#something about my birthday makes me so fucking depressed every year

[deadallover]

Going to sleep early so it can stop being my birthday already.

[mermaids-and-dastardly-deeds]

.

[auspiciouscat]

god i hate the birth of day

[inkskinned]

im having a particularly terrible night with urges and imagery that i dont know how to handle. i gave in to some things. held back on some others. but im barely holding on, dear internet stranger.

you do not owe me your time or your words.. but if you could write some hope into existence for me.. i would be unendingly grateful to you.

please. tell me how you do it. tell me how you survive. because im not so sure i can get through the fifteen days it'll take to get to my seventeenth birthday.

could you please give me something to place my faith in? i dont think the universe is watching out for me anymore.

i don't usually answer these, because i am not a professional, and you deserve professional help. when i was 17 i was terrified of the idea of professional help, because my household was extremely unsafe, and made it clear that if i ever chose to get help, i would be punished for it.

i hope this is not your case. i hope that you can call someone, and they can take you where you should go.

but i will give you the advice that i wish i got, when i couldn't get help at 17, when i was so bad that years later, i literally don't-know-how-i-survived it: what you want is peace, not death. your brain is sick. it has romanticized an ending where there are no consequences. where effort isn't necessary. where you can just... forget.

you want peace. that is a normal, human thing to want. maybe it feels more like you want quiet. or just... to take a break for a second.

here is what i will say: to end yourself means you never get to experience what it's like to actually be happy. i thought i knew what it was like, and i was bitter about it. i'd say - i've been happy, it's not worth it, because i didn't know what i was missing. i thought that happiness meant having a partner or having a job or money or a college degree. it sounded like effort. it sounded like something that had to happen to me.

for the first time in my life, just this week, i was able to go to a concert and just-enjoy-it. no liquor, no drugs. just stomping my feet and getting caught up in it. i didn't feel nervous or self-conscious or overwhelmed. i just had a good time. these days have a lot of these firsts for me - it is the first time i can eat cake without crying. it is the first time i can be around an exacto blade without supervision. it is the first time i have too many people to call when i am crying.

i can't tell you where you'll run into happiness, only that, for me, it started once i was out of that fucking house. it started once i figured out where the pain was coming from. once i figured out that i was not possessed, something medical was wrong with me. that i am not stupid or lazy, i have depression and adhd. the first few years were difficult. at 19, during my efforts to recover, i actually got worse by a considerable margin. and then, with time and patience - i got better.

happiness doesn't feel like what you think it will. in movies it's so golden and all-encompassing. but it doesn't fly into your hands when you buy your first car nor does it arrive in the arms of a partner nor does it require passing your classes. happiness came to me on a tuesday in the form of a red-winged blackbird, and i looked at her, and she looked at me, and i said - oh. the whole world suddenly filled itself in with color. like i had been forever-asleep. like every corner of every room was suddenly glistening.

it ended quickly, back then. it just stopped in to check in on me. but it was enough - this thing i had never experienced, but that i knew (logically) could happen. before that, i was only staying because it would make my mom sad if i died. that was my only reason. and then the happiness came, so strange and brilliant and lovely that for years i couldn't even look at it directly.

these days, things are so different. life is so much easier. i don't wish for death because so much of what i have is already at peace. my boss understands when i need a mental health day. people in general are less prone to high school drama. entire communities hold my hand and have my number. i have a car and a dog and a little apartment garden and candles on all available surfaces and today i bought myself a little cake just-to-celebrate-nothing. my body is my own and we are both dancing.

