#now we just need functioning labels to die too

[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:

https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/778750150370836480/the-darkest-hour?source=share

[bean-in-dice]

Spoilers for Ep 14-15 of The Glory/Gui Nv

Gotta give it up for The Glory for successfully switching my feelings about an extreme character from one polar end to the other. Doesn't happen everyday. Wow.

So I wasn't even a big fan of the show. Atop the repetitive assembly line tropes, its pacing was rushed and logic uneven but I liked the lighting, women's costumes, the main leads AND THE GIRLFRIEND WAAH so I kept kinda binging it with sporadic attention.

Show had the most toxic and unhinged mother ever whom I did NOT think was possible to be justified no matter how hard they tried, because while it's valid to send away and estrange your child because she was being schemed upon by the second wife, there was no need to let the child suffer so much. But when they finally revealed what truly happened..... SPOILERS

It wasn't as simple as Mother's natal family was destroyed by Father so she's out for an unreasonable revenge massacre. It wasn't as simple as "she was trying to keep the daughter away for her own safety and going to unreasonable extremes for it because she's nuts" just because of a jealous concubine set to ruin a baby girl's future (who thought it'd be a boy, if the doctor assumed it'd be a girl she likely wouldn't have gone down with such a plan, she's still an evil woman yes but she's not that insidious, her motives are pretty transparent); it's the FATHER who was a hella insane psychopath! Under his meek and kind exterior he's a hypocrite and a heartless scumbag who made me feel like even Emperor Qianlong was more humane!

This is NOT a justification for her actions. Being a victim doesn't absolve you of your crimes, she IS terrible for the abuse she inflicted/allowed to happen on her child and not caring if dozens of victims would die in the course of her bloodlust. BUT Finally, I'm seeing her for what she is. She's no longer really a human with sound, functional brain. She's a severely traumatized caged animal who's been on feral and delusional survival mode for YEARS. Imagine:

You are torn from your lover, your family is ruined, you are forced to marry and sleep with the person who presumably caused all of it, you are already getting through every day with revenge and bitterness in mind, but a targeted, "healthier" version of it.

Throughout your pregnancy, your unborn child is labelled as a curse.

You give birth after hours of agony, with no one but maids by your side because they are all too busy frantically prioritizing superstition over her.

You are told your newborn baby will be beaten to exorcise the supposed demon in her. Your husband says; "It's okay, we can always have another baby."

You run to every family member's door and beg for their mercy and help and they pretend to be deaf and blind (Remember, you are still freshly postpartum).

Wild with desperation and rage, you pretend like the demon is yourself, and demand that YOU be beaten instead. And your husband agrees and gives his order.

You are (STILL FRESH OUT OF LABOR) beaten until your legs are so mangled you become a cripple!

Your child is sent away

You get isolated in a lonely back garden with just your maids, with IMMENSE physical and emotional agony, you lose all contact with outside world, no one to offer a single kind and comforting word to you except your maid and zero way to heal your mind and get back your focus. You gradually lose your touch with reality and to be indelicate, there's no way for you to "touch grass" even if you wanted to because HAH. You are confined inside that house's walls and wheelchair!

Only hatred and toxicity are your companions, and it only keeps growing, you are no longer planning for a "reasonable revenge", it's full-on war now. And in a war, everyone will die, regardless their innocence.

When you are at the height of your plans, your daughter suddenly returns home. In the very tiny gap in your heart that you've left for your child, there's fear, there's grief that your child suffered horribly while she was away, but after the years you had, you do not know how to express your love and concern in any sort of "healthy" way. Every fiber of your body can only scream at your daughter "GET OUT. GET OUT!!!" and you resort to any means to have your daughter RUN the hell away from this horrific place, and from you, the "failed, incompetent excuse of a mother who couldn't save her child" before it's too late. Yes, the child hadn't had any better life outside but, in your head, she has, she will, because remember, that's what you choose to believe, that was the belief that kept you going, in your years of re-living your trauma and gradually losing touch with reality and reason.

You are no longer a person but a husk of one, so of course your behavior is not going to be reasonable. You are merely acting by your deeply ingrained instincts: which is to KEEP AWAY THE CHILD and I WILL KILL EVERYONE ELSE AND THEN MYSELF SO I'M FINALLY FREE.

After seeing ep 14-15 my verdict is that mother's actions were COMPLETELY understandable, and I can't fault her no matter what crime she commits because I probably would've done the same in her place.

Her daughter, Hanyan, is by NO means obligated to love or "try to understand" her mother and mother doesn't ask her to either, but Hanyan -bless her- chooses to, first out of her own delusional belief and hope that kept her going; that "My mother must still love me, just because", and then after learning of the full extent of the things that happened. She is the first person to approach her mother and teaches her the words "letting go" and "it's not worth losing yourself to toxicity and self-loathing over a man."

And dear reader, this scene.

I fucking cried, okay? Only I know how deeply this scene resonated with me. You are free to interpret their individual characters and their dynamic whatever way you want, I hope you don't come after me for mine. That's all.

[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.

[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.

[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:

[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.)

[pandalandalopalis]

it's song anon and i just came here to say that the new chapter has me FOAMING AT THE MOUTH GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY CAGE WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN????????

THE JEALOUSY BUT THEY WON'T CALL IT THAT

THE FLIRTING????? WOLF BEIN TITS OUT IN HIS APARTMENT CASUALLY?????

