#maybe its a planned thing and this was set to happen weeks ago

[andichoseyou]

like what is she even doing dropping more exclusive content rn im just so irked 😭😭

[phagodyke]

can I be vulnerable with u guys tonight the only thing I actually want for my birthday is a hug. just one i dont wanna be greedy that's all 🥹

[raphaelsrightarm]

Could we get a little something on the spicy side, maybe Raph just taking care of himself during a particularly annoying mating season, hes yearling after reader (who’s his bestie) and he’s feels all types of wrong but the more he does it, the worse (all too real) his desires get for him.

Watch

Ok so like usual this one got away from me, I played a bit further into the "all too real" than I had intended, I hope you enjoy!

Words: 1362

Warning: NSWF 18+, implied attraction between characters

Three weeks. 

The pulsing ache that burrowed inside of him would leave after three weeks. The tension in his muscles would slip away, his irritability would return to its normal state, and life would resume as normal. Or as normal as it ever was. 

Raphael usually stuck to his weight set for hours at a time before returning to his room to attempt to ease the stiffness that built up after a single day. That had become his routine whenever this time of year came around, and though he knew it was going to be a reoccurring thing, he dreaded it every time the weather started to warm. 

Yet something new has happened since last year. Something that had brought a new complication into this tortuous few weeks. You.

They had met you by accident, and you remaining so close to them hadn’t been part of the plan either. Some days Raph felt so grateful that such a thing happened to them that it overwhelmed him, and he usually had to distract himself for a bit until the fullness inside his chest slipped away.

Other days, he cursed the world for it. You had opened a door inside him that he had locked for years. The feelings that he never thought he would have to deal with in his lifetime, now being something that trailed behind him closer than his own shadow.

He liked to believe he might be haunting you the same way. There were moments between the two of you that he labeled as your close calls. Times when you had brushed against him, times when you grabbed his arm while laughing and your hand lingered on his skin, thumb brushing briefly before leaving. Times that left him wondering if this was something more or if he was creating something new entirely. 

Now, when he felt the beginning signs of springtime, he knew it was going to be worse. The thoughts that floated back to you used to be mostly harmless, now they dug into him like blades. 

A few weeks ago, he had told you some bullshit excuse to keep you out of the lair while they were able to push through the weeks of unbearable horniness. He felt bad lying to you, but he felt it might be easier than to remind you of just how unhuman he was. 

On one of the first days, he abused his punching bag until the chain broke. He lifted weights until his limbs burned, waiting until just before the sun set to touch himself. 

When that time came around, he shut himself in his room. He slowly undressed, then lounged back on his bed. With his eyes shut, he slipped into the easy motions he had gone on many times before. 

His cock was already hard just by the thought of what he was about to do. He wrapped his hand around it, his head falling back just from the feeling that provided. 

He stroked himself slowly at first, squeezing his hand around the head to use his precum as lube. 

That was when his mind strayed to you, and though he feared it would be unavoidable, it still made him feel like he was crossing a line he could never come back across. He had imagined being with you, of course, he craved to know what your legs would feel like slung over his shoulders. He wanted to know what you sounded like when you came, what you tasted like.

But something felt different about this. His hand moved faster as he imagined being inside of you. Your face buried in a pillow, muffling your cries for him to fuck you harder. He imagined cumming inside of you. How it would spill out of you when he pulled out, how full you would be of him. 

He thought of your voice, smooth and beautiful. Your moans would be just as sweet, full of lust and pleads. He thought of your smell, something that managed to remain anywhere you touched just to taunt him. He could imagine it now, the silky aroma that drifted off of your skin. It felt so vivid to him now, so close to him it drove him crazy. 

He was so close now it was nearly unbearable. His stomach had tightened, a cord stretching further and further. He heard your voice saying his name, and he pushed himself further into the fantasy of you touching him, of you yearning to see him cum, and he whispered your name in return. 

Through his closed eyes, he noticed the room brighten a bit. When he lifted his head, his first sight was you. At first he thought he had imagined you there, eyes wide as you watched him. Reality sank in shortly after, and he jerked to sit up.  

He blurted your name out in a panic.“What are you doing here?” He grabbed his pants off the floor and brought them over his lap. His blood roared in his ears as he waited for you to respond, to do anything but stand there. It was horrible of him, but the sight of you made his cock twitch beneath his clothes, reminding him of the visions he’d seen, how close he was just moments ago.   

You were silent for a moment, before stepping inside his room, and, to his complete shock, closing the door behind you, pressing your back against it. 

“What are you…” His words trailed off, breaths heaving. You clasped your hands together, but not before he noticed a slight tremor.

“You said my name. I heard you.” Your voice was quiet, and though you tried hiding it, he could tell you were nervous. “Were you thinking about me?” 

 Raph was silent, eyes wide. But you looked at him, waiting. After a moment, he nodded, still unsure if he had imagined you there at all. 

“Can I watch?” 

His heart nearly stopped, his body felt like it turned into clouds. He answered you by slowly taking the pants from his lap. You moved carefully, not taking your eyes off of him, and sat in the beanbag chair against the wall across from him. 

He began stroking himself again, moving slow until he felt himself fall back into the motions. He found the rhythm he enjoyed, squeezing his fist at the head. At first he avoided looking at you, but he could feel you watching him. 

He opened his eyes to see you leaning further back, your legs spread slightly, hands gripping your knees. He desperately wished he could know what you were thinking, but the rich smell of your arousal reached him from across the room, answering most of his questions for him. 

It pushed him further, the fact that he could get you like this without even touching you. That just seeing him like this had gotten you wet. His hand began moving faster, he could hear you lean forward. 

“Were you thinking about me touching you like that?” 

A chuckle escaped him. “‘Was thinking about a lot more than that.”

“What else?”

“Fuck,” He put more pressure around his cock, feeling flares shoot down his legs. He saw the muscles in your legs clench, hands tightening into fists. “Thought about having you any way I want. Makin’ you say my name while I fuck you. Makin’ you cum.” He let out a sharp breath. He was almost there, the cord nearly snapping inside him. “I’d have you all to myself. Nobody else would ever fuckin’ touch you. 

You slid your hand up your thigh, your voice a dreamy whisper. “Raph,” 

Fuck.

His head fell back as he came. Ropes of cum landing across the back of his hand. The quickened rise and fall of his chest slowly began to settle

He wasn’t sure what was going to happen after today, but at the moment, with his brain clouded by the mix of his  afterglow and his own instincts, as well as the undeniable need radiating off of you, he couldn’t care less. 

“Come here,” His voice was low, eyes so intensely focused on you. 

Without hesitation, you obediently stood, taking a step toward him.

[skyahri]

So..? |Kakashi Hatake X Civilian! Reader| HC

Summary: Kakashi finally musters up the courage to ask you out.

Warnings: Nothing, really. Pretty tame. Civilian reader.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

You worked in the hospital. It was nothing spectacular; the shifts are long, it can get a bit over crowded, and sometimes you don't even have time for a meal, but it's honest work.

You were decent with medical ninjutsu. You could heal cuts and bruises, but anything more was outside your skill set.

You have your fair share of regulars, Kakashi being one of them.

Sometimes, he's in and out - just there for a few stitches or a mandatory check-up after a long mission. Sometimes it's longer, like after his battle with Itachi or the Kazekage's retrieval.

You scold him every time for being reckless.

"Kakashi, you know what happens when you overuse your sharingan. Can't you at least try to be a bit more careful?"

He always dismisses you, promising that everything he does it put of 100% necessity.

You roll your eyes and fix him up regardless.

Its a lucky thing that you always end up taking care of him, or at least you think it is.

He's actually using his social pull to end up wherever you are. Kakashi Hatake, the copy cat ninja, is very well known and has earned more favors than he could ever cash in.

He remembers the first time he met you - it was several years ago, in this very hospital. He'd been injured during one of his Anbu missions and needed some critical care.

The hospital was swamped that day, and you were new. He could tell by how anxious you were. It was lucky that you had ended up with him, someone who wasn't picky about his treatment and wasn't bothered by nerves.

There was something about you, though he wasn't sure what. Yes, you're pretty, but he's seen lots of pretty girls. Maybe it was the confidence you emitted despite the cluster of the environment. Maybe it was the gentle way you touched him as yo wrapped his arm or the feeling of your chakra on his skin.

Either way, it stuck with him, and all the feelings he felt have only intensified over time.

Which is where we are now.

Eventually, he sees you outside of the hospital. A rare sight, really. He's perfectly healthy, between missions, and not being dragged around by his students for once.

Your last shift of the week just ended. You're carrying home your weekly grocery haul when he spots you and basically demands to carry some most of your bags.

He tries to chat you up, along about work, hobbies... potential partners?

"So what have you been doing outside of work, hm? Interesting... I see. And you do all of this by yourself, or..?"

You laugh, knowing he's fishing for specific information. He already knows you pretty well after seeing him so often at work. Maybe he forgot that fact in his stupor.

However, slick Kakashi thinks he's been all this time, knock it down by 60%.

You may not be a shinobi like him, but you're very well aware of people.

"No, Kakashi, I don't have a boyfriend."

He plays it off. Shoving his hands in his pockets and pretends not to be borderline giddy at this newfound information.

Once you reach your apartment, you have no problem allowing him entry so he can set your groceries down on your counter.

He looks around while you put things away. Everything embodied you perfectly. The plants, the color scheme, the decor. It was perfect.

Once you're finished, he becomes nervous again.

"So..."

"So?" You ask expectantly.

"Would you wanna meet up with me sometime? As a thank you for all you've done for me over the years, of course."

"Of course," you mock him lightly, crinkling your nose.

"I'd love to."

He let's out an animated breath.

"I'll pick you up tonight at 6? We can head to..."

The plans are set. Now, it's just a matter of patience before this long-awaited date.

Although you've been looking forward to this day for so many years, the anxiety is still there, and you're wondering how it'll go and if he likes you.

Little did you know he's having the same thoughts.

What if you didn't like him? What if he just damaged your friendship (could it even be called that considering how confined they had been to the hospital?) and now he's lost someone else because he's stupid?

Only time will tell, so may as well just shove down the nerves and prepare for what could be the beginning of something great.

[thewulf]

Never Let You Go || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Hiya! Can i request an angsty/fluffy aaron fic?Aaron and reader get into a fight because reader has been ignoring hotch since he forgot her birthday (its been a week after at that point) so he confronts her and they fight.... Read Rest Here

A/N: You guys have the best requests. Please keep sending them in. Hope you like a good little hurt/comfort.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

TW: Yelling, intentional hurt

It was a rainy Saturday night when your heart broke for the hundredth time under the false promises from your longtime boyfriend, Aaron. You knew what you were getting into when you got into the relationship all those years ago. You knew he worked long hours. You knew he had a son who was his, and now your, priority. You knew he would have to cancel plans, dates, anniversaries. You knew it all. What you didn’t expect was him to forget about your birthday completely. He was home, at the BAU, and worked late instead of coming home and taking you out. You had plans! But he just… forgot.

It wasn’t until you brought it up the next day, mumbling it to him with a saddened look did he recognize he had forgotten. What broke your heart was the fact that he didn’t even make up for it. He didn’t get you flowers or a gift or even apologize. He just… moved on. And you had no idea how much it bothered you until that fateful Saturday night as the rain poured down. You were angry at him. You had accepted the misses and the cancelations. What you couldn’t get over was the fact that he had forgotten it completely and didn’t even want to make it right.

When you heard the lock twist and Aaron entered your shared residence all you wanted to do was run away from him. You didn’t want to talk to him. You didn’t even want to look at him. You weren’t sure if you even wanted to be with him anymore.

When he walked into the kitchen you turned away, busying yourself with unloading the dishwasher.

“Hey baby.” He walked over to you giving you a hug from behind. Aaron wasn’t remiss to the way you tensed under his touch. How you simply mumbled something incoherent to him. It was when you pushed him away did he finally realize something was off.

“Honey, what’s up?” He asked.

Was he playing dumb? Did he really not know just how deeply he had hurt you by ignoring something you loved so much? You knew it was silly, but birthdays were your thing. You were the friend who went all out for others. You just wanted someone to celebrate you the way you had to others, especially Aaron.

You felt tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as your brain got yourself worked up. Maybe it was best to just keep quiet because you had no idea if you could hold back the waterworks. So, instead of answering him you simply walked away. Your momma always taught you it was best to not get into an argument when you were feeling emotional about the situation.

But that seemed to set him off further. You had been cold to him all week. Not greeting him like you normally did. Not leaving out his dinner like you so often would when he worked late. Yet you just couldn’t seem to care. If he didn’t care for you why should you return the favor?

He couldn’t take it anymore. So, he snapped at you. "Are you ever going to talk to me?" Aaron's voice breaks the suffocating silence in the home, the frustration evident in his tone. You were thankful Jack was sleeping over at a friend’s house now. You knew the inevitable fight was bound to happen.

You sat down on the couch, but you didn’t dare turn to face him. "What's there to talk about?" Your voice is icy, the bitterness seeping through each word.

Aaron took a step closer to you, the distance between you feeling like an icy rift he wasn’t quite used to with you. "You know exactly what we need to talk about," he retorts, his patience wearing thin. "You've been ignoring me ever since—"

"Since you forgot my birthday?" You cut him off sharply, your voice laced with resentment. "Yeah, I remember. You’re a profiler. Profile it Aaron." Venom was laced in your voice as you finally made eye contact.

His jaw clenches at the reminder, guilt gnawing at his insides. He messed up, and he knows it. And he knew he had been ignoring it. Ignoring the subtle signs, you left him. He knew how important these things were to you. And he took the cowards route of simply trying to ignore it. He knew better than to do that with you. He had been taking advantage of your kindness thinking you would simply ignore it. But you were reaching your breaking point. And he was exhausted from work. He simply knew this wasn’t about to be a good conversation.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.” He offered. But the effort felt hallow.

You shook your head blinking back the tears. “You’re just saying that because I’m angry! You had no intention of making it right Aaron!” You hardly ever raised your voice yet here you were, yelling at the man who looked overly tired. He rarely brought home his work with him, but it must’ve been something about his last case that had ravaged him.

He let out a rather obvious sigh of frustration, clearly exhausted. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You bit back the harsh words you wanted to use. “I wanted you to remember! To apologize for forgetting. I want you to pretend like you give a single shit about me! You couldn’t even remember my birthday?” That was a low blow, and you knew it yet somehow you couldn’t care.

Things were bound to spiral when you saw the anger in his gaze. “I apologized! If you didn’t make such a big deal about something so small this wouldn’t even be a problem. I’m starting to see why I forgot.”

It felt like the wind was knocked out of you right then and there. Each word feeling like another dagger to your already broken heart. Physically, you recoiled as if he had hit you, your eyes were wide with disbelief. “I can’t believe you just said that.” You stood from the couch knowing you were going to run away from him. Your voice wavered just above a whisper as you spoke.

Regret washed over his face as he heard your floundering voice. He had taken it too far. Gone a step further than he needed. He crossed that invisible line that held the relationship together. “Baby… I didn’t mean it like that.” His eyes were wide as he reached for you. But you wouldn’t let him touch you, no. Not after those comments. “I’m just tired and frustrated and I just wanted to hold you tonight. I hate that we are fighting over something so stupid. But baby, I don’t know how to fix this. Tell me what I need to do.”