there are so many things i've gotten to taste in the last 10 years. i know, for you, that is an eon, because it's more than half of your life. but if it helps? in the 5 years between 17-21: i filled myself with laughter and love. i got to be a lead in a ballet and got my first tattoo and then my second and pierced my ears the way i'd wanted to (one of them professionally the other over a hot stove with a potato) and i discovered hozier is my favorite singer (i know. he was new back then) and i got my first real job and my first real paycheck and i hadn't ever been seen as smart but then i started to actually treat my adhd as a condition rather than a burden and people started saying you're like the smartest person in the room and my best friend met her husband who i will one day stand next to as maid of honor when he is her groom and i got to help people and make a stupid blog called "inkskinned" and find out that writing is actually my passion and that maybe i'm actually kind of good at it if i just practice and i got to meet my parents' dog (his name is kaiju) and i slept on couches and kissed people and tried new things and learned how to breathe without feeling my chest tighten and that peace is here, on this planet, that peace echoes everywhere, it is in my hair and my homework and my houseplants, it is quiet and divine and mine because i fought for it and i built it and yes i lost hair over it but holy shit the whole world feels like it is shifted through a sunbeam

recently someone asked me if i could go back in time to 6th grade, with all the knowledge i have now, would i? and without thinking, i barked absolutely not. i know i should say it's because i wouldn't want to risk losing any of this stuff - but really it's because i would never survive being a teenager again. it sounds incredibly lame and impossible, fake - but being a teenager was the hardest thing i ever did. i had no voice, no control, only fear and hatred.

but i did survive it. nothing about me is special. nothing about me is stronger than you or better prepared or more efficient. i didn't survive it perfectly. i made a lot of mistakes and lost a lot of friends and harmed myself in ways that i'm still recovering from. but i did survive it. and there is a part of me looking at you in the past and saying - i'm you in the future.

and holy shit. every day. every goddamn day i'm glad we survived to see the rest of it. because you hit 18 and everything changes. like, everything. and holy shit, it is infinitely worth it.

[livingformintyoongi]

hello author!!! been loving your work!!!

my request is : enemies to lovers yoongi / oc

They could be former classmates, always fighting for being the class #1. Been rivals through college, and now ended up working for the same company. They get teemed up for the same project and end up working late at the company building (they could be at yoongi's office) .yn and him start bikering about some dumb shit, tension builds up and they fuck on top of his work desk (bj, back shots?, doggy? fucking raw?)

thank you in advanceeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Work night

a/n: Thank you for loving my works and for making the request 💕💕, I wrote this with the most depressing songs I could find from Taylor's ttpd album, I hope the effect was anything but depressing. I used the name of the oc I have for Yoongi because in the request it says it's Yoongi/oc, I hope you don't mind :( in any case it only says her name two or three times. warnings: doggystyle, back shot, unprotected sex, bj (m receiving), fucking raw, hair pulling, wc: 3.6k

"Move away" you whispered once your boss got out of the elevator. Noticing that Yoongi had no intention of moving from your side, you nudged him with your elbow.

"What's your problem?" he turned to look at you, rubbing his arm awkwardly. He didn't understand why you had just hit him so hard.

"What's your problem?" you said while stressing the "your", looking at Yoongi with a frown, "You have the whole elevator to stand on to wait for your floor, why are you sticking to my side?" you snorted, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to count to 10 so you wouldn't throw yourself on top of him and pull at his hair until you pulled out a large lock.  

"There were more people here, I had no choice" he rolled his eyes, setting his briefcase on the floor and shaking out his hair. He was aware that next to you there were always fights, but he figured that, if your boss gave this project to both of them, you would be considerably less. 

"There's the rub, Min, there were people here, there aren't any more, they left, so keep your distance," you looked at the red number above the door indicating which floor they were on. Only three more and they would finally arrive at Yoongi's office. You didn't know why it had to be his, but you preferred it that way, yours was a total mess.

"You are so annoying."

"Look who's talking" you pulled out your cell phone, not wanting to put up with Yoongi anymore. You checked your messages and calls, everything was empty, except for a message from your granny asking you not to skip any meals.

"What? Your boyfriend didn't text you "good luck at your job" this morning?" whispered Yoongi teasingly, looking at your cell phone out of the corner of his eye. He lightly squeezed his briefcase when he saw the name you had for your boyfriend.

"We broke up a few weeks ago" you stowed your cell phone in the back pocket of your pants, your gaze fixed on the elevator door. "Apparently his parents didn't like the idea of someone like me dating him."