AGAIN THE FLIRTING AND THE CLOSENESS AND THE "SOBER SENSITIVITY" MY ASS

STEVE BEING WORRIED (AS HE SHOULD!!!!!!) also can't get over bucky's comment about them dancing... do they know it's legal 👀👀🏳️‍🌈

OR WHAT ABOUT MATT WANTING TO ASL HER AS HIS DATE FOR THE PROM IM LITERALLY DRY HEAVING WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN??????

HE'S BEEN IN LOVE WITH HER HIS WHOLE LIFE

THEY BOTH HAVE AND THEY'RE TOO FUCKING DUMB TO SEE IT THE IDIOTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AJSHSHjzhahshdgahajJzjhzgahajajJzhdgajalzkzhxgsjakakshdhdhskwiehrhdbajka

i have not felt this feral and insane in a fucking long while im rocking back and forth in my seaTTT

and what do you MEANNNN THAT'S WOLF FROM THE FUTURE (LITTLE MISS DENIAL MAY NIT SEE THE TRUTH BUT I DO!!!!)

AND I JUST KNOW THIS IS GONNA CONNECT WITH THE FIGHT AND THE TIME WOLF ASKED MATT ABOUT IF SHE HAS AN OBLIGATION TO DIE FOR THE GREATER GOOD!!!!! I REMEMBER THIS CLEVER SNEAKY SHIT YOU DID FROM WWTD!!!! YOU WILL NOT OULL THE WOOL OVER MY EYES (THIS TIME)

ALSO PLEASE DONT KILL MY BABY OFF ISTG

i just also love how you're sloely inching her into forgiveness and healing and its messy and complicated and its so realistic and human thst i just cannot function jfc

and the way you write their different povs so well and naturally, to quote ethel cain, it just makes me so uhhhhh and i can't get enough of it

to apologise for this ramble, i leave you with some song recs that fit the vibe imo

nabokov - fontaines dc (i'll be your dog of submission???? red room is calling)

about you - the 1975

the river - daisy jones + the 6 (i'm an echo in your shadow????)

dark switch - snow patrol

graceland too, sidelines and killer - phoebe bridgers

it ain't me babe - joan baez (sorry steve, this one's for you - you are nit the one she needs or wants xx)

ps

when i was cheching the official playlist to check that none of these were already on there because that would be redundant, i did see what does the fox say on there which had me HOWLING [like a wolf... get it ;)] THAT IS SO FOUL AND MEANNNN

IDK WHERE TO START I AM SO OVERJOYED AT ALL OF THESE COMMENTS AND THIS REACTION TO THE NEW CHAPTER U HAVE NO IDEA

DO THEY KNOW IT'S LEGAL IM DYING

all the touching and matt being a Fucking Menace flirting is really something that developed really naturally, like that was not my intention from the start of this, but it just sort of happened that way that once wolf got sober she would start feeling everything she was blocking out from before which is all the bad things but ALSO all the GOOD things and now we have the tables turned on the flirting because wolf flirted with him when she wasn't sober because she couldn't feel any of it but now she feels ALL of it. im really glad i developed it this way too because for a long time it felt like i was going from A to B ('A' being them not in love / being friends; 'B' being them being in love with each other) without actually developing the in-between part and i didn't know how to develop that bit but idk something just clicked with me at one point and it started with wolf feeling touch-sensitive and it's been snowballing from there. i also think at one point i had no jealousy in the story which also felt inorganic, like it's part of them starting to realize their feelings that they feel jealous but can't label (or don't want to label) that feeling because to label it would be scary and admit things they both aren't ready to face yet.

matt wanting to ask her as his date when they were cute small teenagers before she disappeared and everything became Bad makes me want to cry

oh good u remembered that conversation matt had with future wolf. cause matt has done a real fucking good job of forgetting about that (denial slash im not ready for him to confront that yet lmao).

ive been working and adding a lot onto her healing/forgiveness arc, a lot that ive really been enjoying planning and so much that was not in the story originally. i really feel like the year i took off was, in some ways bad but in other ways good, because coming back to it ive been able to look at the story and it's not like ive been making major changes but mostly ive been adding things that make storylines better and more coherent and more satisfying i believe. so im excited with the way that's unfolding because her forgiveness arc especially is an important one to her character.

im so glad u've been enjoying the way i write POVs. sometimes it's hard to get characterization right for the canon characters. wolf is easy to an extent because i created her, but even then she's developing and is a bit different now that she's sober so i still kind of gotta find her core and what is unchanging about her from not being sober to being sober and even when she was a kid. and figure out how to have her change in the way she's growing and developing but not change so much that she is unrecognizable or out of character. matt is a little harder but it's helpful that im watching daredevil born again because it reminds me of what he's like in canon lmao. and he's really much more like wolf than i think i ever thought he was since i began the story. but also matt's dynamic with wolf is much different from his dynamic with anyone else, since she knows and accepts all the parts of him and he has no reason to lie to her about anything (except maybe feelings hahahaha).

ive probably said too much at this point but i super appreciate you!!!!! i will definitely check out all those songs. ive added a bunch of songs to the playlist lately.

THE 'WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY' HAD ME DYINGGGGGGGGG i had it on my personal playlist cause it's a bop idc and then when it came up on shuffle i was like "omg it would be really funny if i put this on the DMCW playlist" and then i just did it because it IS really funny

what DOES the fox say?????/ we dont fucking know because fox's identity is still a secret

OH ALSO I LOVE DAISY JONES AND THE SIX

[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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[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.

[anonniemousefics]

Hello! I absolutely adore your writing, especially your writings of kanej! Anyway, I would love to see you write something about jealousy from either kaz or inej, I just think it would be interesting to see your take on it! Obviously you don’t have to, I love your work! You’re a great writer!