You shook your head rapidly frustrated beyond belief with him. “Something so stupid?” Your voice gave way to the weakness you felt in the moment, “My birthday is stupid now?”

Your words hung heavy in the air between the two of you. Aaron felt that lump form in his throat knowing he had used the wrong words yet again. It felt like he was being crushed over the weight of his mistakes now.

Before he can find the words to respond, you turn on your heel, your shoulders slumped with defeat. "I'm not so sure if there's anything left to fix," you say softly before walking away, leaving him standing alone in the wreckage of your shattered relationship in the living room of your home.

As he watches you disappear down the hallway, Aaron knows that he has lost more than just an argument. He has lost a piece of your heart, and he isn't sure if he will ever be able to win it back. But he is determined to try, no matter what it takes. Because you were worth fighting for, worth every moment of pain and heartache it would take to earn your forgiveness. And as he stood there alone in the empty room, Aaron vowed to do whatever it takes to make things right again. Even if it means confronting the darkest parts of himself and facing the harsh truth of his own shortcomings.

The silence in the house is deafening as Aaron stands outside the closed bedroom door, his heart heavy with regret. He can feel the weight of his mistakes coming own on him, each passing second only serving to deepen the ache in his chest. With a trembling hand, he reaches out and knocks softly on the door, the sound reverberating through the empty hallway. "Please," he whispers, his voice barely above a hoarse murmur. "Let me in."

There is no response from the other side, no indication that you have even heard him. But Aaron refuses to give up hope. He knows he has hurt you, but he can't bear the thought of losing you, not now, not ever. And you laid there in your bed, hurting beyond measure trying to ignore the man you loved more than life itself.

"Please, just talk to me," he pleads, his voice cracking with every emotion. "I know I screwed up, but I'm begging you, give me a chance to make it right. Please baby."

Still, there is nothing but silence from the other side of the door, and Aaron feels his heart sink even further. He presses his forehead against the cool wood, his chest constricted with the weight of his longing. You wanted to forgive him, to let him in. But you couldn’t, not yet. No matter how desperate he sounded.

"I can't do this without you," he pleads, his voice barely a whisper. "You mean everything to me, and I'll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness. Just... please, let me in." He tries once more to get you to crack. And it worked. You’d never heard him so desperate. His voice so raw with emotion.

For what felt like an eternity, there was no response, and Aaron feared that he had lost you for good. But just as he is about to give up hope, he hears the faint sound of movement from within the room, followed by the soft click of the door unlocking. As much as you wished you knew you couldn’t ice him out completely. You had both thrown unkind words at the other

His heart leaps with hope as the door cracks open, revealing your tear-streaked face, your eyes red and puffy from crying. Aaron's breath catches in his throat at the sight of you, his heart breaking at the pain he has caused. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "I never meant to hurt you. Please, let me make it right."

You hesitate for a moment, uncertainty flickering in your eyes. But then, with a resigned sigh, you step aside, silently inviting him into the room. Without a second thought, Aaron crosses the room, pulling you into his arms with a fierce, desperate longing. He holds you close, his heart overflowing with gratitude as he vows to never hurt you like he had just done.

As Aaron holds you tightly against him, he feels the weight of your sorrow pressing against his chest. He can sense the tremors wracking your body, the silent sobs that wring tears from your eyes, and it tears at his soul with a sharp, agonizing ache. "I'm not supposed to be the one who makes you cry," he whispers, his voice thick with remorse. "I'm the one who's supposed to dry your eyes, to chase away your tears, not cause them."

His words hang heavy in the air between you, a painful reminder of the mistakes he had made. He had never wanted to hurt you, never imagined that his actions could bring you to such sadness. And yet, here you are, crumbling in his arms, your heart laid bare for him to see. "I'm so sorry baby," he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head as you bury your face against his chest, your tears soaking through the thin fabric of his shirt. "I'll do whatever it takes to make things right, I promise."

But his assurances feel hollow, meaningless in the face of your pain. He knows that mere words are not enough to mend the wounds he has inflicted, that it will take more than empty promises to earn your forgiveness. For he had let you down so many times before. As Aaron holds you close, he knows that his actions will speak louder than any words he could offer. He will need to show you, day by day, that he is truly sorry, that he is committed to making amends and rebuilding the trust he has shattered.

He begins by being there for you in every way that he could possibly be, anticipating your needs before you even have to ask. He cooked your favorite meals, not because he wants to impress you, but because he wants to show you that he does in fact care about you. He knows you more than you knew yourself.  He listens to you, really listens, to every word you speak, hanging on to your every thought and feeling, eager to understand the depths of your sadness caused by him.

He showers you with small gestures of affection, leaving little notes around the house, reminding you of his love and devotion. He holds your hand when you walk as a reassurance that he will always be by your side, no matter what.

But most importantly, he gives you space when you need it, allowing you the time and freedom to heal at your own pace. He doesn't push you to forgive him, doesn't demand your trust before you are ready. Instead, he remains patient, steadfast in his determination to prove himself worthy of your love once more. And as the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months, Aaron watches with bated breath as the walls you had erected around your heart begin to crumble. He sees the flicker of hope in your eyes, the tentative smile that graces your lips more and more often. He sees you returning to the light he had let burn out.

And when you finally reach out to him with a certain uncertainty, Aaron knows that he has been given a second chance. A chance to rebuild what they had lost, stronger and more resilient than ever before. And so he takes your hand in his vowing to never let you go, to cherish you, to protect you, to love you with every fiber of his being. As you walk hand in hand into the future, Aaron knows that you have weathered the storm together. The two of you emerged on the other side, whole once more.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade @kreepja @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kajjaka @guacam011y

Request Taglist: @spookyparadisesheep @nelliebug18 @fictionallifestuff

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part six)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)

Steve allows himself a brief mental breakdown in the shower when he gets home. He lets the water mix with his tears as he curls his arms around himself and wishes with everything he is that they were Eddie’s. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give right now just to be held by him again, just to feel Eddie’s arms around him one more time. All it took was a tiny kiss on the back of his hand for Steve’s skin to remember just how much it missed that feeling. Now Steve’s entire body craves Eddie’s touch, and he shakes in its absence like an addict in withdrawal. 

Then he puts himself back together, gets dressed and styles his hair and heads off to work. 

They’d defeated Vecna before he could split the world into pieces or whatever his diabolical plan had been. So while Steve’s whole world may have been torn apart, while Steve’s whole world lays bruised and bandaged and amnesic in a hospital bed, the rest of the world carries on none the wiser. The rest of the world still rents VHS tapes and has movie nights and date nights and no fucking clue that they were seconds away from being dragged down into a hell dimension a couple weeks ago, so Family Video is still open for them. Fuck that. 

“You’ve gotta handle the customers today because if someone starts asking me stupid questions I can’t promise I won’t snap at them,” Steve tells Robin as he drives them to their shift. 

“Aw, but it’s so funny when you snap at them,” Robin quips. 

“Robin.” He gives her his best I’m so fucking serious look. 

Her humor dries up immediately and she nods solemnly. “Alright, yeah. I got it.” 

Steve sighs, pulling into the parking lot. “Thank you.” 

He busies himself with cataloging and reshelving and rewinding returns while Robin takes over the customer service part of the job. It’s mindless - mind-numbing - the monotony of the tasks exactly what Steve needs to dull out the thoughts in his brain and distract himself from the way the back of his hand still tingles from Eddie’s kiss. 

When the afternoon rush dies down after a few hours and the store is all but empty, Robin sidles up next to him where he’s putting away a stack of fantasy films. “Hey.” 

Her voice cuts through his focus and nearly startles Steve out of his skin. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

“Sorry.” She grabs half the stack of tapes and starts helping him shelve. “Just wanted to check in with you, we haven’t gotten much of a chance to talk today. How are things going with Eddie?” 

“It’s fine. He’s fine,” Steve grumbles, glaring down at the tape in his hands. It’s got a dragon on the cover. He thinks Eddie would probably like it. “He still doesn’t remember me, but he’s starting to see me as a friend now at least, so.” Steve shoves the movie into its spot on the shelf. “That’s something, right?” 

Robin raises her eyebrows at the sharp bitterness in his tone and how forcefully he put the tape away. “Okay. Yeah. So I see we’re in the anger stage of grief now,” she comments. 

Steve scoffs. If this is a stage of grief, he thinks he’s been going through them in the wrong order, or maybe all at once - a neverending ebb and flow of denial and anger and depression all swirled together into one fucked up cocktail of grief. “I’m not angry,” he says, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m just tired- emotionally burnt out, I don’t know. I just miss him and it’s not fair and I’m so fucking sick of feeling like this.” 

“Yeah, that’s anger, Steve,” Robin says, infuriatingly blunt. She slides the last tape in her stack into its place and then leans against the shelf. “Did something else happen to set this off, or are you just generally overwhelmed?” 

Steve sags against the shelf beside her. “Both. I don’t know. It’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid. He just- he kissed my hand this morning, that’s it, and it wrecked me.” 

“He what?” Robin questions, curiosity widening her eyes. 

“He kissed my hand,” Steve repeats. He sighs and adds context, gives her a full recount of the events of that morning.

“Oh my god?!” Robin practically squawks as she backhands Steve’s arm, which is definitely not the comforting words or touch he needs from her right now. 

“Ow!” he yelps, rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Dude. He was flirting with you,” she tells him, eyes even wider now like she’s trying to explain to him something obvious. 

“What? No.” Steve shakes his head, looking at her like she’s crazy. “He definitely wasn’t.” 

“Ughhh,” Robin lets out a long, dramatic groan, dragging her hands down her cheeks and pulling down her eyes. “I cannot do this with you two again. He totally was.” She drops her hands from her face so she can use them to illustrate her point as she starts to lists off, “First of all, he literally called you daddy-” 

“As a joke,” Steve interrupts to protest. 

“Yeah, a flirtatious one,” Robin retorts. She continues, “Then he said you have a magic touch, and then his heart literally started racing for no reason-”

“Because I was stressing him out!” 

“Only after his heart rate went up in the first place, which, as I was saying, was for no reason other than the fact that you were smiling at him and holding his hand-” 

“That literally doesn’t-” 

“And then, he kissed your hand - pressed his lips to your skin - and told you that you were his good luck charm,” Robin finishes, looking smug like she’s said something novel and not just completely reiterated exactly what Steve had just told her only with more emphasis. 

He sighs wearily. “Your point?” 

“He likes you, dingus,” she says, whacking his arm again. “Don’t you get it? His mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.”

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. A lump rises in his throat, a rush of jumbled emotions chafing against his already frayed edges. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“I think you should tell him what you were to each other,” Robin suggests. 

“Right, yeah, okay, sure,” Steve scoffs, somewhere between sarcastic and hysterical. “And while we’re at it, I think you should tell Vickie that you like her. Because telling people things like that is so easy, isn’t it?” 

Robin gives him a withering stare. “That is not the same thing at all, and you know it.”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees. “Because I know Eddie, and he would not take that news well. He already gets a little weird whenever I seem to know too much about him - if I tell him I know him biblically too-” 

“Ew, don’t tell him like that!” 

“Doesn’t matter if I tell him like that; I say we’ve been together for 9 months, he’s going to assume we’ve-” 

“God, okay, I get it!”

“See? It would freak him out,” Steve concludes, crossing his arms. “Even if he does…like me again or whatever, he definitely wouldn’t anymore and it would just generally make him uncomfortable. So I can’t tell him. I just have to keep waiting for him to remember on his own, even though it’s fucking killing me,” he says, his voice harsh as he tries to keep it from breaking. “It’s what’s best for Eddie.” 

“Steve-” Robin starts, frowning like she’s only just beginning to realize she may have pushed him too far, but whatever it is she was going to say is cut off by the ringing of the bell that announces the front door being open. 

“Customers.” Steve points his chin towards the couple who just walked in, a bitter jealousy boiling in his stomach as he watches them walk hand in hand towards the romance aisle. It’s not fucking fair. He shoves himself away from the shelves and mutters, “I’m taking my break.”

He stalks to the breakroom, closes the door, and sinks to the floor with his back against it. The tears in his eyes feel like they’re made of acid, like they would carve tracks into his skin if they were to spill down his cheeks. He wraps his arms around himself again. The thoughts in his head are made of acid too, bitter and burning and cursing everyone who gets to enjoy their lover's touch while he suffers without his. 

Steve’s brain feels corroded, corrupted. “He likes you,” Robin’s words echo there too, “his mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.” Would Eddie touch him now if he asked? Would he trace his fingers across Steve’s skin, kiss more than just the back of his hand? Steve digs his own fingers into his sides. He feels gross, he feels rotten. It wouldn’t be right to ask that of Eddie without him knowing the truth, to take advantage of him like that. It wouldn’t be the same, anyways. The superficial touch of a boy with the beginnings of a crush is not the tender lover’s caress that Steve craves. 

That is if Robin is even right about Eddie redeveloping feelings. Which she probably isn’t.

Steve’s just being stupid and selfish again. He wants to remove his brain from his skull so he can stop thinking, tear his heart from his chest so he can stop feeling; both so burned and decayed he thinks if he held them in his hands they would dissolve and crumble to dust and ash and sludge between his fingers. 

Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve forces himself to be fine. He peels himself off the breakroom floor and returns to work, continues the tedious tasks that he hopes will numb him out again. 

Robin catches his eye from across the room where she’s sorting a customer’s cash at the register. I’m sorry, her expression says, I didn’t mean to make you upset. 

Steve gives a tiny shake of his head and a small smile. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, his own expression reassures her. You meant well. I’m not mad at you. 

They don’t talk about Eddie again that day. The next time there’s a lull in customers and they’re able to chat again, Steve tells Robin he honestly just needs a distraction right now, and he lets her ramble on about Vickie and band and school and her impending graduation and the movie she watched last night and whatever other random thoughts are bouncing around that hyperactive head of hers. Her voice fills in the cracks in Steve’s brain, keeps it from falling apart completely. She’s always been good at that, and he’s grateful for it. 

Then he drops Robin off after work and he drives away alone in silence because all the songs on the radio are love songs, and he drives back to the hospital - back to the source of his grief again and again like some sort of fucking masochist - because Eddie needs him. Because Steve loves him.

~

Eddie cannot help the way his face all but beams the second Steve walks back into his room that evening. “There you are, Stevie! How was work?”

Steve returns the smile, genuine, but there’s a tiredness to it. “It was alright. Bit boring, really, uneventful. How are you doing?” 

“I’m good,” Eddie says, adding with a jaunty grin, “All the better now that you’re back.” 

It comes out a bit more flirtatious than he intended, but thankfully Steve just laughs it off. “Alright, smoothtalker,” he scoffs through a chuckle as he takes his usual seat by the bed. “It’s nice to see you again too.”

“Oh, the actual doctor came in to talk to me today. Good news, don’t worry,” Eddie tells him, the last bit tacked on quickly before that concerned crease can appear between Steve’s brows. “She says I’m healing up nicely, and I might be able to be discharged soon. A few more days’ observation and then they're gonna see how well I can actually move since, you know, the bats chewed through half the muscles in one of my legs. But, yeah, I could be out of here by the end of next week.” 