"And he dumped you because of that?" he frowned slightly, staring at your profile. You looked more depressed than usual, but he was sure it was due to work stress, not some jerk you had to put up with for almost a year and a half, "How stupid, I can tell you have bad taste in everything."

"Excuse me?" you turned your head in his direction, frowning as you saw him flash you that cocky grin he gave you every time he wanted to annoy you

"Honey, that wouldn't happen to you if you had a more critical eye and dated real men."

"And what's a real man to you?" you raised your eyebrows, knowing he'd say something stupid that you'd then hang on to make his life miserable. That's how you've spent the last thirteen years living it.

"A real man wouldn't leave you waiting for his message for hours, he would remember that your birthday is November twenty-fifth, he would know that you love desserts and hate too bitter food, he would be aware that you love the color red and hate the color gray because it depresses you" with every word he gave he would get one step closer to you, and, with every step he took towards you, you backed away, "if he were a real man, he wouldn't give a shit what his parents said because he would love you enough to leave them and fight for you, because he would know that he would be worth it just to have a life by your side," you bumped into the elevator wall, shrinking in place the moment Yoongi rested his forearm on the side of your face. "Tell me, Chaeyoung, was he able to do any of all that?".

"Why did you get so close?" you swallowed saliva, staring into Yoongi's eyes. For some reason, you felt like you were incapable of looking at anything other than them. 

"Why are you avoiding my question?" he whispered in front of your face, close enough to almost brush your noses.

"I'm not-" the sound of the elevator doors opening threw you completely out of focus. You pushed Yoongi away and quickly stepped out, fixing your hair awkwardly, "Let's go to your office, I'm tired, I want to finish this quickly."

"Fine" he sighed in response, stepping out of the elevator and walking to his office. "Did you bring the papers?".

"Yes" you mumbled, walking behind him. Your gaze was fixed on his back, and you couldn't help but think about how he knew so many things about you. Yes, you had known each other for thirteen years, but you only spoke to each other to argue, there literally wasn't a conversation where one of you hadn't raised your voice to the other. 

"Okay, let's get this over with as soon as possible," he said as he opened the door to his office, waiting for you to enter.

You stared at your laptop screen for a few seconds, trying to clear your head without letting sleep take over. You had been working for more than ten hours, your head was starting to hurt and your stomach was twisting because of the hunger you felt. There were only a few details left to finish, so you thought it might be a good idea to take a coffee break.

You looked at Yoongi, who seemed to be too focused on reading the papers you had brought earlier to pay any attention to you. You brought your thumbnail to your mouth, biting it lightly. Would it be okay for you to go get a cup of coffee when he's still working on the project? 

"Stop biting your nail" he muttered with his eyes still fixed on the papers.

You rolled your eyes, getting up from the red velvet chair in his office and walking to the door. 

"Where are you going?" Yoongi's view rises just enough to see your back stop in front of the glass door that separated his office from the hallway.

"Do you mind?" you turn to see him, raising your eyebrows. The situation earlier had made you completely forget that the idiot standing in front of you was Min fucking Yoongi, the same one who made your life miserable in school, the same one who chose the same career as you, and the same one who had gotten a job at the same fucking company.

"Yes, I need to know where you're going because this is a job that belongs to both of us," he rose from his chair, both hands resting on his impeccably neat and clean desk. You hated that he kept everything in order, it reminded you of how disorganized you were in your daily life. "I'm not doing your part for free."

"And I don't need you to do it" you snorted, approaching him firmly. You were sick of his shitty behavior. "I will come back here and finish that fucking report without your help, do you understand?".

Yoongi was silent for a few seconds, rounding his desk and standing in front of you, "You're always so rude, shouldn't you watch your vocabulary at work?".

Your legs trembled slightly at having him stand in front of you, but you did your best to keep him from noticing. You took a couple more steps toward him, wanting him to feel just as intimidated as you had felt in the elevator. Your stomach did a flip as you remembered how close he had been to you.

"We're off the clock, so I don't have the need to mind my vocabulary" you whispered, keeping your gaze locked on Yoongi's. You weren't sure what you wanted to gain from this, but what you wanted to gain, you wanted. 

