#now we just need functioning labels to die too

[muscadevil]

As someone who was diagnosed with “aspergers”, I’m extremely glad the term is dead and not being used anymore.

Because I grew up with “aspergers” and not autism, I was barely considered disabled. No, autism was the bad one, aspergers just meant you’re really smart but a little shy!! ☺️ (/s) And as a result of almost never having my support needs met - I’m now severely and irreparably traumatized 😁👍

I always wondered what it would be like if I grew up with “autism” instead. I feel like I both would have understood myself and why life felt so impossible to navigate - especially in social & academic settings - better. Maybe people would have been more accommodating and taken my struggles more seriously. Sure I’d probably still get bullied & have a difficult time socially, but maybe it would have been better than becoming physically unable to speak for a majority of my grade school years. Maybe. I’ll never be able to know.

But I’m happy for the autistic people who no longer have to grow up with that label like I did! Fuck aspergers, both the label itself & the guy who created it.

[t-a-a-1]

The Darkest Hour

Ch.4: Guardian

Summary: After being labeled as crazy for trying to report that robot aliens exist on national television, you lose your job and move to Jasper City. In a drastic turn of fate, you meet Optimus Prime. You and Team Prime get together to find ancient relics that are vital to the Autobot's cause.

Along the way, you and Optimus start to develop feelings that go beyond comradeship.

But what happens when he discovers you've been lying all of this time?

For a better reading experience you can read this story on Ao3:

>>>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60642838/chapters/157365316

Ch.4: Guardians

     It was rather quiet at the base. Ratchet sometimes would look at the hangar's elevated floor. He thought he would see you there. He didn't find you as annoying as other humans. You were rather curious. Asking about all things Cybertronian. It was like talking to a child sometimes but he didn't mind explaining especially when you had questions about Cybertronian biology.

    He didn't want to admit it but he-

Beep. Beep.

"Oh? I got a video from (Y/n)!"

    Ratchet hears Jack exclaim from the sofa and this immediately gets his attention.

"I don't have enough time. I have been abducted by Decepticons. I'll lead them to the relic located in Fingal's Cave, Northern Ireland two days from now. Retrieve my cell phone from my house. I am sorry."

.

.

.

    You didn't have time.

You rapidly click 'sent' before breaking your laptop in half. You know they were coming for you and as soon as you heard the doors open, you quickly grabbed one cigarette.

    Two Decepticons dragged you across the Nemesis. You couldn't walk a lot, probably due to a broken bone or something else.

    It took about three minutes to reach another door. Everything looked the same except for a few purple colors and other doors that had guards.

    One of the doors opened and the two Decepticons pushed you inside, making fall to the floor.

"What is our status with the machine?"

"We still need to make modifications. The human mind is different from that of a Cybertronian," Knockout tried his best to figure out a way to make his machinery work. "Getting into her memories will be difficult without the proper materials."

"Then I trust that you will be making progress soon, Knockout."

    The lights in the room blinded you.  Not because they were too bright but due that you were deprived of light for two days.

    Two Decepticons carried you by the arms, you were too weak to walk, your stomach hurts, your head too and your energy was low.

"Prisoner was seen scavenging on the vault."

"I was looking for food!" you muster all the strength you had to defend yourself. "I've been here for two days and haven't eaten a thing."

"Wasn't the Energon cup I left on your cell enough?"

    The Decepticon was an automobile that you found a bit strange but you didn't have the right mind to question it. Things were just the way they were.

"Humans don't eat Energon, I'll die! Shouldn't you be smart enough to know that?"

    A taller figure walks in front of you. His steps made the entire floor move but you had gotten used to the feeling of it. He studies you, walks around you and his optics pierce through your soul.

"The fact that you are still standing after yesterday's event is admirable. I wouldn't expect anything less from Optimus' pet."

    You didn't like the sound of that but you were too tired to fight it. Your body is in pain from all the bruises and maybe a few other injuries. They had beat you up after you refused to speak. It wasn't for a long time, Megatron seemed to know that you would be a difficult one.

"What were you looking for in the vault?"

    Megatron asks and you don't say a word. You look away.

"I won't ask again," he gets closer to your face. So close that you could see his optics and the mechanics behind it. There wasn't a single thing that didn't move as small as it seemed. Everything had a function and it fascinated you. "What were you looking for in the vault? Was it your bag? Anything of importance in there?"

    You took a few seconds to respond and you raised a hand. You slowly opened it, putting one cigarette in front of his face.

"What is this ... artifact?"

    Megatron takes the cigarette in his hand, inspecting it.

"I was looking for my bag ... because I wanted that. It makes me less hungry."

    The Decepticon leader drops the cigarette on the floor and steps on it. Crushing your hopes.

"Pain may not be enough to make you speak," Megatron keeps looking at you and as much as you would like to keep the eye-staring contest, you struggle to keep your eyes open.

"But let's wait and see how you react after hunger takes over you."

"I won't talk."

    It hurts to even do so.

"Oh, but all of this would be so much easier if you did," he turns around and walks towards a berth. One that is not completely functional. At least it doesn't work with humans. Yet. "Regardless, we'll get what we want. Talk or do not talk, the choice is yours."

...

    It has been a couple of days since you had left the base. It has been quiet around here without you. The kids can be a bit nosey but nothing the Autobots couldn't handle.

    Optimus wonders what you would do if you were here. Would you be on your laptop? Maybe have a conversation with him? If you wanted, he could talk to you for hours, giving you information about Cybertronian culture. In exchange, he could ask you about human traditions. After the talk you two had about the human process of creating life, he was particularly curious about the human body.

    He had just come back from patrol duty with Bumblebee when he heard a lot of talking between his Autobot friends.

"Optimus!"

    Ratchet's preoccupied voice was something he wasn't fond of. It could mean two things. One, someone had messed up with one of his experiments. Two, bad news.

"(Y/N) has been captured by the Decepticons!"

Or three. Horrible news.

....

Bombs. Guns. Granades.

Screams. Fire. Blood. Pain. 

    When you were told that you were going to report on the war in a faraway land, you were excited. This was going to be your big step. The thing that will mark your career forever.

And it did mark you. Forever. But in ways you thought unimaginable.

It wasn't until you saw men, women and children being killed that you truly realized how stupid the world really is. It's a war and no one ever wins. So why? Why?

"Will I ever stop ... being so useless?"

    Another day of not eating.

You didn't know when you were going to start to hallucinate. Maybe you already were. You wished you could smell the outside air. You had not realized how different the air is when the majority of living creatures occupying the area are alien robots. It's a different type of smell. Clean and sanitized, kinda like the smell of a hospital but with a more metal element to it.

    The doors from your prison cell open. You are thankful because you hated the dark. Not really a phobia but many thoughts cross your mind when there is no light around you.

    Megatron slowly makes his way towards you.

He is not that intimidating. Are you afraid? Yes, of course. But if you had to compare, Optimus had a more menacing frame. Although Megatron's eyes could frighten anyone, the way he moves and presents himself does not imply any harm. You won't underestimate him. Not a bit.

"I won't say a word."   

    You say as you look at him. You sat in a corner, nothing was tying you down. Not like it matters, it's not like you could do much against giant robots.

"I did not come here for that," his voice is way less intimidating. In different circumstances, Optimus could very well have been the villain. "I have come for a small conversation."

"If you think you can manipulate me into talking-"

"I would rather like to call it ... convincing you with words."

    You knew this was going to be an interesting conversation.

"Words are powerful."

    You say as he stands in front of you. You don't stand up, having a nice view of his posture. You can tell so much by the way someone moves.

"Agreed."

    You wait for a few seconds, keeping eye contact. The room didn't look so dark now as Megatron had this purple aura that surrounded him.

    You didn't know what he wanted but you were waiting for him to speak. But he was also studying you, trying to find the best way to talk to you.

"Eons ago, I was a young gladiator trying to survive."

    Out of everything, you didn't imagine Megatron to be a storyteller. Oh, but how much you loved a good tale. Especially the ones about myths and legends of great warriors doing the impossible. Even if it's a story about a bot becoming a destroyer of worlds.

"Every day, as I exited the pit after killing comrades, I would watch the upper classes cheer for me."

    He seems to remember the cheers, the chanting crowds. But his optics had changed, for a second, he was lost. Going back to those moments. There is some fear in them and you didn't know if he was being honest or it's another manipulation tactic.

"But what was there to cheer for? I had massacred Cybertronians. Someone like me and them."

    You didn't doubt his words. At least there is some truth to them, you could tell as much.

"I would kill as I watched them eat the best kind of Energon. Drink the rarest of oils and wear the highest of tech accessories."

    Megatron gets closer to you but he never kneels. He still believes he is above you. It's comical. Telling you stories about the inequality he suffered when there will never be a time he will see you as equal.

"Do you know what that feels like? Being tortured if you failed? Your spinal cord breaking and have no spare parts to repair it? While I see others throw parts into the pit, like their lives meant nothing."

    Rage. He is filled with it. Finally, an emotion you could sympathize with or at least recognize. You didn't break eye contact nor were afraid. If he wanted to kill you, he had done so a very long time ago. You are more curious and in awe at the being in front of you.

    His metal was damaged and scratched, his tall figure and spiky demeanor. He appears to be fierce, he had to be, otherwise he wouldn't be here. But you can't help and wonder if he had been allowed a different life, would he be different?

"I don't fight for freedom," Megatron says. "I fight for my survival."

    You sigh heavily and your eyes show nothing but exhaustion. You muster the strength to speak. You can't give him anything but your sympathy.

"... You must be so tired."

    You must be hallucinating because for a moment you could have sworn you saw something else in those red eyes.

    Megatron turns around, no longer allowing you to see his face.

"Optimus was just like those Cybertronians I hated and he continues to be one. The system I fight to break, he continues to fight to repair it."

He steals a glance your way and he notices your concern.

"He was part of the crowd. Enjoying every match, every death. Laughing as it happened. How did you think we met?"

    He walks back towards you but you notice his steps have become slower. The floor didn't tremble as much as if he was being careful without knowing.

"Oh? Didn't he tell you?"

    You part your sight away from his. After a heavy sigh, you take up the courage to look at him again.

"We've been looking for ancient Cybertronian relics," you don't have another option. You had to sacrifice a little bit of truth to survive. "We don't know their function yet but we believe that they might be parts of something bigger."

"And do you know the location of these relics?"

"Just of one, the rest of the information is on my cellphone."

    He seems to be interested now or rather atypical about your wording. He probably doesn't know certain terminology.

"And where is this cellphone you speak of?"

    You muster a smile. You know Megatron can be a great negotiator, but so are you.

"If you want to know, I'll have my bag. With my cigarettes."

....

Fingal's Cave, Northern Ireland.

    The night is dark and full of mysteries. Especially in dark caves where the waves of the sea clash against the rocks. It would have been a perfect vacation, had you not been kidnapped by evil alien robots. This might be nothing for them, maybe just a nice bubble bath. But to you? It's a certain death. You don't even know how to swim.

    You stand next to Megatron. Behind you, there are a few warrior Decepticons. It was cold and humid and your intrusive thoughts made you want to jump into the crazed waves.

"The relic should be right there," you point to one of the walls and Megatron quickly looks at his army. It took only one look for them to know what they were supposed to do. Excavate.

You waited for a few seconds and noticed how fast they were putting away rocks and dust. Soon they will reach the relic and once they have what they want they will take you back to the Nemesis.

    Suddenly, a green moving circle appears on the other side of the cave. You are a bit relieved. For a moment you genuinely thought they wouldn't appear.

    It's the first time you see a ground bridge. It's beautiful and even more the aliens coming out from it. Tall, big, strong. Everything you weren't and for a moment you feel guilty. They shouldn't be here. They shouldn't be worrying about an insignificant life such as yours.

"Took you all long enough."

    Optimus stands in front of his team. A battle mask covers half of his face, he looks fierce. You had never seen him like this before. He was intimidating and you were a bit scared of what he could do.

"Let (y/n) go, Megatron."

"Did you bring her cell phone?"

    A shiver runs down your spine. You look up at him and he looks at you. Your eyes and his optics meet for a second. Unable to control your confusion, your voice betrayed you. With Megatron, showing emotion is a fatal mistake.

"What? How do you-"

"Nothing happens in the Nemesis without me knowing. Or do you think I was careless enough to leave your cell-door open?" his voice resonates within the containment of the cave. Not even the waves crashing could subside his voice. "I wanted you to contact them so they could do all the work for me."

"I am sure you must have led them to other relics. If they want you, they must turn them in as well."

    You began to panic, your plan was crumbling. It was your fault for believing you could outsmart a million-years living creature.

"It's not true! They don't have them, I never-"

"We have one."

    If looks could kill, your eyes would have killed Optimus. In fact, the Autobots have two relics. Optimus is lying and although a part of you is glad to know he could lie, right now you wish he had stayed quiet.

"Then you know what you must do."

    Megatron suddenly picks you up, putting you a few meters above the water level.

    You didn't know what to say. There was no guarantee that after receiving the relic, Megatron would let you go safely. Most importantly, you didn't understand. Why would the Autobots risk losing a valuable item over a human? There were many of you and only a few of those artifacts.

    Optimus doesn't hesitate and uses his comm-link. Speaking clearly, he calls Ratchet, ordering him to bring one relic through the ground bridge.

    Meanwhile, you see the Decepticons work on obtaining the other relic. They must be close as their excavation has become slower, maybe due that they do not want to damage the relic.

    You try to find a way to break free but Megatron's grasp is too strong.  Your body has started giving up, you haven't eaten in four days and your mouth tastes like cigarettes.

    After a few tense minutes, Ratchet comes from the groundbridge, holding the white pot that contained the relic. You instinctively move your head from side to side. You didn't want to be the reason they lost it.

"Starscream, retrieve the relic and the cell phone."

    You didn't notice the Commander before. Your senses must be failing you by now. He passes by Megatron and you know that if he could, he would push the leader of the Decepticons into the water.

"My pleasure, my liege."