“That’s great, Eddie!” Steve brightens. 

“Yeah.” Eddie smiles. “I can’t wait to be somewhere familiar, feel normal again. Or, well,” he amends, smile falling a little as he realizes, “as normal as I can feel given that I’ll probably be walking with a limp for the rest of my life and be covered in nasty scars all over.” 

A strange expression crosses Steve’s face then, something happy and sad and sympathetic all at once, and his voice is soft as he says, “We’ll match.” 

Eddie blinks at him. “What?”

“The scars,” Steve clarifies. “The bats got me too, you know. I was lucky, it wasn’t as bad for me as it was for you, but, uh- yeah, we’ll match. See?” He stands and pulls his shirt up a bit. 

Eddie’s heart rate immediately kicks up again, blood growing warm, as his eyes snap to Steve’s stomach, to skin and muscle and body hair and- oh. Two giant, jagged red scabs cover Steve’s sides, the edges fading into skin bumpy and pink and white with the beginnings of scarring. The bite on Eddie’s own side twinges in sympathy. “That’s-” He swallows back the word hot, and breathes out instead, “Holy shit.” Without really thinking, he finds himself reaching out to skim his fingers over the ridges of Steve’s scars. 

Steve gasps - full body shudders - at the touch, and Eddie instantly pulls his hand back, afraid he’s hurt him. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“No, it’s fine,” Steve manages, though it sounds a bit shaky. “You didn’t hurt me, I just- I wasn’t expecting it.” 

Eddie tentatively starts to reach back out; Steve nods. He slowly traces the outline of the wound again, every uneven edge, feeling the evidence of hurt and the evidence of healing and the ripple of each breath Steve takes - breaths that echo in the quiet that falls between them. Eddie doesn’t realize just how intimate this silence has become as he runs his hands across Steve’s skin, until he glances up to find Steve just…watching him. It’s impossible to tell exactly what emotion is behind his eyes, but it’s intense and it’s devastating, and Eddie suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Uh-” A nervous laugh stutters out of him. He rescinds his touch. “Twin scars, huh?” he remarks, cracking a crooked smile and attempting to change this strange, suffocating energy with a joke. “Hell of a matching tattoo. Next time let’s just exchange friendship bracelets like normal people do, yeah?”

Steve huffs, a short burst of laughter that escapes from his chest like it’s been punched out of him. “Since when have you ever done anything like a normal person?” he teases in return as he pulls his shirt back down.

Just like that, blown away by Steve’s playful smile, the weird tension lifts. Eddie grins back. “Alright, fair point.” He adds, “Those are gonna be some pretty metal scars, Stevie.”

“Not as metal as yours,” Steve says warmly, settling back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “You’re the one that literally survived death, Ed. It doesn’t get any more metal than that.” 

“Now who’s the smoothtalker?” Eddie smirks, and he hopes he isn’t blushing. Steve Harrington calling him metal with so much pride and affection in his voice is doing numbers on his heart. Curse this stupid fucking crush.

Steve eyes divert briefly to the heart monitor, which has not once calmed down since the second he’d lifted up his shirt, and Eddie is so sure that he knows then, that he’s finally made the connection between what’s got Eddie’s heart racing, but he doesn’t say anything, just laughs it off again, smiling like everything’s completely normal as he looks back at Eddie and rolls his eyes and mutters in return, “Shut up.” 

“Make me,” Eddie mumbles, not quick enough to bite back the words before they fall from his mouth, only managing to lower his voice enough that maybe Steve didn’t hear him. 

“What?” 

“TV?” Eddie grabs the remote, pretends like that’s what he’d said in the first place. Real smooth. 

“Oh, sure.” Steve shrugs. If he noticed Eddie’s slip, he gives no indication of it. 

Eddie turns on the TV and they spend the next hour or so laughing and making fun of the bad acting on the show that’s playing. Easy, normal, platonic. Eddie’s heart rate stabilizes, remaining even so long as he doesn’t look too long at Steve’s smile. 

When sleep starts lapping at Eddie’s consciousness, he doesn’t fear it anymore. Silently, he holds out his hand, and Steve takes it, wrapping him in the warmth and protection that allows Eddie to let himself drift off undaunted. 

And in his dreams his hands skate across Steve’s skin again.

(part seven)

taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

[samandcolbyownme]

Sam had been focusing too much on working that he had ended up neglecting his relationship. You guys had planned to go out on a movie dinner date weeks in advance and already had dinner reservations set, he is too busy working to realize that the reservation was 30 minutes ago. Should you have reminded him? Yes. But you also feel like you shouldn't have to because if he cared then he would've put his work aside for a few hours to spend time with you. ANGSTTTTT but also fluff or smut at the end, dealers choice 😏

Warnings: Slightly angsty, strong language, reader breaking down, crying, yelling, suggestive language, kinda sad but happy ending

Enjoy!

══════════════════

Sam has missed reservation times. He’s been late to pick you up sometimes. He’s even had to cancel last minute, but you understood. For the most part, at least. You knew he had deadlines to make, people to update, plans to make, and flights to book.

Once the number of times he’s practically bailed on your reaches double digits, that’s when you really started to get mad. His reasonings, you’re sure were valid at the time, but you would get so mad you thought it was a bullshit excuse, so that just made you pissed.

You said something, you had a long talk one night, got on the same page again and everything was good, almost seemed better.

But only for a short while until things started to gradually trickle back into its cursed routine. You’d say something to him again, then it would just repeat the cycle. Back to square one with it. Finally, maybe after one or two more times, you gave up on what you felt like you just wasting your breath.

One night, while you’re laying in bed getting ready to go to sleep, Sam comes in after edited his one video for hours of the day. You feel the bed dip down and his body slides up against yours.

“I made us reservations at the Mitz, they couldn’t get us in until three weeks from now, so figure out what you want to do before or after and we can do that.”

You stay silent for a second before speaking. Your voice is in a very low whisper, “You promise?” He kisses your shoulder and nuzzles his head into your neck, “I promise. I’m sorry I haven’t been with it lately.”

“You and Colby have been busy. I get it.” You roll over to face him, “I guess.. I just feel like you forget I’m here sometimes.” He shakes his head, “I’m sorry I make you feel that way.” He kisses your forehead and you close your eyes, “I love you.” He rests his forehead against yours and lets out a quiet sigh, “I love you so much.”

Over the last three weeks, Sam and Colby surprisingly didn’t have much going on, so it worked out in everyone’s favor. You and Sam pretty much stayed home, and when he did edit, he made sure to include you.

Which is why, when that certain Thursday evening rolled around, you were absolutely crushed. It felt like, in a weird way, a betrayal. It really wasn’t that deep, but to you it was.

You scoffed as you hear the front door open, rolling your eyes as you look to the small clock on your vanity.

07:30 PM - 30 minutes past your set reservation time.

You drag the makeup wipe down your face, wiping away the hope you had painted on earlier in the evening. You can feel the burn growing in your eyes as you try not to cry.

You may think that two times isn’t bad, but it’s not really about the amount of times it’s happened. It’s more about how Sam doesn’t realize it’s happening. He doesn’t put up a fight, he just gradually buries you under all of his paperwork.

You hear him making his way up the steps and you know in your heart that it’s not going to be good. You take a deep breath, wiping over your face one more time with a clean wipe.

“So guess where Colby and I get to go next month.”

“Hmm?” You hum lowly, but loud enough for him to hear. You keep your stare fixed on yourself in the mirror in front of you. Sam walks closer and you feel every muscle in your body tense up.

You really didn’t want to fight with him - again.

“What’s wrong,” He asks, laying a hand on your shoulder. You were so mad at him, his touch only made the urge to cry even harder to fight back. You shake your head, “N-nothing.” You stand up, “I think I’m just gonna go get a bath and then go to bed.”

You grab a clean change of clothes and before you walk out, it’s hits Sam. He lets out a sigh, “Oh fuck.” You turn around, “Congratulations.” You give him a fake smile, “You figured out what’s wrong.”

“Y/n.” Sam calls out but you walk away. He follows after you, “Waitwaitwait.” He grabs your arm, pulling you towards him, “I am so.. so… sorry.” You tilt your head back resting it against the wall as you let out a slight laugh, “It doesn’t matter Sam.”

You look at him and his face falls, “W-What do you mean by that?” He stands up a little straight as you just simply shrug.

He shakes his head, “No. don’t say it. Please.” You chew on your lip as you feel the tears well, “I’m not..” you quickly swipe away the tears dripping down your flushed cheeks, “I’m not leaving, Sam. I just..”

You let your hands fall to your sides, and you just crack, spilling all of your emotions, “I need more, Sam. I-I know. I know that me getting upset over dates might be silly, but they’re important to me, Sam.” Your voice cracks and you look into Sam’s glossy eyes, “You’re everywhere, Sam. But you’re not here.”

You sniffle, voice cracking quietly, “And it’s hurts.”

He scrunches his nose and nods. You blink and the tears fall, “I shouldn’t h-have to be the one to remind you, fuck Sam. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

“You’re right.” He mumbles quietly as he nods. You look up, sighing, “I do not want to end us, Sam. Please know that.” His hands slide to your waist, but you speak before he can, “We need alone time. We-we need time to just be a normal couple sometimes.”

You bring your hands to your eyes and just sob.

Sam pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you as he whispers how sorry he is, “You are the most important thing to me, okay?” He presses his lips to your temple and you nod, mumbling, “Mhm.” You’re trying to get your crying under control as Sam continues, “I’m so sorry I missed tonight, baby.”

He sniffles and that makes you cry harder, “I’m sorry.” You sob out and Sam cups your cheeks, “Hey.” He raises his voice slightly, catching your attention. He raises his brows and leans in, his voice calm, “You don’t ever need to be sorry about anything, okay?”

You nod and Sam shakes his head, “You did nothing wrong, okay? I deserve to be called out on my bullshit. You did the right thing.” He kisses your cheek, “You’re my number one priority, from here on out I promise I’m going to prove it to you every. Single. Day.”

You smile slightly and you feel yourself gradually calming down, “I just didn’t want do make you mad.” You sniffle out, gasping out for air because of how worked up you had yourself.

You were slightly embarrassed, but Sam really doesn’t seem like he’s judging you at all. He laughs slightly, “Trust me, it would take you doing something a lot more stupid than getting upset over me being a dumbass to be mad at you.” He smiles and rubs your cheek with his thumb, “I love you.”

You smile, looking up at him, “I love you, too.” You lean in, pressing your lips to his and you feel him smirk. His voice is quiet against your lips as he mumbles, “Is this a bad time to tell you that Colby and I want to bring you on to the channel. Take you with us on every investigation?”

You lean back, looking up at him, “What did you just say?” He scratches his forehead, “When I got home, I was going to tell you that Colby and I were talking and we both agreed that when you’re on investigations with us, they turn out so much better than when it is just us, so with that.. we did a little poll thing in XPLR club and it turns out that the fans want you to join us. just as much as Colby and I do.”

You stare at him for a few seconds before you gently push his shoulder, “you couldn’t have just led with that, babe?” You laugh, “I embarrassed myself infront of you for absolutely no reason.”

He shakes his head, “First off, don’t be embarrassed. Second off, you calling me out on stuff that bothers you shows me you care enough to communicate with me, and I honestly cannot tell you how much that means to me.”

You bite down on your lip, “You might not be able to tell me, but I think you just might be able to show me.” You raise your brows as you look up at Sam and he smirks, instantly lifting you up against the wall, “Where to?”

You smile, “Take me to bed.”

══════════════════

Thank you so much for reading! As always, let me know what you thought! I love you all! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[rottenpumpkin13]

there's a racoon in the vents, stealing all the snacks

The Raccoon Incident? The Raccoon Incident.

For once, Sephiroth overcomes the shyness and anxiety that usually comes off antisocial, slipping out of his office when someone mentions cake in the break room. It's one of those lavishly delivered to SOLDIER as part of a corporate partnership—complete with a gift basket, flowers, the whole ordeal.

He picks out a generous slice, retreats to his office, and sets the plate carefully on his desk. But then be shifts his hand, accidentally knocks a pen to the floor, bends down to reach for it, and when he springs back up—the cake has vanished.

Sephiroth: ………..?

*Zack walks in*

Zack: Did you hear we got cake in the break room?

Sephiroth: Yes, I even went and got myself a slice. But the moment I set it down and turned my back for two seconds, it vanished. I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this.

Zack: Aha! You got swindled by the elusive vent raccoon!

Sephiroth: ……

Sephiroth: Like I said, I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this.

Zack: No, seriously! There's a raccoon loose in the vents. It steals food the second you look away. My first encounter was two weeks ago—I set down my sandwich, went to the bathroom, came back, and there it was, paws-deep in my lunch!

*Sephiroth walks towards the door*

Zack: Where are you going? Are you gonna tell Lazard? *gasp* Are we finally gonna capture the greedy bastard? Are you assembling a raccoon capturing squad??

Sephiroth: I'm going to get more cake.

Zack: ....

Zack is dead-set on capturing the raccoon now, and tires to alert Angeal and Genesis about it. They don't believe him either.

Zack: I'm telling you, it was a raccoon! I saw it in the men's room last week too. It was fluffy and had dark circles under its eyes, kept washing it's hands and wanted snacks!

Angeal: Are you sure you didn't just see Genesis before his morning coffee?

Genesis: You may think you've insulted me, but I actually appreciate raccoons. I'd be devastated if something happened to the poor creature.

Zack: So you believe me?

Genesis: Naturally. Just last week, I had a jelly donut on my lunch tray. I leaned down to pick up my fallen fork, looked back up, and it was gone. The raccoon must've taken it.

Sephiroth, raising a hand: Actually, that was me.

Genesis: !?

Sephiroth: Angeal gave me that emotional healing book, remember? It says not to deny myself things I want, so I'm applying it to everyday life.

Angeal: I'm proud of you.

Sephiroth: Thank you.

Genesis: 💢

Since Angeal doesn't believe him, Sephiroth is doubtful and Genesis is more concerned about the jelly donut Sephiroth owes him, Zack decides he needs backup and enlists Kunsel for the mission, sending him on a reconnaissance sweep through the vents.

*Kunsel drops down from the ceiling, dusting himself off*

Zack: So? Did you find it??

Kunsel: No raccoon…but I did crawl over Angeal's office and saw him venting to his plants about the price of milk in Midgar. Then I passed Genesis' office—caught him aggressively making a Sephiroth bobblehead and an Angeal bobblehead make out. Then I slipped over Sephiroth's office, where he had stolen the rest of the cake from the break room. And when I hovered over Lazard's office, he was updating a giant bulletin board titled "Plans to Take Over Shinra."

Zack: But no raccoon?

Kunsel: Not a whisker.

Zack: Damn it! Never send a boy to do a man's job.

*Angeal, Sephiroth, and Genesis approach Rufus and Tseng, both watching Darkstar as she barks up at the vents*

Sephiroth: Is it the alleged raccoon?

Rufus: She's definitely unsettled by something.