"Being off the clock allows you to treat your coworkers like this?" you noticed how his eyes lowered to stop on your lips.

You tried to ignore that, but it was tricky when you were so close to him, when you could smell his perfume, feel his breath crash against yours. You seriously tried to be strong and control your biological urges, but he wasn't helping.

"Shut the fuck up" you pressed your index finger into his chest with the intention of pushing him back. To your surprise, the instant your finger touched his chest, his hand grabbed your wrist hard enough to stop you without hurting you. 

"I was hoping you'd say that," he gave you the sexiest shit-eating grin you could have ever seen in your life, only to, seconds later, tug on your arm and kiss you.

You weren't sure what surprised you more, the fact that he kissed you, or the fact that you kissed him back almost instantly, clinging to his neck with your arms while he did the same with your waist. You'd like to say that you never imagined this would happen, that you never subconsciously (and consciously) dreamed about how Yoongi's lips would feel on yours, but if you said that you'd be lying to yourself, because, shit, the amount of times you'd dreamed about something like this were too many.

If your mouth wasn't too busy sucking on Yoongi's bottom lip, you'd probably ask him if the same thing had happened to him and that's why he was now kissing you like his life depended on it. It's not like you were going to complain anyway.

Yoongi's hands were quick to unbutton your shirt as his tongue enjoyed exploring and licking every corner of your mouth it could reach. You decided to focus on stroking and pulling his hair until he moaned from the burning in his head. You could become addicted to the hoarse sound of his moans.

"Shit, did you wear a lace bra to come to work?" he whispered against your lips, focusing his gaze on your breasts wrapped in red lace fabric. In fact, it was your favorite outfit.

"It's just that it was the only clean one" you followed his gaze, looking at your breasts, "my dryer went bad and it's difficult to get them dry in the middle of winter".

"Bless your dryer" he began to form a path of kisses starting at your jaw and ending at your shoulder. Your shirt by this point was already lying somewhere in the room, and it really wasn't something you cared too much about. 

You tilted your head to the side, closing your eyes and enjoying the sensations of Yoongi's wet kisses against your skin. His veiny hands soon stopped on your tits, giving gentle squeezes on the fabric. You shivered as you felt his cool fingers on your barely covered nipples.

"Is your mouth as good at sucking cock as it is at insulting me?" he whispered close to your ear, caressing the curve of your ass with one hand and your breasts with the other. 

"Just so you know, I'm pretty good at giving blowjobs" you said between gasps, pulling on his hair as you felt his teeth bury themselves on your skin.

A shiver ran down your back as you heard the sound of his belt clacking against the floor. 

"Don't say it, show it" he unzipped his pants, but without removing them completely. He slipped a hand inside his boxers so he could pull out his cock. You almost gagged at the sight of it.

You didn't expect it to be so big.

"What's that face?" he cocked his head slightly, trying to meet your gaze.

"It's the same face you've always seen" you muttered, grabbing your hair and forming a bun with your hands. It was bigger than you were used to, but that wasn't going to stop you from doing a good job. This was more for your pride than to satisfy him.

Yoongi never imagined he would end up having you kneeling in front of him, grabbing your hair so it wouldn't stick to your face, touching his cock with your fingertips, seeing it as if it was the first time you'd ever seen one. Yes, that sight was something Yoongi had only allowed himself to imagine since he first saw you, but to make that vision a reality thirteen years later? He wasn't sure what he had done to have this luck, but he was truly grateful.

"Well, at least now I understand why you were throwing so many flowers at yourself" you whispered, licking his cleft with the tip of your tongue. "Your cock is nice" you looked at Yoongi, running your hand up the length of his member, stopping at his head to draw circles over his cleft.

He wasn't sure what kind of response you wanted to those comments, he wouldn't have been able to respond to them anyway, at least not in this position. 

You left a trail of kisses from the head to the base of his cock only to return upward with a long lick. You smiled proudly as you heard him sigh heavily. It was only until you reached the tip of his member again that you decided to take him into your mouth.

Yoongi almost choked as he noticed that you got it all the way in in one go.