❤️ Thank you so much!! This was so sweet to receive, and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get this to you! So, hopefully you’re cool with this, but I decided to apply this idea in a modern AU because I have another request I’m also working on for a modern AU and this felt like an opportunity for some more practice. 😊 (And it just made it more fun for me -- idk, my brain just needed to do something new with these characters to make this work.) 

Samples - Modern AU

Fandom: Six of Crows | Kaz + Inej (ft. all the other Crows)

Word Count: 3,545

Rating: Teen And Up (Language)

“Who did this?”

All of Kaz’s friends were doubling over in laughter around the round hand-me-down table in Kaz and Jesper’s apartment. There were black and white Cards Against Humanity prompts spread across its surface – the most offensive combination of which had Inej, well, and everyone else, in fits.

What made my first kiss so awkward? had been the prompt Inej had drawn.

To which Kaz had submitted the following, randomly-selected card for her consideration – Announcing that I am about to cum. And then kept his poker face locked in place.

“Who did this?” Inej was demanding again, clutching her stomach.

Kaz wasn’t sure why he was hesitating -- something strange was happening while all of this was playing out. Nina had one hand on Inej’s arm while she was fairly screeching with laughter. Inej was slumping against Jesper, like the laugh was shaking her boneless. In fact, everywhere he looked, he was noticing how they were each exchanging these casual, unconscious touches in the midst of their mirth – Matthias turning his face against Nina’s shoulder, Wylan slapping Jesper’s shoulder.

No one was touching Kaz, though – which, that was good, though, right? That was because they were his friends, and they were thoughtful, and they knew all about The Very Sad Thing that had made him the way that he was.

And yet --

Kaz couldn’t find it in himself to laugh. He should be laughing, though, he realized. A normal person would be laughing, given the infectious nature of laughter. And also it was genuinely a really funny card – that’s why he’d played it. But all he could do was force a smile, and that was it.

He suddenly felt like an alien among them.

“Was it you?!” Inej was exclaiming, waving the card at him. Kaz designed what he hoped was a coy smirk for her.

“Are you saying that’s your favorite?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“It was you.” Inej looked appalled, which only made everyone around the table hoot louder. Kaz was still smirking as she threw his winning card back at him with a mischievous, red-faced grin on her face.

“Oh, my God, Brekker.” Nina was wiping the tears off her apple-red cheeks.

“Why does that make it so much worse?” Matthias wondered, since he evidently could never not take a jab at Kaz. He scrubbed his eyes like he needed to wash them out.

And still not a single laugh out of Kaz’s body – this was disturbing. How long had he been this way? And why did he care so much all of a sudden?

“Guys, I’m pretty sure he won,” Wylan was saying, pointing at Kaz’s stack of wins. Had he? Everyone turned to count their cards.

Jesus Christ, he hadn’t even been paying attention to winning? But Kaz loved winning. It was the only reason he tolerated his roommate hosting these raucous game nights – because it meant Kaz could win things. And usually a lot of things. It was especially choice winning things off of Matthias Helvar, Nina’s latest lughead boyfriend she’d met at the gym, who now had to be invited to everything even though he sucked. He was always cuddling close to Nina, putting his arm around her, whispering gross things in her ear that made her giggle insufferably. It was so fucking uncomfortable.

Kaz never acted that way around Inej, and they’d been together for years. Sort of. Not always officially. It really had only been officially lately, but Kaz had always told himself he wasn’t one to need to put labels on things. Inej knewhow he felt – he knew this. (Did he, though?) He definitely knew this. (No, he didn’t.) There was no need to be like Matthias fucking Helvar and canoodle her in front of everyone on game night.

Oh, God. Kaz was suddenly having a realization, right there in the middle of counting his cards.

Oh, God.

He was jealous of Matthias Helvar.

Oh, this sucked.

This really fucking sucked. Kaz thought no one in their right mind should ever be jealous of that big dumb fuck, with his protein shakes and his weirdly popular fitspo Instagram page. The guy looked like he ate nothing but wild-caught salmon and organic broccoli. He wasn’t funny, and he’d say weirdly spiritual shit at socially unacceptable times. He probably spent his weekends doing annoying, on-brand fuckery like being one with nature and brewing his own kombucha, that asshole.

And this was the guy who felt comfortable enough to kiss a girl’s ear in a total stranger’s apartment. (Well, not a total stranger, Kaz would relinquish that – Nina had been dating Matthias for three months.) Matthias Helvar was doing all that nothing with his life, and he wasn’t the least bit self-conscious.

Ugh. Kaz hated that guy. Worse! Kaz wanted to be that guy. Minus the kombucha and the religious stuff. And the gym membership. And probably the protein shakes.

Ok, fine, Kaz was only interested in the PDA. This was so fucking awful.

“What number were we playing to?” he heard himself ask. He wasn’t even paying attention to card counting. He was going to have to start again.

“Can’t count that high, Brekker?” Matthias asked, smirking, and there was always something Kaz took as halfway serious in the way he tried to joke.

“Die in a fire, Helvar,” he said, with a smile that was as good as a middle finger.

“And on that note!” Nina sung out, standing with a hand on Matthias’ shoulder. “It’s almost midnight. I have an eight a.m. class. We gotta call it a night.”

“Matthias drove us,” Inej explained to Kaz’s questioning look at the word “We.”

Inej and Nina were roommates, too, like Kaz and Jesper, but the two girls lived on campus in the dorms at Ketterdam University, where all but Matthias attended. (Fucking Matthias, who was a personal trainer and got money from wellness companies to tout their shit on his Instagram. Ugh.) Wylan, Jesper’s boyfriend, was also living in the dorms this year, after spending his freshmen year commuting from his dad’s enormous house. Wylan had been the one with the car before Kaz had finally scraped together the money for one, but his dad had cut him off over the summer. Kaz didn’t know much about that beyond what little Jesper had told him, which, in summary, was: goodbye, car; hello, dorm life.