    And as he passes by, you can see Ratchet's disappointed face. All of their faces, as a matter of fact. You hated being useless and being used. You thought that staying quiet was the best option. But after seeing Optimus hand down your cell phone to Starscream and his cocky smile, you couldn't have it.

"Just go!" you scream, hoping that your voice is loud enough. "I'll figure it out! You don't have to do this!"

    But it's like they weren't paying attention. Like your opinion didn't matter at all. Like you were a liability that had to be taken care of, not listened to.

    Ratchet hesitantly gives the white ceramic pot to Starscream who aggressively takes it in his claws. He happily walks back to his Master as if he had finished completing the hardest of missions.

"You have what you wanted. Now let her go!"

    Optimus threatens Megatron but it only amuses him. He looks at you, taking a few seconds to appreciate your face one last time.

"Lord Megatron, we have retrieved this place's relic."

    Starscream says as the army of Decepticons had successfully extracted the artifact and that's everything Megatron needed to hear.

"A deal it's a deal," Megatron crossed optics with Optimus.  "But this is for lying."

    He opens his claws, letting you go and dropping you into the wild waves.

    Megatron watches as Optimus jumps to save you. A selfless act, very much like him. What he was doing for you, he would do for anyone else. But there was something about it. Something that Megatron knew would catch Optimu's attention. Whatever it was, he would figure it out eventually. For now, he will let Prime have you. To let him enjoy his human pet as much as he can. Before taking you away.

"Next time, bring me all the relics you have, Prime. Or she will pay the price."

    Bulkhead, Arcee and Bumblebee didn't even hesitate to go after him. They focused on helping Optimus and it was too late regardless. Megatron was already one step inside the groundbrige, ready to go back to the Nemesis.

"How did you know they had more relics?" Starscream walks behind Megatron, curious about his actions.

"I didn't," he says. "It's all a bet. Besides ..."

    Megatron stops walking and quickly glances back. Getting a glimpse of Optimus coming out of the water, holding your fragile body.

"She's not half bad."

....

    The first thing that crossed your mind after waking up was ... work.

Fowler told you to not worry about it and that things had been taken care of.

    You didn't want to ask any further.

Especially after learning that you could no longer go back to your home.

    It took you a couple of days to recover.

Falling into the wild waters of Fingal's Cave had done more injuries than the ones the Decepticons inflicted on you. Your body crashed a few times into rocks before Optimus rescued you.

     But the pain in your body did not compare to the disappointment you feel.

    You couldn't even look at the Autobots without feeling ashamed.

Now you can't even go home now.

"I apologize as for you now have to remain here. But it must be in your best interest to stay since the Decepticons know of your home location."

    You didn't hear Optimus come through the rooftop door. Even with his massive steps and weight. Maybe you had gotten used to the sound of walking bots too fast.

"You may not be too fond of sharing a home but I promise you we are not too loud."

    The top of the hangar gave you the best view of the Nevada desert. With sad rocks and a few cacti... alright maybe it wasn't that visually appealing.

    But the night sky made up for it.

"I don't do good with people ... and bots," you pull out a cigarette from your jacket's pocket and light it up. Hearing Optimus coming closer and sitting down on the cliff with you.

    You immediately move away for a few centimeters, feeling uncomfortable at the closeness. You didn't notice your body had acted this way but Optimus did.

"I can sense some hostility emitting from you."

    Optimus optics lay on you but you wouldn't spare him a look.

"Optimus was just like those Cybertronians I hated and he continues to be one. The system I fight to break, he continues to fight to repair it."

    You didn't know if you should bring up the matter or just keep it to yourself. But after the events at the Nemesis, you find yourself unable to look at Optimus the same. Not like it matters much, but deep down, a part of you wanted to trust him ... to believe in him.

"If there are any concerns-"

"Megatron told me," you interrupt him, the act feels disrespectful but you hope he didn't feel like that. "That you used to enjoy watching him fight and kill others in the gladiator's pits. That you fight to bring the caste system back."

"While is true that I used to attend such activities, I never supported it," subconsciously, Optimus wanted you to look at him. He needed your acknowledgment, something you refused to give him at the moment.    

    "Megatron and I used to share similar ideologies. But he believed that equality could only be obtained if the other classes were eliminated."

"And you?"

"I believe that every sentient being has the ability to change."

    You let out a subsided laugh, looking down at your lap and then up again at the desert night.

    "So what? You were hoping to change a whole social class with pretty words and inspiring speeches?"

"We cannot build a new world founded on violence."

"And where has that led you? To a strange planet and your race almost extinct."

    He had good sentiments, you admired that but at some point you consider naivety to be stupidity.

"Cybertron will be rebuilt on tragedy," you say.

"And what am I supposed to do? Let him have his way?"

    You have noticed that Optimus speaks less formally when he finds himself in a tough spot. Now, it was one of those moments. Your words had hit a circuit but you didn't want for this to turn into an argument. Not when you wanted to gain his sympathy.

"I am not saying I know what's best. What I am saying is that I thought you..."

    You couldn't continue with your sentence. Because what you wanted to say was stupid and based on old ideas. Maybe deep down, you wished Optimus was that hero the world needed. But he was a leader. The leader of a war where there is no winner. He could only do what he did best. And that was making the hard decisions no one else could.

    You had put too much expectations on his shoulders. He can't be a hero and a leader at the same time. If he were to be a hero, he would have been dead long ago. But his team needed him alive, he couldn't afford to die a martyr. He must know that.

"Listen to me Prime," you called him by his first name. Now more than ever, you believe there will never be a time when you will call him by his first name. "Everyone is a slave to something. Even you are enslaved to your own stupid ideologies of hope."

    You were always precausious to never show your beliefs. Maybe years ago, you shared similar sentiments as Optimus. You saw yourself in him and you wanted to save him. Save him from the disappointment of the real truth of your world.

"But let me tell you this; you have those views because you lived through better times. You have tasted peace and solemnity," you had no stand to be lecturing him. Yet, you didn't see it that way. You were just speaking your feelings.

      "But them? Working as miners, being gladiators just for your entertainment? They never had what you did. This is their hope to have better times."

    You sigh heavily and feel your lungs struggle to breathe.

"And you just took that from them."

    Seconds turned into minutes and you thought Optimus would stand up and leave you alone. But he instinctively got closer to you. He probably didn't notice his actions.

"I used to really enjoy watching your old reports."

    The leader of the Autobots looks back fondly at the younger version of you. A few years back you had done a story about a small town that had been struck by a tornado. Many died and homes were destroyed.

    But instead of focusing on the downside of things, you talked about how the community came together to help each other build back their town. The resilience and strength. Optimus was inspired by how such small things could build things bigger than themselves.

     "Even when the report was about a catastrophic event, you always ended things positively."

"In the days where I had doubts, where I thought I couldn't do this anymore, I ... "

    He pauses, he can't understand the feeling in his spark but his voice box struggles to process words.

"I would watch you on TV and you would give me inspiration to continue my mission."

    His formality had dropped drastically and you wonder if this was his way to let his guard down and open up to you.

"But now that you are telling me this ... I think you are right," his voice cracks and your world crumbles.  "What is left worth fighting for?"

You didn't know Optimus could feel doubt and hesitancy. You are reminded of the power of words. How you, a small insignificant human could make a robot full of wisdom question the truth of his life? It was too much power and you didn't want it. You didn't want Optimus to view life the way you do. So pessimistic, so gloomy.

    You didn't believe in any of it, hope, love. None of that was enough to change the world. But Optimus didn't have to know that.

You wanted him to keep believing. To belive he could change the world with just words.

Fuck the truth.

"Megatron is full of rage," you say. "And sometimes rage allows us to live. To survive."

    You decide to overstep boundaries and you put a hand over his servo. But you don't look at him, too shy to do so.

"But faith does too."

    You were no one to question his beliefs. If you were completely honest, you would like to keep enjoying the company of this Optimus. The optimistic one, resilient, strong with unbreakable morals.

But in the back of your mind, the question still remains. There's no victory without sacrifice.

What if to win the war, to give meaning to the lives of fallen ones, he has to sacrifice his ideologies and beliefs?

What would you do ... Optimus?

"(Y/n)," Optimus calls your name so sweetly you feel your body shake up a little.

    He holds your hand, so delicately, so softly as if he is afraid of hurting you. As if he is afraid you might break. You had never been held so fondly,  your heart feels like melting.

"I have failed miserably in protecting you," He looks at your body and you feel like his optics pierce through your soul.  You feel seen but you didn't mind it one bit. "The injuries in your body are proof of it."

"I am aware we are strangers to titles but I would like to establish a new relationship."

    You didn't understand how he could make you feel in such a way. In a state of warmth and peace. How his presence alone was enough to comfort and heal wounds that go beyond physical pain.

"If you accept me as your guardian, I'll protect you and no harm shall ever find your way. I'll give my life for you if necessary. I'll do as you ask and have your safety as one of my purposes for living. Under these stars as a witness, I swear this to you."

    Like the stars above, there were many mysteries you didn't understand. You thought that maybe Optimus was one of those mysteries as well. Otherwise, you didn't understand how such a beautiful creature would ever put your life above his own. Does he see you as a bothersome being? Probably. But you don't mind. A part of you wanted to be protected by such a powerful creature. A righteous one at least. Maybe he does see you as a pet to be taken care of.

    But now that you think about it ... You don't mind devoting yourself to him either.

"I accept but under one condition," you wish you could be closer to his face, you feel a need to look closer at his optics.  "If you protect me ... then I'll take care of you."

"Care for me?"

"If you ever have doubts, if you feel lonely, or if you just want to talk,"  all of a sudden you feel shy and you quickly part your sight. You didn't have the time to think the reason why. "I want to share the burden of your decisions with you, please."

"You will do that for me?"

    He blinks multiple times, unsure of your words and you find this cute.

"You are willing to give up on your life for me," you make a small pause before continuing. "It's the least I can do."

    Looking at a desert wasn't fun. But talking always was. Especially with an alien robot with millions of years' worth of wisdom. It's strange how you always felt better after talking to Optimus. He doesn't seem to be the type to judge and that's what you appreciated the most about him.

"(Y/N), You have proven to be more than meets the eye," you hear his voice closer and immediately turn. He had slouched significantly to be able to see you face to face. It must be an uncomfortable position but he still made the effort to see you at an eye level.

    Maybe he also had a certain need to be as close as possible to you.

"I am glad the universe allowed us to encounter."

And before you could have the time to blush again, your brain replayed his words.

"Don't you mean optic? You guys don't have eyes."

    Optimus straightens his back, no longer looking at you. This time he looks up at the sky, he looks curiously at them. Putting a servo on his chin, he looks to be in deep thought.

"That is true. But that is an ancient saying of my people."

"If it's an ancient saying then can we assume your kind and mine have met before?"     You tilted your head, imagining the possibilities. You move your feet into a yoga position, feeling more comfortable.

"That is an interesting theory although I don't remember reading such things back at the archives. Maybe it's something worth investigating."

    Optimus also thought of the possibilities, maybe this could be tied to the relics.

"Oh! Do you want to investigate it together?" this could be an important piece to your report. It would also be more credible if you had an actual Transformer help you write on what is probably one of the greatest discoveries in human history.

     "We could write a report on it and give an informative presentation to the kids and the Autobots."

You put your hands up and them move them slowly in a parting motion.

"Cybertron and Earth: A Deeper Look Into Cybertronian-Human Relations and Why Our History Is Longer Than We Think."

The topic sounded more interesting to Optimus and the archivist in him started to show. You knew this by the way he would blink more often. It happened whenever something excited him.

"That sounds like a remarkable and revolutionary subject. I could try to look into Cybertron's' old archives and see if I can find something related to the topic."

If Optimus could always be excited like this, you wish you could hear him talk forever. Could he tell you all the stories and tales of his people. But would it hurt him to speak about them? To reminiscence the past may open old wounds and you didn't want to be the cause of it. You won't push it but you'll wait until he is ready.

"And I'll interview Fowler and see if he knows something or knows someone that knows more of the topic." That will be a challenge but there hasn't being a single person who never gave you an interview. Of course, you find your way. Ethical or not, it didn't matter as long as the truth was revealed.

"I  am looking forward to hearing about your findings."

"I am excited to look at your research too!"

That night you learned many things. About Optimus especially. About how he would blink a lot whenever something got him excited. About how he loses his formality in words when he gets comfortable, excited or angry. Things like this made him feel closer to you as if he wasn't from an alien race but rather just another living creature existing in the same universe. And that's exactly what it was.

One hour turned into two, then three, four. Time passed by so fast, just talking and enjoying each other company. You smoked a few cigarettes and promised Optimus to buy a few gallons of oil for him to enjoy next time.

Although you were still downhearted for being unable to return to your home, you tried to look at the bright side of things. It was something you weren't used to do. But being with Optimus, his optimism rubbed off on you.

    You two talked endlessly until you fell asleep on his servos. Optimus watched the sunrise; grateful to have met you, thinking how beautiful it was to love the ordinary. For at least, and with all the certainty in the universe he knew ... he was worthy of this.

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A/N: This chapter took longer than I expected and I think after this one I am going to work on another fic (from another fandom) because I am so close to finishing that story and I just haven't uploaded in sometime. But! I'll be writing one shots for tumblr. I'll start working on a one shot for Christmas! The poll is over and we have a winner. Thank you to everyone who voted and all the comments, notes and likes. I'll take my time to respond to each of you :) My inbox is always open for any comment, ideas, concerns or prompts ideas.

I definitely want for Reader and Optimus to have chemistry. I think it's very important to show interaction with each other and show why they are attracted instead of them just having them fall randomly? Like I want to show Optimus and Reader have similar interest and passions but having contrasting ideas. I'll probably have them dancing and being silly together at some point.

On the next chapter I'll have Reader do some actual work. She's gonna be undercover (she has to dress seductively to fit into the world of car racing where she meets a hot mechanic who teaches her a lot about cars and Optimus has to follow her around cause that's his job as his guardian. His circuits go crazy cause he can't understand why all of a sudden he finds a human attractive-)

I want Optimus to feel like he has something of his own, something only he can protect and take care of because he can and wants (by choice) and it's not forced upon him nor a responsibility to bear (like the matrix) and that lovely thing being you ofc.