"Shit, Chaeyoung" he moaned, reaching down his hand to grab your hair between his fingers.

You hummed still with him inside your mouth, eliciting another hoarse moan from him. 

You tried to keep a slow pace, not because you couldn't do it faster, but because you seriously thought that's what he wanted. To you Yoongi was always a lazy person, someone who always seemed to move slow, so it made the most sense that he would be that way in sex too.

You knew you were wrong when his grip on your hair became firmer, leaving your head static as he took it upon himself to grind his hips against your mouth. 

"Fuck, you were right, your mouth feels so good," he said huskily, letting his head fall back, his hips grinding faster and harder against your face.

By this point it was impossible for your eyes not to release a tear or two and a trickle of saliva to escape your lips. This man was a brute, you thought to yourself. Somehow that turned you on even more.

Yoongi's brow furrowed as he felt your throat quiver at your soft moans. This felt so much better than any wet dream he'd had in the past with you. He couldn't help but look down to see how you looked sucking his cock. If he had had a camera handy he would have taken a picture of you. This was the first time he had ever seen you cry, and while it's likely that in another context he would have even felt sorry for you, right now all he could think about was how badly he wanted to ravage you like this every chance he got.

You raised your hands, clinging to Yoongi's hips as you closed your eyes and tried not to think about how deep he was thrusting into your mouth. You had to bury your fingernails in his pants when he thrust too hard. You would have a terrible pain in your jaw after that.

After giving you that lunge he let go of your hair and pulled his cock out of your mouth, allowing you to breathe easy. You brought your hand to your throat, rubbing it gently, it hurt a little, but it was totally worth it. 

"Come here" Yoongi said, lifting you up easily and leaning you against the desk. He caressed your still clothed hips, pausing for a few seconds to contemplate your back, the shape of your body, the line of your lingerie. He wanted to taste every nook and cranny. He was determined to taste every little bit of skin in front of him, even if it took weeks. "I like your back" he whispered, bringing his hand up to touch your lower back.

"Thank you" you murmured, turning your head so you could see him, "now would you, I don't know, shut your fucking mouth and do something with me? You owe me."

"You always ruin the moment" he rolled his eyes, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them down. He couldn't help but take your buttocks in his hands, squeezing them lightly. They looked good with the red lace over them. For a second he thought maybe red would be his new favorite color.

His fingers dug in between the lace, seeking your entrance. He almost moaned as he felt how wet you were. He always thought you'd be someone sensitive in bed, but he never thought you'd get like this just from giving him a blowjob.

"You're so wet" he whispered, collecting your juices with his fingers and slipping it back into your pussy. He smiled as he heard you squeal. "And so sensitive, are you sure you can handle my cock?".

He didn't wait for an answer from you, he simply placed the head of his member over your entrance, moving it up and down, barely opening your pussy, all with the intention of teasing you. 

You moaned helplessly as you noticed he had no intention of fucking you. To your luck that was quickly fixed. You held onto the table and, just as his cock brushed your entrance, you pushed your hips back. You had to bury your fingernails in your palms to keep from letting out a scream. You were aware that his cock wasn't even halfway in yet, but it still felt so big.

"Shit, you seriously are a desperate bitch" he growled under his breath, resting his hand on your lower back. He was already inside, what else could he do but fuck you?

 You screamed as Yoongi pushed his entire member inside you, causing your hips to crash against the desk and one of your heels to fall to the floor. Just as he did when you gave him the blowjob, Yoongi didn't go with games. He rested his chest against your back, hugging your waist so he could give himself momentum and make his lunges harder and deeper.

"Yoongi" you gasped, resting your forehead against the wood of his desk. This man had no mercy, and you were beginning to wonder if he was trying to get even for all the bad times you put him through in the past. 

He just hid his face in your neck, leaving wet kisses down your bare skin. His cock stirred slightly inside you as he heard his name leave your lips. He had waited for this moment for so many years.  

As if that were possible, his onslaught grew faster, hitting all the right spots to make you gasp and moan uncontrollably. Your whole body trembled as his cock hit your G-spot with too much force. This time you couldn't hold back the scream that wanted to escape your lips.  

