rocked against each other, riding out both your orgasms. Your body crashed down on his after milking out your high, Jaemin’s hands once again held onto your hips, his head on top of yours, basking in the after sex glow.

“I wanted to take you out on a date before any action, guess we mixed up the stages.”

You sit up from Jaemin’s sudden confession.

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

“You had every right to be annoying to me, I was a jerk and I’m sorry for causing you to lose sleep because of my music. I promise I’ll use headphones next time.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now about that date...

“Tomorrow, lunch, 12 p.m. , Marco’s. Don’t be late.”

“Won’t ever miss it for the world.”

[hurricanery]

What’s a Soulmate?

Hi! This is my first Amelink Fic. Completely AU//Little snippets of ‘What if Link and Amelia had met at a different time in their lives?’ Also OOPS THIS IS REALLY LONG. TW: implied drug use.

_______ Atticus Lincoln is 9 years old when he discovers what a soulmate is. Not by definition exactly, but the feeling is there.

It’s a sunny afternoon in mid-august, one of the last few days of freedom before school starts up again. Few of the last chances Link will get to spend all day outside, practicing his baseball pitch with his dad.

Earlier that day, Link and his father had noticed moving trucks line up across the street. Right in front of the house where Mrs. Edelstein lived before she was put in that nursing home.

“Looks like someone’s finally moving in,” Link’s dad had said.

‘Good,’ Link had thought. No more Mrs. Edelstein and no more apples on halloween.

_______

The two are just finishing up their batting practice when a minivan pulls into the driveway of Mrs. Edelstein’s old house. A woman steps out of the driver’s side first, before chaos ensues. Both sliding doors of the minivan fly open at the same time, before a handful of young voices are heard. Link watches from afar and counts one by one as they pile out of the car.

A taller, teenaged girl and a dark-haired boy around the same age immediately sprint toward the house, the girl yelling something about ‘dibs on the biggest bedroom!’

“Nancy! Derek! Slow down!” the children’s mother yells after them. The woman sighs as two more young girls jump out of the car and start running toward the house. “Come on, Amy,” the mother speaks again. Slowly, another girl appears from the car. Immediately, Link notices the age difference between this girl and the other kids that had just disappeared into the house. She seems much closer to his age. Link is amused by her more reluctant pace, compared to her siblings. He watches as the girl’s mother begins to practically drag her toward the house.

“Why don’t you go say hi, Link? Introduce yourself?” His dad’s voice officially halts him from observing the family across the street.

Link shakes his head. “Maybe later,” he says, his gaze drifting back to the house, where he can see the children running around through the front windows.

_______

It’s a little bit after 7pm now, and Link and his dad have just finished dinner. It’s still light outside, a nice summer night, and Link wanders back outside to hopefully curve his boredom.

There’s not much to do in his backyard, at least not by himself. He feels a tug in his chest when he thinks back to earlier. The way he was completely enticed by the big, rowdy family across the street.

He wanders to the front lawn in search of his baseball mitt when he sees her. The youngest girl from earlier. She’s sitting cross-legged by herself on the sidewalk in front of her new home, focusing deeply on the pavement beneath her, sidewalk chalk in hand. Her long dark hair is pulled back into a braid, but despite that, she seems to be pushing her bangs out of her face every few seconds.

Link is a pretty shy kid and he knows that. Even a little timid. But there’s something about this girl that’s piqued his interest. He really wants to know her, and to be her friend, he thinks.

So he gains up enough courage to cross the street, not before checking both ways for cars first. He approaches the house slowly, but the girl doesn’t seem to notice his presence. Her head remains turned down, focusing on what she’s doing.

“Um hi my name is Atticus Lincoln and I live across the street,” the sentence comes out in a rush, words stringing together completely. And maybe he should have made his entrance more known, he thinks, as he watches the girl almost fall back from where she was sitting with her knees tucked underneath her.

“Shit, you scared me,” the girl gasps, blue eyes wide.

And Link is stunned. Because that is not what he expected to hear. His eyes are now just as wide as hers “Y-you’re allowed to say that?"

The girl just stares at him for a second, before something seems to click in her brain, and then she’s laughing with her head thrown back. Real, genuine laughter. The kind that Link has only seen on sitcoms, or when his aunts and uncles drink too many adult beverages at family barbecues.

He loves the sound of it. It’s making him laugh, too. "You have a funny laugh,” he tells her.

“You have a funny name,” she retorts.

“Hey,” he frowns, but it doesn’t last as he can’t help but laugh. “Well what’s your name, then?”

“Amelia.”

“Amelia?” He repeats, dumbfounded. Partly because he’s never really heard the name before. It sounds sharp. And he thinks it matches perfectly. Especially with the quick and witty words falling from her laughing mouth.

“Yeah, ya dummy. Have you never heard that name before?”

And Link, for the first time in his life, is at a loss for words. Because she is something else.

“Anyway, Atticus, do you wanna play a game?”

_______

Link is 16 years old when he discovers that high school is the bane of his existence.

Link is a decently popular kid. Apparently. A favorite student in the eyes of most teachers. A friendly face for most of his classmates. A star baseball player and a name well known in the small community. But he doesn’t always see himself the way that others do, most of the time.

He has to wear this thing called deodorant all of a sudden, sometimes his face breaks out, he is nervous almost all of the time, and on top of all that, yesterday he found out he’s the only one in his friend group who’s never kissed a girl.

He feels pressured, mostly by the fact that girls in his grade are so intimidating.

It’s friday morning and he’s running kind of late for school. But he knows that doesn’t really matter. Because as late as he is, he knows Amelia will be running even later. And he’s supposed to meet her in 2 minutes to walk to school. Like they do every day.

He wanders outside and paces the sidewalk in front of her house, waiting for her front door to swing open and for her to come barreling outside as if getting ready for school is the most hectic experience.

And like clockwork, there she is. Flying down the front steps of her porch while simultaneously shrugging on her backpack and flinging her hair up into a messy ponytail. Her face lights up as soon as she sees him, but she falters just as quick, as she almost falls facedown on the sidewalk.

“You didn’t have time to tie your shoes this morning, Ames?”

"I don’t have time for a lot of things, Link.” She rolls her eyes.

“Well maybe if you woke up on time-”

“That’s impossible.”

“Go to bed at a decent time?”

“How do you know I don’t go to bed at a decent time?” She smirks at him, a common occurrence. Link’s pulse quickens every time she pulls the mischievous grin.

He blushes before he responds. “Your bedroom is literally right across from mine. Your light is on until at least 3am.”

Amelia just giggles. That fantastic, contagious giggle that Link has heard everyday for the last 6 years.

He nods to himself, knowing fully well that Amelia’s homework routine typically takes place between midnight and 3am. He doesn’t understand how she does it. She saves everything for the last minute and yet remains to have the highest grades out of everybody. It’s like the opposite way he goes about his own academics, yet it yields the same results. Even though Amelia is far smarter than him, she has almost the opposite reputation with the teachers.

Amelia bumps her hip into his side as they walk, shaking Link from his thoughts. “You going to the party tonight?” She raises her brows at him in question.

“Probably not,” Link answers. She just laughs at him.

“We’ll see.”

_______

They both end up at the party that night. A stupid high school party. Separately, that is. Because despite how close Amelia and Link are, they have very different friend groups. Link’s friend group is mostly made up of the baseball team, while Amelia tends to flock towards a tougher crowd.

So they arrive separately, but as soon as they lock eyes in the crowded basement, they’re practically running toward each other.

“Link!!!” Amelia yells, a little too loudly, unlike her. “I’m soooo glad you’re here.” She smiles at him, but her eyes are unfocused.

“Amelia are you drunk already?” Link laughs. Amelia’s usually a pretty happy drunk. At least the times that Link has seen her this way.

She nods her head around enthusiastically. “That I am,” she giggles. “Lemme find you a drink okay?”

_______

A couple hours later and Link’s ready to leave. He’s not drunk, just a little tipsy. And he’s not really feeling like being here anymore. He looks around the room to see if Amelia is still here. But he can’t seem to find her. He shrugs it off and says his goodbyes before making his way outside to walk home.

When he reaches the front porch he halts. Because there’s Amelia. Sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest on the front steps, gazing forward as if she’s thinking really hard about something.

Link clears his throat. “Whatcha doing there?”

As soon as she realizes Link’s presence, she shakes from her daze, smiling up at him. “Waiting for you. I felt like going home a while ago but I thought I’d wait for you.”

“That was cool of you.”

“No biggie.”

Link towers over her, even after she stands up. The height difference can be almost comical sometimes. She scrunches her nose a bit at him, like she’s taking in the height difference, too. And with that, they start their walk.

Link’s pretty quiet. More so than usual, Amelia notices.

“Something bothering you?” She asks.

“Uh, no. I’m fine.” And Link is the worst liar ever.

“Link…”

He’s silent for a moment.

“Amelia have you ever kissed anyone?”

Amelia laughs, cause she was not expecting this. “Yeah, silly. Why do you ask?”

And oh, Link thinks. That is not what he wanted to hear.

“Who?”

“Well. Umm. Jake. And Tyler. And-”

She notices him go quiet, eyes glued to his feet as they walk.

“You okay, Link?”

He shakes his head.

“Well what’s up?” She continues.

Link sighs deeply before responding. “Amelia, I’ve never kissed anyone..” he quickly mumbles out.

“I’m sorry I didn't really hear you. Did you say-”

“I said I’ve never kissed anyone,” and you could definitely say his voice is raised.

Amelia doesn’t really know how to respond. “Link, that’s okay. That’s fine.”

“No. It’s not. Everyone else has. Literally everybody.”

“That’s not true.”

“You have though.”

“Yeah, but-”

“But, what?” He interrupts her, and Amelia catches on that he’s pretty upset right now.

“It didn’t mean anything. I kissed those guys on a dare. At a stupid party. I didn’t even enjoy it.”

“Still,” Link sighs. “I feel like a freak. Kind of.”

“Well you are a freak,” she smirks at him. “But not because you haven’t kissed anyone.”

Link visibly relaxes, smiling back despite the dig. They're quiet again for a few minutes before Link speaks up again.

“Amelia, can I ask you something really dumb?”

“Sure, dummy.”

He sighs again, as if he’s working up some sort of courage, because he is. “Can I kiss you right now?” He looks to her face for a reaction before he continues. Of course she looks startled and confused. Just as he’d expected. “Not like serious. Like just so I can get it over with?” He explains quickly.

“Are you for real?” She giggles, still a little drunk.

“I am.”

“No, you idiot. I love you too much."

And now it’s Link’s turn to look startled.

"You’re my best friend,” She continues.

Oh. Right.

“And I’m not letting you waste your first kiss because you 'want to get it over with.’”

_______

2 weeks later and final exams are cramming their way into Link’s life. As he wraps up studying for a chem exam, he checks the clock. 1am. He yawns, standing up and stretching, before deciding to call it a night. Link finds himself glancing across the street, knowing it’s prime time for Amelia to be studying, too. His gaze lands on her bedroom window, but he frowns as he notices her light is turned off.

Link doesn’t think too much of it. He’s actually a little relieved that Amelia has seemingly gone to bed at a decent time. He quickly brushes his teeth and sets his alarm before collapsing into bed.

On the verge of sleep, Link is interrupted by a noise against his window. He tries to brush it off, but it becomes more persistent. Every 10 or so seconds, a sharp tap against glass. He gets up, crossing the floor, peering out his window. He rubs his eyes as they adjust, looking down at the front lawn.

And there’s Amelia Shepherd. Dressed in skinny jeans and a leather jacket, looking right back at him. Link thinks he’s dreaming. Amelia grows impatient at his slow reaction, taking it upon herself to throw another small rock against the glass. Link jumps back, startled. He opens the window.

“Amelia, what-” He groans. “What are you doing? What time is it? What-”

“Can you let me in? I need to stay over.” She interrupts him.

Something about her tone of voice seems off, Link thinks. But, he’s moving down the stairs and toward the front door quicker than expected for being half-asleep.

They settle on the sofa in Link’s living room. Amelia immediately begins kicking off her ankle boots. Link watches her, noticing her glassy, blood-shot eyes. He sighs.

“Don’t be mad at me.” Amelia picks up on his disappointment right away. She leans back against the cushions, resting her eyes shut. Link is glad for it. Her eyes are absolutely stunning. He has no problem admitting it. But, he hates the way they look when they are glazed over and hinting red like that. Her eyes remain closed as she mumbles at him “Can I have a glass of water?”

Link silently obeys her request. Moving about the kitchen slowly, as to not wake his father. When he re-enters the living room, Amelia is sitting up again, playing with her fingers anxiously. Link sets the glass of water on the table before he sits back down next to her.

“Thanks,” she mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

Link shakes his head. “You okay?” He asks her.

She pauses, gathering her thoughts. “I did something stupid.”

Link is not phased by this. She “does something stupid” quite a lot these days. And, quite a lot, she ends up on his couch when she doesn’t want to face her problems right away. And Link lets her do this. He lets her hide out across the street when she can’t go home yet.

“I took Derek’s car this time,” she almost whispers. And Link’s head snaps up, glancing through the front window and to her driveway across the street. He notices Derek’s car to be missing still.

“Amelia!” It’s a combination of a whisper and a shout. “You can’t be driving around like this-”

“Oh please!” She interrupts him, matching his tone. “I just smoked a little weed!”

Link glares at her. Locking eyes with her hazy blue orbs.

“And besides...I didn’t drive his car home. I walked.” She continues.

“You walked?!”

“Hey! I left his car didn’t I? I was being safe!”

Link takes a minute to steady his voice. He can hear some shuffling around upstairs but decides to ignore it.

“I would have come pick you up.” He sighs. Amelia leans back against the cushions again. Link notices truly how anxious she looks. She looks up at him, worry and regret dancing all across her features. He sighs again, and this time he sounds more understanding. “We’ll go get his car first thing in the morning.”

She smiles a bit, grateful. She looks so tired.

“Did you leave it Jake’s?” Link asks, flinching at the thought of her even going over to his house. Link can’t stand the guy. He’s a bad influence on her, the school’s go-to dealer. Not to mention the guy is repeating his senior year. Ugh.

Amelia nods. “Yeah-”

They’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps descending the staircase. Link’s dad turns the corner a moment later. Link meets his dad’s eyes apologetically. When he sees Amelia and Link on the couch, he nods to himself knowingly.

“Hi, Mr. Lincoln,” Amelia speaks up. “Sorry to wake you.”

Link’s dad looks at Amelia, nodding with understandment. “That’s quite alright, Amelia. Just came down for a glass of water, actually.” Link knows his dad is making that last bit up. He’s just checking in. “Are you okay?”

Amelia nods gratefully at the man still standing in the doorway. “I’m okay….thanks Mr. Lincoln.”

“Yeah thanks Dad. I’ll be back up in a bit.” Link watches as his dad disappears, eyes shifting back to Amelia. Her eyes close again as she relaxes back against the couch. Link squeezes her thigh gratefully. Grateful to his dad for being practically a second parent to Amelia. Amelia smiles sleepily.

“Your dad is the best.”

“I know.”

Amelia’s smile fades and Link’s heart clenches a bit at the sight of it. He knows that his dad has acted as sort of a father figure to Amelia, especially because Amelia’s dad had died when she was so young. Link and Amelia had even bonded over being raised by single parents growing up. He feels sick with guilt. His parent’s divorce can’t even compare to what Amelia has been through.

“Alright we can talk tomorrow, ok?” Link whispers, squeezing her thigh once more before standing up. He grabs a blanket from the basket in the corner and tosses it to Amelia. She wraps it around herself before moving to lay down across the couch. Link heads toward the stairs.

“Link?”

He pauses. “Yeah?”

“Just, please-” Amelia’s voice is laced with sadness. “I, just. I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

Link sighs from the doorway. “I’m not, Amelia. It’s...just. You scare me sometimes.”

Link hears some shuffling around before he sees Amelia’s head pop up over the back of the sofa. She glances back at him.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Link just stares at her, not knowing what to say. He’d rather they have this conversation tomorrow. But, Amelia speaks up again.