Sorry for an errors and grammar mistakes, I don't proof read.

I also feel like I haven't used much of the other bots so I'll make sure to use them more often now if the plot requires it.

I think that's all for now. Thank you so much for reading and see you in the next chapter!

Previous Chapter:

https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/768513873838030848/the-darkest-hour?source=share

Next Chapter: Soon

[eepop-stuffs]

Btw here's some dope ass images and assets from the Fulla website

The polished and fancy heart swirl borders are from the reboot era version of the site. Anything with the wide heart and pastel pink/purple is from the reboot era. Before then the aesthetic was much more vibrant and more focused on a butterfly and flower motif. During the older era she used more hot pink and magenta, as well.

Still really want to know who the artist for Fulla is, maybe I could look for the rest of their possible work for the brand that way.

These are all that's left of the website since the website is mostly inaccessible through the internet archive, and almost every image asset is hard to find. The more modern website versions are extremely broken, and the most clear archive of it from the wiki is from 2006, and from the US version. The 2006 US version does have a lot of important things in it, however. It has a catalog from that time frame, one or two of the music videos, and an English translation of her theme song (which means we now have two confirmed translations, Indonesian and English)

(Above is an image of the Fulla mission statement from the website archive)

Fun fact about the mission statement: in Arabic it actually translates to "Every Arab Girl's Dream" which may be a little off bc I used Google translate but it seems simple enough that It shouldn't be too far off.

The website was advertised to have games from around 2010-11 and are labeled as "funs" on the website according to the site map URLs. None of these "funs" links lead to anything at all, as it says the website wasn't archived. I'm actually not sure whether there were actually flash games or some other type of interactive thing, but the controllers that pop up during the ad for the site leads me to believe they had at least something.

It is confirmed that they had coloring pages, though. Once again, according to the URLs that are not archived and do not function.

This all really frustrates me because the ad never showed what the website even looked like, and the only other place that possibly (like super possibly, I don't even know if it is of the website) could have a screenshot, the fulla house playset, changed the computer sticker graphic before release, along with a lot of the other stickers being turned into random product photos instead of cute detailed artwork (which is a decision I actually despise like omg)

The only things we have are what are saved in the internet archive's dumps of archived images. Any other file doesn't really work at all.

As of now, the fulla website, no matter what time frame you pick up until 2021, had a flash loading screen that you can't get past using normal means.

I am actually so mad that I can't find anything about this. Any other major doll website is completely able to be accessed, even the winx club one which has a similar issue with the loading screen. From past experiences before the winx site's arcive apparently just stopped doing it, the loading screen would lead to a pop-up window of something else which I forgot the contents of. So that may be the issue here, but I wouldn't know what's causing it or how to fix it.

All I want is a SINGLE SCREENSHOT OR RECORDING and i will die happy...😭

Because I'm a poor little high school child I sadly do not have the means to purchase a VPN. Maybe I could just do a free trial and cancel it after I've got what I needed, but there's not even a guarantee there will even be more if I look with a VPN.

[quietlyimplode]

the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 22 - Watch Out

Warnings: words said in anger, grief, depression

Word Count: 1.6k (gif not mine)

Summary: Clint recovers from the fallout of the Avengers.

A/N: <3

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

2012

NEW YORK

“Get up,” Natasha tells him, the level of despondency irritating her.

She hasn’t left him alone, and whilst she understands this depression, she can’t understand the lack of self preservation that comes with it.

He hasn’t eaten, drunk water only when she’s told him too, and barely got out of bed.

He raises his head and looks at her in a pout.

“Not today,” he says, his voice crackling.

“Today is the day we meet with Fury,” she replies, pointing to the calendar.

“No,” he sighs, “go without me,”

She rips the sheets off him, and pushes a coffee into his hands.

“There’s no, “go without me”, not for this, this is Fury giving you grace, and now you have to deal with the mindfuck that was Loki.”

Clint looks at her betrayed.

“Don’t say his name,” he says angrily.

“Why? It shouldn’t matter, he’s done, he’s gone, we won, we didn’t die.”

“Yeah cause that’s exactly how you responded when you killed Dreykov,” he retorts, meanly.

“What?”

The words feel scathing and Clint can’t seem to stop them.

“Don’t you remember? You couldn’t even make it out of Budapest, you had the nightmares, you couldn’t function without help either.”

“You dissociate and can’t cope and I take it on, but when it turns the other way and I need time to not be in the world, you force it on me.”

He feels his face grow hot as he throws words at her.

“You were compromised, just like I am, and I protected you through it, and now, you can’t even do this. Some partner you turned out to be.”

He pulls the covers over himself and turns his back on her.

She feels anger, and then sadness roll over her.

“Phil would tell you to get up,” she says, a parting shot that makes him feel like shit.

He’s right of course, but she never thought that period of time would ever be used against her as a weapon.

Grabbing her jacket, she leaves, slamming the door behind her.

.

Entering Shield by herself, she feels eyes watching. They can’t kill her with looks, but the judgement still feels hurtful. Much like when she first defected the label of double agent plagued her.

Small hurts like changing the temperature of her room, stalking her, taunting her, all protected by Clint and Maria.

It makes Clint’s words hurt all the more.

She seeks Maria, knowing she’ll be close to Fury, and finding her way to the offices of Shield, hoping for privacy.

As she passes the empty office of Agent Phil Coulson, she pauses to touch the door.

Grief floods her, as she hold back the emotion, biting hard on her lip. The arrays of bouquets that line the door makes everything more real.

She hates him a little for making her face this alone, despite the difficulties he’s facing.

Natasha moves forward, hoping Maria is actually in her office, and finding the door slightly open.

Maria looks up.

“Nat,” she says, a tone of surprise.

“Where’s Clint? He has a meeting with Fury in twenty minutes,” she says quickly.

“Can I…” she sighs and stops.

“Clint’s not coming, I can’t get him out of bed, let alone out of the apartment,” she confesses.

Maria stops and watches Natasha.

“What?”

She calls through to Fury and cancels the meeting, and tells him she’s going to handle the debrief; then grabbing her jacket, she ushers Natasha out of the room.

“Come on,” she says, to Natasha. “Let’s go see the boy.”

.

“He said what?”

Maria breaks hard, almost rear ending the car in front.

“Nothing,” Natasha mumbles.

“Nat, that’s mean, he was mean, he has no right to judge you on how you reacted from defecting from your country, killing a man who tortured you and your coping mechanisms.”

Natasha stares out the window.

“I’m judging him on how he’s coping, and how long it’s taking him to reach equilibrium,” she sighs.

“You can reason this out all you want but what he said was mean, you didn’t do anything wrong and probably, you’re one that’s been protecting him from almost everything. You even took on Fury to negotiate more time. Nat, he shouldn’t have said what he said.”

Natasha continues to stare out the window, feeling emotions pulse through her as she knows that Maria is right.

“I don’t think I want to go back,” she confesses, sucking in a stuttering breath at the admission.

Selfishly she feels, she makes a decision based on what she wants and how she feels; not wanting to face Clint or his anger again.

Maria nods.

“I’ll go, I’ve got him for a bit, is there somewhere you want to go?”

Natasha wants to be alone.

“Just drop me at Grand Central Station,” she asks, knowing exactly where she wants to go.

.

Natasha loves the view from the Grand Central Station, finds it calming to watch the people milling around from tourist to regular New Yorkers.

Even aliens could stop this place, though the marks of damage still show.

They’d tried, she thinks, to fix what they could.

She finds a seat, opens her sandwich and sits and eats, letting the noises wash over her.

She analyses the old man’s gait, determining a hip injury, an old one it seems, then turns her attention to a young woman; stylish in her heels as she stalks across the station.

Two men clasp hands in greeting and walk off together, one animatedly talking to the other as he explained something Natasha couldn’t hear.

Natasha puts in headphones, no music attached, and watches the world.

It feels different here; maybe because so much has happened but still the place functions as though it hasn’t.

Maybe that’s her downfall.

She’s trying to function with Clint as though nothing has happened, trying to make him move past it like it never happened.

But it has.

People died at Clint’s hand.

Phil died trying to protect them all.

Clint lost control of himself.

And, she supposed, they were Avengers now.

Even their jobs had changed in the space of hours.

She sighs, rubbing her eyes in frustration and grief.

The clock alerts her to the later hour as the amount of people dwindles. Past 6pm, she realises that she’d left Clint with Maria for over 10 hours and guilt builds in her chest.

She stands abruptly, making her way for the door.

“Watch out!” the lady calls, her son barreling straight into Natasha’s leg.

He bounces off her and starts to cry.

Natasha squats and looks at the little boy, offering her hand to help him up.

The mother catches up to him and apologizes profusely.

“He moves with such haste, and never watches where he’s going.”

Natasha smiles, though watery she pulls herself together to wave it off.

The boy, still crying turns to his mother.

“Can I show you something?

She uses Clint’s favourite trick and pulls a coin from his ear, and in doing so, it gives her an idea.

The little boy stops crying, and she does it again.

Even the mother is smiling.

“Thank you—“ the woman starts, “wait— are you? Are you the Black Widow?”

The words and the name feel jarring out of the woman’s mouth, and the little boys eyes go wide.

“Do you know Iron Man?” he asks.

The woman shushes him, and grabs for Natasha’s hand.

“Thank you,” she says, “my brother was on the bus that Hawkeye saved and got the people out of.”

Natasha nods.

“I’ll let him know,” she smiles.

Moving away, Natasha pushes down the anxiety of being recognised and heads home, with an idea and a story to tell Clint.

.

The takeaway sits on the bench, as she moves into the apartment, nervous if there’s any more vitriol she’s going to walk into.

Finding him showered, clothes changed and sitting upright, Clint stands as she walks in.

“I’m sorry,” he opens.

“I shouldn’t have said the things I did, and I don’t know why I did,” he confesses.

“I’m aware I haven’t… been at my best, but the last few months have been hard. I know it’s no excuse, I know, I need to do better but—“

“It’s hard,” Natasha finishes.

“Yeah,” he finishes.

She nods.

“Come and eat something,” she offers, and walking back out to the kitchen, and pulling the food out of the bag.

“I think you’re doing better,” she comments, “but I think we need a project. Do you remember when you taught me the coin magic trick? I think we need to learn something new.”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t…”

She nods, “I’m going to teach you some Russian. Better Russian.”

He almost chokes on his food.

“It’s going to help,” she says confidently.

“Maria’s mandated therapy weekly,” he confesses.

“I know, she told me,” Natasha replies.

“I have to go in tomorrow,” he tells her, playing with the food.

“Do you want me to come?”

Natasha still feels the sting of the words from the morning but seeing him trying so hard when the day before he’d done nothing, lessens the hurt a little.

He nods.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” he says again.

“Vsyo v poryadke,” she replies.

He stares.

“Everything is in order, it is okay,” she reassured him, even though she’s not sure, even if she’s worried about the future, even about the hurt he can cause her and just how compromised she is by this relationship.

He drops his chopsticks and moves to her seat.

“Ya tyebya lyublyu,” he says softly.

“I love you too,” she replies.

.

[anulithots]

Random ask, can I ask what are apoptosis and caspases (in simple terms)?

I have been summoned

(my 'noorie rambles. be very afraid' tag will make so much sense now. I tried to talk about it in a way that's a way that's both engaging and simple. Lots of metaphors.)

Caspases destroy the cell if it needs to die. They dismantle the cell parts as the cell membrane turns into bubbles, containing all the damaged pieces within so that a white blood cell might disposes of them. That's apoptosis in a nutshell.

But why must the cell die you ask?

Plenty of reasons. Human embryos have webbed fingers, and apoptosis causes the webbing to dissipate. Tadpoles too, use apoptosis to rid of their tails so they can become frogs. Apoptosis opposes growth - aka mitosis - and it keeps the body in homeostasis - or a balance of sorts. The destruction to mitosis's creation.

However, what I find most interesting, what is the subject of much research nowadays, and what holds the most opportunity for angsty biology fanfics (most important/j) is that apoptosis opposes tumorigenesis. In other words, if something goes wrong, if the cell gets some notion that it might try to cheat death and live forever, if it has the inklings of an idea to hijack the rest of the body through growing its own lump of cells and draining the body of its nutrients... if it decides to throw a mutiny at the expense of peace...

Then the cellular system realizes, and it activates the caspases.

(Usually how a cell 'decides' is when something wrong happens with genetic replication, mutations and such and such. There are two labels of genes relating to this. Proto-oncogenes promote cell growth and avoid apoptosis - these are the creation genes, the ones that wish to achieve the heights of production and throw all caution to the wind. Whereas tumor suppressor genes are... tumor suppressors. They are the little 'angel on the cell's shoulder' that says 'you've done wrong, now commit cell death and accept your fate'. When a proto-oncogene mutates, it becomes an oncogene. Basically, the genes that said to grow for the sake of the body now says to grow at the expense of the body, the 'devil on the cell's shoulder' won... and now it'll try to cheat death)

Caspases are a type of enzyme, which is a subset of proteins. I like thinking about it like this: enzymes are witches, spell crafters. Proteins in general function like worker bees, but enzymes are the ones who actively create and destroy, the ones that change the way the universe manifests so life can exist. They utilize reactants from their environment - materials which they are named after, such as proteases that cleave other proteins - to either create larger, energy storing molecules (endergonic reactions), or break down large, energy storing molecules to release energy (exergonic reactions).

(One type of enzyme that I like is called kinases, they basically initiate things, they tell the cell 'it's okay to do things' or 'this will be dangerous, let's not do that', or 'oof this cell doesn't have the proper genes, that could be a problem, how about we destroy everything so this doesn't become a big issue?')

When the cell needs to die, the caspases activate.

Humans have 14 caspases. I wish I knew what all of them are, but the pub med articles I read do not have a whole list of them like a pokedex from pokemon (at least that I have read so far, after ap testing there's one article I want to read that seems to have ANSWERS to a lot of my questions)

So imagine this, the cell has lots of caspases floating around in the cytoplasm/water jelly environment. These beings of death in huge numbers in a perpetual slumber, just floating around, until the cell decides it needs them to destroy its existence, and it activates them.