“You should have said something – I could have picked you all up,” Kaz said, mostly to Inej, as the others were standing from the table.

Nina reached a tentative hand out to gently touch his shoulder, well-protected by the fabric of his black v-neck.

“Kaz,” she said, gingerly, “we love you, but Matthias has functioning air conditioning.”

Kaz slid his glance toward Inej, who gave a little confirming nod, pressing back her amused smile.

“My thighs don’t stick to the seats in his car,” she explained, softly, which may as well have been a knife to the gut. He loved driving her around in his car. And, to top it off, she was in a pair of really adorable denim cut offs, her legs deeply tan from the summer sun, and he hadn’t even had the nerve to try to touch her exposed knee all night. (Meanwhile, Hands-On Helvar over here had been sitting with his palm all over Nina’s plentiful thighs all night. God, he was so gross. Couldn’t Kaz be just a little bit gross?)

“Are you okay?” Inej was asking. She was stepping a little closer to him away from where everyone else was putting on shoes, preparing to leave. She had her arms wrapped around herself and her loose, purple crop-top, and her long, dark braid was pulled over her shoulder – just mercilessly cute all over. And he hadn’t touched her all night.

“I’m fine,” he replied, but he kept his hands in his jeans pockets. Inej’s dark brows knit together.

“You’d tell me if you weren’t?” she checked. Kaz huffed a laugh – how was he supposed to answer that? Realistically, he should lie.

“Probably not,” he admitted anyway, and gave a shrug. Inej opened her mouth to reply, but Nina called to her from the doorway of the apartment.

“Sorry! Eight a.m. class! She’s going to text you from the car anyway!” Nina was shouting.

“She’s not wrong,” Inej shrugged with a smile. And reached out to barely brush her hand against his spine, like the first attempt at a hug. But Kaz could only bunch up his shoulders, hands stuffed deeper into his pockets. Why was he like this?

There were a few more awkward goodbyes at the doorway, including Matthias’ one-more last-minute sales pitch on the recent CBD-infused green powder drink he was hawking online. (“I’ll bring you some samples next week. They say it’s excellent for chronic pain.” Kaz had flipped him off when his back was turned.)

But then, once they’d all gone and the apartment was quiet, Kaz felt like he was rolling in regret.

“You doing ok?” Jesper asked him, gathering up the empty Solo cups for the trash. Jesper was a really good roommate. They’d been randomly assigned the same dorm room at the beginning of freshmen year, and it just worked. Jesper’s high energy plus Kaz’s insomnia were meant to be. They liked all the same things: strong coffee, getting paid dirty money to write other people’s papers for them, and occasionally clearing the mind by playing Call of Duty all night. They’d moved off campus the following year (a better move for the plagiarism operation), never even really having a conversation about whether or not to room with someone else. It was not even a question, and who else would Kaz even want to room with?

“You’ve seemed off all night,” Jesper was pointing out, and if Kaz had half a brain, he knew he should have been asking Jesper for advice about PDA long before it had reached envying-Matthias-Helvar-levels. Jesper and Wylan were normal in public. When they held hands or hugged or traded kisses, it wasn’t some fucking scene.

But how was he even supposed to bring this up to Jesper?

“Helvar’s such a dillweed,” was all he could find to complain. Jesper snorted.

“He is not that bad,” he said, dumping a stack of Solo cups into the trash.

“He’s the literal worst,” Kaz objected. “I can’t believe he unironically called himself an influencer.” And at that, Jesper pretended to barf into the trashcan.

“Yeah, no, you’re right – that was dumb,” he said. “I commend you for not cutting off your own ears when he did.”

“We are not buying his stupid fucking green juice,” Kaz said, pointing at Jesper to show he meant business.

“Good!” Jesper agreed. “Nina says it gives him the shits.”

And that brought Kaz some comfort. He found he could smirk about it while he loaded up the dishwasher. He was starting it up when his phone buzzed on the counter. He leaned over to read it.

Inej: You seemed sad tonight.

Inej’s contact photo in his phone was one he’d snapped when she wasn’t looking – she was leaning her head back with her eyes closed, taking in the sunshine. It had made her brown skin glimmer and dazzle.

Kaz stared at her text for probably too long. Long enough for Jesper to peer around the corner of the kitchen doorway at him.

“I’m going to bed – everything okay?” he said, and cocked his head. “Is it another last minute job?” Those kinds of jobs – the ones where a student was giving up the night before something massive was due – paid the most, but for good reason. They were absolutely fucking miserable to pull off.

“No,” Kaz shook his head. “Just Inej.”

It was never “just Inej” – and Jesper nodded like he knew that.

“Hey, Kaz,” he said, as he began to leave for his bedroom. Kaz looked up at him sidelong as he mouthed, barely audible: “Tell her what’s wrong.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil.” Kaz rolled his eyes. And heaved a heavy sigh.

And started typing.

Kaz: I guess I was a little.

Whoa, pressing send on that was unpleasant. He wandered over to his preferred recliner in the living room and flopped back in it. Shoved the footrest up to elevate his bad leg. Ugh. Just ugh to everything and everyone. He looked down at his phone again.

And Inej had been quick to respond.

Inej: You can tell me these things, you know.

Inej: I know I won’t always have the right thing to say, but I want to be there for you.

Inej. Why are you being so perfect so far away?