“I don’t know why I do this stuff sometimes….” her voice is barely a whisper, it sounds like she’s talking more to herself. “It’s just nice to not feel...sometimes...to be not feeling everything. If that makes sense…”

Link nods quickly. “Amelia we’ll talk tomorrow, ok?”

Amelia nods in response, still looking unsure of herself.

“We’ll get donuts on the way to pick up the car, how’s that sound?” Link speaks up again, smiling at her.

Amelia beams at him. She finally drops down against the pillows. Link takes a second before he turns back toward the stairs. As he makes his way up, he hears a quiet “thank you” from behind him.

_______

Link is 18 years old when he discovers what it feels like to miss someone so much it hurts.

He’s been away for his first semester of college for 2 months now and not even weekly Skype sessions with Amelia can distract him from his shitty experience so far.

His roommate is the definition of douche-bag. Constantly trashing their room, eating all of Link’s food, staying up all night, locking him out of the room for hours at a time when he has a girl over.

Link hates it here. And he misses having his best friend. And the comfort of being so close with someone and having them near at all times.

Amelia is having a different experience. She got into college on a scholarship and immediately found her place.

Link doesn’t like to admit that he often catches himself counting down the days until Christmas, aka when he’ll see her again. Hear her laugh again, and not just through a webcam.

_______

Link learns to find new distractions. He joins the college baseball team. He meets new people. People he actually enjoys, way more than he’ll ever enjoy his roommate or the people that live on his floor.

He meets Emma. She’s on the college dance team. She’s beautiful. And tall. And genuinely funny. And a distraction.

He thinks he loves Emma, by the end of his first year of college. He feels something every time he looks at her. With her beautiful dark hair and her tan skin. Her wide smile and the way she laughs with her entire body. She feels familiar. And makes him feel nostalgic.  

And he crushes any thought he has of Emma equaling his Amelia. His best friend.

He loses his virginity to Emma. It was a stupidly quick and drunken thing. By the time he returns home that summer, he can barely remember what it felt like. Or why he thought he knew what love was when he looked at Emma.

_______

Link is 22 years old when he discovers what it feels like to finally open up.

He hasn’t seen Amelia in almost a full year, although they still consider each other one another’s best friends.

It’s finally thanksgiving and they’re both returning home from their separate colleges for the weekend. He’s completely shocked when he first sees her. She looks the same but so, so different. More mature. More….something. Her hair is cut a bit shorter, framing her face. Her eyes are more intense than he remembers. Her face lights up at the sight of him and it makes his chest pull tight. He takes in what she’s wearing, the blue in her dress doing all the right things for her features.

Amelia clears her throat, drawing his attention back up to her face. “Long time no see, Link. Eyes up here.”

He shakes his head amusedly as he pulls her into a tight hug, because she’s already making him laugh within the first few seconds of being reunited.

_______

They end up at a local restaurant. The night before thanksgiving, which happens to be the busiest bar night all year. It’s also the night that everyone from high school decides to go to the same place. It basically feels like a premature high school reunion.

Amelia and Link attempt to stay together for the entirety of the night, but it’s a little hard when you’re constantly interrupted by vaguely familiar faces and pointless conversations.

After Link catches up with an old buddy for what seems like hours, he moves across the crowded room to find Amelia. It’s well past 1am and Link kind of wants to go home. He has to get up early tomorrow anyway to set up for thanksgiving festivities.

He catches her eye from where she’s sitting at a table, and motions toward the door, attempting to let her know that he’s leaving.

She frowns at him before abruptly ending whatever conversation she was part of.

Link watches her as she pushes through people to meet him by the door.

“You’re leaving without me? What kind of date are you?” She smirks at him as she shrugs on her jacket.

“I wasn’t aware this was a date, Ames.” Link responds, playing along. “But yes, I am leaving. Early morning and all that.”

“Well let me walk you home.” She continues, voice laced with irony.

_______

They end up back at Link’s house, sitting at the kitchen table. And it all feels very nostalgic. Especially with Link’s dad upstairs sleeping. Link feels like a kid again. Amelia makes him feel like a kid again.

Mostly there’s a lot of catching up, and reminiscing. And conversation about the future. It’s good. And Link is happy. And Amelia is laughing, so inherently, Link is too.  

“Remember that time junior year when you were so sleep deprived because 'college prep, duh’ that you slept-walked all the way across the street, to my house, and started throwing random shit at my window?”

Amelia bursts out laughing. “My sleep schedule was always a mess. But how about that time we got so drunk senior year? And we fell asleep on your front lawn? And my mom found us the next morning?”

_______

They talk about everything. All the things they used to love. All the things they missed about each other while they were both away. Everything that’s new to them.

Amelia learns everything about Link’s college experiences. All of the drunken mishaps. All of the ex-girlfriends. Even some weird sex things that she can’t ever un-hear. She learns that Link wants to pursue med school, possibly move out to the city.

Link learns that Amelia wants to follow in her older siblings’ footsteps. He learns that she loves science and wants to become a surgeon, and Link swears to her that he had always known that about her.

Amelia tells him about the relationships she’s been through. And the one she’s currently in.

“You’ll get to meet him this weekend, Link. He’s driving in tomorrow. For dinner.”

Link swallows, hard. Because suddenly things don’t feel so much like nostalgia and a happy, familiar place. Things feel uncertain.

“How long have you two been together?” He asks, feeling a tad out of place.

“We met my freshman year. We’ve been dating on and off since then.”

“On and off?” Link questions.

Amelia clears her throat. “Well, yeah.” She sighs. “We’ve broken up more than once. And gotten back together a couple of times…It’s um…” She pauses, collecting her thoughts. “It’s been, um, I mean I wouldn’t say a roller coaster, but…”

Link watches Amelia’s face fall with her half-attempt at an explanation. For the second time tonight, Link realizes that Amelia looks different. And it’s not just the confidence or the mature face. It’s in her eyes. And Link thinks she looks sad. Despite the fact that she’s been laughing freely, the same way she always has. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

Link doesn’t want to pry. But he almost feels obligated to ask. Because this is his best friend. His favorite person of practically 13 years.

“Amelia, are you happy?”

She doesn’t look up from where her eyes are glued to the kitchen table. It feels like minutes have passed before Amelia stands up on wobbly feet and walks around to Link’s side of the table. She still doesn’t say anything, but all of a sudden she’s forcing her way into Link’s lap, legs dangling off the side of the chair and arms wrapping around his neck.

She looks exhausted, he notices, when he looks into her eyes. And then she finally opens her mouth.

“I had the biggest crush on you in high school. Probably since I was 9, if I’m being honest.” And she laughs a little bit under her breath.

She lays her head on his chest so he can no longer see her face. Link wraps his arms around her waist and places a comforting kiss to the top of her head.

“And I of course was head over heels for you, but you already knew that. Everyone did.” He whispers, tightening his grip on her just slightly, giving her a gentle squeeze.

She laughs into him, and Link can feel it on his neck. It’s a tired, breathless laugh.

“Let’s crash on the couch, yeah?” He offers. “Like old times?”

_______

It’s weird for Link the next night at dinner. To see Amelia snuggled into the embrace of another man. Not even 24 hours after she’d fallen asleep in his own arms.

Link cringes when he recites it in his head. The way he’d whispered ’I’ve always loved you, Ames. Always will’ before they drifted off.

And the way that she’d responded. ’I love you too, Link. You’re my best friend.’

Link is angry, he thinks.

_______

Link is 25 years old when he discovers that he’s destined to be a father.

When his fiancé of two years, Rachel, tells him she's pregnant, he almost falls to his knees. So overwhelmed with a feeling he can’t place. He hopes it’s that he’s overjoyed, not overwhelmed, or the least bit uncertain.

He would love nothing more than to be a father.

_______

Link feels numb, three months later, when Rachel loses the baby. Waking up in the middle of the night and discovering such a thing, rushing to the hospital, only to find out it’s too late. It was draining for the both of them.

And it takes a toll on their relationship.

Rachel is defeated. And grows more and more depressed.

She takes her anger out on Link, and he does the same with her.

They decide to take a break, and Rachel moves back in with her parents. She needs some time for herself. And Link doesn’t know if he feels relieved. But he feels something. Cause he knows he was supposed to be a father.

_______

Link is 28 years old when he discovers that Seattle is his true home.

He’s graduated medical school and landed an internship at a top hospital in the city. He’s been in Seattle for almost 2 months now, and he feels like he’s in the right place for the first time in a long time.

It’s a monday morning and he’s taking his regular train ride downtown when an all too familiar brunette steps into the subway car.

The car is kind of crowded, and she automatically makes her way to a less dense standing spot. She doesn’t see him, cause she’s not really looking around.

Link is frozen in his seat, unsure of what to do. He hasn’t seen her in almost 3 years. Since they met at a restaurant in their hometown on New Years Eve. He was with Rachel at the time and things were very different.

Link realizes the next stop is his and he almost debates staying on to take his chance with Amelia.

The doors open and Amelia is getting off. And this is his stop, too. He leaps out of his seat just in time for the doors to not close in on him as he exits the train.

And he's definitely moving a little too fast and with too much force, because as soon as he’s on the platform, he’s running right into his childhood best friend.

She looks more startled than ever. And he takes a second to catch his breath. “Long time no see, Shepherd.” He smiles.

And her face lights up like never before. Brighter than before the average walk to school. Brighter than the time she first visited him at college. Brighter than a Thanksgiving reunion. She’s pulling him into the tightest of hugs, laughing breathlessly into his ear.

“What the hell, Link? What the hell are you doing here?” She lets go of him and they’re making eye contact, smiles wide across both their faces. They both seem to need to catch their breath.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He jokes.

Amelia shakes from her daze. “I..I live here now. I start a new job today. Like now, actually.”

Link just shakes his head knowingly, trying to contain the smile that just won’t quit. He doesn’t have much to say.

He’s overjoyed.

_______

Link is 29 years old when he discovers that his 9 year old self was correct. He knows what a soulmate is, by definition.

He knows what a soulmate is when he takes Amelia out on their real first date and he doesn’t even kiss her goodbye, because the timing isn’t quite right.

He knows what a soulmate is when he watches Amelia become a brilliant neuro fellow. When he watches her work. And save lives. When he realizes that he’s loved her determination since the moment they first met.

He knows what a soulmate is when they have sex for the first time. And it's way better for the both of them than it ever was with anyone else. When they take it kind of slow, reveling in each moment. Because it doesn’t feel real. She doesn’t feel real. It’s understated and overwhelming and it drives Link insane.

Amelia had asked him to stay over after they’d gone out with some of their other co-workers after a successful surgery, and when the making out and cuddling pressed into something further, Link couldn’t deny her.

Link knows what a soulmate is that night. When she looks him in the eye and goes to remove her sweater. It’s all vulnerability and it leaves him awestruck. But this is his best friend, and his soulmate. So when he asks her if she’s sure, and she sighs with words of encouragement, he takes the opportunity to learn every inch of her skin.

Link knows what a soulmate is the next morning. When he wakes up with the sun shining harshly through the window. And he turns to Amelia, who’s still sleeping, and traces the lines and shadows on her back from the bright sun.

Link knows what a soulmate is that same morning when she finally wakes from her slumber, rolling over to face him and whispering ’let’s make pancakes.’

Link knows what a soulmate is when they move in together. In a tiny apartment in Seattle. And they paint the walls a different color in every room.

And despite their first fight, Link knows what a soulmate is. He meets Amelia’s nieces and nephews. And he makes a nonchalant comment about kids one day. And she panics. And doesn’t talk to him for three days.

Link knows what a soulmate is when he learns to compromise. Because she doesn’t always have the best track record with long term relationships. She’s nontraditional, and he understands that.

And she’s still his soulmate when they turn 30. They get a bigger house in the suburbs. Link calls it 'room to grow’ and Amelia rolls her eyes and calls it 'extra work space.’

When they’re 32, and they’re attending their co-worker’s amazingly beautiful wedding, and Amelia distractedly states that ’maybe I’ll marry you someday,’ Link knows what a soulmate is.

_______

Link is 34 years old when everything falls into place for the rest of his life.

He comes home and Amelia has cooked dinner, something she never does. (Unless this is secretly takeout food, that she’s organized neatly onto their own dinner plates).

The atmosphere is different and Amelia definitely has a nervous energy about her.

Later that night when they're practically asleep, and Amelia mumbles “by the way, I’m pregnant,” Link knows what a soulmate is.

At first he thinks she’s kidding, but when she assures him she’s not, Link is up and turning on the lights. Dancing around the room like an idiot. And Amelia is laughing. Head thrown back and everything, his favorite sight to see.

And he’s never felt so happy.

_______

They settle on a name the same day they find out it’s a boy.

“Aiden?”

“No.”

“Charlie?”

“No.”

“Sam?”

“No.”

“Link, come on. Why do you hate every single name that I like?”

“It has to feel right, Amelia. We’ll know when it’s the right one.”

“Ugh. Okay. How about you come up with one?”

Link purses his lips. “How about Scout?”

“Scout…” Amelia repeats. “That’s a funny name.”

“It is,” Link smiles.

“You have a funny name,” Amelia continues, smirking.

“Scout,” Link repeats. “It’s perfect.”

Feedback please/let me know if you want me to write more amelink/send prompts!!

[aellynera]

Mors Non Est (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

MORS NON EST (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

(so. um. this was inspired by a dream i had? because my brain does weird things at night and then sometimes i write them.)

Word Count: almost 4k oops

Summary: “Of course, you don’t die. Nobody dies. Death doesn’t exist. You only reach a new level of vision, a new realm of consciousness, a new unknown world.” — Henry Miller, author

Or, what my brain offers as alternate theory on why Nathan made AIs.

Warnings: Leaving this mortal coil (sort of), angsty musings, maybe a swear or two. Okay there’s definitely a swear or...several. (also a disclaimer that I finished this at like 3am and there was a bunch of stuff out of order but I think I got it all worked out now and proofread and all that, but apologies if anything is still wonky)

The rain fell steadily against the wall of glass that faced towards the forest. Sometimes it was soft, like the tickle of a feather, the softest caress of a kiss on your hair, the skim of fingertips against the velvet red petals of a flower. Other times it was harsh, a violently crashing wave on the rocky shore, electricity ripping the sky asunder, an unbridled fierceness like a wild animal frightened and possessed.

It changed without warning.

Soft, hard. Quiet, loud. Calm, violent. Back and forth and back again.

How long had it been raining?

He turned as he heard your footsteps fall on the wooden patio planks behind him. You watched in slight fascination as he unwrapped his hands, used the cloth to dry them, and stuck a hand out to you, your attention half on him and half on the pure beauty of the surrounding scenery.

“You must be the new assistant,” he said, sounding friendly enough although his smile stayed a bit reserved.

He wasn’t expecting you to just show up on his deck. Yes, he was expecting you to be dropped off by the helicopter, that had all been arranged, but for some reason he had...he realized he wasn’t even sure what he was expecting. But you had clearly followed the pilot’s (and soon after, the house’s - that the house told you what to do amused him in the strangest way) instructions and here you were.

He knew his new assistant was more than capable (he had seen your resume, reviewed your coding and debugging history, had meticulously poured over every single little detail of work you had done for his company for the past three years not that he was obsessive about it or anything) but he wasn’t prepared for the person that now stood before him, an intriguing combination of impressed, unsure, interested, and underwhelmed.

You were fucking beautiful.

You nodded. “That’s what they tell me,” you replied, shaking his hand and supplying your name, even though you knew he already knew it. You knew enough about Nathan Bateman to know he knew everything about you before you even heard the head of HR back in the corporate office announce that you got the job.

You later admitted you didn’t know what to think about him either, and you hadn’t really expected anything, since you didn’t know much about him. He was a genius, everyone knew that, and he lived all the way out here by himself. And...that was about it. That’s what you knew.

And you thought he was...kinda hot.

And also an asshole, you liked to point out as the days went on. Nathan didn’t really mind.

*

It was an odd feeling, this feeling of dissonance and uncertainty.