(ALTHOUGH some of my questions refer to the "caspase-dependent non-lethal cellular processes", so far what I've been able to find is that if the cell needs some repair to the cytoskeleton/structure of the cell, then it activates a few caspases to destroy parts of it, so that the repair may start.)

There are two types: inflammatory caspases (if I remember correctly, this is caspase 1,4, and... a few others I'll have to check) and apoptotic caspases. What we're interested in are the apoptotic caspases. Initiator caspases get activated first. The way I story-fy them/see them in my head is as the older sibling types who condone violence. If the cell needs to die because of an external signal - a message from far away to destroy itself, to which it must oblige - then caspase 8 activates. If the cell needs to die because of an internal signal - something inside isn't right, and what a havoc it would be to pass that on through replication, so the proteins decide the fate of the world it lives in, and it choses death for the sake of the wider body- then caspase 9 activates.

Both these initiator caspases cleave (meaning 'cut', these inactive beasts are not yet 'complete', so they need further modification after activation to work properly. If the cell were to create caspases fully functional and finished, the large number of caspases would kill the entire cell, so they don't finish, they subdue the ones behind their death, and make sure to regulate their slumber.) their 'younger, violent siblings': caspase 7 and caspase 3. The doll I have is a caspase 3.

(I've found more information on them than caspase 7... although.. the one article I found.... it should have information on them all, the amount of searching I've done for those sorts of answers... but alas... I need to read the material for the ap bio exam... which does not include caspases.... one day...)

Caspase 3, as far as I could gather, destroys the cytoskeleton. The cytoskeleton supports the entire cell, acting as the 'tent poles' that keep the floppy cell membrane from collapsing. Collapsing, however, is exactly what the caspase 3 wants. It dismantles the whole thing, along with activating and inactivating a slew of other proteins. (it's an assassin basically.)

And with this, the caspases bow, for the cell is separated within these small little 'blebs' (they look like bubbles) and the cell is destroyed.

OH AND LAST LITTLE THING!

If something inhibits the caspases, the cell goes through with necrosis, which is basically instead of becoming little bubbles, the cell membrane ruptures and the cell 'guts spill out'

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK!! <3 <3 I got to blabber about caspases and it gave me happy sparkles.

ALSO, here's the doll I made for caspase 3:

[whimsicalcotton]

https://www.tumblr.com/whimsicalcotton/757244198884917248/httpswwwtumblrcomwhimsicalcotton757163102785

Radio Anon — Love the song!! It’s surprisingly happy for an AmberPrice pining song, it’s like “we don’t need to officially be girlfriends because we like what we are already”. Like, they don’t need labels because what they are is already special enough they’re just OUGH

Also, angst question: Was there ever a point where Max tried to do what Chloe wanted and save the bay, only to find that doing so just made her feel empty inside, so she immediately went back into the loop?

(Also also, getting Brain Worm ideas about 15 winding up in post-Bay timeline, encountering a grief-stricken Max, and immediately deciding to help save Chloe AND the Bay because maybe then he can save Rogue, too)

haha yeah i have this problem where i tend to think of amberprice as like 30% less angsty than they canonically are. i literally have my playlist for them split in two between fun stuff and angst lol it's a problem

also i could go on for way too long about their ridiculous unnamed dynamic. as I've said before to me amberprice are functionally a silly old married couple but neither have the balls to look each other in the eye and say they're girlfriends. these bastards say i love you every way except the actual words themselves. they are yuri manga protagonist levels of doing/saying the gayest shit possible 24/7 without ever actually technically dating. is it platonic? is it romantic? is it a secret third thing? is it casual now? who knows! not even they do (i could also go on about how Rachel is more okay with being nameless than Chloe but Chloe puts up with it bc Rachel is just so important to her but. i digress.)

as for your angst question:

short answer, sort of. kind of. almost.

long answer; there's been at least once where Chloe actually convinced Max to go through with it. they agree to save the bay, they say their goodbyes. and then she's back in that bathroom and it hits her that she's going to let Chloe die, and how is she supposed to do that? how is she supposed to just stay back and let Nathan hurt her again? how is she supposed to turn a blind eye and hide in the corner like the coward she used to be? how is she supposed to stand there and pretend she doesn't know what's coming when she knows she could stop it, she's the only one who could stop it, she has to stop it.

Chloe takes a lot of bullets over all the timeloops but Nathan only shoots her in the bathroom once. Max would always intervene (to quote that Bloody Shirt remix you sent me: "i stepped out with heavy heart to bail you out again.") even with intention of letting it happen she just. Can't. and so everything starts over.

[toothlespoggers]

”Why are you sad” WHY ARE YOU HAPPY? HOW CAN YOU BE HAPPY WHEN THE ONLY WAY YOU CAN FEEL JOY IS BY HAVING ENOUGH MONEY TO GO DO STUFF THAT IS FUN IN THE MOMENT BUT ULTIMATELY STILL LEAVES YOU EMPTY INSIDE BECAUSE NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO THE WORLD IS BEING FUCKED OVER IN A MILLION DIFFERENT WAYS BY PEOPLE WHO DONT HAVE COMMON SENSE AND THERES NO HOPE IN TRYING TODO ANYTHING ABOUT IT BECAUSEIT JUST DOESNT WORK. HOW ARE YOU HAPPY WHEN ITS IMPOSSIBLE TO BE ON THE INTERNET WITHIUT SEEING EVERYTHING BAD IN THE WORLD. THE ONLY WAY TO BE “HAPPY” IS TO BE AWAY FROM LITERALLY EVERYTHING, HAVE EVERYTHING CONTROLLED AND PERFECT. AND HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO ISSUES. UNTIL YOU DIE. BECAUSE EVERYTHING ELSE, WALKING DOWN THE STREET, EATING, SLEEPING. EVERYTHING JUST REMINDS YOU THAT SOMEONE ELSE IS CONSTANTLY SUFFERING FOR NO FUCKING REASON AND THERES NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT BECAUSE YOURE A CHILD. AND SOMEHOW ADULTS DONT CARE. THEY DONT CARE ABOUT THE DEATHS. THEY DONT SEE THE BLOODSTAINS ON EVERYTHING AROUND THEM. THEY SOMEHOW AVOID IT ALL.

WHY ARE YOU HAPPY? BECAUSE BEING SAD. BEING ANYTHING ELSE. IS TOO DIFFICULT. WHAT ARE WE JUST SUPPOSED TO ROLL OVER WHEN SOMEONE ASKS IF YOURE OK? NO. BECAUSE THIS IS HOW EVERYTHING WOULD GO

“hey man, you ight?”

“NO I AM NOT ALRIGHT, EVERYTHING IS AWFUL EVERYTHING IS BAD. THE “GOOD” IS MOSTLY JUST GASLIGHTING, A SUNNY LITTLE PICTURE OF FALSE HOPES AND PROMISES TO CALM YOU DOWN AND KEEP SOCIETY FUNCTIONING BECAUSE IN REALITY EVERYTHING IS BAD, THE BAD COMES SO MUCH AND THE GOOD IS SO SPARSE YOU HAVE TO PHYSICALLY REMIND YOURSELF OF IT, AND IF EVERYTHINGS OK WOULDNT IT BE EASY TO FIND OUT GOOD NEWS INSTEAD OF DIGGING THROUGH THE INTERNET TO FIND ANYTHING? ISNT IT RIDICULOUS THAT WE ARE LABELLED AS “MENTALLY ILL” FOR HAVING FUCKING COMMON SENSE? WE ALL REALISED AS SOON AS WE GAINED SENTIENCE

“HEY WOW, ACTUALLY THE WORLD IS KINDA HORRIBLE!” AND INSTEAD OF FIXING IT EVERYONE ELSE WAS LIKE “YEAH BRO MAYBE YOU SHOULD TALK TO SOMEONE ABOUT THAT, YOURE CRAZY. THE WORLD ISNT AWFUL! LOOK AT OUR LITTLE RICH WHITE NEIGHBOURHOOD, EVERYTHING IS PERFECT AND NOTHING IS WRONG! YOU ARE STUPID FOR THINKING THIS.”

LIKE BRO. NO??? ITS NOT OK? I DONT “GET SAD” I AM SAD. THIS ANXIETY DEPRESSION, COCKTAIL NEVER SUBSIDES. IT IS JUST IGNORED. REPEATEDLY. BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO FORGOT TO SURVIVE.

YOU HAVE TO GRIT YOUR TEETH, WIPE YOUR EYES AND DISSOCIATE. BECAUSE YOU KNOW DEEP DOWN IN YOUR HEART THAT NOTHING WILL EVER CHANGE FOR THE BETTER. YOU HAVE TO HAVE THE MINDSET OF:

“Well Im alive now, I might as well enjoy it” BECAUSE THAT IS LITERALLY ALL YOU CAN DO.

I WANT. TO BELIEVE. IN THE POSITIVES.

WE ALL DO.

BUT LOOK AROUND.

IT WOULD LITERALLY TAKE A MIRACLE, NOT A SMALL ONE. A NATIONAL. WORLD WIDE. MASSIVE MASSIVE MASSIVE MIRACLE. TO FIX THINGS.

BUT THATS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN.

YOU CANT EVEN TAKE COMFORT IN RELIGION BECAUSE RELIGION IS LIKE “yeah no everythings gonna be like really bad and get worse and worse until everyone dies”

like. SERIOUSLY.

so NO. I am not “ok” and if you are. Congratulations. You’ve achieved a level of ignorance I TRULY wish I could obtain.

you wanna know why NO ONE TALKS LIKE THIS?

BECAUSE IF EVERYONE ON EARTH KNEW THIS. EVERYTHING WOULD COLLAPSE.

And I’m not saying you can’t be happy. YOU CAN! I am often happy! I have a lot of good moments. Life is worth living! Until a certain point you can always experience joy. There will always be SOMETHING. Good.

I’m sorry it sucks. I want it to change, I want to be happy. I want to go outside knowing that there’s a future, that there isn’t just misery ahead of me.

but I can’t do anything about it.

I can’t seek therapy. I can’t tell anyone.

because all they do is try and get me to be happy again, different strategies!! Different Methods! Different medication! So much medication :,D but I’m tired of people telling me not to be sad.

Stop trying to fix the individuals with drugs and cheesy advice.

FIX THE WORLD FOR US. THEN THE CHILDREN WONT NEED TO BE HIGH ON PAIN KILLERS TO BE HAPPY.

(I try to keep stuff like this to a minimum on my blog but at this point this is the only way I can safely put my opinion out into the world without being put into a mental hospital or yelled at.)

[jdgo51]

Can I Judge Without Being Judgmental?

Today's inspiration comes from:

He Gets Us

by Max Lucado & He Gets Us

Writings from He Gets Us

"'There’s a scripture that kind of trips us up. Whether you’re a Bible reader or not, you’re probably familiar with it.

Do not judge, or you too will be judged. — Matthew 7:1

Jesus said this toward the end of one of his most famous sermons. He was calling out the hypocrisy of pointing out the faults in others when we have our own faults we should be working on.

But is it realistic to never judge anyone? There are times when judging is necessary. When applying for a job, it’s natural to think, Do I want to work for this person? When meeting someone you’re attracted to, Should I ask them out on a date? When you need to confide in someone, Who do I trust as a friend? Just spending a couple of minutes online, we realize our entire world is now based on reviews. From doctors to hotels, restaurants to dog walkers, many businesses live or die by the number of stars by their names. Honest evaluation of others is necessary for a safe and functioning society.

Honest evaluation, however, is not the judgment Jesus meant.

The judging Jesus referred to comes from a different place. It comes from our egos, from seeking to elevate ourselves by belittling someone else. Or trying to justify our own bad behaviors by labeling somebody else’s behavior as worse. Sometimes, biases and grudges affect how we view and treat others.

With that in mind, Jesus asked us to stop pinpointing the shortcomings of others and to look inwardly and deeply examine our own hearts and motives. It’s not comfortable. But here’s why it’s so important: Jesus knew that if we focused on our own faults and weaknesses, we would become more empathetic toward others. We’d recognize that, like us, every person has challenges and struggles that we can relate to. And that’s how Jesus’ radical love is demonstrated today. By recognizing our own flaws, we can all become a little more merciful, a little more patient, and a little more loving toward one another.

God has called us to despise evil, but He has never called us to despise the evildoer.

Writings from Max Lucado

Judgmental people would ask, “Why deal with my mistakes when I can focus on the mistakes of others?”

They might follow up with internal struggles like I may be bad, but as long as I can find someone worse, I am safe. They fuel their goodness with the failures of others. They are the self-appointed teacher’s pets in elementary school. They tattle on the sloppy work of others, oblivious to the F on their own papers. They are the neighborhood watchdogs, passing out citations for people to clean up their acts, never noticing the garbage on their own front lawns.

“Come on, God, let me show You the evil deeds of my neighbor,” the moralists invite. But God won’t follow them into the valley.

If you think you can judge others, you are wrong. When you judge them, you are really judging yourself guilty, because you do the same things they do. — Romans 2:1 NCV

It’s a shallow ploy, and God won’t fall for it.

It is one thing to have a conviction; it’s another to convict the person. Paul said in Romans 2:2:

God judges those who do wrong things, and we know that His judging is right. — NCV

It’s important to recognize the difference between honest evaluations and judgment — that is where the majority of misconceptions arise. You must know that you’re not a sinner because you judged someone. Let’s face it, we all do it more than we’d like to admit, but it’s part of our makeup.

The Bible speaks about sin, how we miss the mark of God and His holy nature. We see the devastating effects of sin all around us every day. It is our job to hate the sin. But it is God’s job to deal with the sinner.

God has called us to despise evil, but He has never called us to despise the evildoer.

But, oh, how we would like to! Is there any act more delightful than judging others? There’s something smug and self-satisfying about slamming down the gavel... “Guilty!” Judging others is a quick and easy way to feel good about ourselves. But that’s the problem. God doesn’t compare us to them. They are not the standard. God is. And compared to Him, Paul argued in Romans 3:12,

There is no one who does anything good. — NCV

Scripture references: Matthew 7:1; Luke 6:37; John 7:24"'

Excerpted with permission from He Gets Us, copyright He Gets Us.