Why are you wasting your time with a boyfriend who struggles to touch you?

Inej: Are you writing a novel?

He’d been writing and rewriting the same sentence twenty different times. She’d probably been looking at those ominous three bobbing dots for way too long.

Ugh. God. Fine. Kaz drew in a long deep breath, staring up at the ceiling like it could intervene and come to his aid. And then fucking wrote.

Kaz: I wish things were different

Kaz: I wish I wasn’t so fucked

Kaz: I wish I knew how to be a better boyfriend – how to make you blush and laugh and make that one smile that’s like you’re telling secrets with your eyes

He pushed the recliner back as far as it would go. Maybe it would tip and dump him on his head and he’d have to go to the hospital, and that would at least delay Inej inevitably breaking up with him for being this pathetic wet blanket. The phone buzzed again, and he almost didn’t want to look.

Inej: Um, where were you all night? You literally had me doing all those things all night

Huh. That wasn’t how he remembered it.

Kaz: On the opposite side of the table from you

Kaz: Watching basically everyone else be able to touch you but me

Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck. That sounded so petulant, and he’d already pressed send. That sounded so needy and disgusting. Who said that kind of shit? Not even Matthias Helvar said that kind of shit. He wanted to throw his phone across the room. No, out the window. No, out into the sea.

Now he was on the receiving end of the three bobbing dots of doom. Fuuuuck.

Kaz: Can we just forget I said that?

More dots. Then nothing.

Then dots.

Inej: I don’t know. You’re kind of cute when you’re jealous.

At that, Kaz raised his eyebrows.

Kaz: I am not jealous.

Inej: You’re a little jealous

Kaz: No, I feel insufficient.

(Oooof. That was like trying to throw an anvil. Painful.)

Inej: Oh

Kaz was watching the texts come in from beneath his arm now, holding the phone high over his head. Like watching the slasher scenes in a horror movie.

Inej: I mean

Inej: It seems like you’re just splitting hairs here

Inej: Since you must think others are sufficient in ways you are not, so you envy them

…

Kaz: Touche, Ghafa.

And he couldn’t help smiling to himself when Inej sent him a gif of a swashbuckling cartoon Robin Hood brandishing a sword. Then another text bubble appeared.

Inej: You are not insufficient to me, Kaz.

He really wanted to believe that.

Kaz: Even if I’m not hanging all over you and amassing a truly staggering number of Instagram followers with my six-pack abs?

Inej: O.M.G.

Inej: Kaz

Inej: Brekker

Oh, God, what had he done?

Inej: Are you *jealous* of Matthias?

Uggghh, he was going to be sick.

Kaz: Fuck no

Kaz: It was just a hypothetical

Kaz: It was an exaggeration

Kaz: I could do the same thing with any one of our friends

Kaz: And we all know the abs are photoshopped anyway

Inej: OMG

Kaz: What now

Inej: You called Matthias our friend

Kaz wanted to stab himself in the brain.

Inej: I’m gonna tell him

Kaz: Don’t you fucking dare

Inej: I already did

Kaz: What? How? How are you that fast?

Inej: Still in the car

Kaz: ????

There was no reason for that – the dorms were hardly a 10-minute drive. Now Kaz’s brain was assaulting him with a thousand reasons things his girlfriend could still be doing in a car (A nice car! With working air conditioning!) with a personal trainer/amateur Instagram model, and none of them were pleasant or welcome thoughts. The phone buzzed again.

Inej: I asked him to bring me back to you. :)

At that, Kaz straightened the recliner, rising to his feet as fast as his stiff leg would allow.

Kaz: You did? And he did? Why?

He was limping toward the front door.

Inej: Because he’s not terrible, Kaz. And because I guess I missed your car after all ;)

Jesper and Kaz’s apartment was the third floor of a wonky old Victorian home that had once been something grand and only recently had been split into three different abodes – which was definitely the worst decision the two of them had made as roommates. Kaz was leaning hard against the railing as he took to the steps when the front door of the building banged shut below. And then there on the landing below was Inej, wearing a sheepish smile in the yellow, buzzing fluorescence of the hall light. She was holding her phone in one hand, her tan leather purse slung across her slim body.

“I thought you looked like you could use a hug,” she said, as she pocketed her phone.

Kaz took the last two stairs carefully, coming to stand in front of her. She smelled like vanilla and coconut oil – like something he wanted to wake up to every morning.

“You came all the way back for a hug,” he wanted to clarify. His hands – he should do something with his hands. What would Matthias do with his hands?

No. What do I want to do with my hands?

So, he looped a couple fingers through her belt loops. Tugged her a little closer. And she smiled.

“Technically,” she said, “Matthias came all the way back so I could bring you some samples.” She patted her purse, which did look a little bulkier. “They were in his car the whole time.”

“Mmmm.” He pretended to look tantalized. “Hot car samples. Delicious.”

Inej was twisting her fingers in the t-shirt fabric at the crest of his hips. Tugging him a little closer, too. God, it was so good. She’d been so right. He had wanted a hug.

“I know that’s how I want my protein powder,” she teased. “Piping hot, right out of the oven.”

“Just how Ma used to make it,” Kaz added, with a good bit of feigned nostalgia. Inej blurted out a laugh, tipping forward until her forehead bumped his sternum.

At that first brush, it was like his hands knew what to do from there. They slipped around her waist while her hands slid around his. And she pressed her cheek against his chest while he held her close.

“You are not insufficient,” Inej said against him.

“I would really like to pretend that never happened,” he said with a sigh, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Too late,” she hummed, happily, and gave him a light squeeze. He smiled against her hair.