There was so much that needed to be done. There was so much that he didn’t feel like doing.

He came to the door and paused. He spent most of his waking hours in this room - and to be honest, most of his hours were waking at this point, he rarely slept anyway and for as long as he could remember now he had barely slept, except when all that whiskey and vodka kicked in - and yet there was always a moment, the briefest flash of time, where forward momentum paused and he wondered if non-linear time was reality and he would find something different when he opened the door.

It wasn’t, and he never did.

He wandered into the lab and over to the table at the farthest end. Components were spread out before him and he idly reached over to the single chip laying in the center of the mess. It was the last piece of this particular puzzle, the last bit that had to be installed and configured and then…

Then suddenly it became too quiet and too loud all at once. Thoughts were screaming through his brain and he just wanted it to be quiet for a moment.

Quiet so he could go over his calculations in his head. Quiet so he could double check his math. Quiet so he could concentrate on his theories and his expected outcomes. Quiet so he could revel, just for a moment, in his monumental achievement.

There was a sweater hanging on the back of the door. He’d forgotten it was there, even though he had just seen it mere hours before. No, not forgotten, he realized. Blocked. He didn’t forget, he just purposely didn’t remember.

The silent noise became a full-blown cacophony.

Was it still raining?

*

“So how exactly are you going to solve it?” you asked one afternoon, idly twirling your pen in your hand.

“How would you do it?” he bounced back.

You sighed. His behavior was so typical. The man was a certifiable genius but that was usually the problem and not the solution. It was never straightforward. “The AI. How are you going to solve the issue of making it able to have an actual conversation with you?”

“How would you do it?” he asked again.

Shrugging your shoulders, you kept twirling the pen. “I dunno. I guess you’d have to have some way to...maybe cross-reference a database of expressions and emotions and an actual dictionary.”

Nathan paused and considered you, deep in his own forest of thought. He wheeled his chair over to his computer desk and started rapidly tapping keys. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you huffed. “Like...like some kind of mass well of every available, possible interaction. Honestly I would try to figure out the mechanics of everything else first, like motion and movement, You know, walking and running and sitting and standing.”

“Hmmm.”

“But since there are literally infinite combinations, I don’t even know how you would go about even attempting that kind of data pool.”

 “I did actually have an idea about that,” he muttered. Nathan didn’t even turn from his multiple computer monitors and his fingers never stopped clacking away at his keyboard. “But you’re not going to like it.”

This time you groaned instead of sighing. He knew you could feel it coming before he asked - he always told you that you weren’t going to like it before he asked you to do something incredibly stupid that in any other circumstance would get you arrested and you’d never see daylight again.

But this was Nathan Bateman, and of course he was going to ask anyway. And of course you would say yes. You always said yes, it was one of the things he enjoyed most about your company, and even when you did say no, it gave way to a lively debate and a genuine argument over facts and merits, downsides and advantages, and it was fucking amazing.

It had been that way from the start, grown steadily over the weeks and months, and neither of you could really complain. Nathan quickly found that you could keep up with his train of thought even when the track switched abruptly and it was so engaging. Captivating. Enticing.

But this man. This amazingly intelligent (if almost insufferably arrogant) man was going to be the death of you. You told him that at least once a day. He took it as a personal challenge to give you a reason to keep living.

“What did you have in mind?” You doubted you wanted to know.

“What if…” he replied, clicking away, not looking up from the screen as he spoke, “we used the video and audio coding in Bluebook, and patched it through all the cell phone carriers, and rerouted all the satellite signals back here into the lab.”

Before you knew what was happening, your pen flew across the room and connected with his shoulder with a small *thwap*.

“What?” he finally looked up, mock annoyance in his voice.

“Are you absolutely fucking insane, or is this just an extra special occasion?”

*

He left the lab with no real idea of where he was going.

Okay, that was a lie. It was his house. He knew his way around and he knew where he needed to be next. There was an actual agenda but his focus was off.

He walked past the living room and noticed the chess set was still set out on the coffee table. The pieces were still fairly evenly matched, his green dragons maybe just slightly at a disadvantage to your purple ones (because, as you had mentioned at one point, why have a standard chess set when you could have a fun one? And Nathan knew you were anything but standard.)

He knew it was his turn and contemplated the board for a few minutes. No matter how he strategized it, how he worked it out, how he tried to plan it, you had forced him into a checkmate. Again. For at least the sixth time in a row, and probably at least the eight-seventh time out of the last hundredth you had played. He chuckled, softly, briefly. He could do anything with technology and science, but he rarely could beat you at a centuries-old board game.

He made his final move for this round, sacrificing his king to your queen. 

He grabbed the notepad setting next to the chess board, and your pen that lay nearby on the table. He scrawled a quick note to you - checkmate - and placed it on your side of the board, next to your fairly gained draconian horde, even though he was certain you were never going to read it.

He went to the kitchen and poured himself a drink.

He stared out the window wall, out past the deck, to the running river and the dense groves of trees, off into the distance towards the waterfall.

He should be heading to the room. He should be taking care of the final chip install and making sure everything was online. Instead he simply stood in the kitchen and stared out into the rain.

It occurred to him that the agenda was more of a guideline and his knowledge of his surroundings was merely functional.

*

Nathan briefly considered that standing at the doorway to your bedroom was the last place he should be, but then decided he didn’t care. But that wasn’t true either.

He could just walk in, it wouldn’t be the first time - once you had been wearing only a towel, having just gotten out of the shower and that hadn’t been awkward at all - but that small bit of his conscience that he usually tried to ignore, told him to be polite. 

He knocked.

“What do you want, Nathan?” You sounded muffled, like you had your face partly covered by a pillow. You were probably in bed. He shouldn’t be bothering you. 

He had to bother you, just this once. “Can I come in?”

He could picture your face on the other side, eyes rolling and the sigh as it left your lips, and even though he heard the door hiss quietly as the latch released, his feet suddenly stuck to floor outside your door and his body made no further move.

“I did open the door, so if you’re going to, do it before I change my mind,” you called after a few minutes.

Nathan got his feet to cooperate and entered your room. You were in bed, face half-behind a pillow, your visible eye glaring at him. He stopped at the edge of your bed. His brain started calculating risk factors for the current situation, gains, deficits, advantages - anything it could think of, there were always factors involved, no matter what the situation was, it was just that some factors were more complicated than others. Some required more delicate, cautious manipulation to solve the equation and…

“Are you just going to stand there all night and look at me? Because I swear I really will kick you out, and then change all your passcodes.”

Of course, you teased him later about how much fun it would have been to watch him try to get back in. You swore you were going to do it one day, just for the hell of it. He didn’t mind.

“Do you regret what happened after dinner?” he finally asked.

Your glare softened and you moved the pillow away from your face. Dinner was fine. The company was pleasant as usual, the wine was frequent and flowing. The two of you had started a very animated debate about gender and sexuality as it pertained to artificial intelligence and if any of it were a necessary component or if it was just something you would prefer (he would later tell you how wonderful the expression on your face was when he told you he would be ready to start building a prototype in the next few weeks) and then.

“I don’t regret it at all. Do you?” you arched an eyebrow at him.

Nathan blew a long breath out from his nose. Did he regret kissing you? Nope. Not in the slightest. Did he regret that you might regret it (he was slightly relieved that you said you didn’t) and that nothing would come of it? Yes. And he couldn’t calculate the actual result, just potential outcomes with no concrete denouement, and that made him extremely uncomfortable. He didn’t want this to be an experiment. He wanted an absolute, not a thicket of random. Not in this case.

“No.” He still didn’t move.

“Frankly we should have done it months ago.”

He shook his head and turned just the slightest bit before your reply registered and he processed it. “Wait. You...what?”

You exhaled and sighed as you rolled over, facing away from him and trying to get comfortable in the bed again. “You know, Nathan Bateman, for being the smartest man in the universe, sometimes you are a complete idiot.”

“I’m not going to argue that. This time, anyway.”

“Thank you, because it’s nearly three in morning,” you replied. He could hear the smile in your voice. “Can we talk about this in the morning? Like, later in the morning. I’ll see you for breakfast.”

He nodded and really did turn to leave this time. He was still trying to process. “Okay. Yeah, sure. I, uh...I’ll see you then.”

“Good night, Nathan.”

*

The rain had finally stopped.

He looked out over the landscape, now reflecting and refracting tiny bursts of sunlight in the lingering blanket of droplets.

Trees crowded both sides of the rushing river, leading towards the top of the waterfall. There was a small clearing there, one that almost wouldn’t be found if someone wasn’t looking for it. It was one of your favorite spots.

Nathan found you there fairly often, after he had shown you where it was. If the weather was cooperating, and you weren’t in the house, then nine times out of ten, that’s where Nathan would find you. Sometimes you were reading a book, sometimes you were just stretched out in the grass, looking up at the tips of the timbers as they reached to the sky.

Sometimes he would join you. Those were times that deep conversations would happen, about the projects back at the house and technology and your odd fascination with disco music, which Nathan truly did not understand but tried to humor.

Sometimes he would just smile and let you have your peace. Those were times he would go back to the house and quietly await your return.

He knew that’s where he would find you now.

*

“I’m back from Anchorage,” you called as you came in the front door.

Nathan was in the kitchen and poked his head around the doorway. “Hey. Perfect timing,” he said, brushing his hands off on his pants and flipping a dish towel over his shoulder. “Dinner is almost ready.”

A tired sign escaped your lips as you flopped down on the couch, taking one of the throw pillows and covering your chest and half your face with it. “Thanks. Not hungry.”

“How was the trip?”

You snorted softly. “Wet. Raining. Absolutely miserable.”

It wasn’t what you said that made Nathan stop. It was the way you said it. Your voice sounded so tired, so empty. It didn’t really sound like you, not the voice he’d come to expect to hear every day. It was not the voice that engaged him in conversation, that drew him into theories and concepts and philosophies. It was not the voice that argued about codes and programs and why that would not work no matter how much he insisted it would (to be fair, you were usually right, but he wasn’t going down without a good fight, and neither of you would have it any other way.) The voice that was leaving your body through your mouth wasn’t you.

It sounded hollow.

He leaned against the doorway. The air in the room suddenly felt heavier and he couldn’t quite get his feet to move forward to the couch where you sat. “What did they say?”

Nathan noted that you didn’t look at him. You looked everywhere but him. Like you were trying to keep everything from falling to pieces, maybe? You were definitely not acting yourself either. Suddenly he wanted to take himself outside and kick his own ass. He should have gone with you. You’d been talking about it, for weeks now, he realized.

How tired you were. How you were never really hungry. How things felt like they were getting harder when they shouldn’t have been. How you couldn’t go quite as far on the hikes you loved taking so much, together.

He should have gone with you.

Your face did not move from its half-protected shield behind that tasteful throw pillow.

He doesn’t register most of what you said. He remembers the words “bad” and “already done everything” and “months, maybe”. Maybe. No definite conclusion.

He finally managed to take a few steps towards you.

His brain was kicking into overdrive but not a single one of that rush of thoughts would make an appearance on his tongue. There had to be another answer. Another answer that wasn’t the one he could already see in your eyes.

Your eyes. His favorite feature (at least from the neck up), the ones that showed how much life you had, your spark, your fire.

And he realized the hollowness of your voice had traveled up into those beautiful eyes.

Words stopped making sense in an instant. Everything around him got fuzzy, jagged at the edges, but also intensely focused at the same time.

He finally crossed the room and sat down carefully, warily, on the couch.

Neither of you said another word. His arms slipped around you and you curled into his chest, pulling your knees up to your own. No tears from either of you. No sounds. No words.

He didn’t know how long you stayed on that couch.

The next thing you knew you were in bed, Nathan’s arms still wrapped around you. He must have carried you to the bedroom at some point. You felt the coolness of the sheets contrast with the warmth of his body; you mustn’t have been out for long. You were about to drift off again when Nathan finally broke the silence.

“We’ll figure out a way.”

A sigh escaped your lips, half drenched in sleep.

*

It was the last place he wanted to be. It was the only place he wanted to go.

He slipped into a hoodie and pulled on a pair of shoes and stepped out onto the deck. The air was still somewhat saturated, humid, but the rain was holding off for now. It was warm but he wasn’t, so the hoodie stayed on.

His feet took him down the deck stairs and onto the path paralleling the river. He followed it slowly, breathing in the summer air but not really seeing his surroundings. Like in his house, he knew where he was heading, and this was just the agenda.

At some point (minutes, hours, he really didn’t know how much time had passed) he came to that small clearing of trees.

And there you were.

Nathan took a jagged breath and sat down next to you. His pants were soaked in an instant, but he didn’t care. He was more annoyed that you were cold and wet (he briefly considered how funny you would find the double entendre, and probably tell him that you were definitely wet but he never made you feel cold) and chuckled again when he could hear your scoffing insistence that you were fine here in your special spot.

You weren’t fine. He knew this and wished desperately that you could tell him, tell him anything, say something.

He wasn’t fine. And he definitely did mind.

Nathan didn’t know what else to do, so he just started talking.

“So, uh...I know it’s been a while. I’ve just been really busy, trying to get the AI just right, and...I’m sorry I’ve been away. That’s not what I meant to happen. I’ve been working pretty much non-stop, I know you would be nagging me to get some sleep and eat better and all that shit. And...I wish you would. I would listen to you, for once.”

Silence and the far-off chirp of a bird were his only reply, so he continued.

“I know I shouldn’t be working so much, but I kinda have to. It’s the only way I feel close enough to…”

His throat was acutely, suddenly dry. He did his best to clear it. He was only marginally successful.

“So anyway, that idea I told you about, with all the cell phone data rerouting it here? It worked. Please don’t be mad at me, I know it wasn’t your favorite idea, but I’m pretty sure that’s what finally broke this open. Well, that and all the ideas we worked out together. I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me, and I know I never really did, and I probably never will…”

He had remembered to grab one thing before he left the house, stashing it in the pocket of the hoodie. He pulled it out now, a single red rose. Cliche, maybe, but they were your favorite flower.

Nathan placed it gently against the stone on the edge of the clearing. The stone with your name. It only had your first name, no dates. He could never bear to put any indicator of time on it; it was too final. Conclusive. Terminal.

He stood and started walking back. He never could stay here very long. It was absolutely ridiculous, but he usually had the feeling you would pop out from behind a tree and tease him about how impressive your joke was and he would never top it.

It wasn’t a joke, it wasn’t funny, and he wished he could prove you wrong.

But there was still something he might be able to prove. To make a few things right.

He stopped at the edge of the clearing.

“I have someone else coming to the house this week. He works for the company, he’s a coder...he looks like a good kid. I’m gonna use him to test this model. This really could be the breakthrough we’ve...I’ve...been looking for.”

Nathan turned his head back briefly, to say one last thing before he headed back to the house, before he had to get back to his work.

“I promise I’ll come back soon and tell you all about it.”

The rain started softly coming down again.

~end~

tag list: @anetteaneta​ @darksideofclarke​ @girlwiththemostcake​ @rosemarysbaby13​ @spider-starry​ @writefightandflightclub​ (tags are always open if you want in just give me a holler and say so)

[kunderdogs]

Jay Park & Simon D / Birth

Decided to combine two requests into one!

They’re kind of long (oops). I have given birth before and have friends with kids so this was kinda fun lol. Imagining these two with their gfs and children is soooooo stinkin cute! Jay if you see this, please have a baby ‘cause I’m sure it’d be so adorable UWU

Jay:

Once you go into labor, Jay is in full blown panic

This is his first kid so he doesn’t understand that once the water breaks, it could take hours or some times days for you to give birth

He’s helping you into the car to go to the hospital

Calling literally everyone in his family and yours

“Her water broke! Yeah, we’re five minutes from the hospital! Go to the birth center!”