[gliklofhameln]

The key to the story of the first humans lies in a sequence of three sentences at the end, whose juxtaposition seems to make no sense at all. They begin with Adam’s curse for having eaten the forbidden fruit:

‘By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.’

The man named his wife Eve, because she would become the mother of all the living.

The Lord God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them.

(Genesis 3:19-21)

What is the connection between mortality (’to dust you will return’) and the man giving a new name to his wife? And what is the connection between that and God making the couple garments of skin, as if he were giving them a gift as they left the garden?

To understand the passage we have first to realise that it is not a myth but a philosophical parable about language and relationships, the difference between species and individuals, nouns and names, and about what lifts the relationship between husband and wife from the biological to the anthropological, from animal reproduction to human relationship and love.

The story of the first humans in Genesis 2 begins with God giving Adam the ability to use language to classify things. He names the animal: ‘Whatever the man called each living creature, that was its name.’ He sorts and labels them as species. But human beings do not function at the level of species. They are conscious of themselves as unique individuals. They are not merely alone, a physical state. They can also feel lonely, a psychological state. So, ‘for the man no suitable helper was found’. He is not alone, but he is lonely. Animals form species; humans are individuals.

God then creates a partner for man. But if we listen carefully to the poem he speaks on seeing her for the first time, we note something odd: ‘She shall be called woman, for she was taken out of man.’ He names the woman as he named the animals. He uses a generic noun. She is ‘woman’, not a person but a type. She is ‘taken out of man’, ‘helper to man’, but not an individual with her own fears and feelings. Adam does not understand her otherness. She is, for him, merely his mirror image: ‘bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh’.

Eve rebels against this by striking out on her own. The conversation she has with the serpent is the first conversation she has. Adam has spoken about her but not to her. She eats the forbidden fruit. She gives some to her husband, who also eats. She has become the prime mover in the relationship, but still they have not spoken.

Then comes the discovery of their sin. God confronts them both. Each responds by denying responsibility. Adam blames the woman. The woman blames the serpent. Still they are talking about self and other as if they are not free and choosing individuals, but mere things caught up in the forces that operate on things.

Then Adam suddenly hears that he is mortal. Dust he is, and to dust he will return. Suddenly Adam understands the difference between individual and species. Species live on; individuals die. There was a world before we were born, there will be a world after we die, but we will not be here to see it. In the knowledge of our mortality we discover our individuality.

But if Adam is an individual, so is the woman. And God has said to the woman, ‘With pain you will birth to children.’ Within the curse is a blessing. Humans may be mortal, but something of them survives their death, namely children. But children are born only when man and woman are joined in a bond of love. That is when Adam gives his wife the name Chavah, Eve, meaning ‘mother of all life’. The point is not which name, but the fact that it is a name, not a noun. Species have nouns, individuals have names. The woman is now, for the man, not ‘woman’, but Eve. Adam has discovered personhood, uniqueness, individuality, and thus the difference between biology and anthropology. Animals form species, humans are individuals. Animals mate, humans relate. Animals reproduce, humans beget. Animals have sex, humans have love.

The rabbis said that Adam became the first penitent and was forgiven. God then shows kindness to the couple by making them garments of skin. The rabbis said that they were made of snakeskin, as if to say: The very thing that led you to sin (the serpent) will now protect you. Your physicality, which first caused you embarrassment, can be made holy when transmuted into love and sanctified by a bond of trust. Far from ending on a note of condemnation, it ends on a note of divine grace.

The story teaches us about language and love, and about the difference between biological reproduction — a property of the species — and the human family, which is always made up of individuals who are more and other than their similarities. Even clothing, which God endorses with his gift, signals that we are not naked and transparent to one another. There is a part of each of us that always remain hidden. In Hebrew the word chavah, Eve, also has the meaning of ‘hidden’.

There are two subtle hints in the narrative that this is what the story is about. The first, often confused in translation, is that the text speaks throughout of ha-adam, ‘the man’, not adam, ‘Adam’, which is, like Eve, a proper name. ‘The man’ becomes Adam only when ‘the woman’ becomes Eve.

The second is that the name of God changes too. In Genesis I, God is called Elohim, a noun meaning roughly ‘the totality of forces operative in the universe’. In Genesis 2 — 3, he is called Hashem-Elokim, and in Genesis 4, immediately after the Adam-Eve story, he is called Hashem alone. Hashem is God’s proper name, just as Adam is Adam’s and Eve, Eve’s. Our experience of God mirrors our experience of other people. When we relate to other people as persons, we relate to God as a person. Or, to put it differently, God as Hashem is the transcendental reality of interpersonal relations. We love God through loving other people. That is the only way.

The story of the forbidden fruit and the Garden of Eden is less a story about sin, guilt and punishment and more about the essential connection between mortality, individuality and personhood. In one sense it is a pre-emptive refutation of the neo-Darwinism argument that we are all just animals, selfish replicators. We are precisely not animals, not because we are biologically unique — they and we are mere dust of the earth; nor because we have immortal souls — we may, but they are wholly absent from the narrative. We are not animals because we are self-conscious, because we are aware of each other as individuals, and because we are capable of forming relationships of trust. We have culture, not just nature; anthropology, not just biology.

It is also a parable about otherness. Adam’s poem about ‘bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh’ sounds beautiful, but it leads to moral failure because it fails to acknowledge the otherness of the other. Until Eve is Eve, not merely ‘woman’, the man does not know who she is.

The biblical word da’at, ‘knowledge’, does not mean in Hebrew what it is normally taken to mean in the West, namely knowledge of facts, theories, systems and truths. It means interpersonal knowledge, intimacy, empathy. The ‘tree of knowledge’ is about this kind of knowledge. True knowledge that the other is not a mirror image of me, that he or she has wants and needs of her own that may clash with mine, is the source of all love and all pain. To know that I am known makes me want to hide: that is the couple’s first response after eating the fruit. The turning point comes when the man gives Eve a proper name. Love is born when we recognise the integrity of otherness. That is the meaning of love between people. It is the meaning of love between us and God. Only when we make space for the human other do we make space for the divine Other.

God created the world to make space for the otherness that is us.

     — Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks zt”l, in The Great Partnership: God, Science and the Search for Meaning

[postsforposting]

Trigger tags are not shaming and they do not function to say "this is a horrible thing no one should be exposed to". They are about someone's personal issues and an attempt to make the world less abrasive for themselves. This is like you being upset that someone won't eat your potato salad because there's egg in it, and they'll die, but you're offended because they just won't be polite enough to eat what they're given and now they're going on about you wanting them to die and oh just how horrible a thing to accuse you of....while you're still going on about their rudely refusing to eat something that will kill them. This is the same mindset that conservative people have when they say that tws are for "snowflakes" and people who won't engage with the real world, that it's just people who need to nut up and be forcibly exposed to rape scenes so they'll get over it and stop ruining everyone else's good time, or stop trying to get out of college course work by claiming they're too fragile to handle the work they chose to sign up for.

People asking for and using tws are allergen warnings. It's literally just a content label, an index. It's not a moral reprehension. You thinking tws are for immoral things only, like a movie rating scheme, is your personal misunderstanding. It's a disability tool, it's a simple index, not a political platform or religious edict. It's not a secret scarlet letter project. People sure like to act like it's a moral brand, but it's not.

Making it into a moral issue and demanding people "nut up" is not a healthy or unbigoted attitude. That's no different than telling a wheelchair use to just "stop being lazy, get up and walk". Surely that's not something you do.

These are competing needs. You don't want to deal with anyone being upset by your art, that's fine. But you don't get to police other people's choices either, just as they can't police yours. That is how boundaries work. They don't get to call you horrible because you upset them, and you don't get to call anyone horrible because they upset you. That's simple courtesy and fairness. People can ask for tags, and people can say no. Neither party is in the wrong, until you involve moral judgement. This is not a moral issue. You cross a line when you claim the only reason someone would be upset is because they're a bigot, that people should nut up or shut up, because that's the same kind of reasoning that justifies telling a rape survivor that same line. They aren't different. You can't condemn one and not the other, you can't justify one but not the other. Asking for a justification before you'll stop claiming anyone's a bigot is "prove you're not faking it" territory. Nobody owes anyone their life story or personal details. People do owe each other simple courtesy. Going straight to claiming people are bigots without wondering about a justification isn't better, it's execution without trial, because you don't think there could be any reason, because again, you don't understand it's not a moral condemnation.

Claiming other people are immoral for using a simple tool is the only immoral and shitty thing here, and is a total misunderstanding of what a tw is. It's a disability tool. That's it. You wouldn't claim a wheelchair user refusing to walk in your house is "making a statement that you don't clean your floors enough" and then throw a fit at them. Because them using a wheelchair is not about you. Other people using tws is not about you or even your work, it's about their own feelings and history. That's literally what...post...traumatic....means.

I would caution against phrases like "employ critical thinking". It sure gives a great zing when you think you're getting one over on people you're judging, but when it's your turn on the chopping block, it really just makes you look bad. Things that you use to hurt other people can be used to hurt you too. When we agree being mean is bad, both things stop. This is the same kind of issue with using name calling and other negative tools. They feel great, but when you're the one in the wrong, it backfires, because then you look like a fool who "doesn't have a brain"--which is a really hateful thing to say if we're trying to be kind, decent, progressive. People can be wrong for lots of reasons, none of which have to do with intelligence, none of which have to do with lack of careful thought and moral reasoning ability. Simply not having had the thought happens, and it's no more a moral issue than forgetting things as we all do. That sort of phrasing is also flat out nasty to people with intellectual disabilities, they aren't incapable of reasoning and morality just because it takes longer to get there, any more than the rest of us are incapable of it because we're not Einstein.

someone tagged multiple drawings of mine ft fat characters as “tw body image” i am entitled to compensation and im stealing shit out of your house right now

[doberbutts]

ty for being cool abt the anti-psychiatry thing. as someone who has an untreated psychotic illness, it always feels like a punch in the gut to hear ppl say that psychiatry is useless or bullshit. its like - ok, so you want me to live like this forever?? my gp said it was actually miraculous id managed to live this long untreated, you think im gonna be just fine and dandy without ever receiving meds??? like…there’s a reason ppl with my illness tend to die young - its the illness itself! it kinda seems to me like the whole ‘depression and anxiety are primarily caused by societal flaws’ thing taken to an extreme. sorry but getting rid of capitalism wont cure me!! i need professional help!!

Oh yeah and this is where I find a lot of people miss this nuance because:

Many disabilities are only disabilities because of society being ableist. What I mean by that is not that disabilities are not real- it's that being part of a society that heavily favors only the most able-bodied means that people who needs meds, walking aids, procedures, and more are left in the dust or forced to do without. It means that the stigma of mental illness prevents most mentally ill people from seeking help, from even admitting that they may need help. It means it worsens conditions that were 100% preventable or manageable. It means it isolates those who "cannot be helped".

Doing away with capitalism does not do away with ableism. Ableism is what causes most disabilities to be so devastating. Otherwise, the vast majority would be entirely liveable conditions akin to wearing a pair of glasses or putting on a bandaid. Too bad we live in an ableist society that does not allow the normalization of disabled bodies and minds nor does it provide a support system for those who need it.

I'm neurodiverse. I do not take medication currently even though there is medication for my neurodiversity. I could, and have in the past, and I did not like the side effects so I made the active choice to go off the meds in high school and did not return to being medicated. I have employed a number of lifestyle changes and safety nets to create a support system so that I can live my life as I am now. It is because I have carefully constructed a life as free from ableist views as possible that I am able to do this. It is also because as a child I was not just medicated, I attended a large amount of behavioral therapy (prior to the advent of ABA, so I got to Skip The Bullshit) that gave me the tools to manage my neurodiversity in a healthy and productive way.

I'm lucky in that I was born to parents who knew what was going on in my brain and had the resources to help me through it. Not everyone is. Psychiatry allowed me to live a mostly functional adult life and I am both black and disabled. Without it, a lot of untreated black kids get labeled ODD and ASPD and get funneled directly through the school-to-prison pipeline when they just have ADD. I watched it happen to an untreated black boy at my school who has been in and out of prison since he was 15 and capable of being tried as an adult. He's been out of prison for 2 years now and that's the longest he's been out since high school- he's in his 30s. He just has ADD no one bothered to help him with until it was too late. That is what being part of a racist and ableist system looks like.

[demigoddessnation]

(excessive) Teresa slander

and everything wrong with it

— an essay by me

1. People lose sight of the real villain in the story. We were really given this power-hungry, violently elitistic organization put in charge of a decaying world and decided to pin the entire blame on a teenage girl. Teresa was a pawn in a game she deliberately wasn't provided full understanding of. A rather biased pawn at that. The actual evil behind all this were the people who had the power of life and death in their hands - those who could exploit a potential cure to their personal gain and advantage. While those people would've been driven by selfishness and lusting after population control, she was motivated by her own moral compass, which was unfortunately very much manipulated from the very beginning.

2. She was (to her death) a kid. She's a fictional character, yes. But slandering a teenager for not being lawfully good is like pushing penguins off a cliff and frowning when they don't avoid the fall by flying. Like any young person, she had a cause she wholeheartedly believed in and supported. She allowed herself and her friends to get hurt in the name of this cause which she believed transcended the pain of the individual and worked for the greater good. It's not easy to agree to this when all you know of the world is pain, loss and death, and though her decisions didn't work out, they were made with the sternness of someone who's lived through too much for their age.

3. There's a suspicious hint of ✨misogyny✨ to it. Interesting, really, how all the hate goes to Teresa whereas she didn't exactly execute all the betrayals and scheming by herself. Aris also had a significant part in all that, but people seem to dismiss his role in that case. Maybe it's the movies that watered it down, but he was in the epicenter of events just like her. Also, if you dig further, you'd see that the rest of the guys are all constantly having their trauma discussed in depth (specifically the Ivy Trio and Gally) while Teresa's past is hardly ever acknowledged. Trauma can't and mustn't be compared between characters and to say that every single one of them was severely (unfairly) traumatized is an understatement, but ignoring traumatic experience for the sake of villainizing someone is profoundly wrong. If you're going to be judgmental, do it fairly and correctly, without picking and choosing whatever appeals to your own personal opinion.