“You know I wouldn’t want you to be like Matthias, right?” she asked.

“You shouldn’t even want Matthias to be like Matthias,” Kaz grumbled.

“Hey,” and Inej pulled back to look up at him with her big, soft brown eyes. “I mean it. I just want you to be you. I don’t want all the handsy stuff. That’s what Nina likes. I just like you.”

Kaz carefully pushed back a few strands of her hair from her forehead.

“Not even a little handsy stuff?” he checked, which made Inej give her coy little smirk, his very favorite.

“Maybe a little handsy stuff,” she said.

If there were ever going to be a time to kiss her, it would be now. But when he thought it, Kaz felt his heart make an enormous leap into his throat, seizing in panic. If he touched her mouth with his, if he closed his eyes and felt her face so close to his, would he just end up floundering in The Very Sad Thing again? What if it happened while he was kissing her? Would every kiss after that be tainted? Could he risk it – could he ever?

So, he didn’t move to meet her lips. He let his hands fall to the small of her back, though, and kept her close for another moment. Like a sample of physical affection, and she seemed okay with that. He would will himself to believe it was not insufficient.

“Drive me home?” she asked after a moment, with a kind of sweet, eager anticipation that made Kaz believe in magic. He nodded, of course.

“I’ll go up and get my keys,” he said. “And you throw away those samples.”

Inej laughed, following him up.

“Deal,” she said.

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

Tagging: @annejulianneh111, @loveyatopluto, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @whosanxiety, @raging-bisexual-alert,

[pencilofawesomeness]

random NNT wip that I may or may not continue

(and if I do continue it, one day, it probably won’t look like this now that 4KOTA has given me more material to use)

More notes at the bottom, but I was going through some of my wips after thinking about this concept again on a whim, and I re-read it and I’m still happy with this scene, so I decided to post it for the kicks and giggles. It’s smack in the middle (early-mid?) of a whole story that I don’t have time to write (and 4KOTA is making me reconsidering things) so it may not make much sense, but that’s part of the fun. 

Basic premise: a Tower of God AU for the characters of Seven Deadly Sins. I thought of it / wrote this after the NNT manga ended, but before Nakaba announced 4KOTA and published the Lancelot oneshot.

--

Howzer never imagined that he would be a scout when he first decided to climb the Tower. In fact, he was rather upset when Hendrickson labeled him as a scout back on the Floor of Tests, especially when he dreamed of being a spear bearer. Of course, he knew now he was nowhere near as talented with spears as Gilthunder or even Griamore was, though he had gotten pretty good at using his lance in close combat. The point was, Howzer had underestimated the importance and even the difficulty that the position of a scout had to offer.

It was a heavy load to bear.

He panted for a moment, hands on his knees. There was a short window he had to recover from that cheap ambush before he had to keep moving. He could buy himself some more time if he hid their bodies, to hide his tracks, but he was running out of time.

The thirty-second floor was nothing less than a battlefield wrapped up in a fun little ‘game’ the test director had the audacity to call ‘hide and seek.’ Essentially, the teams had to wander through the maze and duck under the hedges to make it to the center. If anyone was out from under the cover for more than three minutes, giant fucking birds would come down and eat them. Oh, and of course, the regulars were fond of killing each other along the way in the spirit of competition.

Lighthouses weren’t immune either, only allowed out in the open for a single minute before imminent, feathery, destruction. The hedges were nigh impenetrable, forcing the teams to funnel through the maze, so the spear bearers were relegated to straight ground attacks with the fisherman, once in engagement. In short, the entire test seemed to boil down to raising hell for the scouts.

Which, as previously mentioned, was him.

Joy.

He hadn’t really wanted to kill those guys, but they were annoying and bent on doing the same to them. There wasn’t the time to make a proper decision anyway. Howzer rounded the corner and dove back under the hedge, eyeing the three seconds left on his pocket’s timer. There wasn’t time to regret anything: he had to move.

No one had reached the end yet, which was both a good and a bad thing. Good, because it wasn’t a full-on race yet; bad, because Howzer’s specialty was following people, not mazes. However, he liked to think he was getting better at this kind of stuff. It was a shame his observer could only last as long as he did out in the open—but at least they weren’t on the same timer. When Howzer ducked into the hedge, he sent the observer out.

Luckily for him, his observer was picking up no more lifeforms. Well, no more living ones. It looked like a team found the wrong path before he came and paid the price for it. However, now Howzer knew the correct path for the next few turns, and they were all clear too. “I just sent the directions,” he spoke into his device. “You guys got it?”

“Yes,” Margaret’s voice came through from her lighthouse. “Although, I don’t think ‘take a left at the bush’ is an adequate description in a…hedge maze.”

“Nah, it’s obvious when you see it.” It was a different color and everything! His teammates were so picky… “But I gave the coordinates too.”

It was away from the receiver, but he heard the sigh. Picky and judgmental… “We’re on our way.”

Howzer rolled his eyes, grateful Margaret and Guila weren’t there to notice and gang up on him. Don’t get him wrong, he was beyond happy that Margaret joined their team (especially since Griamore was terrible at being a light bearer) but sometimes there was no winning with her. Not unless you were Gilthunder. Or Guila. Or Tristan… Okay, maybe it was just him. The fated tension between light bearers and scouts, he supposed.

“Not even a thank you…” he muttered to himself before jumping back out in the open. He already stashed his observer at the destination, so he just needed to reach it, quick and easy— “AH!”

“Agh!”