Angeal: Hm…maybe Zack was onto something after all. If there's a raccoon raiding the vents and stealing food, we should've taken him more seriously.

Sephiroth: I agree. A raccoon loose in the vents could pose a health risk.

Genesis: The raccoon didn't steal my jelly donut.

Sephiroth: I told you I'll replace your donut.

Genesis: Hm.

*Darkstar keeps barking and growling*

Tseng, sighing: Since you're all informed, I'll entrust you to handle it. Just imagining that thing crawling through the ducts, spreading who-knows-what, is already giving me a headache.

*Zack pops out from the vents, covered in dust*

Tseng: !?

Zack, breathless: You're not gonna believe this, but I saw the raccoon and chased it! It has stolen the cake Sephiroth stole from the break room.

Angeal, turning to Sephiroth: You stole the cake from the break room??

Sephiroth: No, I just didn't deny myself the things I want. Just like your book said.

Angeal: I should've gotten you a coloring book instead.

Genesis: Or perhaps a jelly donut so he wouldn't feel inclined to steal mine.

Sephiroth: LET IT GO.

Genesis: NEVER.

*Lazard strolls by and catches the group setting up a makeshift cage trap lined with snacks, with a long string disappearing behind their hiding spot*

Lazard: ...What exactly are you all doing?

Zack: We're setting a trap for the elusive vent raccoon.

Lazard: Is that why Sephiroth has the VP's dog?

*They glance over to see Sephiroth, who's cuddling Darkstar*

Sephiroth, unfazed: I wanted a dog, so I didn't deny myself one.

Lazard: You stole the VP's dog.

Sephiroth: It's called self-care, Director.

Lazard, exasperated: Fine, do what you want. I have enough on my plate. Speaking of which, that executives' brunch I was organizing? All the food vanished at the last minute. Every last bit.

Genesis: Most likely the work of the raccoon. Unless jelly donuts were stolen. If so, that was Sephiroth.

Sephiroth: .....

Lazard: As convenient as that sounds, I find it hard to believe a raccoon could swipe an entire banquet's worth of food from within the vents.

Angeal: Our working theory is that it escaped from the labs, another one of Hojo's experiments gone rogue.

Sephiroth, still giving Darkstar enthusiastic belly rubs: Yet another curse of Hojo's. Rest assured, Director, we'll handle this.

Genesis: And once we catch it, you can finally get me another jelly donut.

Sephiroth: Why are you emotionally attached to that jelly donut??

*Suddenly, a loud scuffling noise sounds from the vents above. They freeze*

Zack: It's the raccoon! Hide!

*The group dives behind the corner just as a massive, fuzzy creature plummets down from the vent. It's definitely not a raccoon. Zack yanks the cord, trapping it inside the cage.

Genesis: OH. IT'S A RAT.

Zack: IT'S A GIANT, MUTATED RAT.

*The rat snarls then rips open the cage door with an unnatural strength*

Angeal, horrified: AND IT'S FREAKISHLY STRONG.

Zack: RUN!

*Angeal, Genesis, and Zack bolt, shrieking down the hall as Darkstar barks furiously, darting after the rat*

Sephiroth: .....

Sephiroth: And to think we're all supposed to be highly trained operatives. We shouldn't scream, lose our cool, and flee from harmless creatures. And most of all, we should respect each other.

*Genesis sprints back around the corner, still screaming*

Genesis: YOU STILL OWE ME A JELLY DONUT!

Sephiroth: IF YOU MENTION THAT DONUT ONE MORE TIME GENESIS I'LL PERSONALLY RETURN YOU TO THE GODDESS!

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 200!!!

(huge thanks to this person for the art suggestion!! <3)

I genuinely can’t believe that I’ve made it to 200 days, it’s truly been wild how time flies by like that and the amount of doodles I’ve made during that time. Over 200 doodles (217 to be exact if we’re counting double pictures/extra doodles) have been made over the past 200 days. :0

And thank you all so much for the love and support! Not only have we reached 200 days but also 1400+ followers about a week ago! <3

But, having said that I’d like to make a few announcements—some good, some not so great—about a few things regarding the blog, myself, and other stuff.

Putting it all under the cut so the post isn’t long if you’d like to know more

______________________________

Announcements!

My pfp!

1.) I’ll be changing my pfp again!! I’ve officially decided that after every 100 days or so I’ll change up the pfp so it’s up to date with my doodle style (assuming it changed at all lol), but generally it’ll look relatively the same as the last!

Possibly more admins?

2.) As of right now I’m looking into the idea/possibility of having a second (maybe third?) person help me with daily doodles! As much as I’d like to keep doodling everyday there are some days that it can be tough or some situation might be happening. (i.e. recently got injured)

See, the problem is I don’t exactly have a proper way of trying this out??? My idea was to maybe do this through dms or more preferably Google Forms. I also don’t really know what form of communication afterward would be best either, suggestions to help me work this out would be great! (as you can tell I’m not very good at this stuff lol)

Commissions!

3.) After much consideration and a lot of thought, I’ve decided that in the near future, I’ll be opening commissions again for the first time in years. I don’t have everything set up quite yet, but expect more info in the near future!

About requests:

4.) You may have noticed recently that I haven’t been doing as many doodle requests recently. Sure, there’s usually quite a few in a row at once but you may have noticed I’ve also been doing “non-requested” doodles aka ones that I just do on my own.

Expect this to become a very normal thing going forward. I probably won’t be doing as many requests as before because frankly with the amount of requests I get daily when it’s open is a lot to handle sometimes. Does this mean requests will be stopped entirely? No, I’ll still do some occasionally, but not as much as I have in the past.

Also I’ll likely be doing strictly anonymous requests.

About Burnout:

5.) Alright let’s address the elephant in the room.

There have been quite a few instances where people have wondered if I would ever have burnout and have occasionally joked about “dying” from said burnout because “Silksong will never release, you’ll be doing this forever” etc etc.

In the past I’ve been fine, motivation has been great, but recently I’ve noticed it a little bit.

Unfortunately life has its own plans so it can be a little hard for me to make a doodle that day, expecially recently since I’ve been experiencing personal/medical issues. It’s part of the reason I’m hoping to get a second (maybe third) person to help me do daily doodles so I can take a little bit of the load off my shoulders.

So what does this mean for this blog?

Not much right now. But in the future, there may be some changes. My current plan is to keep going on daily doodles/posts for the length of a standard year, so roughly 365 days. After that, if things in personal life keep up the way they have, I may have to stop daily doodles and instead will post only if I have time. That likely means doodles every other day or every three days or something. At the very least I’ll still post a doodle once a week.

Not to worry though! I’ll still try my best even after I reach day 365 :)

I’ll discuss how things work a little more on my main @miizori later, but that’s as much as I can think to explain rn.

———————————————

Just a few more things I wanted to say!

This community has been so cool to interact with, so much tamer than some others I’ve been apart of in the past. I’m genuinely thankful for how much support and how nice everyone has been. I truly didn’t expect to get this far, I was fully expecting to have stopped like 10 doodles in lol. I especially love to see all your comments in the tags and people sharing their art. You’re all so cool :)))

I have a dtiys from back when I reached 300 followers that’s still available if you’re feeling up to it!

Also my main (again, @miizori) is where I make updates on doodle stuff, regular art stuff and so on if you’re interested at all in that lol

I think that’s all that I can remember wanting to say, so thanks!! I look forward to more doodles for you all :)

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff [Part 3]

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 3)

ie. Detention begins, and the topic of Winter Break plans comes into question.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

The first detention went about as well as you could have hoped.

You sorted paperwork, mindlessly graded the very same pop quizzes that had nearly given Deuce an aneurism just that morning, and shined all the stupid glassware that was needed to make all the stupid potions. It was grueling. And to think—you’d been doing this shit for fun not a month ago. What had been wrong with you?

“Maybe it was the Stockholm Syndrome,” you muttered irritably under your breath.

“What?”

“Nothing, sir,” you grumbled, and went back to organizing all of your tormentor’s seemingly endless collection of bits and bobs.

Professor Crewel looked over at you, his face twisted up like he wanted to say something. But after a moment of awkward silence, he just ducked his head back down to his paperwork and carried on without saying a thing.

The next afternoon didn’t look like it was shaping up to be much better. You shined, he scribbled, and you wished for nothing more than the sweet release of death. The quiet was disconcerting. Say what you will about all the time you’d spent holed up in this office before The Incident, but ‘silence’ had never been an issue. Even Crewel’s snide little barbs would be better than this—this nothingness.

‘You’re not even worth insulting anymore,’ your brain supplied helpfully. ‘Wow. Isn’t that a trip?’

“Are you almost finished?”

You startled a bit. It was the first full sentence he’d spoken to you all day. You glanced pointedly from him, to the walls upon walls of vials, and then back.

“No, sir.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, like this entire situation was just all sorts of unpleasant for him. And not like, you know, he’d been the one to lock you into the school equivalent of prison labor for the next four weeks.

He closed the ledger he was working on with a pointed snap and stood from his chair with a grand swirl of his fur coat.

“You can be finished for the day,” he said, leaning forward to rifle around in the top drawer of his desk. “It’s already late, and you should start making your way back to your dorm before it gets too dark.”

You fought and won against the intense to desire to roll your eyes. The path back to Ramshackle was no easier to traverse in the black of night than it was in the bright light of the afternoon. And besides, it’s not like you were particularly worried about anything happening to you out there. The monsters at this school prowled its halls no matter the time of day. If anything, nighttime meant less potentially murderous magicians out on the loose. No one but you was stupid enough to try and go toe-to-toe with a wandering Tsunotarou.

“And take these with you.”

You startled once more as something was pressed into your hands. It was a familiar box—sleek and artfully colored with matte backgrounds and swirls of golden lettering etched across its face. These were the fancy cookies.

Thankfully, the spite in your belly was enough to gobble up whatever lingering love you had for the treats. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself when you passed them back to Professor Crewel with a tight smile.

“Thank you,” you said, pointedly reaching into your own backpack to procure a nearly wrapped pouch of Annie’s homemade pastries. “But I’m all set.”

His dark eyes lingered on your stash of chocolate chip cookies in a way that made you think he was going to demand you throw them away, and maybe start ranting hypocritically about the dangers of bringing food of any kind into an alchemical lab. His jaw ticked and you had the distinct impression that he was grinding his teeth.

Instead, Professor Crewel just sighed and returned the treats to his desk drawer.

“Of course,” he huffed, looking a bit dejected, and collapsed back into his chair without his usual elegance. Huh. Maybe you’d just foiled his plans to try and poison you or something. “Good evening, Prefect.”

The next afternoon, he did not mention the cookies. However, on your way out the door at the end of the night, you noticed that he’d placed the box near the coatrack—not quite on top of your belongings, but close enough.  

And then it was there again the night after that.

And then again, and again.

.

.

“How’s the internment going?”

You heard a dull thwack and some angry shushing. Mister Rogerson’s laughter was muffled through the phone’s speaker, and you had a feeling that Annie had just tried to beat him with her shoe.

“It’s alright,” you snickered into your hand. “Prison is prison.”

“You know,” Mister Rogerson huffed. “I still say all of this is horribly unfair.”

You shrugged, and then remembered he couldn’t very well see that through a phone call, and sighed. “It could be worse.”

“Could it?” he asked, a clear frown in his voice.

You dutifully did not mention anything about Overblots and just sighed again. “I mean, probably.”

There was a bit of a scuffle on the other end and you heard little snippets of Annie’s kind trill. There was more laughter. It sounded warm—cozy. You glanced around at the grey, soot-stained walls of Ramshackle and tried not to feel sorry for yourself. Grim rolled over in his sleep and burrowed into your hip with a contented little mewl, which did help a bit.

“Annie wants to know if you got her care package,” Mister Rogerson said after a moment, sounding a bit like he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him. “And if you’ve thought at all about our offer to host you over the winter holidays.”

“I did, thank you,” you smiled. “It was all delicious.”

“And the break?” he asked after a moment.

“Crowley sent me some angry letter about taking care of the fairies that live in the kitchen stoves,” you said. “So I’ll have to see about that.”

“Just keep it in mind,” Mister Rogerson pressed, a bit of concern slipping into his otherwise laidback drawl. “Please?”

“Okay,” you smiled, feeling like you’d managed to steal a bit of that bubbly glow of theirs and tuck it away tight enough that even the chilly shadows of your new home wouldn’t be able to taint it. “I will.”

.

.

“Take care of the fairies in the boiler?”

“Yes,” said Crowley, with deadpan sincerity.

The other members of the staff looked on in silence—a lovely range of ‘fed up’ to ‘outright contempt’ twisting their faces.

“Well I thought it was an excellent idea,” he huffed, crossing his arms petulantly over his chest.

“No wonder this child hates you,” Trein hissed under his breath and worked his fingers into his temples like maybe if he drilled hard enough he could kill the Crowley-Induced-Migraine before it began.

The Old Crow gasped.

“How dare you—”

“And you,” Trein interrupted, turning on Crewel with a sneer. “What exactly are you trying to accomplish with any of this, Divus? An entire month’s worth of disciplinary action for one infarction? I thought you were better than, well,” a pointed glower at the raving Headmaster who was nearly collapsed in tears before them, “that.”

Crewel’s lips curled into a bitter snarl, but the aging historian before him was far from cowed.

“That’s none of your concern,” he snapped. “This is a matter between the Prefect and I, and their willful disobedience when it comes to following the rules of this institution.”

“Is that so,” Trein hummed, arching a brow in obvious skepticism. “But then again, what would I know anything about raising unruly children? I only have two lovely, successful, daughters of my own. Remind me, when was the last time you allotted even an ounce of affection to anything that wasn’t one of your purebred mongrels? Or your own ego?”

Crewel stepped forward with a scowl that was more a restrained baring of teeth.

“That has nothing to do with anything,” he sneered.

“Say what you will,” Mozus Trein tutted, and glared down his nose at the pair of them—Crewel with his poorly cloaked rage and Crowley who still refused to stop wailing about the injustices of it all. “But both of my children will be coming home for the holidays. Voluntarily.”

“Oooh,” Sam trilled, uncurling himself from the shadows for the first time all afternoon. “Get ‘em, Mozus.”

.

.

You ended up staying at Ramshackle over the break, if only because you couldn’t tell at this point if ‘oven fairies’ were a real thing, and if they were and they did starve, you’d feel absolutely terrible. Your rap sheet in this word was already a mile long—you didn’t need to add homicide to the list.

And then, of course, you ended up being kidnapped by Jamil and his smooth-talking self not a day in, so your act of goodwill really was all for naught.

You paced around your luxurious little guestroom cell, phone in hand. There wasn’t a lot of charge left on it, but you definitely had enough to make a call or two. Mister Rogerson would come help you, you knew he would. But… the problem was that you were kind of becoming a Blot expert at this point, and from the looks of things, Jamil Viper was about to go apeshit and melt into Enraged Ink Monster Number Four. Sure, the guy may have kidnapped you. But he also made great curry, and really didn’t seem that bad underneath it all. Just... quiet. And fed up with living a life of forced servitude and mediocrity. Which, y’know, totally fair.

You paced and paced.