4. "I laughed when she died" shouldn't be a thing. Again, she's a fictional character, yes. But on a mental level our brains can't functionally distinguish between fictional characters and real people (that's why falling for a fictional character can feel as intense as falling for someone in real world). There's still something inherently wrong with laughing at someone's death, just saying.

5. Even if there is intense hate for Teresa, it shouldn't be directed to Kaya Scodelario. There's this fine but important line to draw between a character and the actor who plays them. The case with Kaya and Teresa is one of the most problematic parts of this fandom because the actress can't possibly be held responsible for something her character has done!! This is a role and it in no way means Kaya condones what Teresa's said or done. People get paid to act in movies, not to magically merge with the person they're scripted to play. Also, Kaya is a very kind and educated person. She's not from the Maze Runner or Skins, she's an actual person with actual feelings. Everyone needs to respect this and treat it accordingly.

6. Teresa has been demonized and manipulated for so so long. Even if you don't understand her point of view and motives, it's still heartbreaking to see how badly and harshly life had treated her since she was a child. The very first time she was found as the only survivor in a village of dead bodies, she was thought of as a ghost, an evil omen. She has always been "the only one" - the only one immune, forced to watch her family die; the only girl amid a group of guys with a variety of underlying trauma and issues; the trigger for change. It doesn't help that she used to be separated from the others with Thomas and labeled an elite subject. She was meant to be an outcast and the fact that she never really got to bond with them contributed to her being clay in the hands of WCKD. Even if she was fed a lot of information about the world, the cure and the vileness of the WCKD trials, she would still choose to side with the organization because the promise of finding a remedy prevailed in her mind, as opposed to the mindset of Thomas whose righteousness did get him in some difficult situations but kept him from becoming a radical idealist (which made him more aware of how impractical and painful the process of finding a cure actually was).

7. The story wouldn't have worked without her. Maze Runner is a great analogy for elitism, class division and government problematicness but its most impactful message comes from how the readers get to see the victims of the global catastrophe that is the Flare. We get insight into the Cranks, the violent work of WCKD and the mass panic that quickly spreads worldwide but what truly works out the resonance here is the fact that we see that the group of main characters isn't entirely impenetrable in their righteousness and incorruptibility. We have a bunch of broken people who set off on a journey to find life outside of running and fighting for survival. However, without the chaos factor that's Teresa, the battle against WCKD seems linear which can't possibly be true since the line between good and evil is basically obliterated at this point of global deterioration. She's the turning point where you realize that there are no winners in the war, nor are there good or bad guys, only victims and opportunists.

In conclusion, I hope to see a day when the psyche of characters is better explained and understood instead of bashed the way it is now. There's some really great character building going on in TMR and it's a matter of time we progressed past the need to point fingers left and right when we could take in the bigger picture of the story. The way we react to characters like Teresa actually says a lot about how we would react to her behavior in real life, and sometimes that could be limiting us from figuring out that at the end of the day people like this exist and will continue to exist under the influence of grand promises, corrupt authority and crisis.

[writingwife-83]

Prompt: Retired Sherlolly in the Sussex downs. Lots of fluff

I already made a post about the fact that this ask is worded rudely and this isn’t how you prompt a writer, so I won’t repeat myself here. But I decided to write something to answer this ask basically just because I wanted to post something new for sherlolly anyway and also thought why not clear this out of my inbox while I’m at it? Multi tasking, yknow? Anyway, enjoy this random retirement sherlolly one shot! 🥰

Never Too Old

Sherlock stood from his armchair with a little groan that had become unfortunately habitual. He didn’t like the disappointing reminder that his body was betraying him more and more each day. And perhaps if his life had gone differently, he’d be weighed down with regret in addition to the nagging aches and pains.

But it hadn’t, and he wasn’t.

Just as he’d turned the kettle on, he heard the latch click and Molly’s little smile greeted him as she came through the door.

“Oh good! I’d die for a cuppa,” she sighed, seeing what he was doing in the kitchen.

Her arms were full of books and bags, per usual when she returned from her part time job at the local hospital. It was smaller, but it allowed Molly to continue some pathology work and research. Upon retirement to the country some years ago, and though they both wished to slow down, it also became clear Molly was not unlike Sherlock in the need to keep her mind occupied.

Sherlock circled around from the kitchen to meet her and help take some things out of her arms as she got her shoes off, then meeting her upturned lips for a traditional kiss.

“What’s this then?” he questioned, lifting one of the items she’d been carrying, which was a box that had a conspicuous Human Tissue label on the side. “Do I dare hope?”

“You do indeed,” she confirmed with a proud smile, unwinding her scarf and hanging it up. “There were some cadaver samples being used today, and I was able to get some things signed out to me once we were done. Just a hand, part of a foot, and some toes.”

“Mm, just like the good old days.”

“Except that they won’t be going in our fridge,” Molly commented with a little laugh, heading to the kitchen to tend to the kettle.

No, he supposed that wasn’t exactly how he did things anymore. In fact, part of their permanent move to his parent’s old cottage involved a complete renovation of the basement, turning it into a fully functioning laboratory, complete with all the tools of the trade and a small walk-in freezer for occasional storage, such as this.

Molly clearly saw his enthusiasm and shook her head, tucking some of her short hair behind her ears which was largely shimmery with streaks of silver now. She smiled gently, creating the lines that he’d come to love beside her lips and eyes.

“I just walked in the door! And I’m warming up the rest of that soup and eating first. So are you!” She punctuated that statement with a little glare.

Sherlock sighed. “Oh alright!”

“Go put those samples in the fridge downstairs and then we can eat by the fire. I feel like my feet haven’t quite thawed yet.” Molly scrunched her shoulders in a little shiver.

Sherlock did as he was told, popping up to their bedroom before heading back to the kitchen in order to get Molly’s favorite oversized cardigan. He came up behind her where she stood at the stove and placed the garment on her slight shoulders, prompting her to turn and gaze appreciatively up at him.

“You’re a darling. I was just thinking I wanted this.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s getting too cold for you to keep walking from here to the hospital.”

“Oh, don’t fuss. It keeps me young.”

Seeing as the little sideways glance that Molly gave him was positively girlish, despite her age, Sherlock found it difficult to argue. But he also promised himself he’d be driving her for her shift next week, whether she liked it or not.

Soon, they were settled into their armchairs at either side of the fire, enjoying some warm soup as a bit of soft music played. It was the sort of cozy, quiet evening that might have driven him mad in his twenties or thirties. But now he’d learned to find contentment in the stillness, in a way that he couldn’t in his younger years. Besides, he still found there were plenty of things to keep him busy.

Molly looked up from her last spoonfuls of soup as he put his bowl down. “Be patient. I’ll be done soon.”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She snorted. “You think I can’t read you like a book by now, Sherlock Holmes? I know very well you’re itching to get into the lab.”

Sherlock gazed back at her and a little smile tugged at his lips as he watched her features which were brightened by the firelight. The moment she set her bowl down, he stood and extended his hand.

Molly glanced at his hand and then up at him. “What’s this?”

“Perhaps I was impatient for something else.”

She smiled, her cheeks a little pink as she took his hand and stood, and then Sherlock pulled her in close, swaying to the quiet classical music in the background.

“You’re a sly one,” Molly laughed softly, leaning her cheek against his chest as they slowly moved. “We haven’t had a dance like this in ages.”

“Exactly,” he murmured in agreement. “It’s been too long.”

They stayed like that until the song came to an end, and then Molly stepped away, looking at him in question.

“What?”

“Well?” she prompted. “Aren’t we going to the lab now?”

Sherlock’s eyes brightened. “I wasn’t sure if you were really interested.”

Molly laughed as they headed down the stairs. “For goodness sake, Sherlock! You do remember who you married, don’t you? The day I stop being interested in experiments will be the day I’m the one on the slab.”

“God, I love you,” was genuinely all he could think to say in response to her endearingly morbid quip.

Molly flipped the switch as they reached the bottom of the steps, illuminating their home laboratory as she grinned up at him. “I know you do.”

[seitmai]

I have so many thoughts and comments I'm gonna utilize the read more function here lol, bear with me 🫶🏻

Every book she let him borrow was returned with a note folded up inside. Some of them were short and simple. When he handed back Love Letters of Great Men, the note simply said The dog eared pages are going to make me cry. But some of them were longer and more elaborate.

I'm dying 🫠 if this is a short und elaborated one, what are his long like?! Like how can these be even better?!

Maybe even read some parts out loud in that deep, soothing voice. She would love to hear his take on each plot and watch him blush as he called her the expert and asked for her opinions. She would love to take the book from his hands and pull him down into bed with her.

A girl can dream 🥰🤭 and Bob reading out loud? Hot and soothing

And there it was once again. The reminder that Bob didn't think about that kiss nearly as much as she did. "I hope you have a great time."

Ahhh I wanna grab Anna by the shoulders and shake her

If anyone knew he was writing about Anna, he would probably die on the spot. But nobody in his life knew he wrote anything in his free time, let alone the fact that he wrote poetry. And this poem was getting close to needing a 'mature' label if he was going to post it online.

😏😏😏

It's giving smut fanfic writer 🤭

He'd never experienced the kind of love his friends had, and in spite of all of her hesitations, he could imagine it happening with Anna. If anything, he liked that she seemed cautious and contemplative, he just wished she wasn't still that way toward him. 

"Sugar's out back, setting up some snacks and just generally looking hot. You want a beer?"

God Bradley is such a horn dog for Sugar but in the most wholesome way

Bob was already about to agree with whatever she said, because it sounded exactly perfect to him,

Urgh of course he would because he (+Anna for him) is perfect

"Bob!" There was a brunette flash streaking across the small backyard, and then Natasha Trace was in his arms. She was giggling next to his ear where she kissed his cheek three times in a row, knocking his glasses askew.

Ahhhh Nat is back!!!

Her familiar laughter was comforting as she said, "You have no idea how much I hate flying with anyone other than you." When she finally started to pull away from him, she added, "Now we can pick up where we left off before my deployment."

This is not Anna's perspective but I already know how that sounds/looks 😬🫣

"That's an understatement, Nat," he replied, hugging her tighter when she refused to let go. "I missed you."

Love love love their bond and friendship 🥰🤗

And also assuming she could figure out what she was supposed to do about Bob and the growing collection of feelings she seemed to have for him.

I love this description of "a growing collection of feelings"! It's so perfect for her and her love for books that she more or less collects 🥰

Then she saw him. Bob was here with his tidy hair and his adorable glasses and his big hands, and like always her brain filled up with the beautiful poetry she loved so much. Somehow it seemed to go together with him. Those stunning words matched the way he made her feel.

🥹🥹🥹

I can't wait for the moment Anna the poetry lover realizes Bob is the smut poet🤭

Anna was going to have to have words with Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics after this. Maybe they tried to set her up with Bob, because they didn't like this other woman? That idea vaporized as soon as she saw Jessica embrace her with a bright smile on her face.

Oh man, this is just some classic miscommunication, but can you imagine Anna feeling betrayed by her two friends that got so close in a short amount of time 🥺

"You teach at San Diego State too?" Natasha asked as her smirk bloomed into a bigger smile. When Anna nodded, she laughed and added, "What the hell do they put in the water at that school?"

Am I sensing Nat yearning for some academic lover too?

Not me inserting myself and seeing her with a gender studies researcher meeting her through an interview for research about women in the military or something like that 🤔

He kind of smiled, still holding out the other can toward Anna who felt like she was on the verge of screaming. "No. Thank you," she told him, taking a few steps away as she clocked the hurt expression on his face. "I don't want any."

That hurt 😭💔

She willingly had a thirty minute conversation with Jake and Mickey about the Marvel Cinematic Universe as an excuse to keep her distance.

Omg I would LOVE to discuss the MCU with those two! Anna is living my dream!!! (In so many ways)

"Right," Bob whispered, frowning down toward his plate as she gave him side eye. "I just... feel like I did something to upset you."

🥺🥺🥺

Bob was so confused. He had been about to jump at the chance to hang out at the bookstore in North Park with Anna when Natasha arrived. At that point, he honestly thought this was going to be the best day he'd had in a while. Anna seemed happy to see him, and one of his best friends was finally home from deployment. But as soon as that thought entered his mind, Anna started acting like she wanted nothing to do with him. So much so that she asked Jess about some guy's fake hair?

Poor Bob 🥺

His voice sounded deep even to his own ears as he promised, "Not even slightly. Not like I'm into you."

Then another one. Then one more before she was launching herself into his arms. Bob could feel her damp hands in his hair as their lips met, and it was nothing like the way they kissed in his truck. She wasn't tentative, and he didn't pull away as she kissed him harder. This time her body was pressed to his, and she moaned softly when he let his hands settle on her hips.

Ahhhhhhhhh I love them!!!

I also have to mention how much I love this dual pov!! It does so much for the story of those two fools in love that are literally perfect for each other 🤗🥰

Covering the Classics Part 7 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Just when Anna starts to feel settled, a simple cookout at her friend's house turns everything upside down. Her jealousy shines through, and there's nothing she can do to try to take it back.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, masturbation, eventually 18+

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Things with Bob felt like they shifted back to normal again, and Anna was thankful for that. Every book she let him borrow was returned with a note folded up inside. Some of them were short and simple. When he handed back Love Letters of Great Men, the note simply said The dog eared pages are going to make me cry. But some of them were longer and more elaborate.

She was running a little late to meet him at the usual coffee shop, worried he would already be there. He seemed to end up paying for her drink every single time, which was honestly really sweet of him, but she felt like such a nuisance. When she walked inside, he was there, at a table with two steaming mugs in front of him and his nose buried in a book. In one of Anna's books. In her copy of Wuthering Heights.