Howzer collided with a body as he turned the corner into the new path. He stumbled back a few steps, and the other person was sent flying on their butt. For a moment, he stared at her, dumbfounded. His observer excelled at sensing signs of life based on their heartbeats, so unless they had some crazy technique, not even shinsu could cover it; and this girl just came out of the dead end—where everyone had appeared dead.

Although, he was pretty sure he didn’t remember seeing her in particular. She was a slight thing, but with bright pink hair with a short cut and a sweeping bang that covered one eye completely. Plus, she was wearing armor, which wasn’t all that common. Surely, he would have remembered… Unless she was in the hedge. But even then, that should have picked up on his observer.

“Sorry,” she gasped. “I was in a hurry.”

He glanced at his pocket. “No kidding.” He wouldn’t make it to his observer now. Damn, a short break then. “Come on!” Howzer yanked the girl into the nearest hedge with him. Sure, she was an enemy, but she didn’t look like she was in good shape. Her armor was scuffed, the needle on her side looked damaged, and her skin was unnaturally pale. And Howzer wasn’t gonna’ let a girl die like that—especially not to frickin’ birds.

“Thank you.” The fisherman got back on her feet. “I was just trying to get my bearings. My observer broke though.”

“You’re a scout?!” he exclaimed reflexively. Damnit, he thought he pegged her. “I thought you were a fisherman.”

She glanced down at her needle and huffed out a quiet laugh, almost like she was remembering some past joke. “Our team doesn’t have a real scout, so I multi-task.”

“Damn, that sucks.” That was beyond reckless. Not that Howzer could say much, because his team tried to function with a proper light-bearer for nearly fifteen floors before Margaret joined them.

“Yes. It does. It worked out enough, though.”

Howzer can’t help but to wonder if the slaughtered team around that bend was hers. The far off look in her eye seemed to match his suspicions, too. Worked out, huh? Not forever…

She snapped out of her daze. “I’m Liz,” she introduced, offering a hand.

Howzer took it after only a brief moment of hesitation. She didn’t look like she had the strength to take him in a fight anyway. Besides, if she wanted to kill him like that last group did, then she had the opportunity to shove him to the birds a while ago. “Howzer,” he returned. “Here, let’s hurry up around this corner. My observer is there.” He couldn’t afford a new one if it was destroyed or stolen…again.

Liz nodded, and they took off. Despite her pallor, she was fast. He had the feeling that had he not been leading the way, she could easily outrun him. Strange, that someone with the ability to move through shinsu like this would be in the position she was…

They made it to their destination without a hitch, and Liz hadn’t even broken a sweat. Still, the question bothered him. “So, where’s your team?”

The beat of silence was answer enough that his first hunch was correct. “…they died. I’m…the only one that survived.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He really was. The thought of losing a single one of his teammates was painful enough, but all of them? Howzer didn’t know if he would have the motivation to still keep going. “…What are you going to do, then? Finish the test alone?” It was nigh impossible, but for a fisherman who knew the ways of scouting…

“I don’t know.” Liz picked at her armor, looking uncomfortable. He imagined it was a sore question, but he wanted to know her motives. She seemed capable enough, so if she wanted to get out of the maze, Howzer was willing to vouch for her and absorb her into the team, at least for the test. “There’s someone… I want to see. I can’t die until I see him.” The steel in her blue eye was testament to her resolve. She had something to live for.

“Hey.” Howzer laid a hand on her shoulder. “I know we’re not your teammates, but my team can get you to the end of this test. You go find that guy you’re looking for.” He was sure his team would be sympathetic, too. Gilthunder wanted to find his missing father. Guila wanted to make it back home to her brother and her hometown to protect them as a ranker. Jericho wanted to avenge her brother. Tristan wanted to find out who his family was. Everyone had someone they wanted to look out for.

“Thank you.” Liz smiled, and Howzer thought he saw a glisten on her cheek.

There was always sorrow behind resolve.

“Who are you?!” A needle pressed itself to Liz’s back. Oh, crap.

Howzer yanked Liz forward and intercepted. “Oi! Easy there, she’s with me!”

Jericho frowned, but she sheathed her needle. “If you hormonal boys don’t stop picking up girls, I’m leaving.”

His face turned red. (But not as read as Gilthunder’s and Margaret’s, a fact he was very proud of.) “H-hey, it’s not like that! I just offered to help her clear the maze, that’s all!”

“Whatever, lover-boy.”

Liz laughed, a short and sweet but very unapologetic sound. “Oh no, it’s not like that at all. I’m far too old for him, anyway. You must be Howzer’s team, correct?”

“Y-yeah.” Gilthunder cleared his throat, recovering from Jericho’s heckling. “We are. I’m Gilthunder.”

“Liz.” She gave a short bow. “Thank you for helping me.”

At their questioning gaze, Howzer filled in. “Her team died to the birds. I offered to help her reach the end, so she can move on and find someone.” He grinned. “We’re close to the end, too. I can feel it.”

“With what?” Griamore grunted. “Your impatience?”

“Nobody asked you, big guy. Anyway!” He clapped, turning on his heel to his beloved observer. “I’ve been tracking the paths on here. They’re narrowing and getting tighter around the curves, so we must be approaching the center of the circle. A few more trips, and I bet we’ll have made it.”

“That’s…” Margaret gave a soft smile. “Actually smart.”

“…’actually’?!”

His brow twitched. Whatever. They’ll appreciate his genius one day! Maybe. Howzer turned back to his observer with a sigh, ready to send it out again, but something caught his notice.

The observer counted seven lifeforms in the vicinity, including himself.

With Liz, there should be eight.