When he notices you in pain, he’ll calm down and try to be level headed but he doesn’t really know how to comfort you other than give you encouraging words

Thankfully the nurses tell him that he can push on your back when you have a contraction to help you

By your side the whole time

Ties your hair up for you

"You’re doing so well, baby! You got this! If anyone can push this baby out, it’s you. I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Not much help when you begin pushing

He’ll be frozen most the time

Yelping when you dig your nails in his hand

Does his best not to make much noise ‘cause this isn’t about him

When you finally give the last push, he’s by your side but once he hears a cry, its over

He’s crying before he even sees his daughter while you’re on the verge of passing tf out

You have to push him away to go check on her while the nurses clean her up and then they’re handing her to you

Jay is full on bawling at this point, can’t even see her right at first because his tears are overflowing

He’ll get himself together and when he notices you’re looking at your daughter so tenderly, he’s a mess again

Smiling so big when you ask him if he wants to hold her

Absolutely fucking terrified at fist but so so excited

“She’s so tiny...Oh wow *sobs* she looks like you, babe. My daughter.”

Doesn’t want to let her go once he has her

Refuses to let her leave his sight

The doctors are trying to check her vision and Jay will be so offended when they take her from him

The only other person he’ll willingly give her to is you but even then he’ll ask for her back when you're done feeding her

“Hey, she’s my kid too! You have to share her, Jay!”

“NEVER.”

Glares when the doctors give her the vaccinations and she lets out a lil cry

Tears up when she cries tbh

So protective it’s almost annoying if it wasn’t so cute

Over all just so happy, doesn’t get much sleep because he doesn’t want to miss anything

Takes pictures of every moment, from in the hospital to the first car ride home

Falls asleep next to her bassinet every night

Spends a whole month making a song for her

Announces you give birth by posting a pic of her tiny feet on his Insta

Simon D:

Takes him a little bit to process that you just told him your water broke

Is usually calm and collected

This is no different 

Internally, he’s full blown panic mode

Scrambles to get the baby bag while you get dressed

He’s helping you in the car and going through the check list out loud to make sure he didn’t forget anything

He’ll call your parents on the way there and his to make sure they’re aware

Coaching you through the breathing techniques

Probably breaking a few traffic laws to get there in record time

You’ll start to see him actually freak tf out when you say you have to push and you’re not even at the ER yet

“Can you, not? Tell him to wait!”

“Kiseok, what the fuck, I can’t just not push!”

Doesn’t understand that your body is gonna do wtf it needs to do, whether you’re there or not

Whimpers when you grab his hand and nearly crush his fingers during a painful contraction

Is going to carry you into the ER his damn self, yelling at the reception to get a fuckin doctor out there NOW

Nurses rush out to see wtf is going on and then frantically bring a wheel chair to him

He won’t let go of you even as he puts you in the chair and your contractions are too painful to concentrate on much else

He’s incredibly worried as the nurses rush you to a room

They’ll ask him questions and he’ll try to respond but once he tells them you were already pushing, he gets pushed off to the side

Understands that he’s in the way if he goes past your waist so he won’t move from your shoulder

Holds your hand and strokes your hair back, leaning over so you can hear him

Mumbling words of endearment in your ear, “You’re doing amazing, baby. Just breathe. There you go. If you have to push, just do it okay?”

The adrenaline is high rn even if it’s 3am and he’s been up for almost 24 hours

Grunting when you nearly break his hand but he’s not going to outwardly show his pain

(His hand is not his main concern rn. It could be broken for all he cares)

After what feels like a life time, the doctors tell you to give it your all and they gently grab your son when you push one last time

You’re so exhausted but feel Kiseok kiss your head, telling you he looks prefect

Trying to keep himself together because he knows you’ll need that support

Once your son is placed on your chest and you start crying, he’ll break down

Hands trembling when he brushes his son’s hair back and gives him a kiss on his head

So soft and tender

Marvels at how big his hand is compared to his body

Wraps his arm around your shoulder and cries into your shoulder, thanking you for giving him such a blessing

Wants to hold him but is scared so for now, he’s content with watching you coo at the tiny baby

Takes a lot of candids with his phone

Very quiet for the most part

Just in awe that he helped create such a beautiful child

Thinks he’s never seen you as happy as you are right now and that’s amazing for him

He’ll cry a lot these next few weeks

When you get home, you’ll catch Kiseok staring at him with a smile on his face

Or hear his voice speaking to him about everything and anything 

“I love you so much. My son. Wow...you’re so cute.”

[astyle-alex]

[FANFIC - Destiel & JayTim] 

Multiverse Mishap | DCU Bat Family x Supernatural

Fandom: DCU Bat Family x Supernatrual Pairings: Destiel, Jay x Tim Rating: Teen Warnings: Swearing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Heavy Angst (with a happy ending), Implied Underage Prostitution Total Word Count: ~156k | SPN vers = 76k / Bat vers = 80k

Summary:

One slip up in the lab has Tim Drake careening into a new world where things are rather dramatically different from the world he’s used to. Fortunately, this is not his first rodeo. He knows how to handle this nonsense, more or less at least. Unfortunately, the people of the world he’s wound up in see things a little differently. And when Dick Grayson and Jason Todd mount an ill-conceived rescue mission, things get complicated very quickly.

When Team Free Will is at their lowest (well, their lowest as of YET, at least) with Castiel missing (and probably human), they get thrown a lifeline. Charlie calls with a lead on a strange young-man who bears a stunning resemblance to their MIA angel. Even with the world on a precipice around them, Sam and Dean won’t leave their angel out to dry—Dean especially has a few missteps he’d like to make up for… If only he could find some way to get through to one hella conked out Angel of the Lord.

This project started as a distraction and got WAY out of hand, but I’m actually really excited about it. I’ll be posting it as two separate stories on Ao3 (one form the Bat Family PoV and one from the SPN family PoV, both of which will be updating HERE...) with new chapters going up weekly, but only one chapter from each version.

As excited as I am about it, my schedule is currently in shambles because I got an opportunity to get the COVID Vaccine and it’s thrown my whole schedule into utter chaos. I’m hopeful that I’ll get back on track soon, but I can’t guarantee when I’ll be able to post here or on Ao3.

Since I can schedule posts on Patreon, that updating schedule will be much more definitively regular. The second chapters of each version are already available to Patrons and should open up to all viewers by Monday!

- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 2 

- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 3

&

- Multiverse Mishap | Bat Vers - Chapter 2

Read the first chapter of the SPN version below (with Charlie playing a super spy and getting Sam & Dean a lead on a maybe-Castiel / maybe-alien-infiltrator) and I hope you all have a fabulous Easter Weekend (whether or not you celebrate religiously, you gotta admit the season-exclusive candy is pretty dang great!)! ^_~

           A bit of fiddling, that’s all it was.

           Well, that’s all it was supposed to be.

           A device that plays with space-time and the very weave of whatever it was that spanned the gap between dimensions?

           How could anyone just let something like that gather dust in an archive?

           It functioned how it was meant to, it was only that what it was meant to do was cause harm… If they just tweaked it a bit, just a little, gave it an anchor point and limited the scale of possibilities… If they yanked down the juice that kept it powered to a more moderated level…

           It could save lives.

           So… fiddling.

           Just a bit, here and there and on weekends when there wasn’t anything big going on.

           The stupid thing wasn’t even turned on most of the time.

           It was inert and dead as fricken paperweight (which honestly is what the fiddler in question had mostly been using it for)…

           And then… it wasn’t.

           One button, a loose screw, the slip of a paperclip…

           A big flash of blinding light.

           Silence, like the absolute nothing right before the tidal wave hits.

           And in that silence, a tiny, over-caffeinated little voice:

“… Oops…”

_     _     _

Chapter 1 – MIA Angel or Alien Infiltrator?

           Charlie Bradbury knows she’s awesome.

           But there’s the standard awesome that any Queen of Moondoor is simply by nature of being epic enough to have achieved the throne to start with...

           And then there’s the awesome that is having created a automated dark web trawling  program to track the world’s Big Weirds (and only the very BIGGEST of the Big Weirds) and having that super secret extra level deep vault program actually work.

           Well, of course it worked, but it like worked.

           It found an Angel.

           Sorta.

           It found a something.

           And an MIA angel, who was not exactly an angel anymore, but also couldn’t really pass as truly human, and who was still on like every watchlist ever (magical, criminal, meme-spirational, etc), but is somehow still entirely off the fricken radar?

           Yeah. BIG Weird.

           Said angel-not-angel popping up at a Biggerson’s in Ohio with no shoes, more money than god, an insane caffeine tolerance and absolutely no idea how to function inside a Walmart?

           HELLA Big Weird.

           So Charlie, being the awesome Queen that she is (and being acutely aware of what false hope here could do to the people in particular question with this) went to check it out herself.

           Personally.

           And, personally, she can say that this kid is the weirdest thing she’s ever seen, and after having day-tripped out to the literal Land of Oz a few times over… well, that’s sayin’ something.

           Charlie’s met Castiel.

           Not exactly her type, but she could see how that divine slice of puppy in a trench coat could be seen as something of a serious snack.

           Though… If he weren’t an angel, she’d swear he was an alien.

           But, like, a cool alien.

           Much less spy-trained infiltrator than innocent human-admirer who wants to experience the local flavor on his little vacation out to the Milky Way’s most interesting backwater, Sol-3.

           And the kid she finds in Ohio… is not that guy.

           Not really.

           For starters, she’s not entirely sure he’s old enough to drink alcohol.

           And he’s… not looking for Sam and Dean ( which is seriously a BIG red flag for deciding whether this particular angel-not-angel is the right angel-not-angel).

           He is looking for something, though.

           Something he seems to think is in Kansas, near-ish enough to the Bunker’s coordinates to make her question the ‘not looking for Sam and Dean thing’ (but the absolute dinosaur of a smartphone he’s working on to pull up maps could totally just call the bunker, if he wanted to… or any of the plethora of emergency numbers the Boys have set up…).

           Charlie’s looking on from a Very Inconspicuous post in the booth two tables away from the kid in the red hoodie and she can feel his frustration with the device radiating off him like physical Force pulses. Fortunately, proto-Sith this kid is not, and all the tables remain table-y.

           She’s watching him fight with the internet to find something and his device’s crappy security means she didn’t even have to work hard to get her own screen to show what’s happening on his. He’s definitely looking at Kansas, at going to Kansas— Lebanon in particular.

           Messy black hair, big blue eyes, grumpy face to rival any Netscape feline…

           Looking for Lebanon and totally out of sync with humanity…

           And… his oversized red hoodie just happens to have the 2-D rendering of a big black pair of wings stitched into its backside— stemming right from where they should on the kid’s shoulder blades if the wings were real.

           Charlie’s not really gullible enough to believe in signs from God anymore…

           But if she were… well, that would be pretty convincingly Divine Sign-like.

           So, she makes the call.

           Sam picks up on the third ring.

           “So, you know how like the main character always has dramatically weird colored hair and sits in the second to last desk by the window?”

           With a heavy sigh filled with enough affection to make Charlie’s insides feel all squiggly and warm, Sam says, “No, Charlie, I have absolutely no idea.”

           “Well, they do.”

           “Okay. And?”

           “They are Narrative Significant, they stick out from the background in like a big way, but not just in like a ‘doing main character things’ kinda way,” Charlie rambles, trying to find her point buried under the spiraling metaphor.

           “Charlie, do you know what time it is?”

           “Uh, 2, maybe, 3am. I think. But that may have been like three coffees ago,” Charlie prattles off automatically before veering back on track, “Anyway. The point is that I think I found a main character. He’s not the character I thought he should be, though. He doesn’t look right. He’s too young. And no trench coat. But he is hella out of sync… and the blue eyes and black hair and everything else…”

           There’s a pause as Sam’s non-caffeinated brain tries to keep up with Charlie’s infodump.

           “Trench coat?”

           “I think I found him, Sam,” Charlie whispers. “I think I found Castiel. Well, I found someone weird enough to maybe be Castiel, in the Castiel kind of way, and he’s looking for a way to get to Lebanon, so…”

           Much more alert, Sam asks, “Where are you?”

           “Ohio. Quaint little place called Granville,” Charlie reports. “It’s a pretty straight shot to the Bunker, but it’s like 14 hours on the road and I’m not sure the gods of caffeine consumption will really be cool with me pushing their bounty that hard…”

           “Don’t try too hard to get him to go anywhere with you, see if you can just offer to pay for a motel room for the night,” Sam instructs, the sounds of a pack being prepped with one hand clanging about in the background. “We’ll be in Granville before noon.”

           “What if he really wants to head out?”

           “Take it slow and text us when you get gas, we’ll meet you in Indianapolis.”

           He’s using ‘Serious Sam’ voice.

           It’s the voice that makes panicking bunny rabbits being chased by wendigos settle down for half a second so Dean can frickin torch those ghost-y cannibal creepers.

           Only, in this case, the wendigos aren’t cannibal forest ghosts chomping down on campers. This time, the Big Bad that Dean is unequivocally about to destroy is approximately 909 miles of US Highway 36.

           It makes Charlie feel a little bit better about nearly everything that’s wrong.

           She hangs up with Sam after promising to keep the updates coming, and looks back at the kid who could be Castiel.

           Only to find him looking back.

           For a minute, she’s worried that he heard her talking to Sam about him.

           But he seems kinda zonked.

           And he doesn’t look upset or embarrassed or angry, so…

           She is the only other person on this side of the Biggerson’s, (and really she’s the only non-staff member in this Biggerson’s all told besides the kid himself), so it’s really not that strange for her to be the dust mote in motion that’s wound up drawing the kid’s eye.

           He’s not really expressing anything.

           He’s just looking.

           It’s weird.

           Whelp, he’s got that creepy unblinking stare down pat, bird-like head-tip and all.

           The kind of stare that’s not angry or judgmental but feels more clinical than anything else, like he’s seeing through the bones and skin and sinew to the soul that’s underneath.

           Dissecting it and diagnosing it…

           It makes her shiver.

           But she plasters on a smile and says, “Hey. You wanna refill?”

           The kid looks down at his empty coffee cup.

           He blinks, real slow like.

           Then he nods.

           Relief floods Charlie.

           Step One, making with the contact with the Target. Check.

           In her experience that’s usually been the hardest part of these things.

           Not that she really has much experience in ‘these things’…

           But still, Score 1 for the Queen, yeah?

           She signals to a waitress for two more cups of coffee, shots of espresso boosting both of them. It’s like a weird AU of a sleezy bar beat, a remixed mark meets con-woman kinda thing.

           “So, kid, what’s your name?”

           “Shouldn’t you tell me yours first?”

           Charlie shrugs. “Well, generally yeah, that is the convention. But I like being unconventional, I guess.”

           Really, it’s that she hasn’t quite decided what name to give him.

           He blinks expectantly, head tipping over again.

           Realizing that she’s already giving up ground in this pseudo-battle of wills and whatnot, Charlie sighs heavily and says, “I’m Charlie, Charlie Bradbury. Geek extraordinaire.”

           The kid nods, visibly internalizing the information.

           Trying really hard not to be perturbed by that, Charlie barrels on to say, “I see that tablet of yours is gone a bit wonky. You looking for something in Kansas? I might be able to fix your tech or find what you’re looking for with mine.”

           “My tablet…” With big owl eyes, the kid glances down at the piece of crap barely smart enough to call a screen and gives a plaintive little huff. “It is… insufficient.”

           Charlie gives a laugh that only sounds two-thirds forced and says, “Understatement, buddy. You’re grand at it.”

           The kid simply frowns.

           “So,” she says, drum-rolling her fingers on the plastic tabletop as she leans into the leading questions. “Tell me what’s your name and what you’re looking for in Kansas and we’ll see if I can work my magic, huh?”

           The kid’s eyes narrow suspiciously on the word ‘magic’, but he gives no other reaction.

           For a solid minute, easy, they just kinda sit there.

           And then the kid downs a full cup of espresso-boosted coffee like it’s a bottle of watered down Gatorade and flashes Charlie the stiffest stretch of smile she’s ever seen on any face that still looks mostly-human.

           “My name’s Alvin,” he tells her with all the bland panache of a used car salesman. “Alvin Draper. And honestly? I’m looking for a hole in the universe.”

           Charlie almost bursts out laughing.