“They have to be reported to the proper authorities,” Mister Rogerson had said. “And dealt with accordingly.”

“They’d be taken away?” you’d whispered.

“I know it sounds scary, kiddo. But that’s what we have to do to keep everyone as safe as we can.”

You grit your teeth and called Ace and Deuce instead.

They were immediately no help at all and Jamil ended up Overblotting anyways.

“Y’know,” Grim grouched, shivering into your side after Evil Jamil had yeeted you off into The Unknown and Freezing Corners of Sandy Hell. “You really should start charging for these things. We could probably make a lot of money or something.”

“That’s a great idea,” Azul nodded along, and you wanted to beat the shit out of them both.

In the end, you saved the day. As usual.

Jamil was de-inked. He was still a miserable wad of repressed hatred, but at least he was being open about it now. Everyone was alive. Azul promised to only bill you his usual rate for assistance rather than the holiday upcharge. Kalim held a feast, as per usual. And Ace and Deuce showed up at the tail end of it all, which was incredibly sweet of them and also on track with their usual brand of stupidity.

Everything had turned out great!

Except…

“How was your break?” Mister Rogerson asked. “We missed you over here!”

“It was great,” you lied, images of black tar running from narrowed eyes and the suffocating sensation of dark magic flooding your throat. “It was great.”

.

.

You walked into detention on Monday afternoon feeling like shit warmed over. And looking like it too, you would guess, seeing the way Crewel’s eyebrows shot all the way up his forehead.

You stayed silent throughout the whole thing, quietly sorting bottles and blends, and trying to keep your mind off the fact that you had very nearly died. Again. You could feel Crewel’s eyes on you throughout the entire ordeal, tracking you in a way that reminded you of someone watching a car crash that they just couldn’t quite force themselves to look away from.

“Prefect,” he called as your were half-way through shrugging on your coat at the end of the evening.

“Yes, sir?” you sighed, not even bothering to look up from the floor.

He was silent for one moment, two, three.

“…Get some rest tonight,” he ordered. It sounded like a cop out—like he’d wanted to say something else but hadn’t had the words for it.

You sighed again, bone deep and weary. “Yes, sir.”

.

.

You did not, in fact, rest that night. A horrible cocktail of nightmares tugged at your brain from dusk ‘til dawn, and you woke up feeling worse than you had when you’d gone to sleep.

You barely forced yourself to go to detention, and only because you knew it would only get worse if you tried to skip out. However, when the door to Crewel’s office creaked open, you were not met by a head of neatly dyed black-and-white hair, but a yowling mass of flying fur and limbs that immediately sent you sprawling to the floor.

Jasper and Badun yelped and cried in the ways that all excited dogs cry, and laved your face with so many kisses you couldn’t have counted them even if you tried. Your hands went into their soft scruffs on instinct, and you had to fight valiantly not to burst into tears.

There was a hand at your back then, urging you towards the comfy, plush, chair that you’d once called yours. You plopped gracelessly against the opulent cushions, and the pair of delighted dogs quickly bounded up to join you—squishing their too-large bodies into your lap and across the armrests. The duo buried their noses into your shoulder, your hip, any nook and cranny they could reach. And you felt warm for the first time since the holidays.

When you woke up later (hours? Days? You couldn’t tell), you and Jasper and Badun were all still bundled together in that chair—the three of you tucked in gently beneath the soft furs of a very familiar black and white coat.

.

.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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[pomeloandtv]

She took off her sunglasses and thought.

It was nice to be able to think again. For a change.

How on earth could she ever have believed it was not something that he had planned?

Everything else had been his idea, his project, his execution, why had she believed this wasn't?

Well, for a while thinking had been harder, it was easy to believe anything in that state, but even so …

But that had only been a year. She'd still been smart for a long time before that.

It had started five years ago.

Maybe it had started earlier?

But her memory of it started five years ago.

A growing pain over six months

First unease, something wrong

"Hi Julia!"

Growing to an inner, unexpressed cringe, that's not me

"Happy birthday Julia"

Then wanting to snap at people whenever it happened

"Julia, can you …."

Thinking "That's not my name!" but biting her tongue every single time.

Having to introduce herself had been the worst

"Hi, I'm … Julia" [ugh]

Taking 5 minutes to fill out a form when meeting a surgeon for a consultation. Not wanting to write anything down, but knowing there was nothing else to write down

FIRST NAME: …

But who am I then? If that is not me, who is me?

And then one morning after about six months she had woken up and her name, her real name, her true name was bright and golden in her mind. Everything was so obvious.

And a middle name too? She had a middle name on her birth certificate, but it had never been part of her identity. She could go years without thinking about it.

But now she absolutely had a middle name

Elation. Her name revealed to her.

It was beautiful.

And it was her.

But, she didn't tell anyone. She suffered for another three months.

She engaged in occasional unknown petty acts of rebellion.

Going to the coffee shop when she knew no one was there, making her order, giving her name, "Coffee for …", walking out with her trophy, sometimes her name hidden, pointing towards her, sometimes pointing to the world, depending on how brave she felt.

Baristas with bad writing were her favourite. No need to hide the name.

One morning, she snapped in front of her husband

"Julia, we'll start the …"

"NO!"

He said nothing, waiting

Oh my God, was she really about to tell someone?

"What's wrong"

All the words came out at once

"Thatsnotmyname ImeanIknowitismyname butIhateit Idontwantit itsnotmyrealname pleasedontcallmethat Icanttakeitanymore itisjusttoomuch everyonecallsmethatanditismakingmeinsane ItriedbutIcantlivelikethisanymore"

"Ok, I'll call you anything you want"

Oh God, here it came, she paused too long

"Is there another name you'd prefer?"

"My name is Sweetie, with an i and an e at the end"

And the weight was lifted, and she was now Sweetie to him, and a few weeks later she even told him her middle name.

And he had loved her new name, and delighted in using it

And things at home had been wonderful

But it was still only him who knew

The world did not and she hated the world for it and she was at least a little bit sad in it all the time

And he told her she would have to tell people her true name.

And she had.

And though some people accepted it, a lot of people had hated it.

She understood that it was … a non-standard name, one which carried societal meaning. But that was society's fault, not hers.

One of her friends refused. They weren't friends anymore.

Others were slow to adapt, but they did.

Her parents were a bigger problem. She wasn't prepared to cut them off over this, yet, but she did reduce contact.

Eventually they came around.

They still didn't understand.

But they understood enough to know that it wasn't important whether or not they understood.

On her birthday they baked her a cake with her name in icing.

Her middle name wasn't included.

But that was OK.

She reserved its use for more formal settings. Like work. Friends and family could just call her Sweetie.

But her husband knew how much she loved the middle name too and would call her that and she loved hearing it from him.

"Sweetie Muffins" he would say to her in the morning, when he felt her stirring, and she would sigh happilly.

Sometimes just "Muffins" to be cute.

Things got better.

She looked at some pictures on her phone.

Here was dinner and champagne to celebrate her new legally-changed name.

Pictures of each of the days her driver's license or credit cards arrived.

Sweetie Muffins Baudin

Middle name included, her old middle name never having been.

She was finally herself, Sweetie to her friends, Sweetie Muffins to the wider more formal world.

Occassionally she met resistance to her name from strangers, but that was their problem. Not hers.

Then other big changes came

It got harder to think or to focus.

But she knew that was because of him.

And she knew he wouldn't be doing it if it wasn't what she really wanted.

She never remembered a hypnosis session, but over the years it had become clear to her that he brought her under nearly every day.

And then she had to leave her job.

Which was good. She used to love her job long ago but now she hated it.

But she hadn't told her job she wanted to leave, her job had told her she had to leave.

She kind of remembered the conversation in her boss's office.

She had been confused. She was always confused. But OK.

It was nice like this.

Everyone was so nice to her.

People smiled at her more, or told her not to worry, or that it was going to be OK.

People did things for her.

She could just be nice to people and no one expected anything of her.

Then her boobs got bigger, again

She remembered the pain and the recovery but not much about the decision.

Her husband had took her to a doctor where she had smiled and pretended to understand, but focusing on long sentences was hard

How had he done that to her? So delicious.

And the doctor had smiled at her and she had smiled back. And said "yes", or "I need to think about that" but not much else.

Later, (how much time had passed?) she was in surgery.

And then pain and weight for a while and then bigger boobs.

She liked them a lot.

Everybody else seemed to.

Some of her friends would squeeze them for luck, and she would giggle, and her friends would pat her head.

And there were other changes.

Like her first boob job, he'd already made changes to her face, before, when thinking was easy.

But now he made more.

She looked at some old pictures.

She had always thought of herself as beautiful before, before she met him even.

But now ….

And then one day her husband had told her she would be getting a tattoo on her ass.

He'd picked her other tattoos of course, just as he had when she had been smarter.

She had tried to think of something to say in reply. She pursed her lips.

"What will this tattoo be of Daddy?"

"Your name"

"My name?"

"Sweetie Muffins"

"I love my name!"

He had laughed warmly. "It's a great name"

"I really love my name!"

"Well, if you ever forget it, and its possible with that silly head of yours, you can just look at your ass to remember it"

"Ok?" she had smiled back, replaying what he had said. He had said a lot. A knot appearing on her forehead. "Oh! I get it!"

She had her intelligence back now

Four months ago he'd stopped performing whatever conditioning he had been doing that made it hard to focus.

She'd been back to herself for a few weeks now, adjusting.

She said she'd like to be turned back, made stupid again, he had promised he would.

But for now, he wanted to see the light of understanding in her eyes.

"And there is a different pleasure you will get in comprehending. So we can have fun with that too"

Later; "maybe I'll just make you dumb for other people", he had mused

"If you want, but it was nice to be dumb for you too"

She came inside from the patio and looked at herself in the mirror.

So gorgeous

He had told her yesterday he'd be pumping her lips back up.

"Back up", she had asked? "They were bigger?"

"They were a lot bigger last year, they've come down since. Look at your old Instagram pics"

Those were big

Seeing made her remember

They had been huge in her field of vision.

Her lips were still big, well beyond her natural size, still visible in her field of vision.

But not like those old ones.

"I'm remembering something, uh, did I have trouble talking or something? I seem to remember … a feeling … it was difficult …"

"We had a bit of botox placed behind the middle of your top lip. It made it harder for you to form the shapes needed to pronounce certain sounds. You were adorable"

"I remember, … uh, can we do it again? I mean, I'd like to experience it now"

He had winked.

"Will you do that again, I mean, if you make me stupid again will you make changes to me I don't understand?"

"That's a guarantee. I'll make some temporary changes that go away like those lips. But I'll make permanent changes too like your tits"

"uhhhh, yes please, whatever you want"

She took off her dress and looked at her ass in the mirror. At her tattoo.

She got a second hand-held mirror so she could see what other people saw. Without mirror writing.

Sweetie Muffins

It was her name.

Nothing felt more real to her than that.

She was Sweetie Muffins

Funny how a middle name had never mattered before. Now it was just one grade below being the second part of a double-barralled first name.

She had always been Sweetie Muffins, even when she had been Julia Falkner, or Julia Grace Falkner according to her birth cert.

She would always be Sweetie Muffins.

She didn't want to be anything else.

She loved the tattoo.

It was cute and sweet. Like her.

Visible in a bikini, or in the gym changing room.

He had installed a small gym at home, but she wasn't allowed use it.

She had asked why, now that her smarts were back, it had occurred to her that it was weird that she went to the gym.

"I like that you have to work out around people in your sports bra and booty shorts"

"Besides, you need things to do all day, and going to the gym can be one of them"

That was true. She'd been getting bored as her intelligence came back. What had she done all day before with no work to go to?

Clothes shopping certainly. She hadn't asked him about it yet, but she hadn't found any of her old clothes.

Everything she had now was more colourful, attention-attracting.

And the only more-plainly-coloured items were all tighter, shorter, lower-cut.

She'd taken to wearing these items - like the black cocktail dress she'd just taken off - just to not feel like an explosion in a paint factory

She looked from the dress on the floor back to her tattoo

Sweetie Muffins, the tattoo said to her

"That's you", it said to her

"That's me", she said to herself

"I'm Sweetie Muffins"

The name was intrinsic to her

Everyone should know who I am.

All this was true for her

All this would always be true for her

Even now having learned the truth.

She had never seen herself under before.

But he had shown her a video of the first hypnosis session where he had began the work of changing her name.

Making her feel disgust at Julia

Implanting her need for Sweetie Muffins.

And she knew it never would have taken, her mind would have rejected it, had she not wanted it

She was Sweetie Baudin

Sweetie Muffins Baudin for more formal occasions.

[just-watch-and-calculate]

a failing hard drive (and a mental health revelation)

(written by an adhder off their meds: I will go off on tangents)

(the data seems to be safe now)

(this post is about two things which feels a bit weird but the point I want to make is somewhere where both things overlap)

a lesson I learned from this:

back up your data! do it now! yes, NOW!

it started a few weeks ago when I changed linux distro from suse to arch (though it also started earlier. human starts are hard to define. me and my neurodivergence and my pc and hard drive and my mental health struggles that most if not all nd people have in some form didn't just pop into existence when I started installing arch).

I had unplugged two of my drives to protect the data on them from any mess-ups during the install process. (I should've made backups, yesterday evening would have been less scary that way).

the installation went fine, but it took a few days due to mild lack of sleep and me not using archinstall, but I succeded. (and after accidentally uninstalling the login manager on my laptop and briefly reprioritizing to fixing that because I couldn't get the gui to launch manually without the login manager)

and I was proud of my setup. one minor thing, the drive my /home folder (that's where the user accounts' data is) started its off-on spiel it sometimes did when the cable wasn't plugged in properly. (at that point it had not seemed alarming. I had unplugged it prior and was already familiar with this happening)

it had messed up something with i3, I rebooted, it was fine. I knew what drive it was because I can hear its whirr and the clacking of the head going into its off position when it turned off. I love how it sounds. that I can hear how it is 'alive'.

so I opened my pc, unplugged the drive and plugged it back in. and it was fine for a few days.

after it had happened (or maybe only after the 2nd time it happened on arch) I also looked up if there were tools to assess drive health and installed the smartmontools package. I do not know if I would have been a bit slower in noticing when my drive started to fail, maybe the sounds alone would have worried me enough. quite possibly not. ultimately the s.m.a.r.t. output got me to start a backup of the raw data though, but not by actually warning me directly of imminent failure. it estimated about 20000 more hours of use (edit: that is untrue. I just misinterpreted something).