"What was that?" he said in a mocking voice, hitting the same spot again, this time harder. He didn't expect you to tighten around him as he did so. "God, you're so tight, so wet."  

You let your weight fall onto the desk, closing your eyes and keeping your mouth open so you could moan freely. Little tears were leaking from your eyes from the intense pleasure you were feeling. Yoongi made you feel so full, he knew so well where to touch, at what pace to go. You loved how fast he learned to read you.  

"Stop pounding there" you said between moans, trying to keep the knot in your belly from loosening, not so soon at least. "I don't want to come yet."  

Yoongi left a mark near your shoulder, pushing your hair aside to get a better look at it. It felt so good to finally mark you as his. "It’s okay, babe, do it, we have plenty of time to indulge in a long sex session."  

The idea that the two of you would repeat tonight made you quite excited, much more excited than you'd like to say out loud. To your bad luck, your brain didn't seem to want to grasp that idea, leaving your body to show how much you had liked the idea, letting the knot in your center untie and you came on Yoongi's cock with a loud moan. 

Yoongi almost lost his mind watching you decompensate under him, but he was still aware enough of the situation to cum inside you. He quickly pulled out of your pussy, masturbating at the same pace he had kept while he had been fucking you, letting his release fall onto your back, sending shivers down your spine.   

You took a moment to regulate your breathing before you turned to look at Yoongi, "There better not be cum in my hair."  

"Stop whining" he whispered, bending down to your face level and leaving a soft kiss on your lips. "Better get up and get dressed, let's take the stuff to my place and finish the job there, so you can take the opportunity to clean your back well." He fixed his pants and grabbed your clothes from the floor, "In the drawer there are some tissues, give me one, I'll clean your back."  

"Ugh, it feels strange that you treat me decently" you laughed under your breath, fixing your underwear as you took the tissues he asked for.  

"You should get used to it" he pulled one out, gently running it down your back, trying not to get any trace of his seed on you.  

"I will" you smiled, closing your eyes at Yoongi's touch on your back, and almost melted as you felt his lips kiss your head.  

Yes, you were definitely willing to get used to this.

Materlist.

[alexsoenomel]

Camping Shenanigans

Summary: You like both brothers and you decide to go camping for Sam's birthday.

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , implied smut, kissing, fluff

Word count: 4.9k

Note: Not beta read. It has been sitting in my drafts for months. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

"Camping? Are you serious?" 

"Yes, Dean, it's my birthday," Sam answered. 

"It was my idea," you chimed in as Dean shot you a death stare. "Kinda," You added.

***

It wasn't actually your idea. You just asked Sam a simple question:

“What’s something you always wanted to do but never had a chance to do it?”

He said camping. 

"Why do you ask?"

"Your birthday is coming soon!" You told him and stuffed your face with some scrambled eggs you decided to have that morning.

"So?" Sam was a bit confused. He never really cared much about his birthday. 

"Let's do something fun for your birthday. Every year is the same; Dean celebrates his birthdays hammered and dodging STDs like bullets, my birthdays are depressing because I'm always broke or sad or both, and yours…it's like you don't have birthdays." 

"So,do you wanna go camping for my birthday?" 

"Yes! And we can celebrate in nature with lots of alcohol." 

"I mean sure, but Dean's gonna –"

"Oh fuck what Dean says he's coming too."

***

"Kinda?!"

"It will be fun Dean, besides spending time in nature will be good for you," Sam said.

"Actually, concerning amount of booze and chicks with daddy issues are the only two things that are good for me, not this!" He still kept protesting.

"You're going, Dean!" Sam told him. 

"Fine, but if a snake bites me, I'm shaving your head!" 

"Yeah, yeah! Pack a bag, we're going tomorrow morning!"

"TOMORROW MORNING?!" Dean’s voice went an octave higher.

"Yeah, and I'm driving!" Sam smirked. 

"Not a chance," Dean simply said before taking a sip of beer. 