Her whole body felt too warm as she thought about how much she would love to have Bob read every single one of the hundreds of books she owned. Maybe even read some parts out loud in that deep, soothing voice. She would love to hear his take on each plot and watch him blush as he called her the expert and asked for her opinions. She would love to take the book from his hands and pull him down into bed with her.

But she couldn't do that. They were just friends. So instead, she dropped down into the empty seat across from him and said, "Hi, Bob," with a smile she hoped wasn't as sad as she felt.

"Anna." Her name sounded like golden perfection when he said it, and she shivered. "This book... I can't stop reading it. I read it twice already," he said with a little laugh. "How in the world do you always know exactly what I'm going to like?"

Because she felt undeniably drawn to him and his preferences and everything about him.

"Because I'm a professional."

He laughed a little more as his pretty lake-blue eyes followed her cup as she brought it up to her lips. When the ceramic touched her, he looked away as his cheeks grew pink. He pushed the book across the table, and when she reached for it, he said, "Uh, just read that note later, okay?"

When she saw the edge of white paper sticking out from the worn pages, she said, "Sure, Bob."

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Did you hear about the change of venue for tomorrow?"

Anna ducked her head. "Yeah, the girls told me about it at lunch yesterday. A cookout? Bradley wants to show off his new grill?"

Bob nodded and said, "Could be a nice change from the Hard Deck for once."

While he wasn't wrong, Anna hated that she still barely had enough money to make ends meet. San Diego was expensive, and when she asked Advanced Calculus what she could bring with her to their house to contribute to the meal, her friend said to bring hot dog and hamburger buns. Anna was already trying to figure out how to scrape together the ten dollars that would be required when Jessica said she already bought some along with chips and pretzels. When she didn't quite meet Anna's eyes, she knew for a fact that Jessica had figured her out.

"Yeah. I suppose," Anna told Bob. But at least at the Hard Deck, Penny didn't usually even charge her for the three dollar ginger ales. And if she did, one of the guys just put it on their tab like it was nothing. When she showed up empty handed to the cookout, she was going to feel awful that Jessica had covered for her. 

"You want another coffee?" Bob asked, standing with his own mug, but Anna shook her head. She couldn't let him pay for another thing. Perhaps deleting multi millionaire Dev Borah's phone number wasn't her best move. Not that she would ever take advantage of someone for their money. Not after what Kevin did to her.

"No. But thank you. I actually can't stay very long today."

Bob nodded before saying, "No worries. I have dinner plans with Suzanne before Mickey picks me up for D&D anyway."

And there it was once again. The reminder that Bob didn't think about that kiss nearly as much as she did. "I hope you have a great time."

------------------------

It was late on Saturday night, and he should have been in bed, but Bob had his computer out. He reasoned that he could sleep in as late as he wanted tomorrow before heading to pick up the burgers Bradley asked him to bring for the cookout. He could stay up as long as it took for him to finish this poem and finally post it on PoetsAmongUs after looking at it for weeks.

If anyone knew he was writing about Anna, he would probably die on the spot. But nobody in his life knew he wrote anything in his free time, let alone the fact that he wrote poetry. And this poem was getting close to needing a 'mature' label if he was going to post it online.

"What are you doing?" he asked himself softly. Somehow he believed that writing about her specifically would cleanse him of these thoughts, but now he knew he was wrong. He proofread and posted his poem anyway while his skin prickled with need. He'd never experienced the kind of love his friends had, and in spite of all of her hesitations, he could imagine it happening with Anna. If anything, he liked that she seemed cautious and contemplative, he just wished she wasn't still that way toward him. 

She made him want to keep leaving her notes in the books he borrowed from her, but she also made him feel like an idiot for wanting to do that. It was maddening. He needed to sleep, but he was too warm, imagining Anna once again in place of his faceless lover while he touched himself. He almost couldn't wait until the day when someone else would take her place in his mind, even if it meant settling.

The next day, he drove his old pickup toward the coast with the burgers and a six pack of ginger ale in tow. The Spanish revival style house that Bradley purchased before he and his wife made things official again was cute with desert landscaping, but she was the one who really made it a home. There was art hanging on the walls in every room, including a panoramic watercolor of the scenery of Virginia. The front bedroom had been turned into her home office, and for some reason, she had Bradley's fraternity paddle hanging in there. The house seemed more lived in now, and Bob knew Bradley was much happier for it.

"Hey, thanks man," Bradley told him, taking the bag of burgers when he got there. He was wearing his hideous Grateful Dead shirt and holding two cans of beer on one hand, but he still managed to give Bob a quick hug. "Sugar's out back, setting up some snacks and just generally looking hot. You want a beer?"

Bob held up the ginger ales in response and said, "Thanks, but I'll just have one of these for now." The last thing he wanted was a hangover like he had after their New Year's Eve party.

"Hi!" Jessica said as she and Jake walked inside, and she made a beeline right for Bob. "Have you given any more thought to how I should paint my barbarian?"

He just smiled as she started to push him through the kitchen toward the back door. "We just played yesterday. I didn't know you'd still be in the mood to talk about your ridiculous D&D character."

"Please," she practically whined. "You know how sensitive my barbarian is."

Bob snorted; truly he never would have expected he and she would have had so much in common, but even Jessica couldn't keep his attention once he saw who Bradley's wife was talking to. Anna had some freckles on her thighs. Her cutoff denim shorts went high enough up her legs that he was treated to the sight of freckles everywhere. And that wasn't all. Not even close. The deep "V" of her shirt revealed that there was a pretty good chance the freckles even trailed down inside her bra.

He wasn't going to survive the cookout if he had to look at her all afternoon. Her red hair was clipped up on top of her head with some sort of claw-shaped thing, and her skin was just everywhere. Her neck and her legs and the swell of her breasts. Her fingernails were burgundy again, just like the first day he saw her. She hadn't even noticed him yet, which was terrible, because if she had, he would have looked away by now. Instead he was given ample opportunity to memorize the way her legs looked as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, shuffling her beat up sneakers a bit along the patio.

"Oh," Jessica whispered, squeezing his bicep gently when he stopped responding to her. "Yeah, that'll do it." Her tone sounded slightly sympathetic, and it made Bob so self conscious. "Let's go say hi."

He shook his head jerkily and muttered, "In a second." Anna was currently laughing, head thrown back in delight, and Bob got the briefest peek at the strip of skin above her shorts and her bellybutton, and his brain actually stopped functioning. When she tipped her head forward again, an overjoyed smile still on her lips, she met his gaze. His brain jump started again as her teeth sank into her bottom lip, and he took a step in her direction before he could reconsider.

"Hey, Bob." She sounded a little breathless as she said his name while Bradley's wife smirked at the two of them. But he and Anna were just friends, and he needed to remember that.

"Anna," he replied softly, slipping his hands into his jeans pockets. His palms were sweaty, and he knew he was blushing. He'd never make it out of here alive. Not when she was looking at him like that. 

She smiled and said, "I came up with a few, slightly more obscure book recommendations for you. I was thinking maybe we could go back to the bookstore and look for some of them that I don't currently own? I might be fun to-"

Bob was already about to agree with whatever she said, because it sounded exactly perfect to him, then he heard someone screeching his name.

"Bob!" There was a brunette flash streaking across the small backyard, and then Natasha Trace was in his arms. She was giggling next to his ear where she kissed his cheek three times in a row, knocking his glasses askew.

"I didn't know you were coming home today," he said in surprise.

"I didn't tell anyone except Bradley. Did I surprise you?" she asked.

"That's an understatement, Nat," he replied, hugging her tighter when she refused to let go. "I missed you."

Her familiar laughter was comforting as she said, "You have no idea how much I hate flying with anyone other than you." When she finally started to pull away from him, she added, "Now we can pick up where we left off before my deployment."

-----------------------------

Anna couldn't believe how incredible her friend's house was. It was huge and beautiful, and she had a yard. A yard! In California! There was colorful art on the walls, which appeared to be a collection of things that she and Bradley enjoyed. Her office was something Anna could only dream about, and the kitchen was bigger than her whole apartment.

After a tour of the interior, she stood on the patio in the autumn sunlight in a pair of shorts, something she would have never been able to do in New Jersey. Every day seemed to get better than the last, assuming she could keep the intrusive thoughts about Kevin away. And also assuming she could figure out what she was supposed to do about Bob and the growing collection of feelings she seemed to have for him.

"You have to hear what happened in my Differential Equations lecture on Friday afternoon," her friend was saying as they stood near the new grill that would soon be the centerpiece of the afternoon. "You won't even believe it."

Anna listened for a minute to the wild story, bursting into laughter when she learned how her friend thought she was going to have to call the fire department while she was teaching. Then she saw him. Bob was here with his tidy hair and his adorable glasses and his big hands, and like always her brain filled up with the beautiful poetry she loved so much. Somehow it seemed to go together with him. Those stunning words matched the way he made her feel.

She had to bite her lip in an attempt to calm herself down. "Hey, Bob," she managed to say as his cheeks flushed pink.

"Anna."

Oh, she was a mess. She thought about him way too frequently, even taking the time to compile the titles of some books she had read and loved, convincing herself he might like some of them too. "I came up with a few, slightly more obscure book recommendations for you. I was thinking maybe we could go back to the bookstore and look for some of them that I don't currently own? I might be fun to-"

But she stopped mid sentence when she heard some excited chatter behind Bob, and then a woman came running out through the back door. A beautiful woman. Calling his name. Jumping into his arms. Anna was treated to the sight of the woman's lips brushing against Bob's cheek while he held onto her like he was just reunited with the only person he ever cared about. She had to watch as this other woman ran her fingers gently along his skin in exactly the way Anna fantasized about. And when she looked around, nobody seemed concerned by this turn of events, rather they all acted like it was perfectly normal that Bob and this woman were whispering intimately to each other.

Then Anna heard her say, "Now we can pick up where we left off before my deployment."

Oh. Well. There was a sour taste in her mouth as she took a step backwards as the rest of the group greeted this mystery woman. Anna was going to have to have words with Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics after this. Maybe they tried to set her up with Bob, because they didn't like this other woman? That idea vaporized as soon as she saw Jessica embrace her with a bright smile on her face.

Anna felt like her chest was growing tighter by the second, and then Jessica started to pull the pretty brunette toward her. "You have to come meet the newest faculty member from the English department! Dr. Anna Webber."

The woman looked her up and down with dark, appraising eyes and a little smirk set firmly on her lips. Then she stuck out her right hand and said, "I'm Natasha Trace."

The last thing Anna wanted to do right now was shake hands, but Jessica was looking at her with concern, probably wondering why she was just standing there. "It's a pleasure," Anna said with as much conviction as she could muster, shaking hands as briefly as she could.

"You teach at San Diego State too?" Natasha asked as her smirk bloomed into a bigger smile. When Anna nodded, she laughed and added, "What the hell do they put in the water at that school?"

Jessica was beaming now as she said, "Anna gives book recommendations to Bob all the time."

"Really? Is that so?" Natasha asked, still eyeing Anna like a predator would their prey, when Bob appeared with two cans of ginger ale. He gave one to Natasha and then tried to hand the other one to Anna as Natasha said, "I actually read a phenomenal book last month, Bob. I'll write down the title for you."

He kind of smiled, still holding out the other can toward Anna who felt like she was on the verge of screaming. "No. Thank you," she told him, taking a few steps away as she clocked the hurt expression on his face. "I don't want any."

The uncomfortable feeling was overtaking Anna's whole body now when Natasha leaned a little closer to Bob and softly muttered, "Let me guess... you have a little crush? This happened in my absence?"

Anna turned and went inside, searching for the bathroom she'd seen on the house tour. That woman was mocking her. Anna didn't want to hear any more of that conversation, because it was making her skin crawl. And worse still, she was finally able to identify this feeling as she closed and locked the door and leaned on the sink vanity.

Jealousy. 

She was more jealous of this petite brunette who seemed to think Bob's personal space was hers for the taking than she ever was about Kevin and Alyssa. She was beside herself at the idea of another woman giving Bob book recommendations and making fun of his stupid little crush on her.

This was exactly why she should have never let herself have feelings. When she looked in the mirror, she saw tears in her eyes. "Shit," she whispered. She didn't have a car, so she couldn't just discreetly leave. Plus she'd been looking forward to eating something other than one of her sad sandwiches for days.

The jealousy gave way to anger as she wiped her eyes with a tissue and dropped it in the trash can. Her new friends invited her here, and she was going to stay. She wasn't going to let her feelings for Bob Floyd dictate her mood or what she felt she was allowed to do. She wasn't going to let another man run her life like that ever again.

With her head held high, she walked back outside, making it a point to avoid Bob and Natasha at all costs. She willingly had a thirty minute conversation with Jake and Mickey about the Marvel Cinematic Universe as an excuse to keep her distance. Then she and Bradley discussed the extensive musical catalogue of the Grateful Dead while she slowly sipped a beer to try to take the edge off. Then he turned on the grill, and the smell of food cooking had her excited enough that it was becoming easier and easier to ignore Bob.

When she accidentally looked his way, he was already eyeing her with a confused expression. She could pretend all day long that she didn't care what he thought and that she wasn't jealous at all. She could be so stubborn about this. At least all they had between them was that one awkward, fumbled kiss in his truck. It wasn't like she'd slept with him before he ditched her for the much better looking Natasha.

She was still doing a fine job of ignoring both of them when Bradley announced that dinner was ready. Anna took a plate of food and scooted all the way to the end of the rectangular patio table, snagging the spot across from Jessica. She was willing to talk about anything right now, even her friend's physics curriculum that she could barely comprehend, but then Bob was right next to her.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked cautiously, setting his plate next to hers. Anna just shrugged, and then she was enveloped in his clean scent as he eased himself down in the seat with his knee hitting her thigh. She quickly crossed her legs before scooting her chair a few inches to the side away from his. "Are you okay?"

Anna almost laughed as Natasha found a spot on the other side of the table. "I'm just fine," she said before taking a huge bite of her burger and avoiding looking at either of them.

"Right," Bob whispered, frowning down toward his plate as she gave him side eye. "I just... feel like I did something to upset you."