I think it also went off-then-immediately-back-on a few more times before and after that; but that and the following were the two instances that caused my OS tho struggle before the hard drive failed.

after the second time it happened, upon rebooting, the drive would just do its off/on routine while fstab was trying to mount it on 2 consecutive reboot attempts but failed. mildly panicked I booted the live arch usb I had previously installed from and tried to figure out what to do. I didn't back up my data then. I should have. I had planned to set up backup automation then but not yet got around to doing so. I should have done so.

it was unlikely to be the cables' fault, but yet again I unplugged the drive and plugged it back in. yesterday I found out why that was futile. it did its off/on routine after I'd tried getting a more taxing game to run, but i3 was fine, and so I continued, mildly worried. the second time it happened, not long after, I checked the s.m.a.r.t. data. Because I'd sent all the interesting bits of the data to someone the day prior, I was able to look up how it had been before. still, it estimated about 20000 more hours of drive use (edit: that is untrue. I just misinterpreted something). but the count of PhyRdy->PyNRdy was off the charts. from about 300 in a prior power cycle it rose to above 18000. then, eventually it even reached 19000. online advice on this was: back up your data. now.

and so I did, finally, back up my data. the easiest option with now ramping up andrenaline (and a cold I was still recovering from) was using dd. I made sure the infile and outfile were the right way around and off I went, copying all the disk contents to another disk. (or rather, the contents of the partition I was mainly using)

it went ok at first. then the occasional off/on, going by how the drive sounded. ok, I hope you make it, buddy. please, at least long enough to save my data.

then it wasn't just clack-spin-down-fully-then-spin-up-again. it was stumbles, the clack sounded different, had different timing, it didnt spin down fully before spinning up again. (for clarity: by spin down I refer to the motor inside reducing in speed until it is off, like when shutting down my pc.)

the copying stumbled. a bit past halfway it stopped. i/o error. disk dump (dd) had exited. smartctl just told me "inqury failed". my os seemed to think the disk was still there. it just wasn't responding. not presumably unmounted this time, just not responding. the last temperature readout had been a bit above 40°C. high, but it should be fine, right? the PhyRdy -> PhyNRdy statistic was 19806 at last readout. my hard drive was definetely failing now. dying.

I called someone with more IT experience than me; adrenaline was definitely kicking in now. we opted to shut down my pc and try getting the rest of the data after waiting 20 minutes. giving my hard drive a break. it did not make its usual sound when shutting down. it must've spun down at some point before and not spun up again. I braced for the worst, for the first half of the dd to only contain the data I've had older backups of and for the rest to be lost.

my hard drive had just needed some rest. ddrescure came to the rescue, I copied the remainder of the data with not many auditory "complaints" by the hard drive. then turned off my pc to unplug that drive. it could rest now. it had done its part. I no longer needed to fear that my data would be lost. as of writing this I'm combining both halves of the backup on it into one file to mount it and see if my data is intact. odds are looking good but I should make sure. (as of my 2nd draft I'm mounting the file. fingers crossed.) (as of finishing the 2nd draft of this fsck reports the backup's filesystem as having a bunch of errors. I hope my data is salvageable. mounting the file worked but that is a lot of errors from fsck. gonna do a full ddrescue now.) (the ddrescue is nearly finished; the two halves should be recombinable now, ddrescue just has important syntax differences compared to dd. my data is most likely safe.) (the data backup seems to be fine now!)

I miss the way that hard drive sounds. I miss hearing it start. I miss its hum. I miss the hard drive that, quite literally, made my pc home. I only was at home on arch once I had moved my user data to the new home directory. (finally it wasn't my deadname anymore. being trans was now, accidentally, a way to keep my suse and arch user accounts nice and separate)

/home was home, and now it was failing. dying.

how odd, to be feeling (slight) grief for a hard drive.

and now for the mental health realization:

I've anthropomorphized that hard drive in some places in this post. while it was actually failing I was somewhat doing that most of the time (you can make it, buddy! please, please just try to keep going a bit longer. once my data is safe you can get a break.)

and I realized why that is.

one part of it is just that I have the tendency to anthropomorphize things, like the chocolate snowman who I found out had a name only after I had already eaten it. I felt sad, and a bit silly. I'm never buying chocolate with a name like sammy again.

but there's more to it; and it isn't coincidence that I am putting this in a post about a failing hard drive, rather than that chocolate snowman. not only did I humanize that hard drive when it was "struggling" - I also do it the other way around: taking "schedule maintenance or the equipment will schedule it for you" also as a reminder to take the breaks I need because when I need them they will happen eventually. so I better listen to my body and take breaks when it isn't already a bit too late.

I'm treating myself like the machines I humanize because when treating myself as human what sneaks in is treating myself as someone who should be this good little neurotypical girl. treating myself as who I learned I should be instead of treating myself as me.

treating myself as human has failed somewhat. between being trans and being ace and being neurodivergent, I'm not human in the way I was taught I should be. and with this baggage, I need a better angle at this to be able to take care of myself in a way that will allow me to heal.

I stopped trying to view self-care through my neurodivergent mask. it's not this vague lifestyle thing. it is the basis of my well-being.

I started viewing it as 'self-maintenance'. maintenance is important. it is basis for continued operability. that much is simple. it is specific to what is being maintained. I couldn't exactly have treated my hard drive as a dripping faucet. it would have been nonsense for me to try and save my data from my windows installation which I'm much less experienced with. (and besides, it's windows. I actually use OS as an analogy for my neurodivergence sometimes, I do think it works in many aspects. there are many different linux distros. mine takes a bunch of extra work but works better for me.)

it would be nonsense to try treating myself like a neurotypical person. because I'm not. and it would be nonsense to view this "self-maintenance" as something to do only whenever I've got time between my failing hard drive and uni and having gotten sick. it is important.

short bonus bit - the magnus archives has helped me cope with the fear I felt for my data a bit. and since it continues being an intense interest of mine I'd like to discuss that. just beware of spoilers, I'm not sure off the top of my head when the concepts I'm talking about below stop being spoilers

it is interesting that one of the hypotheses of what is going on with the failing hard drive is that the temperature is somehow why that drive is failing - considering the lightless flame is all about things like this data loss. so hi desolation, I hope to never meet you again. please do not cause the digital equvialent of a housefire (overheating(?) /home) ever again.

running the full ddrescue now, it seems putting a cold pack next to it calmed it down. poor thing really was suffering from heatstroke at normal operating temperatures it seems

[zombiigrll]

Can I request a Carl x male reader set after 7x1 where reader comforts Carl about what happened and maybe they plan to infiltrate the sanctuary together and when Negan insults Carl, reader comforts him again after he's left alexandria?

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TO THE MOON AND BACK. ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x male!reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 3.7K ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ angst + fluff, spoilers for the walking dead 7x1-7x7, swearing, kissing, gore, flashbacks, use of y/n! .ᐟ SUMMARY .ᐟ ⭑ after the lineup, you and carl were determined to get back at negan. so, you decided to make a trip to the sanctuary together. ꩜ .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ thank you for the request anon! and im so sorry i know i definetly changed some things about this prompt </3 i was having a difficult time with how to write the exact prompt. i hope you still like it! (EDIT) oh my god. im SO SORRY. i didn't read that you specifically requested a male reader </3 i went through and tried to get all of the things i put fem pronouns and stuff on changed i'm sorry if some of it is still wrong!! this is so embarassing help me...

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you and carl both had the same determination of getting rid of negan after the lineup happened. negan had killed two of your friends, two people who had saved you a numerous amount of times.

and negan had also mutilated your face. not on purpose, but you just so happened to be a little too close to abraham when he was being murdered, resulting in your cheek getting torn open.

but, of course, nobody was fond of the idea of two teenagers going out to kill some guy who's murdered hundreds of people himself.

so you'd have to make a plan that no one else would know of.

you met up late at night in carls room while everyone else was deep in sleep.

"so, how're we going to do this?" you had brought a notebook and pencil to his house in case you needed to write the plan down.

"the saviors are going to come to our place weekly, right? that includes going to hilltop." he draws down some sort of map on the paper, labeling things as he explains. "if we plan this right, we could head to the hilltop around the same time the moving trucks are there. we can sneak into the back of one of the vehicles."

you nod as he explains, biting your bottom lip nervously. "and what if we don't get there at the right time?"

"we can ask the people at hilltop when the last time the saviors came was. if it was a week ago, we can wait around. if it was recently, we plan for the future."

you nod again, this time more confidently. "alright."

"are you okay with this?" carl notices your uncomfortable and nervous appearance, putting a comforting hand on your knee. "if you want, i can go by myself-"

"no. i'm going with." you cut him off swiftly. "i'm not letting you do this by yourself. i want to help you."

"...alright." he smiles softly at you. "we're gonna do this together, then. like we always have."

...

its safe to say you didn't get much sleep that night, even sleeping with carl. you kept tossing and turning thinking of all the possible things that could happen.

and by the time carl went to wake you up, you were already up.

"y/n.." he softly spoke, tapping your shoulder before realizing your eyes are already open. "you're already awake?"

"mm.." you nodded before turning your body to face him properly. "i'm nervous."

he brings up a hand to move a strand of hair behind your ear. "i know. i am too. it'll be okay."

you lean your face into his palm while you put your hand over his. "when are we leaving?"

"soon. i already have our bags packed, we just have to get changed." he smiles down comfortingly at you.

you give him a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up and stretching, walking over to your wardrobe to grab some clothes.

"you sure you still want to do this?" carl questions, standing up shortly after to get ready.

"i'm sure. and even if i wasnt, i'm not gonna let you do this by yourself."

he shoots you a quick smile before grabbing his clothes and changing.

the two of you finished getting changed, and now it was just a matter of getting out of alexandria unnoticed. a couple people were out on runs to get stuff for negan, so you guys had a good chance of getting out no trouble.

carl held your hand as he guided you to the front gates, helping you up and down the gate to make sure you didn't fall.

you guys successfully got past the gate unnoticed, dropping down with a slight 'hmph' sound as your feet hit the ground.

there was a car right outside of alexandria. did you or carl really know how to drive?

no.

but, that didn't stop you guys. you knew the basics, and it was the fastest possible way to hilltop in time.

carl looked at you, then back at the car, walking over to it swiftly. you followed quickly behind him and stepped into the passengers seat.

he started up the car and started driving.

"i think this is how we're going to die." you joked, putting your seatbelt on and holding onto the grab handle.

carl laughs with a nod. "we'll be fine."

...

that went wrong, fast.

well, you guys did end up being fine. but apparently all of these years of carl seeing walkers, it was a shock to see one while he was driving a car.

did he run into it on purpose to try and impress you? or was it genuinely an accident?

"holy shit, carl!" you yelled, gripping harder than before on the grab handle and pulling your seatbelt tighter in fear as he slams onto the breaks.

"fuck, sorry. sorry." he spoke breathily, setting the car into park. "...sorry."

you let go of the handle and unbuckled yourself, letting out a deep sigh. "it's... it's fine. do you know where we are right now at least?"

"mhm. hilltop should be right over there." he points in the direction of hilltop as he unbuckles as well, stepping out of the car.

you gather your things out of the car and begin walking with carl following behind you.

the two of you were walking for a bit, your legs getting more and more tired and your guys' moods plummeted after losing the car. but suddenly, you hear carl call out.

"hey, y/n."

"what?" you turn around and tilt your head at him, walking closer to him to see what he's found.

two sets of rollerskates.

"oh, are you kidding?!" you exclaimed with a bright smile, kneeling down next to him. "i haven't been on rollerskates since, like, my 6th birthday!"

he pulls out both of the pairs, handing you one. "i hope this makes up for my shitty driving?"

"absolutely."

...

the rest of the journey to hilltop was honestly... fun.

you and carl were hand-in-hand on rollerskates, skating like you were deers on ice.

"woah, slow down! you're pulling me!" carl laughed, accidentally sliding in front of you.

"oh, come on. just go faster then!" you chuckled, moving him back to your side.

as he turns to face forward again, he stops. "we're here. i think the saviors are here too." he whispers, pointing at one of the trucks by the entrance.

you silently nod as he moves you guys behind a tree. you quickly take off your skates and set them into the grass before putting your regular shoes on.

"are you ready?" carl asks lowly, interlocking your fingers together.

"mhm." you look up at him nervously, your anxiety showing through your interlocked hand shaking.

"hey.." he brings up his free hand up to your cheek. "we're gonna be okay. nothing is going to happen to you, not while i'm with you."

you smile up at him, quickly glancing at his lips before looking back into his eyes. carl lets out a quick chuckle before kissing you lightly.

as he breaks away from the kiss, he smiles at you again. "let's go."

...

an hour had passed.

an entire hour of sitting in the back of a moving truck, staying as silent as possible as you held a pistol in your hand. you took deep breaths with your eyes closed and head leaning back onto the walls of the truck.

and you were quickly taken out of your daze at the feeling of the car breaking and the sound of the car parking.

you gave carl a surprised and nervous look before looking back toward the entrance of the back, noticing a man opening it up and looking at the loot.

carl quickly pointed his gun up, firing at the men. you followed after by standing up alongside him and pointing your not-so-intimidating pistol up, helping shoot more of the saviors away.

carl pushes a bit past you and points his gun. "stay back! drop your weapons."

you step forward to his side, pointing your pistol towards the saviors out of carls view.

"we only want negan." he continued, his gaze fixated all around the yard. "he killed my friends. no one else needs to die."

right after carl announced that, a familiar whistling was heard, catching both of your guys' attention instantly.

"damn." negan laughs, staring at the two of you with a smirk plastered along his face. "romeo and.. romeo? isn't that adorable." his gaze fixates onto carl, and he points at the giant gun in his hands that was aimed right towards him. "did you pick that gun 'cause it looks cool? you totally did, right?"

negan sets lucille in front of him, leaning onto her as he looks at both of you with a squint. "y'know, i'm gonna be honest, you kids scare the shit outta me."

just as you were about to open your mouth to say something to him, a man runs into carl to pin him down, which also in result pushed you over.

"carl!" you yelled, attempting to get up. but before you could, you saw a couple saviors pointing their guns toward you.

"back off!" negan yells, holding his hand up toward the cluster of saviors and dwight. "dwight. is that any way to treat our new guests?"

that sentence mad your heart drop. when you noticed the guns being set down, you got up and quickly moved over to help carl.

"are you okay?" you asked carl, practically in a whisper as you helped him up. he nods and readjusts his hat, glaring back up at negan, which you joined in on.

this only made negan grin wider.

"well, come on, kids! let me show you around."

...

negan had given you and carl the tour. it wasn't pretty.

he made the sanctuary seem like some amazing, beautiful place, but all you saw was misery.

carl raised an eyebrow at negan as you three entered a room that had a large bed and two chairs facing each other. "are all of those women actually your--"

"wives? yeah." negan cut off. "always wanted to screw a whole bunch of women. i mean, why settle for just one? a bit.. different in your case, but my point still stands." negan jokingly points a finger at you, which you responded in a silent death-stare. "why follow the same old rules? why not make life better?"

negan steps over to one of the chairs and sits, signaling for carl to come over. "speaking of.. sit."

carl instantly nods and walks over, leaving you standing by the doorframe. you look at negan confused.

"you can go sit on the bed." negan grins at you and points to the edge of the bed. you comply and sit down, looking at whats happening with negan and carls interaction. "now.. let's get started."

"started on what?" carl asks, crossing his arms and glaring up at negan.

"i want to get to know you a little better, carl. you and him."

"why?"

"work it out. you're smart." he glares almost mockingly back at carl as he speaks. "in fact, i'm gonna tell you just how smart you are, in case you don't already know."

negan continues going on his speech, looking at you and carl as he speaks. "see, i'd expect kids your age to be moping around, not doing a damn thing, except crying about missing the prom. but you two? you go on a mission. you find me, kill four of my men together, and you're smart enough to know i'm not gonna let this slide."

as negan chuckles, you begin feeling your body shaking, memories of the lineup rolling back through your mind.