He had assumed it was a fluke that he didn’t see Liz on his radar the first time, and because she wasn’t hostile, he hadn’t thought of the implications too hard. But she was right there, and the observer wouldn’t read her. It was possible it could be some weird shinsu trick, but she wasn’t a wave controller, and he had never seen a regular with that level of skill otherwise. Besides, there was absolutely no point in her expending energy to hide herself now that she had allies.

It seemed like Guila noticed something about her, too. Howzer noticed the black-haired wave-controller frown pensively, her eyes opened to slits in a rare moment of appraisal. Howzer couldn’t ask her what she sensed without raising suspicion, however, so he would have to wait. He could send a message by pocket once they started scouting again, when messaging wouldn’t be abnormal.

When he looked back to her, however, Liz was completed fixated on something else. Her eye was wide, and her mouth was parted; it was slight, but there was a tremble to her muscles. It looked like she was afraid, but it wasn’t the kind of fear that Howzer saw on the battlefield. Her gaze was locked…

…onto Tristan.

He wasn’t sure how long this had taken place, but Tristan just noticed, meeting her gaze like an equally spooked deer. Parallel to each other’s, their blue eyes looked similar—but there was something deeper to Liz’s than in the kid’s. Something Howzer couldn’t quite recognize, no matter how it hurt his pride as a scout.

“You…” Tristan blinked owlishly, taking one cautious step towards the woman. “Do I know…you…?”

“…no.” Liz’s voice was thick. The entire team was frozen around their encounter, as if time or the test didn’t exist outside of the two. “N-no, I’m afraid you don’t.” She matched Tristan’s hesitant step forward, her hand reaching out slowly. “But can I…?”

There was recognition in her stance, however—in her hungry, pained gaze, and in her outstretched hand. No one knew Tristan, not really, but rumors of him spread around the tower. This wouldn’t have been the first time someone hailed Tristan as some savior, whether because of his strange shinsu control or his status as an irregular. However, this seemed different. Normally, those willing to cast their hopes on a complete stranger were not the hesitant type.

“Uh…” Tristan looked as confused as ever. “I’m not sure I’m following but…”

He didn’t stop her, and Liz inched towards him like she was still afraid of something—of him, maybe. Guila looked like she was about to stop her, but she was frozen in place just like Howzer was. Maybe it was curiosity that made them useless. Maybe it was something else.

Tristan gasped. “Your heart—!” Her heart? Has Tristan figured out why Liz mysteriously didn’t show up on his radar? “It’s not… It’s not beating!”

“I know,” she whispered solemnly. What?! It wasn’t beating at all?! Then how was she even alive?! “But don’t worry about me.” Liz didn’t take her gaze off of Tristan. “It’s beating somewhere else.”

Howzer blinked. What?

“What the hell…?” Jericho whispered, echoing his thoughts perfectly.

Liz looked up sharply, forcefully tearing her gaze away from Tristan, who still looked baffled and dazed. She bowed quickly in Howzer’s direction. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I must be going.”

Before he or anyone could even respond, and with one last longing glance at Tristan, she took off faster than untrained eyes could track. The team looked to him, but Howzer could only shrug helplessly. “I don’t know if I can catch up, but wait here.”

He did see which direction she was going, but he knew her speed was greater than his unless he reinforced himself with shinsu. However, there wasn’t the need, because she was headed back to the dead end.

If she was there to get information from them, she didn’t stick with it, and he knew for a fact that she was too distracted with Tristan to ever mess with his observer. It was almost as if Tristan was the one that she was looking for—or at least a sizable distraction to her goal, based on the fixation. However, she took off without accomplishing much besides confusing them; she took off with a level of panic too. They were safe in the bush though, and there were no teams nearby.

Howzer heard her before he saw her, and he slowed his approach out of both caution and respect, hovering on the other side of the corner. Liz screamed, wailing unabashedly with pent up sorrow that he could not fathom. She would have been out of earshot of the rest of the team, but just barely. But hers was a cry that came as a deluge; there was no holding it back.

He thought about just turning around and leaving her alone. He was intruding on something delicate and personal, but, as a scout he couldn’t remove himself without a final glance. Howzer peaked around the corner, in no way prepared for what he saw.

Liz was not the one crying. She was but a body on the ground, limp and lifeless. A white entity floated above her, with long silver hair and those same blue eyes, holding her stomach in her ghostly hands as she wailed.

This time, it was hard to ignore how much she looked like Tristan.

It wasn’t a suspicion he could follow at the moment, however. The test was still running, and they couldn’t afford to lose their chance at going to the thirty-third floor. Howzer turned around and left the woman to her sorrows, with the inescapable feeling that they would see her again.

--

another A/N

The story is/was going to be about the youngins’ dream-filled trek to becoming a ranker in the Tower, with the team consisting of Howzer, Gilthunder, Griamore, Jericho, and later Margaret, who are all regulars with various aspirations and goals, along with Tristan, a young boy who met the first four on Floor 1, who was sent to the inner Tower from outside known Tower boundaries, making him an irregular. 

The main mystery was going to be finding out how Tristan came to be (which is to say, finding out what happened to his parents and the Sins) because his only memories are of a mysterious woman named Nimue caring for him, though much of his childhood was spent alone in her domain. 

I’m pretty dedicated to the HTRYDS series right now, but maybe after 4KOTA gets farther along, I’ll rework the story to incorporate the new worldbuilding tidbits and the new characters. I had wanted the main team to be the “babies” but that required using the OG children and aging them down a bit to match Tristan, though they all still would have been older than he was. 

Tbh, I had more fun comprising the backstory/alternate story that involved the sins and such than I did trying to figure out what the main group would be doing. I might just post my ideas and call it a day. Who knows.