           The kid— Alvin— spots the reaction. He glowers, quite impressively, to be honest.

           “Well, Alvin, that’s the fakest fake-name I’ve ever heard, but I think I can help with the ‘hole in the universe’ thing,” she tells him.

           Alvin’s frowning again, it’s adorable and endearing in ways it really shouldn’t be.

           “One problem, though,” she lays out. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific about which hole in the universe or tear in the fabric of reality your talking about.”

           Taken entirely aback, Alvin huffs, “Is it a commonplace occurrence to have your universe ripped open, then?”

           “Well, not exactly. It’s more like our universe is the knit-scarf version of a life-raft,” Charlie explains, wheezing a bit as the metaphor sinks perfectly into a crack she didn’t quite realize she still needed to find a way to fill. “Things here aren’t… Well, uh, how many apocalypses have you fended off this week?”

           “You’re really just gonna roll with the implicit declaration that I’m from another universe and you’re not going to question my sanity?”

           Alvin looks like he’s suddenly questioning her sanity.

           For a beat, Charlie feels insulted.

           But really, his reaction is the more logical one.

           Maybe Charlie should start trying to talk to more normies here soon, she’s totally lost touch with what constitutes a ‘reasonable reaction to weird shit’.

           “Whelp, I’m not a Time Lord or anything,” she confesses, “but I’ve had enough contact with the Supernatural to know how to spot someone who’s brushed up against something ugly in the dark and is kinda freaking out about it. You fit the bill, Alvin.”

           The kid rolls his eyes.

           It could be an angel-learned-it-from-Dean thing, it really could be.

           The weight of the sarcasm is just that strong.

           “Fine, yes. ‘Alvin’ is not my real name,” he admits.

           Then he casts a wicked smile her way that almost makes her rethink the ‘learned it from Dean’ idea, because this is… creepy in an almost Demon kinda way… in an almost Leviathan way. The grin is so unnerving that Charlie almost misses his next words:

           “But you know, I’m pretty damn sure that ‘Charlie’ isn’t yours.”

           “Yeah? Well, darn. Ya got me,” she breathes, trying to make herself remember that the Leviathan are gone, that she didn’t even see Cas when he was one of them.

           In any other circumstance, Charlie would be reaching for the Borax.

           But this angel-not-angel (and maybe-but-probably-not-demon-or-leviathan) kid whose name is definitely not Alvin, notices her sudden stiffness.

           Immediately, he softens.

           “Hey, what happened? You okay?”

           Charlie shrugs. “You wouldn’t happen to be allergic to a certain 19th century boron-containing sodium compound, would ya?”

           “Sodium borate? Like Borax? Can’t say I am,” the kid assures. “Any particular reason?”

           “Uh, the word ‘Leviathan’ mean anything to you? Like specific, human-livestock-eating, double-tongued with lots of teeth lizard-men people-imitators specific? ‘Cause you just really reminded me of one there. And like I had a friend go Darkside… well, a lotta my friends have actually gone Darkside, but there was one and he… he’s missing still and well, bad things happen to my friends when they go missing.”

           “Like apocalypses?”

           “Yeah, kinda.”

           “Really? Literal apocalypses? How exactly literal?”

           “Um, pick a holy book at random? We’ve probably hit most of them by now,” Charlie admits, with a discomfited shrug as she vaguely wonders how she ended up on this side of the metaphorical interrogation table. “I think the first one was the Judeo-Christian one, they took things pretty literal. Michael-Lucifer prize fight and all…”

           “Okay…” the kid says, finally sounding a little thrown, “but you stopped that one?”

           “Yeah,” she tells him.

           “So where are you now?”

           “Somewhere between God’s little sister throwing a world-ending temper tantrum and you know a Luci-spawn antichrist accidentally poof-ing up new laws of physics?”

           “Sounds plausible,” the kid tells her, his tone both entirely accepting of it as the gospel truth and sounding like he thinks she’s totally bonkers.

           “No, it really doesn’t,” Charlie sighs. “Doesn’t change the fact it’s true. But enough about me and my world-ending escapades. How about your hole in the universe?”

           “That’s the thing… See, I don’t remember.”

           “What?”

           “I don’t remember how I got here, I just remember that I don’t belong,” the kid confesses, sounding a lot more like he’s being honest than before. “I’m not supposed to be here, but I can’t explain what might be able to bring me back.”

           “So, Lebanon, Kansas?”

           “Has a safehouse I remember, or I think I do,” he lays out. “And it has a power source I think I need. And…”

           “And..?”

           Charlie’s hoping for something about the people waiting for him there, something about the ‘profound bond’ doing something to clue him in.

           She can’t tell if this is just a spell or something, or if it’s a consequence of having Fallen, regained Angel status, and then seemingly kicked it again in the fastest repeat of the cycle yet.

           “I dunno,” he sighs. “I just have to be there.”

           Well, it’s not what she was hoping for.

           But it’s still closer than she thought she’d get…

           So, she’s still not 100% certain this kid is a whammied Castiel.

           But she’s definitely like 85% certain, maybe 87%.

           And in Winchester World? That there’s some pretty damn good lookin’ odds. So, Charlie will take what she can get and will roll with the rest.

           Sam and Dean will be here in a few more hours. All she has to do ‘till then is keep this kid in arm’s reach and keep them both from being buckled up for the looney bin.

           Sounds totally doable, right?

           In retrospect, Charlie may have to adjust her definition of ‘doable’…

_     _     _

Keep up with everything I’m getting up to HERE!

Have a great week!

[emotionalgirl101]

Question | Stray Kids

Words: 2,137

Genre: college au, angst, fluff

Pairing: SKZ x reader

Summary: Your best friend, Minho, had been refusing to introduce you to his other group of best friends for months now, with no explanation as to why. One night after getting drunk after work together, he gave in to your pleas. Oops.

Warning: Contains mature content (such as coarse language, violent themes, etc).

A/N: I got the 20 notes, so let’s see how this goes. First fic in a long time. Pls hit up my inbox/asks to give feedback. If you guys like it, it’ll become a series. First chapter has Minho only, but I hope to bring the other boys into it soon. PLEASE GIVE FEEDBACK! 

Question Masterlist

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You swear, if one more snobby lady asked you to bargain down on the price of that brand new lace top, you were actually going to throw a something at somebody. By no means was working in retail the worst job you could have, but after dealing with haggling customers, who can more than afford these prices, you wanted to throw hands. You wouldn’t, though. Partially as it was unprofessional, and you desperately needed to keep this job, but also because you were lazy and had some form of a moral compass.

After finally shooing the last customer out of the door 5 minutes after you were due to be closing, you counted the tills, killed the lights and left, after double checking the locks.

You could use a drink. A strong one, and wasn’t it convenient that your bartender buddy happened to be working tonight a few blocks down the road

Without a care in the world, you threw open the door and settled into the closest bar stool with a huff. The smiling idiot that turned around to greet you didn’t even think twice about your demeanour, emulated from the scowl upon you face. A preciously innocent 'hi' left his mouth.

You knew Minho was taunting you. That’s because he knew you were just here to vent about how shit work was today. He was just trying not to laugh his head off at what had now become a routine, ever since he told you where he worked. Something you’d never know if you hadn’t been paired with the boy in a compulsory uni class all those months ago.

“You’re lucky I like you” you grumbled, letting your bag fall under your stool with a thud and a shot of vodka simultaneously appearing in front of you. You quirked your eyebrow at the guy across the bar from you, a smirk on his face and a hand towel draped over his right shoulder. “On the house” he smiled, then continued cleaning up behind the bar. taking the shot, raising it slightly in a cheers to the raven haired bartender, and throwing it down your throat. You willingly let the burn set in. you didn’t drink often, but when you did, you drank often. With Minho behind the bar, it was sure to be one of those nights. 

You clumsily slammed the shot glass back onto the table and looked up at the older kid. He was now leaning back against the opposite side of the bar, arms folded, looking your way. The black muscle tee showed off his arms, and his messy black hair giving off a heavier aura of boyish charm. You had no clue how this guy became your best friend. 

Not only was it unlikely, if it weren’t for the circumstances, that you’d naturally become close, but the age difference made it strange that you had been in the same class at all. After explaining the fact he had multiple gap years before attending uni, it clicked. You were both grateful that you’d wandered into each other’s paths. 

“What time do you clock off?” you asked pointedly, as your best friend went ahead and poured you another shot, this time joining you for some peach soju. “10. early shift tonight.” he shrugged nonchalantly. 

You looked up at the clock, slightly above his head to the left. “20 minutes. Not bad.” you nod. Glasses clinked and were soon empty. 

“Wish it was sooner. Hot chick came in before and asked for my number. Stupid manager forced me away before I could accept it. By the time I got back, she was gone.” his recount the events from earlier in the night were followed by a sigh. He looked down at his hands, spinning the glass in his fingers, still leaning towards you from across the bar. Out of nowhere, he quickly leaned back and upright, “Probably for the best, though. Have to beat the boys in a chicken and beer competition tonight, anyway. Can’t break tradition.” he beamed.

“It’s things like these that keep me up at night.” you sighed heavily, shaking your head cheekily at his behaviour.

He looked confused, eyebrows hiding in his tussled hair, and arms folded once again in question. “The fact that an eating competition with your roommates, that you could do literally any other night, was a decent reason to blow off the possibility of going on a date.” you shook your head once more, chuckling at his antics when he acted as if he couldn’t see a problem with the statement. “So?”

“So," you continued, trying to hide the smirk playing on your lips, "You always talk about wanting to get back into the dating game, but not being able to actively go out and look for it. The golden opportunity was literally right in front of you, and you’d still choose chicken and beer?” Looking at him, amused, you could practically see the cogs turning in Minho's head. 

He stood up straight, shrugged. “Yeah”, then turned back to clean the glasses on the bench behind him. At this point, you weren’t surprised anymore, but at least he couldn’t blame you for not pointing out the error of his ways. 

The boy in front of you looked up at the clock above. “I’m done.” he tactlessly announced, removing his apron and chucking it haphazardly on the bar. After grabbing another bottle of soju, he made his way over to your side of the bar, sitting across from you.

You smiled contently as he showed off the grape flavoured liquor in his clasp, like a game show host with his comical grin, and poured your drinks. He took the cap off the bottle then and twisted the loose end, ready to play a round of your flicking competition. He flicked hard and swiftly towards the ground, the twisted tail of the cap putting up no resistance to the movement.

“So," you began, as you took the soju lid from his grasp. Minho looked at you as if you were a child denying you ate the last cookie. "Since they're all home tonight... Can I finally meet the boys?” the question rolling off your tongue so innocently, eyes still trained on the bottle lid as you flicked it. You looked up at him with a cheeky smile, as you handed it over to him for his go. “Nuh-uh” he responded without hesitation, once again more focused on delivering a powerful hit.

"Seriously? Why the hell not?" You got defensive at his ridiculousness, and it was showing. Without lifting his gaze, he shrugged. "Someone is bound to get hurt. So, how about you don't meet them and nobody does. Everybody wins." He looked up from the cap in hand with a smug grin. The spiral end was only a flick or two away from breaking. You weren't happy, arms folded and staring right into his soul, courage and charisma bubbling up as the alcohol was slowly kicking in.

"Excuse me? You're so convinced that I'll hurt them that you haven't considered it's the last thing I'd ever want to do." You huffed. You snatched the cap off the boy. If you couldn't get your way, at least you could win this stupid drinking game. 

You lined up your fingers towards the top of the spiral's end. Your flick had strength behind it, but your strategic placement meant there wasn't a huge effect. The end was still attached to the cap, but no where near as secure. Pleased, you went to hand it back to Minho, only then noticing the look on his face. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, trying to suppress a smirk from taking over his face, but the glint in his eye couldn't hide his amusement from you. 

"What?" You said sharply, attempting to fold your arms, but looking awkward in the process. The end of the cap poked into your skin as you hooked your hand around your opposite arm. You tried to play it off, but no way did Minho miss it, and the thought of hiding his amusement was long forgotten. He giggled at you, especially more so when you tried not to do the same. You hit him playfully, and waited for him to speak his mind.

"Nothing, it's just..." He looked but up at you with an adoring smile. "You immediately assumed you'd be the one to hurt them. You didn't even consider that I was worrying about you, dummy." He wrapped his arm around you, as you smiled softly back. He was the best big brother figure you could ask for.

"I think I can handle myself, thank you very much." You teased the boy after the tender moment passed. He retracted his arm and leant back in feigned shock, hand on his chest, mouth and eyes wide. "You sure are sassy aren't you?"

Your shared laughter rang out in the empty bar, replying to the boy as you poured the next round of shots. "What I lack in height, I make up for in attitude." You shot him a wink as you both downed the soju. You were starting to feel a slight buzz by now. "Seriously, though. It's sweet to worry about me, but how can you be certain it'll end badly? Why not just give it a shot?"

He didn't seem uncomfortable under your inquisitive gaze. Rather, he didn't seem to notice. He just stared at the glass on the bench top, pushing it between his fingers while he was mulling it all over. After a while, he sighed and tilted his head up slightly towards me, looking like a shy little boy. There's no doubt this kid was charming, flaunting his looks as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

"What would you do if I say no?" There was no hint of teasing in his voice. It was just a straight forward question. "Easy. Just sit here and drink away my sorrows about not meeting your friends 'til 3am." He snickered and you just smiled.

"You can't just stay here." Minho laughed at you, eyes creasing into crescents. "Why the hell not? You've dragged me into this hellhole, but you can't make me leave!" You both continued to double over in laughter at the absurdity of the whole situation. That one simple question took such a barely philosophical discussion.

"I'll just get them to ban you. I work here remember?" taunting you with a raise of his eyebrows. You retorted with a roll of your eyes after a snicker. "Please. You can't get rid of me that easily. Besides, isn't it illegal or something to kick me out without a decent reason? That's unfair dismissal or something-or-rather."

He was almost crying at his point, clutching his stomach from the pain of laughing so much. You were struggling to breathe, too. "Y/n, that only applies when you get fired from a job for no reason." You had a Minho-like moment of realisation, with an 'oh' trailing behind it from your lips. Then you were both back at it laughing.

"Yeah, I'm cutting you off. Sober Y/n wouldn't have said that... Probably." You playfully hit him again as you both climbed off the stools, making your way to the door. Minho had grabbed your bag while you slightly stumbled on ahead. The drinking game and half empty soju bottle long gone from your thoughts by this point in the night.

You stopped abruptly, spinning around and barely keeping your balance in the process. "Wait." He quirked an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to continue. "You never answered. Yes or no to me meeting the boys. Tonight. Like, now." You were serious but neutral, making Minho smirk at your drunk mannerism. He looked at you, "One last question. How are you getting home tonight?"

You answered without hesitation. "Public transport. Parking is way too expensive, plus I'm drunk, so." He nodded. "Okay, yeah, that's out of the question at this time of night. You're coming back to mine."

You nodded, turned around, and heading to the door once again. Then it hit you. You spun back around immediately, with no almost slips, which surprised you both. "I GET TO MEET THE BOYS!" You squealed and flung yourself at the older boy, and he let out a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get going before I change my mind." You smiled, turning back around. You marched through the door with Minho in toe, heading towards his apartment. At least, you thought so.

"Uh, Y/n..." He sounded unsure but you could see the smirk on his face when you span around. "My apartment's this way." He lazily gestured in the opposite direction in which you had been walking.

"I knew that."

>>

[maskydoo-old]

Nightmare Neighbors 4

(I’m writing out scripts for upcoming storytime style youtube videos, and posting what I have here. Note that this is a true story. Feedback is welcome.)

Up to a point, I tried to give my neighbors, Loony and Toony Feckwad, the benefit of the doubt.

Sure, they were definitely acting like weirdos, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re up to no good.

Maybe they were just really, unfathomably socially inept and genuinely did not realize how inappropriate they were being.

Maybe they’re just having a few bad days, and I was only seeing them at their worst.  

Maybe they’re just plain weird people, but… ehhhh…. probably harmless.

Maybe my increasing suspicion of them had more to do with my own stress than anything else?