"ah, i can't.. i can't do it." negan speaks through his laughs. "it's like talking to a birthday present. you got to take that crap off your face. i wanna see what grandma got me."

you start to stand up to face negan properly. "he doesn't have to do shit-"

"four men!" he yells, standing up to look down at you. "four. men. you really want to piss me off, girl? 'cause i can make you take yours off, too. so i can see what lucille did to you when she was bashing your good friend abrahams head in-"

"fine." carl cuts negan off, his voice raised but slightly shaking. you look over at him with a saddened look, pressing your lip in between your teeth. carl sighs and begins taking the bandage off, and negan waves you away to go sit back down on the bed.

negan laughs ecstatically as he sits back down, watching carl take his bandage off. "almost there..."

carl sets the bandage down next to him, looking down at his hands.

"get that hair out of your face. let me see."

carl moves his hair behind his ear and faces negan, which only makes him laugh harder.

"christ! that is disgusting!" negan mocks, which makes you feel your stomach drop in anger and sympathy for carl. "no wonder you cover that up. have you seen it? i mean, have you looked in a mirror? that is gross as hell. i can see your socket." negan continues to laugh, but then he notices carl crying.

"carl.." you whisper. all you wanted right now was to go over there and help him, but you couldn't. you already pissed off negan, if you did something else who knows what he'd do to you or carl?

"...damn. look, i just.." negans voice softens into a more sympathetic tone, which surprised you. "it's easy to forget that you're.. just a kid."

carl looks away from negan and wipes away his tears, but without realizing, he turned away to face you instead. you saw his tears and his eye, which he always hid from you since the day it happened. his eyebrows raised when he realized who he was looking at, and he quickly turned back away.

"i didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything. i.." he sighs. "i was just screwing around."

before anyone could say anything else, there was a knock at the door, which made you and carl flinch.

"come in."

a man came in holding lucille very carefully, looking nervous. he explained that negan had left lucille down by the trucks.

"seriously? i never do that." negan laughs, standing up to grab his bat. "i guess two teens firing at my men is a bit of a distraction."

the savior quickly leaves and just as he shuts the door, negan sits back down and continues. "all jokes aside, you look rad as hell. i wouldn't cover that shit up. and, i mean, apparently it's a hit with the ladies." he points to you with a smirk. "but i swear to you, no one is going to screw with you looking like that."

negans expression quickly changes to one of curiosity. "what do you like to do for fun? you like music?" carl squints his eyes at negan confused. "i want you to sing me a song."

"...what?" carl raises his eyebrow, his body language softening.

"yeah. you two mowed down four of my men, i want something in return for that. sing me a song."

carl blinks rapidly in thought, confused and slightly scared. "i.. i can't think of any-"

"bullshit!" negan yells, standing up with lucille in hand, leaning down to carl. "what'd your mom sing to you? what'd your dad play in the car? start singing."

"okay, okay." carl sighs, looking over at you for comfort. "...okay."

carl looks down at his lap, messing with his fingers. negan walks over to the bed with lucille, listening to carl singing.

"you make me happy when skies are grey-"

carl is quickly interrupted when negan swings his bat right onto the bed, right next to your side. you flinch, staring at the fresh rips on the mattress and then back at negan, eyes widened and your chest moving up and down from your rapid breaths.

"do not let me distract you, young man." negan glances at carl, then back at you. "and you, don't flinch."

how the fuck were you supposed to not flinch? your life was in danger, your mind racing to that night. this was basically how you got your cheek mutilated in the first place, too.

carl continued singing, and negan continued swinging near you. you tried your best not to flinch, but instead of flinching, you were crying and hyperventilating. your heart felt like it was pounding and your brain felt like it was exploding.

and after what felt like a million years, it was over.

"that's pretty good." negan said after his final swing, pulling up lucille and walking over to carl. "lucille loves being sung to. it's about the only thing she loves more than bashing in brains. weird, huh?"

you began spacing out, tears rolling down your silent face as you had horrific flashbacks to that night.

. flashback .

once negan had landed his bat right in front of abraham, your heart sank. he was sitting right besides you, and now you were forced to watch and experience his brutal death.

negan took his first swing right to the middle of abrahams skull.

"woo! takin' it like a champ." negan spoke, laughing at abraham as he sat there still, glaring into negans eyes.

"suck. my. nuts." abraham spoke his final words, which only uttered more laughs out of negan.

and negan took another swing, but this time, you flinched harder. and you got closer. and you felt a harsh pain shoot through the side of your face, and something crimson dripping down onto your lap. you brought your hand up with wide eyes, looking at the blood drenching your palms, then back up at everyone. your eyes wandered over to carl, who was staring at you with wide eyes as well.

he couldn't do anything, you couldn't do anything, and abraham was still being murdered at your side.

all you could do was cry, watching abraham while your vision was fogged up by your tears.

.

"..y/n?" carl shook you by your shoulders, getting you out of your daze.

right. you were still at the sanctuary.

"negan is trying to.. show us something." carl told you, nodding his head in the direction of negan, who was standing by the doorframe.

all you did was blankly nod, standing up from the bed.

"are we ready?" negan laughed, making a signal with his hands for the two of you to hurry up.

you quickly walked over to negan with carl by your side and negan began taking you to the railing, looking down at a man sitting down near a furnace with a crowd around him.

...

you barely remember what had happened for the rest of your time at sanctuary. you're sure you blocked most of it out.

you could vaguely remember negan showing you and carl a man getting the side of his face ironed off, and negan making you hold lucille as they did so.

and when you got back to alexandria with negan, carl had made you stay in his room until everything was over. you begged him to let you stay with him, that you were scared you were going to lose him, but he wouldn't budge. in the end, he locked you in his room.

"fuck, carl! please.." you cried trying to catch up with him.

"sorry. i love you." he said before closing the door.

you stayed laying in his bed, crying yourself to sleep.

you felt as if you were being dramatic. i mean, carl was facing more of the repercussions than you were. you were worried about him. his recklessness scared you, even if you were reckless yourself. he'd do anything for you, including spending the rest of the day with negan while you laid in bed despite everything negan had done that day and in general.

and the day passed. negan had left, and carl came back into his room.

you were still awake, back on the mattress as you stared at his ceiling. but as you heard the door open, you shot up. you quickly stepped off of the bed and ran over to him, hugging him tightly. your head was on his chest and one of your hands laid on the back of his head, the other around his neck. he quickly returned the hug.

"i'm sorry." he whispered into the crook of your neck.

you took your head off of his chest and up to look him in the eye, bringing your hands up to hold his face. "don't be sorry." you said with a half smile.

when you looked up to face him, he moved his face away. specifically, to the side where you couldn't see his eye.

"hey.." you readjusted your hand to move his face back to you. "don't look away."

"but, my eye-"

"what about it?" you laughed, pinching your eyebrows together.

"you haven't seen it since today. i, uh.. didn't think you'd want to see me like this."

"are you kidding?" you tilted your head, laying your arms to drape over his shoulders as you looked at him lovingly.

carl opens his mouth, as if he was about to say something to retort your comment, but before he could, you leaned in to kiss him. you brought one of your hands up again to hold his face as you leaned into the kiss. as you moved away, you smiled warmly at him.

"i love you.. to the moon and back." you laughed, tears in your eyes as you admired the boy in front of you.

carl laughed with you, hands on your waist as he smiled down at you. "i love you too." he brings up his hand to run his fingers through your hair as he speaks. "but.. how're you doing?"

"i'm.. i'm okay." you nodded reassuringly. "i'm better now that you're back here with me."

"are you, uh.. mad that the plan didn't work out?"

"it might not have worked out the way we wanted it to, but now we know the layout of the sanctuary and where it is." you reminded him. "it worked out, just differently. we'll figure all of this out again. together. right?"

carl nods, his smile returning to his face with a nod. "...yeah. together, like we always have."

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[kaihuntrr]

part thirty/closing remarks: author's closing notes

Ending notes to the fic before it returns on the 27th of November!

Hello! Kai, speaking here, post-birthday time (though I have a lot of commitments to do for the upcoming days, haha)! Technically it’s still the 18th in some other parts of the world, so it’s still technically my birthday, so I’m happy to say that Act I is well and truly over. This has been SUCH a while ride and I’m excited to embark on the next one. Now that I’m talking about it, I’d like to be a little mushy about my feelings on it since I’ve been having so much fun writing it. 

Truely, The Sea Prince was just meant to be a personal project of mine that I thought I could just scatter bits and pieces of over on tumblr to see if people actually wanted to get interested in it. I didn’t expect gaining friends and having a bunch of people really get invested with what I have! Still, I’m happy to have gotten a strong audience, and I hope the next act is welcomed with open arms. 

With some tentative planning, Act II is due to set sail on November 27th! 

This is so my co-writer and I can build up a bulk of edits and backlogs for the fic to keep that consistent, every-other-week schedule! It also just so happens that a new life series is around the corner, so perhaps it’ll help stoke some future things for acts III to V? We shall definitely see! 

Anyway, that’s enough rambling from me. Before I go, I want to give out a short excerpt of the prologue for Act II, just so you all have something to chew on before the upcoming Life Series! <3 Take care everyone, and I’ll see you on the 27th, should everything go according to plan! (If not, best to check out tumblr, but I’ll do my best to keep on schedule <3)

———

Another day, another perfect time to set sail.

Another chance to strike at the beasts that terrorized the people.

Grian stood proudly at the bow, facing the large iron gate in the distance. He saw the large shadow cast by the stone walls, its darkness providing a sense of safety to the town’s citizens with  a glint of the canons that adorned the top. It was a ready defense from any invading monsters, though they never dared to swim close to the islands. Maybe those monsters had some intelligence after all if they knew to stay away from the kingdom. They were protected by the king, the navy, and the hunters, each one ensuring humanity could live and thrive within the walls. It was good. It was perfect. 

It was home. 

It was going to be another exciting day. The crew planned to sail off into the sea, to find some beasts to kill, and to return to the love and warmth of the people and recover. Prepare, leave, kill, return, rest, then repeat. The simple, monotonous life of a hunter was easier said than done. A lot of hunters risked their lives every day to keep the people safe and sound. It was one of the most noble deeds a person could do in their life- it was even more noble to be acknowledged by the king himself. 

One day, this crew was going to earn the king’s approval. They had already slain small packs of those disgusting monsters, an impressive feat compared to the one or two beasts other crews their age had taken down. It was only a matter of time before the king addressed him, his brothers, and their crew. Then, they’d be hunters for the king– better than all the rest! It was going to be one of the best days of their lives, he just knew it. 

After all, he was the cunning Grian Solidarity. He was the youngest of his family and had the biggest hunger to prove himself on the wild seas. He and his brothers had made this crew not too long ago, and with how much money they’d been raking in, they just had to be the best out of all the people their age! The amount of people who had looked down on them for just being green, overeager upcomers wasn’t surprising, but Grian could bet those people were eating their own insults now. They just had to be!

Grian rested his hands on the railing, breathing in the fresh air, and hummed in delight. The ship was prepared to set sail and the others would likely return before the gates were scheduled to open. He’d done his part- checking on the weapons and restocking the ship with ammo was pretty easy when he was with Mumbo and Scar- so he had the luxury of sitting back, relaxing while waiting for the others to get on board–

“Grian?” He jumped at the sound of his name. He turned around to see Joel looking around, worried. “Have you seen Jimmy? I haven’t seen him anywhere.” Grian frowned, suddenly concerned.

Jimmy had been acting weird lately. Not only had he gotten that flower tattoo out of nowhere, but he’d been acting a lot more aloof on their hunting trips too. He’d been acting like that for a couple of months at least. He had been pretty scared of the ocean before, when they were younger, but a little exposure therapy didn’t hurt and he’d been fine. It also wasn’t the first time that he had wandered around like this- but he usually came back well before the ship would set sail.

Grian hummed, trying to recall if he had seen his brother in the past few… hours, probably. He ran through where he’d last seen the other members of their crew. He’d seen Cleo hanging around with Mumbo, Scar and Bdubs were doing something together, and Lizzie was out in the port talking to Martyn before he was due to set off with the Kestrels. Grian remembered catching Joel glancing at Lizzie a dozen times earlier, silently wishing she could join them on their hunts. “...No, I haven’t,” he finally said, putting a hand on his chin. “Any idea where he’d be?”

“No, that’s why I was asking you in the first place…,” Joel grumbled. “He’s probably in the harbor somewhere, let’s go look for him.”

“But I just got comfortable…,” Grian jokingly complained. One sour look from Joel made him roll his eyes and relent. Jimmy knew this town like the back of his hand, just like the rest of them. He wasn’t lost, Grian was sure of it. “Fine. But Tim’s probably just wandering around again. You know how he is.” He shrugged. Joel made a small frown and sighed, but followed Grian as the two descended from the ship and into the hustle and bustle of the port town behind them.

To be continued in Act II: Bait.

[gojot-t]

Hihi!! I'm here to place my order for the valentine's event!! I'd love to request an arranged marriage w topping 22 + gojo please!! Like they needed to rehearsal the "you may kiss the bride" kiss and he just kind of messes it up in purpose so they can do it again and again! KSJDJFJS AAAH I LOVE THIS EVENT SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR MAKING THIS!!!!!!!

from the valentine's day event! ⊹ ࣪ ˖

gojo satoru + arranged marriage + “Wait, that wasn’t good enough. Let’s do another take.” “…It’s been the fourth take already. Just admit you like kissing me, it’s fine.”

tags :: fem!reader, gojo is down bad, fluff, i ended up going in a slightly different direction and this probably wasn't what you had in mind, but I hope you like it anyway ><

“You really are an idiot.”

“Hey now, that's how you treat your future husband? tsk tsk.”

It's funny to think how just a few months ago if someone mentioned the slightest possibility of having something romantic with Satoru, you would choke in the most exaggerated way you could before denying vehemently, unaware of destiny's plans for you.

Even if you knew Satoru since you were a child, being each other's escape from the so boring and extraneous clan meetings and messing around until some wrinkled-faced old man lost his temper and yelled at you two, you wouldn't marry him.

From the sullen boy who would always hold your hands to the energetic teenager who would pull your hair if you didn't pay attention to him, you saw all the facets of Satoru, always by his side. Still, for you, satoru is like a flower in a garden – its beauty making you momentarily forget about its thorns.

“hey, I'm feeling kinda neglected here.” a pouty satoru meets your view. “If you have so much time to get lost in that pretty little head of yours, maybe we should practice more?”

“I'm starting to think you set this all up, you know. to play prince charming on me." you narrow your eyes and accuse him softly with your finger on his chest, the sight of satoru in a suit – just before marrying you – it's not easy to resist, after all.

the firm hands on your waist start to go down and you pinch his (stupidly strong) bicep before they can wander any longer. “hmm, why do you think so?” he teasingly moves his face close to yours – warm breath just above your mouth – lips close but never touching. you already know his little games.