You and Sam found a wonderful campsite in Greenheart National Park in Wyoming and decided to book it, long before telling Dean. Two nights under the stars in the middle of nowhere sounded wonderful, but Dean still wasn't impressed. Even after telling him, it wasn't a traditional campsite – it had toilets, outdoor showers and all-inclusive breakfast, lunch and dinner – he still wasn't impressed. Dean being Dean - he was protesting and whining, right until you actually sat in his car and he started the engine. He didn't like the idea, but it was Sam's birthday tomorrow and he would go to the ends of the Earth for his little brother. 

The drive was long and seemed endless. Between trying to get comfortable, taking a nap, listening to music and eating snacks because of boredom, you couldn’t wait to spend time in nature and watch the stars. Sam was visibly excited, asking Dean every two hours where you were, explaining how to set up a tent, telling fun statistics about bear attacks which made Dean a bit uneasy. Sam’s inner child was slowly healing and yours was just happy to tag along. Dean's on the other hand…his inner child just wanted to get back to bed.

“This is going to be fun!” You laughed. “Dean, get ready to fight bears!” 

“Shut your mouth!” 

*****

After approximately 13 hours you finally arrived, far away from civilization. Everything was green, the sky was blue and the air was fresh. It was almost 9pm and even though it was May, it was a bit chilly.

"You will all get your tents, feel free to set up anywhere you like, but please don't go far away from the station," The bold man was speaking, aka the owner. He was a middle-aged man, very athletic and taller than Sam. Nice obnoxious smile too. "Dinner is in an hour and if anyone has to shower, showers and toilets are behind the gazebo. We will start the bonfire at 11pm if you wanna join. I'm making some good ol' homemade chips. Hope you enjoy your stay and please if you have any questions, concerns, I'm here."

"He seems nice," You whispered.

"Yeah, and bold," Dean added, clearly trying to sound funny. He tried and failed.

“He might be bold, but next to him you’re just a scrawny little bitch,” you clapped back, hoping it would sting him. 

“Ouch!” It did. 

Sam laughed.

*****

“So, do you want to share a tent?” You asked the brothers as they shared a look of concern. 

“Well…” Sam started, but was unable to finish his thought.

“Mmm..” Dean too.

They didn’t like the idea, so naturally you decided to go with it and ask the owner to give you the biggest tent he could find. “For the three of you?” The guy asked, pointing a finger at Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. You were the last one to get your tent. Some people already found their spot and set up theirs.  

“Yes, the biggest one please. I don’t wanna be suffocated by these two.” 

The guy chuckled. “Roger that!” He then went into the storage room and started rummaging through his things. After a minute he came back holding a large black bag. “Here you go!” He said and tossed it to Sam. “That will do!” He also gave you three sleeping bags and you were off.

“Thank you so much!” You said. 

****

You found your spot far away from people next to a pine tree that was sticking out from the rest of the forest that was behind you. The hill was beautiful, grass perfectly cut, the sky covered in stars like freckles scattered all over, while the air felt colder than an hour ago.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Dean said, trying to see which part of the tent goes where, while you used the flashlight on your phone to guide him. 

“Let me!” Sam said and gathered all the poles in one pile. He read a thing or two about different types of tents and recognized you got the one with a porch aka ‘the fancy one’. 

“Well happy birthday Sammy!” You told him. “Congratulations on being one year closer to death!”

“Wow (Y/N), you sure know how to make a man feel like crap!” Dean scoffed. 

“What’re you talking about Dean? I praise him all the time. Both of you!”

“Yeah, praise my ass!”

“You do have a great ass!” You winked at him. Dean just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms looking offended. 

Sam laughed at your joke. “Thank you, but it’s not midnight yet!”  ***

An hour later, Sam finally set up the tent and Dean was already on his second beer. This campsite was known for having unlimited amounts of booze and Dean was one happy camper when he found that out. Meanwhile Sam was really proud of himself for setting up his first tent. It was spacious and brand new. When you put the sleeping bags in, you realized you were going to get squished by the brothers. The tent was big, but not big enough.