I was gas-lighting the shit out of myself. I was looking for ways to rationalize their antics, doubting my own perceptions and creeping unease.

I just didn’t want to believe that these people could really be out to get me and for no reason at all as I’ve done anything at all to them. I want the world to make sense. I wanted to believe people are rational, reasonable. And this just didn’t fit.

I was just too patient, too willing to be understanding, and too forgiving to see the situation for what it was. You might think that’s giving myself a compliment. It isn’t. It makes an easy target.

Doubting your intuition, ignoring warning signs, and denying your own situation helps the aggressors. Bullies rely on the politeness and meekness of their targets in order to get away with abuse.  

But in the end, even I could only gaslight myself for so long. Eventually, their insanity and increasing hostility got to be undeniable.

Right out of the harassing neighbors handbook, the people I’m referring to as Loony and Toony Farkwad started wasting police time with made-up noise complaints.

Now, I won’t pretend my dogs never bark, but when they do, I bring them inside. Duh.  

And in the middle of the day, among all the cars, construction, lawnmowers, and playing kids, what’s a few barks anyway? It’s not like she’s out there at some unreasonable hour, like, oh, say, 3 am.

And it’s not like mine are the only dogs in the neighborhood. There actually were a few nuisance barkers around, dogs who were left outside prettymuch 24/7, and would not be brought in no matter how much or how lard they barked and barked and barked.

Those poor doggy lungs.

Don’t. Don’t do this. It’s not OK to treat your dogs like this. If you’re not going to take proper care of your dog, if you’re just going to leave it alone outside all of its short life, don’t get a dog.

Get a houseplant. A fake one.

I assumed the neighbors just mistook one of the other barking dogs for mine. I know my own dog’s voice but there’s no reason to expect other people would. Honest mistake.

Then I got to talking with one of the other neighbors across the street. Turned out, his family had their own run-ins with the Feckwads before I moved in.

His wife even caught Loony looking over this neighbor’s fence, yelling his dog and kicking the fence boards to provoke the dog to bark as much as possible, then recording the dog’s freak-out with her phone.

Yes. Loony went to these peoples’ house, across the street, all so she could report the barking that she intentionally caused.

It wasn’t a matter of making any mistake. The Feckwads were just making bogus reports on purpose.

Why? What do they stand to gain from this? How do these people not have anything better to do?!

So there I was with animal control showing up at my door to give me warnings.

Weird that this only happens during periods when I live alone, and not when my boyfriend is home from his job overseas, even though the dogs were exactly the same.

One morning, and by morning I mean nearly 7AM, you know, when, noise ordinances end, road works begin, kids head to school, adults go to work, and prettymuch everyone is generally awake, I put my dogs outside for a few minutes, just long enough to change into my uniform.

I was just about to bring them in anyway when one of my dogs barked. Once.

Bark.

There was one, single bark.

“Molly, Shadow.”

“Shut those F-ing dogs up!!”

This guy. This freaking guy.

Tick seriously stuck his head right out his bedroom window, which overlooked my yard and the back door, and was just screaming his head off.

What. What does it look like I’m doing? I was clearly bringing my dogs inside already.

Literally the only reason he’s even able to yell at me at all was because I just opened up the door to do the exact thing he was demanding.

Even after my dogs were in the house. He was still screaming. Why? To accomplish what, exactly?

“BLAH BLAH BLAH ALL THE BARKING AT THIS UNGODLY HOUR!!!”

Oh. Oh OK. I guess 7 is an ungodly hour for a dog to bark, but 3AM, that’s just a perfect time to be creeping around ambushing women alone in the dark.

And here he is, hollering. If he hadn’t come to the window to yell, he could have quiet by now, we all could. He was being louder now than my dogs ever were.

Tch! Whatever. I had enough.

Me: “Is this how adults behave?”

(slam door)

This is when I started going outside with my dogs whenever they were in the yard, recording the whole while, making sure they didn’t make a peep, and being ready to prove it. I’d also be able to record Toony if he acted up like that again.

You’d think that now that it was certain that that my dogs weren’t a problem, the Feckwads would have nothing to be mad about. Their complaint is solved.

But that would be assuming these were reasonable people, and that their grievance was ever honest in the first place. Instead, the aggression only increased.

Loony and Toony saw that their bogus complaints, while annoying, weren’t actually getting me in any kind of trouble since they couldn’t prove anything. I didn’t give them the opportunity to create evidence like Loony did with the neighbor across the street.

So they moved on to new plans.

I felt like I was being watched whenever I was outside. I’d hear muffled voices, and shifting blinds from their windows.

Then, Loony started trying to catch me whenever I was outside. Day, night, whenever, didn’t matter.

I’d step outside, maybe to take out my trash or something, then – ope - here comes Loony. She’d stomp my way, right to my property, with body language like she’s looking for a fight.

Nope. Not dealing with this. Whatever she has planned, it’s clearly not an apology. So… I’m out.

(abandon trash, slam door.)

I started going outside less.

Again, it was only me, a 4’11 woman they ever have any words for. They never have anything to say with my 6’3, muscle-bound boyfriend around.

Another day, Luna spied me through her window, then came right out and did thing where she’d stomp my way like a mad cow charging, yet again.

But this time, I didn’t move.

She was nearly to me when (Surprise motha-f!* ) OOPS! Miss something sweetheart? My boyfriend only just got back from oversees, and they hadn’t noticed yet. Now there he was, sitting in the car parked next to me, watching.  

Luna stopped dead in her tracks! I could see the wheels spinning while she considered her options. She pulled a hard turn and pretended she was out there to check her mailbox.

Oh, just taking the scenic route were ya, hun? Yeah. I’m sure.

Now why would she do that? If she had any good intentions, if she was just there to talk to me, or to make some reasonable neighborly complaint, then why would she suddenly abandon her course? She wouldn’t. She backed off immediately because she was up to no good, but suddenly realized I was not as vulnerable as she thought.

I wonder if they thought my boyfriend and I broke up, that he was gone for good and I would remain alone. They sure minded themselves when he returned.

As long as they knew my boyfriend was around, the neighbors kept their heads down. No screaming at me. No stomping at me. No ambushing me in the dark. No bogus noise complaints. No making a peep at all. Nothing.

But that couldn’t last long. Soon, boyfriend had to leave the country again. And as unreasonable as these people were, they still possessed basic pattern recognition.

They waited for a few weeks to make sure he was gone, then they’d get back up with their antics. And on every event, they’d escalate, getting crazier and crazier.

One night, when I got home from work, they were waiting for me. Yes, again. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen them lurking in the darkut this night the crazy jumped to a new level.

“My neighbor Maskydoo McSurname at 8802 Illusion Drive is a ------ -------- --------- --------!”

Toony was outside, in the dark somewhere I couldn’t see, shouting my full name and address (why my address?,) followed by calling me a long string of vulgar and misogynist insults.

By now, the neighbors screaming all the insults they could whenever they saw me wasn’t even new. They’ve done that plenty enough it hardly got my attention.

What was new was the how.

Toony was shouting about me in third person, as if he was talking to someone else about me.

It was like what little bratty kids do when someone they don’t like is around. They suddenly turn to their friend and start loudly trash talking that person as if they weren’t aware that person was there but it’s totally fake?

It was like that. It would be pathetically sad if it weren’t so disturbing. What adult does this?

As dark as it was, I wasn’t even sure if there was even anyone actually there with him, or if he was out there alone pretending. I’m not sure which would be creepier.

I wonder if he figured it would be some kind of legal loophole, harassing me like this, claiming he wasn’t actually yelling at me… just about me.

He wasn’t even pretending to have some kind of grievance anymore. Couldn’t be bothered to make anything up.

It was just a series of loudly yelled insults.

I didn’t say anything. I was honestly too shocked to. I just spent a minute questioning everything.

What? What?! I mean - What?! Is this guy serious? He can NOT be serious. Who does this? How is this a thing that anyone does? Is this how adults behave? I. What? Is this real life?

I’ve moved in next to a Youtube comments section.

Among other things, I’m a C word, a B word, and F-ing C word and B word. Typical generic insults.

But he did get a little more original. I’m rancid, disgusting, Heinous -

Woah, heinous?

Really breaking out the thesaurus on that one. That’s worth like a 10-points in Scrabble right there.

He must have been pretty impressed with himself on that one, he repeated it a lot.

Ugly-

What, am I in violation of a city ugly ordinance now?

Fake Toony: Hello, police? I’d like to report my neighbor… for being the ugliest uggo to ever ugg!

Fake cop: Ugly you say?! Outside designated ugly hours! Now that is a crime!

Fake Toony: A heinous crime!

Oh, and – get this, he kept calling me “psycho.”

Yeah. Between the two of us, with me minding my business, just wanting to go to bed after a long, irritating day at work, and him standing around in the dark to screaming abuse at women alone in the dark

Yeah. Clearly I was the psycho one. Ok.

Toony repeated the same handful of insults. Didn’t take long to reach the limit of his vocabulary.

He just kept standing out there, screaming in the dark at nearly midnight.

I could hear him even inside my house.

What, I thought he cared about noise disturbances. But oh, I guess he’s special. A dog barking in the middle of the day makes me terrible, but this grown ass man screaming as loud as he can is just fine.

I bet every house on the block heard him. Though no one poked their head outside to check what was up. It turned out they’d all had their own run-ins with these people too and just weren’t about to get involved.

Yeah, thanks everyone.  

But I did have some help. It came from Reddit.

Yeah. That reddit. Of all places. If you want to fine a way to deal with shrieking jerks, go to their breeding ground.

I’m kidding. I like reddit.

The subreddit /r/letsnotmeet was on my side. I’d been writing about my neighbors there ever since I found them lurking around my house and detailing their creepy behavior. The sub advised me to record incidents with the neighbors, that way if their antics escalate, and I ever have to do anything about it, I’d have ongoing documentation on my side.

So I grabbed my phone in one hand and pepper spray in the other, and went back outside. I’d just record from a safe distance, just get what I need and get back inside.

But… he was gone.

So… he figured I was in for the night, so he no longer needed to be out there either.

Was he waiting for me to get home? Just so he could do this?

Ok. Alarm bells. Alarm bells ringing real loud now.

And I turned out to be right, because a pattern emerged and this started happening pretty regularly. So I had confirmation.

These people were watching me. They figured out my work schedule, irregular as it was, and knew that most days I worked a shift that would have me home at about 11PM, where they could catch me alone in the dark.

I started to enjoy days I’d work overtime, just knowing those idiots were outside waiting for me, for who knows how long, only to be stood up. HA! Sucker!

I’ll take the small victories.

[violetbeachpod]

1x01 / twelve oh one

TERESA:

Okay, so–it’s recording. Cool .

Um. It’s Wednesday. It’s been nine days since–eight days, maybe? –well, if you’re listening, at this point, you know what it was–Benji says we’re gonna publish this, but, like, no. That’s–that’s ridiculous. This is for science.

Or our memoirs. Whatever.

We’ve–the seven of us have decided to keep a log. Of what’s been going on.

Um. So. Cool. Name and deets, just in case some more weird memory shit goes down–My name’s Teresa. I’m eighteen. I’m an Aries, I like bowling and shitty pop music, and only mostly ironically. That enough fluff? I’m a freshman at, ah, Lands College, here in town, and. Studying journalism, with a minor in women’s studies, uh–anything else–I feel like this would be a better story if I start showing, rather than telling.

Or, like. Telling stories rather than just reading out my dating profile. Because that’s lame.

My dating profile’s actually–it’s a lot more detailed than that. I’m on, like, seven different sites, and every profile is. Very Different.

(text notification sound)

Anj, stop–stop listening in! You–you–dude, take a nap.

So. Anyway. Here’s what we know.

(long beat)

That was good, right? A good joke? That’s something. Um. Cuz we don’t know very much at all. There’s something there, I swear, like, I rehearsed that bit in the bathroom mirror this morning, and I was thinking, no, I won’t pull that, but–

But. Back to the point.

Y’know how, in movies, people are always like, “Nobody knows except for us?”

That’s so exclusive. So presumptuous. We don’t know if people are lying. We haven’t spoken to every person on the planet–we haven’t even spoken to anyone outside of Maryland. Outside of town. Like. We’ve watched news, but God knows, some of those conspiracies about hypnosis through CNN are real, or whatever. Y’know? Like–those conspiracies are almost exclusively believed in by, like, flat-earthing racists, so, like, they’re probably, definitely super wrong, but–I was making a joke and I’m overthinking it now. Cool.

Anyway. We don’t know who knows. Maybe someone in, like, Caracas, knows? Maybe someone in–you get my point–knows.

Or maybe we’re being Truman Showed. Wouldn’t be the worst theory to have come out of this.

I would–well, I’d hate it, but one time, back in middle school, the public library did these–these movie nights for teenagers, right? And, so, uh, a bunch of us were there, and I was sitting with Angie, cuz she was–she was the only person I knew there, of course, and she was sitting with these kids, like–uh, from the hippie school she had taken in, and–one of them was AJ, I know, and one was Charlotte. but the others, I don’t see anymore.

But anyway, she was, like, starry-eyed at the idea of her life being a TV show without her knowing. At the idea of unintentional stardoms. So maybe she’ll get a kick out of that theory.

Here’s something: I was working on my campaign notes earlier, cuz the group’s meeting tomorrow, should meet tomorrow  and I didn’t really–I didn’t like a few of the potentials, so, whatever. Irrelevant.

I checked the time, and–well. It was twelve oh one. And two minutes later, it was still twelve oh one. And now, it’s still twelve oh one.

I thought maybe my laptop was being bad again? But it said the same on my phone, and on the wall clock.

The app says time is passing. It’s been longer than fifty-nine seconds.

It’s still twelve oh one, though, is the thing. Which isn’t great, all things considered.

But, we’ll catch up on that later.

Here’s the big thing. I went back to the beach last night to see if I could recreate what happened alone, and, uh–at least. I think I did. I don’t remember going, but, uh, Angie says I did, and AJ said that when he was closing at work, he saw me walking towards it. But I didn’t–I didn’t go.

There are sixty-nine–which, yeah, nice, that’s the sex number, whatever–sticky notes on the bathroom mirror, and, like–I can make out letters on some of them them? Individual letters? But not words. And I know that they’re making words, and I know that it’s my handwriting, but my brain just–it goes somewhere else.

And other ones, that I can read, they have dumb stuff. One of them’s just a doodle of David Hyde Pierce with a caption that just says “HELL YEAH. LOOK AT THE MOON WEDNESDAY.”

It’s, like–in fairness to me, or the person I assume to be me, it’s a fairly good David Hyde Pierce. And there’s–there’s a new moon tonight, so–well.

Whatever.

It’s still twelve oh–oop. Nevermind. Twelve oh two now. Nice.

Benji wants me to take off work until this whole thing’s sorted out. Says he’ll still pay me, but, like–being yelled at by awful dudes about trivia that nobody knows is kind of the only constant in my life right now? So I said no. Obviously. Like. It sucks, but it makes me feel normal. Like the beach out by Angie’s place did, before–

Well. Maybe some recollection would be nice, I guess. Just so, like, Danny and company–like, if we end up showing them. Cuz I’m better at sticking to the facts than, say, Robin or Charlotte. So. Yeah.

So. Uh.

Most folks know that she transferred in after a semester at–well, I’m not allowed to say the name of the school in front of her, anymore, and she’s, like, giving me death-eyes out of the bedroom door. But. A certain Ivy League school. This is relevant–

Okay, maybe not, but it’s a nice set up to our establishing shot, which is, of course, her New Year’s party, nine days ago. At her parents’ place. Or, eight days ago, at her parents’ place, I guess. She told us on New Year’s Eve that she was starting at Lands on the fourth, and I offered her a stay in my dorm, cuz I had a single, and, uh, it sucked? But. Whatever.

So I said, “You know, I have a single.” And she said–wait, lemme find my journal–yes, I do write down conversations, Angie.

Alright. She said, “Oh, really, is it on–Bandcamp, Soundcloud, iTunes, MySpace? I didn’t know you–” And I said, “I meant dorm room, dude, you mentioned–MySpace?”