The last conversation you had with him before the whole marriage thing was during a night out for drinks, “for the good old’ time sakes” he had said. You weren't planning to ruin the night with your personal problems, but a few drinks later and the heat of his body close to yours seemed to inebriated you enough to make your mouth run faster than your thoughts.

Originally, you would marry a big shot from the Zenin clan. You were not happy about it, still there's little to nothing you could do. The preparations are already being made and the Shiromuku you had to try felt like a cage against your skin, a warning of what your life would be like from then on.

As those slurred words left your mouth, Satoru's entire body seemed to tense up for a moment and for the rest of the night he seemed distant, furrowed eyebrows and thinking about something. He had ended your little hang out earlier than you expected that day, saying he had "important business calling", leaving you back at your home and saying goodbye with a hug and chaste kiss on your cheek, seemingly back to his usual silly self.

You’re never sure what’s on Satoru’s mind, so you decided not to question him despite the strange behavior. He wouldn't tell you anyway.

A week later your wedding was canceled. You would be marrying Gojo Satoru instead.

“Like, the deal being canceled so suddenly, what happened?And- wait, is my father in debt?" your body stiffened against his arms, worried. You try to move away from him a little, but satoru just pulls you closer.

By the way he just giggles in response you know he's not really listening to you. He trails kisses from your jaw to your neck, teasing lightly with his tongue before burying his nose deep in your hair. “You smell so good…” He seems strangely happy today, all smiley and clingy. “But, no. You can try to guess one more time, though.”

The same second you open your mouth to respond, muffled footsteps can be heard outside the room you're in and you know it's the maids returning with the final jewelry and makeup. Satoru took advantage of the small gap in their presence, basically barging into your room and demanding that the two of you practice kissing for when the two of you finished your vows, apparently too eager to keep his hands to himself.

he groans and drops his head on your shoulder, before looking at you with expectant eyes, just like a child would with their favorite candy in a store. "How about just one little kiss, huh? to be sure that everything will turn out well, you know, that's very important!”

you should say no, you really should, you don't have that much time anymore and one kiss with satoru easily turns into two, three until you're both out of breath, mind clouded with desire, but the protest dies in your mouth when satoru’s soft lips meet yours.

you were half expecting him to mess up again, just like every time he asked for "just one more kiss", turning his face at the last second for you to kiss his cheek or nibbling on your lips before pulling away completely, but he doesn't do any of that, instead, he kisses you, lips dancing against yours, feeling you, appreciating you.

this time, you're the one pulling him closer, hands on his nape and feeling his skin react to yours. Despite your desperation for each other, the kiss is nothing but slow and gentle, a shy waltz between two lovers. If before you couldn't imagine marrying satoru, now you think that a life without the weight of the ring on your finger, sealing him to you, would make no sense.

Satoru tongue caressing yours brings you back to reality and you pull away, before you both really get lost in the moment. "satoru-”

“wait… that wasn’t good enough. let’s do another take…” he chases your lips again, hands on your cheeks and his eyes, normally so bright, are almost dark blue, clouded with desire for you.

the sight of him now, flushed and with swollen lips, makes your face heat up and you cover your nervousness before he can tease you. “…It’s been the fourth take already. just admit you like kissing me, it’s fine.”

“huh, bossy, aren't you?" there's a knock on the door but satoru just smirks and winks at you. "but it's okay, I really like kissing my bride.” the handle turns and he connects your lips with his again.

“my lady, i'm coming-” when you open your eyes, satoru's has completely disappeared from the room, the only trace of his presence being your messy appearance and tingling lips.

“-in. I have returned with the final preparations and- oh… my lady, do you feel alright? you seem kind of... nervous?”

you swear you can still feel the warmth of his hands against your body. "a-ah? oh, y-yes! yes, I'm fine. umm, where did we stop again?”

[natrogersfics]

The Anthology - Chapter 8: The Tortured Poets Department

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3

He’s a goddamn idiot.

He has to be. It’s the only logical explanation Natasha could come up with as she makes her way into her kitchen, setting her mug down on the counter before turning to the man whose sensibilities she’s seriously beginning to question.

Before her, Steve leans against the doorway, regarding her expectantly. “Natasha, did you hear me?”

She did. Loud and clear. But it really isn’t her hearing that’s causing her words to fail her at the moment. It’s her disbelief. Her disbelief at the fact that he had shown up at her door, heart in hand, oh so eagerly announcing his plans to throw his entire life upside down as though the last few weeks didn’t happen. As though he had already forgotten, foolishly, the ruckus he had to weave himself through as he walked out the front door of her rental this morning with every photographer happily pointing out the fact that he was still wearing the same clothes from when they’d left the wrap party. It’s as though he’s even forgotten that there’s currently an online fire storm brewing and slowly tanking his reputation – all because he had dared to take her home last night.  

He may have forgotten, but she hasn’t.

Perhaps she should be happy. Elated even. Albeit only in the darkest recesses of her mind, this is what she had found herself hoping he would do as they both laid sprawled out on her couch mere hours ago, her head on his chest as she listened to each beat of his heart. Instead, she finds herself reeling. Hard.  

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” she finally says, digging her nails into the insides of her palms.

“Yes, I do,” he insists. “Nat-”

“It’s career suicide, Steve!” she says, watching as that combatant expression of his that she knows all too well makes its way across his face. His lips part as if to respond, but she beats him to it. “And for what?”

“For us,” he says without missing a beat, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

She scoffs. “Do you not remember-”

“I remember everything, Nat,” he interjects this time, his words causing her to press her lips into a line. “Believe me, I’ve seen the show.” He pushes off the doorway, making his way to her. “Which is why I know that when you go out and act like what we had didn’t mean a thing to you or that us avoiding each other isn’t tearing you apart on the inside too, that’s all it is. A show.” He stops just before her, his eyes somehow managing to look even more breathtaking in the dim light of her kitchen. “So you can keep putting it on… but just know that I’ll be here, sitting through it. Again and again.”

She searches his eyes, though she’s not even certain what for. A sign, maybe. Or even some hint of a warning that his words are only half-hearted. But the only thing she can see is his irrefutable resolve, the intensity of which knocks the breath right out of her. “Why?”

“Because you’ve done nearly everything to push me away…” he says, and whether the little gasp that falls from her lips is from the gravity of his words or the sparks that run across her skin as he slowly reaches for her, taking her hand in his to intertwine their fingers, she isn’t quite sure. “The one thing you haven’t done is say that you don’t love me.”

His gaze implores her to tell him he’s wrong, to rebuff his claims and pull away from his touch. Only, she can’t. And they both know it. “Steve…”   

“Natasha, I love you,” he says – declares, really, with how steadfast his tone is. And if there’s any room left for ambiguity, he erases it as he adds, “All I want is you. And I don’t care what it costs.” He shakes his head. “I don’t care if they never let me pick up the shield again. Or if people fire off one hot take after another about us on the internet for the rest of their sorry, miserable lives. None of that matters to me.” He sighs, bringing a hand up to cup her face. “And if none of that matters to you, either… Then all I need to know is, do you love me, too?”

“I do,” she says, her response spilling out of her as if on their own accord. “So much.”

His lips quirk into the smallest of smiles as he brushes his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “Then be with me.”

Her eyes screw shut at his invitation. The irony isn’t lost on her. Here he is, talking about putting down the shield so they could be together, but it’s as though with her silence, she’s the one proverbially keeping it up to place some self-imposed distance between them. When she had walked out on him that night, she had told herself that she was doing it for him, to protect him not only from the pandemonium that came with her life, but also, and perhaps more importantly, from her. But those points are all moot now, it seems. She's tried every trick in her book to scare him away, and while it had worked temporarily, by his own admission, he had come to figure it out. And now, nothing about what he's seen fazes him any longer.

It's then that it finally dawns on her. The reasons she had been using to justify pushing him away were only ever partial truths. She may have trained herself to let the words of others roll right off her back and to accept that their loyalty to her may only ever be transactional, but the fact of the matter is he’s not just anyone. He’s the one – the only one – who has recognized that she's been putting up a façade all this time, the only one who has dared to ask and find out what’s behind it. As much as the idea terrifies her, he is under her skin now, and if he were to walk away, if he were to somehow change his mind, she knows with prolific certainty that there’s nothing in the arsenal she’s been building over the years that could save her from the magnitude of that hurt. 

He could well and truly really break her. And yet, she finds that with every fiber of her being, she still longs to say yes to him. To tell him that what they have is strong enough to withstand any and all of the noise that comes their way. That she’s ready to take this leap. But before she can, it’s clear to her that if they’re to have any chance at all, there could be no more hiding. She’s going to have to show him everything she’s been keeping in – the good, the bad, and the absolute wreckage that includes that tiny voice in her head, spurred on by the memories of her past and the pieces of her that never quite fully healed, that aches for reassurance.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispers as she opens her eyes. Not like they have, she wants to add. Not like I’ve allowed them to. 

“I won’t,” he says, and whether it’s the conviction in his tone or the way his eyes fill with so much devotion that even though she’s heard that affirmation many times before, in many different variations, she finds herself believing it instantly. Irrevocably. “God, Nat, I’ll-”

She doesn’t let him utter whatever oath he was just about to swear as she rises on the tips of her toes to grab his face and crush her lips to his. For whatever promise he was going to make, it doesn’t matter. The second their lips meet, it’s as though the rest of the world fades away. There’s just them. Them and this electrifying desire that’s mixed in with something else, too. Something stronger, more formidable. Something that tethers her to him. And as he bends at the knees, scooping her into his arms without breaking their kiss, she finally comprehends what it is. It’s the very thing she’s been running away from since she first felt an inkling of it. This feeling that he’s everything she’s ever wanted and everything she’s ever going to want. That against the odds, they had a chance.

That there could be a them.

“Steve,” she sighs at the revelation, and if the way he kisses her deeper – hungrier – is any indication, he seems to have arrived at the same conclusion. But for the first time in her life, the idea doesn’t incite fear in her heart. Instead, as he walks them out of her kitchen and down the hall, she leans into it, kissing him back just as fiercely and conveying all the possibilities of them into the lock of their lips. 

​​“I missed you so much,” he confesses, trailing his lips down the column of her throat when they stumble down onto her bed, his body bracketing hers.

He nips teasingly at her pulse, causing her to shudder. She wants to say that she missed him too, to let him know how desperate she is for his touch and to satiate this seemingly never-ending ache she has for him that sinks right to her bones. But the relief in his tone tugs at her heartstrings, and she forces herself to focus. “Hey,” she says, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to meet her gaze. “I love you.”

The awe that shimmers brightly in his eyes is impossible to miss. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”  

“If I ever made you doubt it…” she says, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers without so much as a hint of hesitation that it’s almost hard to believe that after everything she’s done, here he is, choosing to trust her with his heart. Moments ago, she might have questioned it – questioned him – but not anymore. He turns his head, kissing the inside of her palm, and as his lips pull up into a little smile, her heart feels just about ready to burst in her chest that all she can do is bring her lips back to his. 

It’s then that she finally allows her desire to lead, letting herself get reacquainted with the taste of his lips and the feel of his body under her touch as she finds the hem of his shirt, pushing it up and off him. His hands follow suit, their kisses losing their chasteness and growing teeth as they both work to rid each other of the barriers between them. Blissful sighs fall from their lips as skin eventually grazes skin, and by the time they’ve stripped down to nothing, the only sound in the room is of their labored breathing. She reaches between them, feeling his chest rumble with a groan when she finds him already hard and aching for her.

“Steve,” she whimpers when she guides him to her entrance, making them both gasp as he glides teasingly over her. “Please.” 

To her relief, he doesn’t make her plead any longer. With a swivel of his hips, he pushes into her, making her nails dig into his back as her lips part with a breath. It astonishes her that despite losing count of the number of times they’ve surrendered to each other, that first push always feels like the very first, that stretch as he slowly sinks into her deliriously perfect every single time.

“I love you,” she sighs contentedly, wrapping her arms around his neck once he’s fully seated inside of her.

He leans his forehead against hers. “Say it again.” 

“I love you,” she repeats, a smile painting her lips now. “God, I love you.”

He beams at that, the joy that paints his expression so addictive that she can’t help but want to repeat the sentiment. So she does, professing the same words to him over and over even as he begins to move and stopping only when his lips find hers again, practically stealing the breath right out of her lungs.

For a moment, she’s content to let him lead. To savor the delectable fullness she feels as he ruts up into her nice and slow, hands caressing every inch of her skin that he can reach as though they have all the time in the world. But as it always is with them, pleasure quickly begins to crackle hotly through them both, and what starts off as languid and leisurely quickly grows frenzied. Ravenous.

A particularly delicious snap of his hips has her calling out his name, her walls fluttering and her arms tightening around him as she careens towards the edge. It's not until he presses a soothing kiss to her temple that she realizes she’s whimpering. “I know, baby,” he whispers. “I know.”

His hand reaches behind her then, holding her to him as he maneuvers them until he’s sitting up and she has a knee on either side of his lap.

“Natasha,” he rasps out when she sinks right back down onto him, her head tipping back in ecstasy as he brushes against that sweet spot inside her that makes her body tremble just so. Vaguely, she’s aware of his hands curling into her waist, his thumbs running soothingly over the skin there, encouraging her to move, but she allows herself a second to simply savor the feeling of being stretched just that little bit more this way.

“So good,” she whispers, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. He smiles up at her, and she watches as his expression dissolves into one of sweet torment when she finally begins moving, lifting herself up and then back down again and causing them both to moan. They'd long learned each other's bodies as if it were their own. Even so, as the pleasure begins to uncoil low in her stomach, she notes that this time around feels remarkably disparate from any other. More scintillating, somehow. As though with their fears and inhibitions finally laid to rest, this connection between them only runs deeper. More intimate.

Free. 

The muscles in her thighs begin to burn with the effort when she feels Steve reach between them, and as his hand slips down to where they’re joined, rubbing tight circles around her bundle of nerves, she gasps. “Let go, Nat,” he says just as her breaths come quicker. “I’ve got you.” 

It’s with that promise that she finally cries out, white-hot pleasure turning her vision to white as she succumbs to her high and takes him right off that dizzying edge with her. 

“Maria’s going to kill you, you know,” she teases later on when they finally make it underneath the sheets.

His breath skims across the top of her head as he chuckles. “She survived Tony Stark’s bachelor years,” he says. “She’s more than capable of handling me choosing to be with the love of my life.”

"Love of your life, huh?" she says, peeling her head away from his chest to raise a brow playfully at him. "That sounds serious."

"Oh, it's very serious," he says, smirking. "I'm talking, might get stuck with me forever, serious." 

She shakes her head in amusement. With all the truth they've laid bare tonight, it seems absurd that these words would still have the power to give her butterflies. And yet, she feels that familiar flutter in her stomach just the same. She sighs. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“No, it’s not,” he concurs, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “But I’m ready to give it a try if you are.”

For a second, she just holds his gaze. Given the lives they both live, the possibility of getting hurt will always loom. And while that notion is one that had petrified her before, tonight, she realizes that it doesn’t matter anymore. With him, she’s willing to take the plunge – come what may. 

She reaches for his hand, bringing it up to her lips to kiss his knuckles. “I am.” 

Chapter 7 | Epilogue