Anna shook her head, and when she was done chewing the delicious food, she said, "Not at all. You're free to make the decisions you want to make. And I'm free to keep my books to myself since you've got other ones now."

Bob looked at her and asked, "What's that supposed to mean?" 

But Anna was well on her way to starting a conversation with Jessica that could probably last for hours. She ignored him as she asked, "Hey, Jess, what's up with that physics professor who just started wearing a toupee?"

"Dr. Leeland!" she screeched before launching into an animated conversation on the topic of her colleague's hair piece just as expected.

------------------------

Bob was so confused. He had been about to jump at the chance to hang out at the bookstore in North Park with Anna when Natasha arrived. At that point, he honestly thought this was going to be the best day he'd had in a while. Anna seemed happy to see him, and one of his best friends was finally home from deployment. But as soon as that thought entered his mind, Anna started acting like she wanted nothing to do with him. So much so that she asked Jess about some guy's fake hair? Bob sat there and listened to the conversation while he ate, trying to interject, but Anna just wasn't having it. She had even rejected his ginger ale.

What the hell did he do wrong? All he wanted to do was talk to her about books and look at her freckles. She was sitting right next to him, but he may as well have been on Jupiter with the way she seemed convinced that he wasn't even there at all.

As everyone started to finish eating, Bob washed his food down with the rest of his ginger ale. Maybe he should just head home early. He'd be spending all week at work with Nat, so it wasn't like he was going to miss out on much there. And being around Anna when she wasn't even looking at him made him feel like an idiot for secretly writing poems about her. He sat at the table alone for an extra minute with his head cradled in his hands, then he took his trash inside the house.

Of course Anna was the only other person in the kitchen, helpfully washing the grilling utensils and other things Bradley left in the sink. She glanced his way briefly before continuing with her task, and Bob headed for the trash can. He had the perfect view of the freckles on the backs of her thighs, but he didn't feel like he should be looking now. He stood quietly for a few seconds before deciding that he'd give this one last try before heading out.

"Anna," he said just loud enough that he knew she could hear him over the running water. "Can we talk? I just feel like I did something to upset you? When you started to invite me to the bookstore, I was going to say yes. Obviously I'd love to go with-"

She looked at him over her shoulder, and he went silent at her glare. "Why don't you just go with Natasha instead?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "That's not the kind of thing she and I usually do together."

"Oh?" she asked, her voice dripping with something that made Bob's skin tingle with goosebumps. "Does she usually recommend books while you're out to dinner? Or do you take her to see her favorite movies?" 

She turned off the water and faced him without bothering to dry her hands. His lips parted as he watched the furious looking blush that crept along her chest, up her neck, and to her cheeks. 

"I don't really do those things with her either," he said slowly, trying to puzzle his way through this. She sounded almost jealous of Nat, but that couldn't be. That didn't make any sense at all. Anna made it clear she didn't want to be with him.

"Well, you're free to do whatever you want, Bob," she said with a shrug, chin held high. "This is why we're just friends. You've already got plenty of women to choose from, like Suzanne and Natasha, and I'm not about to get caught up in another attractive man who seems too good to be true."

She started to duck past him, but Bob blocked her path. "Whoa, whoa! No, you've got it all wrong." She doubled back the other way, but he stepped to the side until she bumped into him. "Suzanne is my elderly neighbor. And Natasha and I are friends," he said quickly, and he was rewarded with Anna's brown eyes snapping up to meet his. "I've known her for years. She's the pilot I usually fly with."

Anna took one stumbling step backwards toward the sink. Her teeth sank into her lip like earlier before she whispered, "Oh." She swallowed hard, drawing Bob's gaze back to the freckles on her neck as her blush grew deeper. "So you're not... into her?"

His voice sounded deep even to his own ears as he promised, "Not even slightly. Not like I'm into you."

The kitchen went so silent that Bob could hear laughter filtering from the patio through the open door, and Anna's expression softened as she took a tiny step forward. Then another one. Then one more before she was launching herself into his arms. Bob could feel her damp hands in his hair as their lips met, and it was nothing like the way they kissed in his truck. She wasn't tentative, and he didn't pull away as she kissed him harder. This time her body was pressed to his, and she moaned softly when he let his hands settle on her hips.

Anna coaxed him impossibly closer with her fingers in his hair and on the back of his neck, and soon he had her pinned against the edge of the counter. He could feel denim rubbing against denim as she parted her lips and wiggled slowly against him. When Bob swiped his tongue along her bottom lip, Anna let him taste her before her lips drifted along to his neck.

"Fuck," he grunted, squeezing her hips in his hands as his index finger met the soft skin of her lower back. She was sucking gently on the spot just to the left of his Adam's apple, and there was no way she couldn't feel how hard he was getting for her right now.

Those burgundy fingernails were scraping gently along his scalp as he rolled his hips one time against her body. When Anna licked his neck, he forced himself to ask the question that was fluttering around the peripheral of his aroused brain. "Are you going to tell me this is another mistake? Like that night in my truck?"

Anna pulled her lips away from his pulse point long enough to whisper, "It wasn't even a mistake last time. I just couldn't help myself."

Then Bob kissed her lips until she was clinging to him with her back arched against the counter and her hips held tightly in his hands. When he could tell someone was coming inside, he pulled himself away, panting as she tried to chase him for more. He could see the questioning look on her face as he stepped aside just before Mickey and Jake walked inside, arguing about who ate the last hot dog.

Anna turned back toward the sink as she blushed, and Bob was aching to kiss her again. Dying to confirm that she wasn't going to write him off again. He cleared his throat and asked, "Will you let me drive you home later?"

Bob heard her soft laugh and whispered, "Yes." Then with a smile, he took the last can of ginger ale from the refrigerator and set it on the counter next to her. She looked up at him, eyes filled with need as he excused himself back out to the patio where he started to count down the minutes until he could suggest it was late enough to leave.

---------------------------

Anna, you are living the dream, baby! Let him love you the way he wants to! And once again, in Natasha we trust. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[ignitification]

I highly doubt Horokoshi will redeem them after all the Shit they did.like seriously Shigaraki is too far gone to be saved.Like Ok maybe Killing them is a bit far but it's clear they can't be Redeemed.Horikoshi wouldn't redeem literal Mass Murderers.

Their Trauma and Backstories don't justify or Excuse mass and Serial Murders, Destruction Arson and Torture.Do I feel bad for them?,Yes but they're clearly not able to be saved,This isn't Naruto where you can change the villian's minds by talking to them.

Seriously They are huge Threats to Japan and are literally breaking every Criminal out of prison to cause destruction.

It's Clear the Villians Have to be Stopped,big time.

Dear anon,

maybe. Maybe you are right. But, me and you both are not here to discuss Horikoshi's plan for his characters. I won't pretend I know where the story is going and even if I did, it would probably be just as delusional. What I can tell you though, is that, in my opinion, and please do not take this an offence, what you said is a load of bullshit.

Let me explain before you throw me to the wolves:

The story, from what I get is just now nearing its apex, which means that the whole ordeal of what happened in the last arc (let's call it, PFL vs Heroes because for the life of me I can't remember the name of the place in this moment) is a pre context to what is going to happen right now. PFL vs Heroes has the function to introduce 2 things: villains redeeming arc (or also: AfO being the only real villain of BNHA) and the crumble of society as we know it (heroes retiring and all that crap). Which also means that this, THIS PART, is the origin of what actually is the main arc of the story and which (may, in the long run) might be the why and how of Deku being the N1 Hero in a new society (I talked about this here).

This said, it should appear clear how 'at this point' you mention means jackshit in the timeline. We just now discovered that Dabi, one of the forefront members of the League and Front, is actually the long-thought-dead son of current hero N1 Endeavour. What is then the whole point of introducing Touya just to do nothing with it? Rei has been dismissed from the hospital, Shouto has accepted that Touya is alive and that they might be more similar than he thinks and even the same Enji knows that if he does not try and save the son he already failed to save once there is no redeeming for him.

Which brings me to my next point: if the same Enji knows this, and in light of the fact that Dabi is willing to die in order to expose the abuse that lead him to actually become a villain, what is the point of then just leaving Dabi be? Like, coincidentally if Endeavour does nothing about this situation not only he lets his son die twice, but he also inherently tells that he does not deserve redeeming. In basic words, the only possibility for Endeavour to actually redeem is to save Touya. His redeeming means that he saves a villain. Does it make sense for you to make this whole plot in order to just drop it afterwards and say 'nah, fuck this, i built a whole plot to actually show how society fucks people them up and then destroy that society just to let these people being fucked by society again?'? Cause for me it does not.

Maybe in your eyes they cannot be saved, but remembers what Touya says here:

He is right. All the heroes are as dirty as they are. And maybe some of them are better than others, but always remember that these villains have so many reasons to be the way they are.

Plus: if you think the LoV is unredeemable, then you must think the same of Endeavour and Hawks (who are currently N1&2), you must also think that BJ is an hypocrite (in regard to him not wanting Touya to expose N1) and that All Might, as Dumbledore, is a caring piece of shit because of what he did to Izuku.

P. S. I don't think that redeeming the villains of the story is condoning their actions. It's actually trying to say that everybody makes mistakes. It's okay to make them. But you have to acknowledge them and want to correct them, in order to be saved. This is also another reason why I think that AfO, after all, is the only villain of the story.

You have also to understand that Horikoshi does not want his villains to change their minds after talking to them. Why would they? What is the point? Why should you believe anyone in the system that fucked you over repeatedly and then told you that someone will come save you and never did? I, for one, would never trust anything that comes from mouth of anyone in that society, be it good or bad. They condone abuse, corruption and neglect, so who are the bad people here? Furthermore, it's not even about changing their minds, because this is not about perspective, but UNDERSTAND OF WHY THE FUCK THESE SOULS DECIDED THAT THE ONLY WAY OF THEM GETTING THROUGH THEIR MESSAGE WAS THROUGH VIOLENCE AND DESTRUCTION. Like, they do not need to change their minds. They need to be held together and said that it is okay that they turned out this way because it was not their fault and actually show them why was that not the right way. If they want redemption they will get it. But it's really up to them to do it, however, the fact that they need to be given a choice is absolute. You cannot accuse anyone of not being able to be saved or redeemed if you do not give them a choice to.

Finally, onto the threat to Japan part, I think the threat that AfO poses for Japan and for the LoV (who are puppets in AfO's hands, unless they decide to free themselves) and especially Shigaraki is way more dangerous. You have to separate those actions from the LoV. Liberating criminals is AfO's doing in Shig's body. He does not want to be controlled, but he also cannot sometimes surrender to it. AfO, if he does not need any of them anymore will literally just toss them away. After all, he kept the LoV as it was for Shigaraki, and Shigaraki was strumental to his plans because AfO wants a new body and a new quirk for himself. He needs to be stopped. The others need to be saved (of they choose to). But that was the point that Toga made in that famous panel:

where is the line you draw at being possibly saved? Isn't it enough for you that they are human?

If it isn't, well, I don't know what to say.

I hope this finds you well, and yeah, remember that a choice should be always offered, a hand always out forward (as Izuku did with Bakugō): it's up to them whether they want to catch that hand, but It would be absolutely morally wrong not even try to just because you labelled them as 'not savable'. Everyone is the same. Everyone deserved to be loved and understood. Everyone, here, is worthy of compassion and feelings. Shall that not be the case, the world has failed again. And me, with it.

[torque-witch]

Okay but honestly? This is how you get chronically ill people buying into snake oil “cures” or living off of false positivity until they inevitably get sick again. You give them a bunch of medicine that at first gives them hope, then horrible side affects or drug interactions bc they have to be maintenance doses, then you rip them off of them when it becomes unbearable and a) create secondary diagnoses and/or b) make them go through withdrawal which most likely will cause them to relapse or flare up anyway.

1) I got ripped off of prednisone bc it was killing my liver and I had body tremors; which in turn gave me a severe IBS diagnosis bc my intestinal lining had developed less permeability. Add Nortryptilene to stop cramping

2) I developed drug-induced Lupus from Humira injections which caused me to have severe joint swelling to the point I couldn’t move without feeling like my bones would break

3) Cymbalta x Nortryptilene drug interaction causes Serotonin syndrome and/or this is all benzo withdrawal??? Then now I have to go through the Nortryptilene withdrawal process too to be sure.

4) Semi unrelated but insurance didn’t want to cover continuous birth control so I’ve had two periods in one month which then causes IBS flare up which is the entire point of me being on continuous BC

Like. Seriously. This is how you get people going cold turkey off of all medicine and trying to pursue “natural” cures that don’t exist.

I don’t give a shit about “big pharma” (large sarcastic air quotes) I just want people to actually research specific diseases and specific medicines that work, not off-label bullshit. Doctors who research drug interactions and long-term side effects. Doctors who provide actual advice on how to properly care for yourself when you aren’t allowed to have your medication anymore.

2020-2021 has been the sickest, least-functional I have ever been, and of course there’s also a pandemic where none of us really know if we have long covid either if we never got sick. On top of losing my job, my best friend, my social circles and my health? I just hope if we all survive this that disability health is looked at more closely. I mean, it’s affecting capitalism at this point. That should be enough of a reason to look into it 🙄

Anyway my point is. Doctors, do better. Obviously some people’s body’s are just worse with medicine and that fine, but ya can’t just keep saying 🤷🏼‍♀️ and not give any suggestions for actual care. Like what would be so hard about actually creating a TEAM of doctors, nutritionists, therapists to guide the care process?

All that this has accomplished over time is a diminished sense of self, diminished ability, medical trauma, anxiety and self-advocate burnout.

Honestly? If the collective world doesn’t start paying attention to chronic illness, there’s not going to be much of an economy left after a few generations. How many young people do you know who are already on multiple drugs, recreational or prescription? We can’t keep masking the problem for capitalism. Without some sort of economic overall we won’t ever get better.

I hope this doesn’t sound desperately off, but seriously. Fuck capitalism. I’m tired of my health needs not being met bc it’s not as important as other economic venues. It should be the most important if you want capitalism to survive. You can’t have an economy if you don’t have healthy workers. If you don’t have healthy workers, they can’t afford care and die. It’s abominable.