She said, “I still use it.” I laughed, “Of course you do.”

But, anyway. We agreed to live together, but. It was one AM. Robin Cabell dropped by with her new fiancee, said hi, and–well, like, our babysitter’s getting married, to, like, this gorgeous girl from DC, and the high school kids from the hippie school were there, and Benji was there, cuz he’s everywhere, and–

As folks left–Angie started playing Wonderwall around 3AM, so, uh, a little bit before then–it ended up just being the seven of us. Her parents are out of town–as always. Well, not always. But frequently.

They’re mad about–Blarvardgate.

I–I didn’t say it! I said something mildly close alluding to it. Stop texting me!

But. It was just the seven of us there, Angie still playing some terrible 90s song, and–Benji says, “I brought fireworks. Forgot about that til now.” Elaine, uh, Robin’s new fiancee, asked, “They legal?”

Benji said, “It’s New Year’s Day and I’m a–a bit of a town celebrity,” he said, because his podcast gets, like, seventeen downloads per episode.

“You are?” asked Elaine.

He got really proud, real fast, and he said, “Yes, absolutely, and also, I’m at some rich people’s house and it’s New Year’s Day, so, like. We’ll be fine.”

Which, fair.

And that’s about when things blew up?

Ironically, not literally, cuz he went to his truck, and brought out the fireworks, and he was–well. It was New Year’s, he wasn’t sober, so, he tripped, and those things went flying, landing in the water. It was a bad fall, he hit his head on a rock. And Charlotte was laughing, and she was wading right where the waves were breaking, and she fell backwards, so–AJ panicked, and he jumped in after her, cuz she wasn’t coming up.

And AJ came up, holding Char so she could stand, and she was coughing up water, looked like she was about to pass out. I was checking out Benji’s wound, even though, I’m, like,–blood? Not my thing, ever, at all, it’s–it’s weird and red, and Angie was getting up to check on me, and Rob and her fiancee were trying to help out the kids, and–

And the sky went bright purple.

Not, like, when it’s a sunset, and the sky’s kinda magenta? And that’s blending into the night-sky color, but–

Like, highest saturation on photoshop, highest brightness, makes-you-almost vomit cuz your eyes are burning, that bright purple.

And my skin, it felt like it was burning. I smelled salt, felt a breeze, and I tried to close my eyes, to breathe out, but I couldn’t.

And then there was nothing.

And then I woke up on the beach. I could smell salt, I was totally clear-headed–and Benji’s cut? It was gone.

My watch said it was around 4AM. My phone was dead, but–it was the first, still. The sun was rising, in–in normal sky colors.

And I woke up second. Elaine was already up.

She asked me if I saw it too.

I said I that did.

Neither of us needed to clarify what. But we did. Obviously. Because “it” could be, like, anything, like–could be that new reality show that everyone’s super into where eliminations are decided by arm wrestles–it’s, like–it’s got compelling storylines, I swear.

My phone died, Angie, so if you’re trying to communicate, I can’t help you.

Oh! Time’s passing normally now. That’s nice. That’s good.

The plan was to recount the past week’s events, as well as their psychological effect on us. That’s what we agreed on.

So. Time stopped for a little while today. That was weird. That’s important.

I guess–I’m first, so I should talk about my other big experience too.

I was the fourth of us to see something, after it all? It was the third. After work, I was walkin’ to Ramon’s? And as I passed the custard stand, I saw this woman.

She was shorter than me, uh, long sundress on that was way too summery for this weather, but she didn’t seem cold. I offered her my hoodie, cuz I at least had long sleeves, but she didn’t answer. Dark hair, big sunglasses. I’d wager maybe thirty.

She took off her sunglasses, yeah? And the sky flashed purple–the same purple, the same burning feeling all over me–

And then the same nothingness, same smell of salt, same breeze, but–

I was still standing. And we were in this space, this–this purple nothingness, no ground, no sky, no nothing, that’s a double negative, you get what I mean, and–I was still standing–more floating, which was–not as pleasant as you’d expect? But not unpleasant, either. And this woman, she looked at me,  dead in the eyes, and–

And she said–

(beat, uncomfortable)

What did she say?

(laughs)

It’s–it’s in my head, like. Tip of my tongue. I wrote it down, but it’s–it’s another individual letters making out a word I know but can’t–type situation.

But whatever.

What I’m most concerned about is my going to the beach. About the sticky notes. Like, that’s some sci-fi bullshit. Or some horror bullshit. Either or. Probably both.

Again, Truman Showed. Viable theory, here.

Or it has something to do with the Groundhog Day thing. Maybe.

I think what bothers me about this is how easy I’m accepting all this–that, like, I’m fairly sure all this is real. I know it’s–it’s weird. I know that this is sci-fi-esque, but, like–I never saw myself as a protagonist, or–any kind of tagonist, I guess, in those stories. But this–now, I think that I am.

So. Cool.

But why do I think that’s cool? I’m the–I’m the socially-stilted nerdy girl who either dies second or gets really good at guns, and I’m very afraid of guns.

So, therefore? I’m dying second.

Or, or or or, I’m Lois Lane. Charming and tough young journalist, swept off her feet by a charming stranger. Hopefully not a Superman, though, cuz–he’s not my thing. But. Yeah. I can deal with Lois.

I feel like I should know what happens next. Me or Benji, we gotta, we’re the ones who know genre like the backs of our hands. That’s why we’re friends, but–

This isn’t supposed to happen here. Like, I grew up here, and I’m–I wasn’t planning to stay here forever, obviously, but–This town, VB, it’s–it’s comforting in its boringness. Sure, it’s not– the people here are always cycling in-and-out, cuz tourism and school, and all that, but–Violet Beach is a normal-ass town. We don’t have ghost stories, we don’t have cryptids, we–we don’t have lore, or whatever. I don’t think there’s ever been a murder here, for God’s sake.

Okay, well–the hippie school’s headmaster, uh, the rebrander guy, Andrew Corielli, or–his son’s the mayor, right?–Shot that grocer, like, in the sixties. But everyone was a serial killer back then, if I can trust every true crime show ever.

But–my point is. What’s going on is not what happens in this town. What’s going on is what goes on in, like, Roswell, or–or Twin Peaks, or something.

I’m–I don’t have much else to say. That’s a conclusion if there ever was one. So. Uh.

Okay. I’m signing off. Thanks, guys. Hope to see you soon.

[spider-babes]

back to back || tom holland (1)

summary: enough is enough

** warnings: swearing, angst, angst, angst, maybe some tears, more angst, tom’s kind of an ass in this (oops)

word count: 1.2k

note: so i kinda maybe wrote this at 3am while extremely sleep deprived and sad so not only is it super gross and unedited, the plot literally makes no sense and I’m cringing so hard but oh well

part two

Maybe the reason you didn’t leave earlier was because you were afraid to lose him. Maybe you thought that by saying enough is enough, you’d tear apart the fragile threads of a relationship you had left. Maybe that’s why you spent every night for the past month crying silently into the sheets while Tom pretended not to hear. And maybe you were tired of crying.

It was a miracle you both even slept in the same bed, to be honest. You hadn’t had a real conversation in days. It was like Tom just lost interest in you. Like his love for you faded while you were still head over heels for him.

The worst part, though, was the lack of arguing. You didn’t even fight once. Maybe if you had confronted Tom back then, this would have never happened. Maybe you would be curled into his side instead of sleeping back to back. And maybe he would have kicked you out, but at least you wouldn’t be in a constant state of wondering what you did to deserve this treatment. If you had told him off from day one, things would have been better. But then again, confrontation was never your strong suit.

It was almost 2am that night when you decided that you couldn’t handle sleeping back to back anymore. You were so achingly close to him; close enough that you could turn around and trace the muscles on his back. But the two foot gap between your bodies reminded you to keep your distance. The cold space radiated despair and every fiber of your being longed to roll over and press into Tom’s warmth.

You sat up quietly, messily wiping away your tears with your palm, before slipping out of the covers. This had been in the making for too long. You didn’t want to lose him, but for the first time, you realized that you were already too late. Tom Holland was never yours to begin with. He could never love you the way you loved him. Maybe it was damn time you realized that.

The hardwood creaked under your feet as you padded along the floor while frantically pushing as many clothes as you could fit into your bag. As you worked, you didn’t notice how bad your hands shook and how rapid your breathing had become. All you could think about was getting out before Tom woke up. You weren’t sure you’d still be strong enough to leave if he woke up.

In retrospect, maybe you should have waited. You could’ve ended thing the next morning. It would have saved a lot of heartache on both ends, but when is life ever fair? After months of being treated like you were nothing, why should you treat Tom any different?

Your second mistake of the night was your frantic behavior. You fumbled with the bags, accidentally knocking over a small frame on the dresser. The impact wasn’t too loud, but it was enough. Your breathing stilled as you heard shuffling on the bed.

“Y/N?” The sound of Tom’s voice, still heavy with sleep, sent a chill through your body. You didn’t move, clinging to the hope that he would just fall back asleep somehow. Instead, you could hear the way the covers shuffled more as he sat up, gazing out at your small figure crouched on the floor. He stiffened at the sight of the bags, “Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep,” you mumbled, still facing away from him.

“You’re leaving? Just like that? Were you even going to tell me?” Tom was flustered, almost desperate. You didn’t respond, instead opting to stare down at your fingers that were playing with the hem of your shirt. “Y/N, look at me.”

“What do you want me to say? Did you really expect anything different at this point?” You finally burst, spinning around to glare at him. “You’ve ignored me for months! Months, Tom! I can’t sit around and wait for someone who doesn’t want me.”

“But I do want you!”

“Oh, bullshit! I’m not the one who cut you off, Tom. This is on you.” Tears were spilling out of your eyes at this point, but you were too fired up to notice. It was like a dam had broken inside of you. “I’ve been wondering what I did to deserve this every single day for the past two months. Every damn day. What did I do that was so incredibly big that you stopped loving me? Or maybe you never loved me at all? Is that it, Tom? Did you never actually love me?”

His expression morphed into something you hadn’t seen on him before. His eyes were swimming in unshed tears. It looked as if you were ripping his heart out. “How could you ever think that?”

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have went silent on me like that. We’re not children.”

“Maybe I was scared of losing you.”

You couldn’t help the cold, bitter laugh that escaped your lips. It felt foreign, like sand in your throat, but you were hysterical. “Losing me? Are you serious?”

“Let me fucking finish, okay?” Tom snapped, and you shut your mouth, your eyes focusing on his, which were illuminated only through the soft moonlight from the windows. “I was scared that if I let myself get too attached, I’d be a complete goner when you would eventually leave me.”

“And why were you so sure that I’d leave you?”

“Because you deserve everything. And I could never give you everything you deserve,” he spoke softly this time, a stark contrast to before. “With the all the filming, I’m always in the states. I’m scared you’ll leave me.”

“I don’t want everything. God, Tom, all I wanted was you. Don’t you understand? I don’t care about your career! I knew what I was getting into when we started dating. Besides, you’ve been on break the last couple of months. We could have been happy, Tom. Happier than we’ve ever been! I just wanted you. Was that too much to ask for?”

“I’m sorry,” his voice was so small, and it ripped into your aching heart. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Just please, please come back to bed.”

It was so unbelievably tempting. Every molecule of your being ached to slip back into bed and hug him tight. But it wouldn't be the same, and you knew it. Two months of silence changes everything.

Sighing, you stepped closer to Tom before leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He immediately melted into you, and your heart pounded in your ears. It felt euphoric to have his lips on yours again. You were craving his touch for a long time. But if you had learned anything from this, it was that good things never last. And maybe it was time to let him go.

You pulled away gently after a moment, smiling sadly before whispering, “I love you so much.” Wordlessly, you stepped away from his touch, reaching for the bag on the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Maybe leaving was your third mistake of the night. Maybe if you had stayed in arms a little longer, everything would be perfect once again. But, then again, maybe leaving was really the only thing you did right that night. Maybe it was time to move on.

[thisnerdsadventures]

semester update

oh hi friends im still alive, if you can believe it

remember that checkerboard schedule from the beginning of the year? well that got filled up

well i accidentally signed up for too much so i’ve been working 15 hours a day for around 6 days a week and i’m tired! :D

fun things i’ve done hm ok 

went to DC for an onsite! last year i also went, and visited the white house and washington monument. this year i went shopping around georgetown area. did i get the job this year you ask? no!

went to NYC for an onsite! third time i’ve been to new york in my three years of college - also got to actually work in the new york public library this time, in one of the reading rooms people take touristy pictures of. Also went to chelsea market, saw a friend, and got very fresh noodles, which were very fresh. did i get the job you ask? stay tuned!

held fall formal - ended up being 200 people in a room that probably shouldn’t hold 200 people, but it turned out well somehow! also a freshman came up to me afterwards and thanked me for the job well done and social chair is often a thankless job and i have lots of feelings about this :’)

here’s a list of really insane work things that i’ve done

this past weekend I worked 20 hours on the same pset and wrote almost 2k lines of code (for reference, i wrote around 4k lines of code for my internship. my whole summer internship.) sometimes it be like that

i had 6 interviews in the past week and a half, which is....you guessed it....really horrible!

worked from 6pm to 3am on the same class one night. was i tilted? yes!

went from drinking coffee a couple times a week to almost twice a day

and finally, here’s how my life went to shit this semester (Bc there’s always a point where your life really derails each semester, and you never see it coming)

so i looked at my calendar and i wasn’t studying/prepping for interviews/psetting in waking hours for approximately three hours last week! one hour was spent exercising, one was spent watching netflix, and the other hour was spent crying!

well to be honest, the week before that was also bad. i think M-Th I just didn’t take a break and then Friday I took the night off

ok so apparently acocrding to my calendar, the last time i actually had my shit together was October 8th. ok thats fine!

this semester, a two week span of 8 interviews, one exam, and a mess in one of my classes was ultimately what derailed my life (the mess being a really hard unsolvable pset, having to write a completely new section in the class notes, writing an NIH style project proposal, present it, and review three others in the span of around a couple weeks with some to no prior warning or erratic rescheduling of each and every single one of these assignments)

so i ended up dropping a class (a 6 unit one) to save myself, and hopefully it starts working soon. also imposter syndrome has been real (has never been this bad before), and unhelpful replies to my “im really really tired and stressed i cannot make it to x” texts have (surprisingly!) increased my stress, and now i just want to sleep. good news is i haven’t completely dropped all of my extracurriculars like i always end up doing, but my urop has really dropped off the radar, but as i said before i’ve averaged around 3 free hours a week for the past month, so oops

i had a thought to just cancel all my other interviews, but im literally taking 3 classes, and i’m having trouble figuring out why my semester has just been really bad so far. in new ways from last semester, my technical confidence and personal confidence have really been tested and are pretty low at the current moment. This past week feels like I’ve just been told from all sides of the table that whatever I put out on a personal and technical level hasn’t been good enough, in every single class and from the company I just interviewed with. Working nonstop with no end in sight and being told its not good enough is really rough guys

[takaraphoenix]

Hi im facing a serious withdrawal from the nicercy next gen (i literally had a dream of it last night) so ive come up with some questions i hope haven't been answered before??? 1) If sander and Sam were to have a serious fight, what would it be caused by? And who would apologize first? 2) if sander were to get a tattoo, what would it be of? 3) what kind of things does sander think of at 3am - like deep thoughts? if you couldn't tell i adore sander oops hope this isn't too much of a bother!

Oooh. What kind of dream was it? *tilts head*

1) Sander and Sam had a couple of serious fights in the past. About how Sam treated Donny. After all, Sam was one of Donny’s biggest bullies - and Sander was very much in love with Donny. In the end, Sam would tune it down some begrudgingly, because he hates when Sander is mad at him. But Donny just… represents everything Sam couldn’t be.

2) Mare Scuro - probably on his chest, below the collarbone.

3) Donny. If Sander is still awake at 3AM, chances are he’s thinking about Donny. Maybe angsting about their future together - he does think he’s not a good enough study to suceed at college so he’s quite afraid of what comes after high school. Occasionally also his sister though, whether or not Cally is alright and whatever the huntresses might be doind.

And of course it’s not a bother. A more broader, open platform to answer reader-questions is kind of why I started this tumblr blog to begin with. ;)

[rikki-lynn]

(via What It’s Like to Live A Day with ADHD)

Writing about a day in the life of someone with ADHD is a tricky thing. I don't think any two of my days look alike. Adventure and (somewhat) controlled chaos are my constant companions.

As someone who runs a YouTube channel called How to ADHD, who’s engaged to someone with ADHD, who has ADHD herself, and who talks to tens of thousands of ADHD brains, I can tell you this — if you’ve met one person with ADHD, you’ve met one person with ADHD. We’re vastly different creatures.

We do have a surprising amount in common though, especially when it comes to the stuff we experience on a daily basis. Most days, it’s:

a rollercoaster of successes and failures

some moments feeling like a genius, and others feeling stupid

both distractibility and hyperfocus

good intentions gone off the rails

little emotional wounds from being judged by the outside world — or ourselves!

the healing from being understood and accepted for who we are

I hope this peek into my experience of one day with ADHD helps with that understanding.

The morning scramble

I wake up suddenly, search for my phone — what time is it??

Oh, okay. Still early.

It takes me awhile to fall back asleep — restless legs — but as soon as I do, the alarm goes off. The snooze button and I trade punches until my fiancé turns it off.

I jolt awake — what time is it now??

I scramble for my phone. 11 am.

SHOOT. Totally missed my morning yoga class, and now there’s not even time to shower. I growl at my fiancé — “why did you turn off the alarm??” — and stumble toward the dryer for clean clothes … which are still in the washer. I start a new cycle, then dig through the hamper, literally sniffing for something to wear.

I throw on semi-decent clothes, deodorant, mascara, take my meds — I’m almost out, SHOOT, gotta make an appointment to get another prescription — grab a Fiber One bar on the way out the door …

And then I run back inside to grab my phone. 11:15. YES! I’ll still make it to my meeting!

With time to spare, I run upstairs to kiss my fiancé goodbye and apologize for my morning crankiness. And I’m out the door! Woot!

I run back inside to grab my keys. 11:19. STILL GOOD!

The part where I wish time machines were a thing

As I jump on the freeway, I remember to call my psychiatrist — also that I forgot to charge my phone last night. Gotta decide between my headphones or my charger (thanks, iPhone 7).

4 percent battery? Charger wins. I wish wireless headphones were an option, but I have a hard enough time not losing regular headphones. And technically, they’re on a leash.

I try using the speakerphone but it’s too noisy on the freeway, so I hold the phone up to my ear as I call. The receptionist says there’s only one appointment available before my meds run out — do I want it? “Um … let me check my calendar … ”

Shoot. It’s the same time as coffee with Anna. This would be the second time in a row I’ve canceled on her. Not much choice though.

I’ll make it up to her, I vow … somehow.

I bring the phone back to my ear and see police lights in my rearview mirror. I panic and wonder how long they’ve been following me. The receptionist is halfway through confirming my appointment — I hang up and pull over.

One policeman eyes the dirty plates on my passenger side floor — I call these my car dishes — as the other hands me a ticket. As soon as they turn away, I start bawling. But I’m very aware I deserved it and weirdly grateful for being called out. I’ll definitely drive safer from now on.

Wait, 11:45?!

I get back on the road and check Waze obsessively to see whether I can make up for lost time. I drive faster, but Waze is annoyingly accurate. Eight minutes late as predicted.

Well, not terrible … you don’t really need to call unless you’ll be more than 15 minutes late, right?

Except I still needed to park … and fix my mascara … and walk over.

12:17. Ugh, I should’ve called. “SO sorry I’m late!”

My friend is unfazed. I can’t decide if I’m grateful he isn’t annoyed, or depressed that he expected it.

I tell him that, half joking. But he takes me seriously and says, “I used to have trouble with that, too. So now I just leave early.”

But this is what I hear: “I can do it, why can’t you?”

I don’t know. I try. It never seems to work out. I don’t get it either.

He starts pitching an internet project he wants me to write and I’m having trouble focusing. I’m doing a good job of pretending, though. I’ve got the thoughtful nod down.

Plus, my meds should kick in soon … Seriously though, does he have to talk that slow?

I see a server hand someone a check and I wonder how much my ticket was for. When do I have to pay it by? Do I have to pay by check? Do I even HAVE checks anymore? Wait, did I set up autopay for my new credit card?

I’ve missed half of what he’s saying. Oops. I start playing with my spinner ring to ground my attention. Focusing gets easier, but this doesn’t look as good as the thoughtful nod. I can tell he’s wondering if I’m listening now. Ah, the irony.

Honestly, this project sounds cool. But something feels off — I don’t know what. I have good instincts, but I’m kinda new at this whole “success” thing. I failed pretty regularly the first decade of my adult life.

It’s weird being successful enough that other people want to work with you. It’s even weirder having to decide whether or not they get to.

I awkwardly end the meeting.

Back on schedule — let’s try to keep it that way

I check my bullet journal, the only planner I’ve ever been able to sort of stick to, to see what’s next. Research from 2 to 5pm, dinner 5 to 6pm, writing 6 to 9pm, relax 9 to 11:30pm, bed by midnight. Totally doable.

My meds are in full effect, my focus is good, so I decide to head back home and start early. I should maybe eat lunch, but I’m not hungry. The table next to me orders fries. Fries sound good.

I eat fries.

On my way home, my friend calls. I don’t answer. I tell myself it’s because I don’t want to get another ticket, but I know it’s because I don’t want to disappoint him. Maybe I should do his project. It was a cool idea.

Back home, I cuddle up with a soft blanket, and start researching — and realize why I didn’t want to do the project. I reach for my phone and can’t find it. The hunt begins — and ends with me giving up and using the Find My iPhone feature. A loud beeping emerges from my blanket.

I call my friend. He answers. Does anyone else find that slightly weird? I almost never answer when people call. Especially if I might not like what they have to say. Call it phone anxiety, but a text to announce a phone call is the only way to get me to pick up — maybe.

But he answers, so I tell him why I don’t want to write his project: “Because YOU should write it!” I tell him what he said that made me realize it and walk him through how to get started. Now he’s excited. I know he’ll crush at this. I feel successful for the first time today.

Maybe I do know what I’m doing. Maybe I — I hang up and see what time it is. 3:45.

Oops. I’m supposed to be researching dyslexia for an episode.

I throw myself into the research until my alarm goes off at 5, reminding me to stop for dinner. But there’s stuff I still don’t understand yet. Ehhh, I’ll just keep going until 6.

It’s 7 and I’m starving. I grab way too much food — wait, wait.

I bring the food to my desk and begin typing furiously: “Turn ‘reading with dyslexia’ into a game …”

I write half the episode.

I get a better idea.

I start working on that one — WAIT — laundry! Not gonna beat me THIS time!

Switching the clothes to the dryer, I realize my workout clothes aren’t in there. Argh, I missed today so I have to go tomorrow or I’m not gonna feel good.

I grab my yoga pants and a bunch of other clothes off the floor of pretty much every room in the house and start a new load. I remember to set a timer!

I sit back down to write, but the idea doesn’t seem as great now.

Or maybe I don’t really remember it.

ADHD, the after hours

I can tell my meds are wearing off. It’s getting harder to hold all the thoughts in my brain while I work with them. The page in front of me is a random tangle of words. I’m getting frustrated.

The timer goes off. I gotta change the laundry — except the dryer’s still going.

I set the timer for another 10 minutes and head to the couch to hang upside down and try to get my brain to work.

Upside down, I remember I’m trying to get better about work-life balance and wonder if I should stop, even though I haven’t gotten much done. But tomorrow’s super busy, especially now that I have to work out, and — BZZZ.

I race back to the laundry room, take a corner too sharply and run into the wall, bounce off, grab the dry clothes, dump them on my bed, switch over the wet ones, and start the dryer. I race back and check the clock. 9:48.

Okay, I’ll keep working, but I’ll stop at 10:30. And fold the laundry. And relax.

10:30 comes and goes. I find a way back into that idea and I’m in a flow. I can’t stop. This is hyperfocus, and it can be both a blessing and a curse for those of us with ADHD. I write and write, and rewrite and rewrite, until my fiancé comes to check on me and finds me passed out in front of the computer.

He carries me upstairs, sees the pile of clothes on the bed, pushes them aside, and tucks me in. I promise to do better tomorrow, to make more time for us. And to fold the clothes.

He kisses me and tells me that clothes are just clothes, but the stuff we make lasts forever.

I hug him, hard. And see the time over his shoulder — it’s 3am. I’m gonna have to choose between sleep and yoga. Tomorrow’s gonna be another scramble.

Written by Jessica McCabe on July 27, 2017

[365day2015]

Day 138

Oops I typed this all out last night but I forgot to post it haha

Woke up around 1230 and found out there were two new bingo cards for tsum tsum. Did a little of those when Jonita called me and was going to kidnap me again. Showered and Jonita came here with Stephanie while I was still getting ready. Finished up and then we left to go to the beach. Went to Sandbridge and chilled there for about 2 hours and then left. We went to Red Robin afterwards since we were really hungry (I literally didn’t eat all day) and got a royal red robin. Finished that pretty fast and they have bottomless fries so I went in on those (had about 3-4 refills). Noticed it was 545 by the time we were done and I had an online lecture to watch for my first day in my human services class at 6 so I rushed them to get me home. Got home maybe 5 minutes late and luckily when I opened it up we didn’t start yet. Jonita stayed with me and was planning out her birthday party thing. My online lecture lasted longer than I thought and around the 1 hr 30min mark I left the lecture cause I was gonna drop it anyway. I just wanted to see what the syllabus said matches what she was saying and it did. After that, me and Jonita did plan a little and then she left around 8 I think. Played tsum tsum for awhile (Finished one of the bingo cards) and checked craigslist for another s5 cause that’s what I’ve been doing for like the past month. Found someone selling it for $100 which is a fucking hella good price for this phone. I texted the guy and he said $80 if we picked it up tonight (it was like 1015 already). Called up my brother and he came around 11 w/ Ira and Jordan. Went to Walmart cause that’s where we were supposed to meet up and we went inside while we waited. All of the other guys bought some stuff and were looking at coke bottles cause the guy took like 20 minutes to get here. Once he finally got here, me and my bro did like an in depth check on it for why he was selling it so cheap and it was all legit. Gave him the 80 and went home and messed with it pretty much all night. It’s now 3am and I just finished transfering all my stuff from my other one to this one and i’m really happy atm. Idk why he sold it for so cheap and maybe it’ll come back to haunt me but as of now it’s a perfect phone. Probs gonna sleep soon haha

[tinysciencecow]

you have any study tips?

HAHAHA WOULDN’T IT HAVE BEEN NICE IF I’D RESPONDED TO THIS 16 DAYS AGO WHEN YOU SENT IT TO ME

i’m really sorry. i am awful at responding to things most of the time. you have to magically catch me when i’m in a responding mood, which could be any time of day any day of the week very unhelpful

2018 resolution: be in a responding mood more of the time. and in general do more stuff.

ANYway

these are all from my experiences and based on my own body and mind and work flexibility; you have your own so pick and choose

- don’t try to be productive if you feel like shit (physically or emotionally). much more efficient to watch a movie or take a nap (or a real sleep) or read a book or play an instrument or call your parents or hang out with your friends and then do things when you’re not miserable and unable to focus and incredibly prone to errors

- same goes for when it’s superlate. time after midnight does not actually exist; it slips mysteriously by without your perception and next thing you know it’s 3am and nothing has happened except you just wrecked your week or at the very least your next few days and definitely your tomorrow

- i try to start my day/productive time with duolingo. why? because in addition to strengthening/building language skills it’s a really nice way to gauge how alert i am that day and how prone to really dumb mistakes. and that helps me decide what kind of work is most appropriate for the day

- write down literally everything you have to do, in some nice grouping that is pleasant for you, such as by class. write down how long you have to do it. write down how long you honestly think it’s going to take you (honestly, not optimistically). and then, in a way that will not ruin your life, allocate tasks to each day that you have available to you such that you finish things on time. make a nice list for each day. make it editable. make it flexible

- something i discovered recently is that these lists need to be front-loaded. in other words, allocate more stuff to the days that are closer to the current day and leave less stuff to the days that are farther from the present day. that way if something awful or unexpected happens and you need to push things off a day it’s not a complete disaster like my last semester halfway kind of maybe was oops

- sometimes music is nice, especially and like my mom advises me, when you have to do something you really have to do that you really don’t want to do

- sometimes music is distracting. it’s important to notice when silence will be better for your focus and actually make it quiet. it’ll suck, but you’ll get done faster and then you can do something actually fun instead of something 10% fun like an unpleasant task with a soundtrack

- my boyfriend taught me this and this is what i do when i can’t get myself to do anything. set a timer for 25 minutes and commit to nonstop work for those 25 minutes. then you get a guilt-free 5-10-minute break. for some reason it’s easier to commit to 25 minutes of focused work than to consciously decide to just do a thing

- it’s also nice to, when planning out tasks, allocate 25-minute blocks to them. then you have a little goal to work toward, and you can consciously adjust your expectations or pace if you notice that tasks are taking a lot longer than you expect, which is something that always happens to me

- usually when you are trying to work on something but you suddenly open a new tab for no reason at all, that means you’ve hit a roadblock. it’s nice to consciously note, when you catch yourself opening tabs and you’re not entirely sure why, that it might be because you have hit a roadblock in your work. then you can give yourself a 5-minute break to avoid the task to your brain’s satisfaction, then set a 25-minute timer of commitment to determining what the roadblock is, making a detailed list or journalling how to get out of it, and then seeing how things look after those 25 minutes and the well-deserved break that follows

- group your meetings in a few days of the week. i like mondays and fridays because mondays aren’t real days anyway but they ARE days when i need to get pumped and motivated to do things and by friday i’m usually recovered from monday and feeling enthusiastically social again and then i get the whole weekend to recover from friday. then you get tuesday and wednesday and thursday to WORK FROM HOME and NOT TALK TO PEOPLE and actually really really get things done. this is a very new discovery for me that i am just now trying out and i really like it so far. it is far more productive for me. i miiiiiight be an introvert. or a very very selective extrovert, and a more promiscuous extrovert on fridays only, once the alone-ness of tuesday, wednesday, and thursday has had a chance to develop into its less fun form loneliness. (you might think i’m a very complex person but noooo, you see it all makes perfect sense)

- it is very important to do things you like just for the sake of them that have some form of progress that you can see and feel good about when work or school feels like it’s going to shit. i like duolingo and i like piano and i like to read and i like to be involved in my family’s lives. you pick what is genuinely rewarding to you and entirely outside of your career and then you should consciously allocate time to it and make it a priority to do those things every day

- don’t be sleep deprived. time just slips away and then next thing you know everything is terrible and you’re miserable and nothing is getting done anyway and you might as well have just had a full-night’s sleep at the proper time anyway

- exercise like a quick run outside is really great for getting a second burst of energy after you’re exhausted after the day having happened (as days sometimes do)

- nighttime biphasic sleep is really cool. it is what i seem to do when left to my own devices without caffeine or sleep-ruining life things and it is really nice because it allows me, when i have too much to do, to squeeze in a bit of work between my two sleeps, usually around between 3 and 7 am, and it is very nice and silent and peaceful in that time and i am well-rested after my first sleep and so i usually can be very productive and get a surprising amount done in that short time and then still get enough sleep

- i find that when i can’t get a writing flow going there are a few books and stories that always activate the voice in my brain. if you can find those and have those to come back to then that might be really nice

- if you have some dreams that involve doing and finishing things that you never seem to have time for, break them down into small steps and break those down into really tiny things you can do every day and then make it a priority to do those tiny things each day and then hopefully after a while you can look back and see that you’ve made progress that is gradual but great and then hopefully after another while you can look back on your work and see that you’ve reached your goal