You liked that idea, considering your long history of liking both of them and not being able to decide. It had been over ten years and you still couldn’t decide. They both had qualities you desired in a man and were special in their own way. Sam’s height and intelligence made you want to climb him like a tree and never get down, while Dean’s perfect smile and snarky humor made you want to make him whimper under you. They were childhood friends and lived across the street, and since your parents liked to hang out you would see them almost every weekend.

Once they moved across the country you still stayed in touch - texted and called every once in a while, but your heart was aching for them. You missed them dearly. It all fell into place once you saw Sam one random Monday morning on campus at Stanford and your shenanigans started again. Dean decided more education was too much for his brain, so he opened a small music store in San Diego and was doing surprisingly well. You started hanging out again, going to pubs, having movie nights, game nights…

You and Sam would also visit Dean and everything seemed to make sense once again. You were like three peas in a pod – same but slightly different.

Over the years you learned how to ignore your feelings and push those thoughts away, and yet sometimes you'd catch your stomach flipping every time they would bring up past relationships or flings. They both didn't want to settle down, and while you liked the idea of it, you were picky and hadn’t found someone who was worthy of you to settle down with.

"Shower and alcohol?" You asked Sam, since Dean had already showered and was now on his third beer.

"Yes please."

Showering in nature was a first for you. You thought you were going to freeze but surprisingly even though you did, it felt amazing on your skin. You enjoyed the wind making you shiver. 

“How was it, Sam?” You said, stepping out of the shower in nothing but a towel. Sam actually took the time and got dressed in the wooden shower cabin.

“Cold.” He answered, his voice shivering. His wet hair was slick back, a blue shirt accentuating his muscles, while the gray sweatpants he wore particularly outlined his cock, making it hard to focus.

The things I’d do to that man are ungodly and borderline illegal.

SNAP OUT OF IT!

“And refreshing,” You added. 

“You should get dressed before you get sick.” 

“Okay, mother!” You rolled your eyes and went back to the tent.

Anything for you, handsome!

***

Dinner was delicious – Dutch oven mac and cheese. Everybody got one big full plate and it was better than you could imagine; very salty and cheesy.

It was nice to sit and look at the bonfire while eating your favorite childhood meal but soon you just wanted to get away from the people and loud noise. You stuck around for a few minutes, watching the fire and chatting with a few nice girls you met while waiting for dinner before your social battery completely died. You excused yourself and left. You weren’t in the mood for small talk anymore – Sam and Dean were a lot better at it than you and they were a lot more social too. You decided to watch from afar and sit on the porch swing that was looking directly at the bonfire surrounded by people having a great time. You were sipping your beer watching the fire go wild as the bold guy threw a few branches, making it stable enough to actually start making his homemade chips in the skillet. You felt like a kid again. The beer was just enough to relax you even though the taste wasn't the best. The stars decided to shine that night, while the crescent moon was too shy to show its whole face.

“Having fun over there?” You heard a familiar voice and saw a shadow of a person approaching you. It was Dean. 

“Yeah, just don’t feel like talking to people,” you told him. 

He sat down next to you and put his beer bottle next to yours. You exchanged looks in semi- complete darkness and made a toast. 

“Cheers!”

“Happy birthday to Sam!” You said, looking at Sam who was talking to a guy much shorter than him.

“I swear it was yesterday he was learning how to walk,” Dean told you. 

“You sound like my mother,” You chuckled.

Your mind was getting tired and since the swing was made out of wood, you were struggling to get comfortable. Your head decided to rest on his shoulder as you took a sip of your beer, eyes still on Sam. Your hands wrapped around his arm as you lifted your legs on the swing. His arm was firm and he smelled too good for your own good – something between leather and pines surrounding you. He seemed to be tense though, or at least that was what you thought.

“Dean, I don’t bite, unless you want me to! Relax!”

You couldn’t see but he just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I’m relaxed!” 

“Well damn, you have been working out then!” You decided to compliment him. As much as you loved roasting him, making him feel good was also important to you. 

“Not so bad for a scrawny little bitch, huh?” 

“Shut up!”

***

The night was growing cold and you were getting tired. You didn't know the time, since your phone was back in the tent, but one thing you knew – it was time to go to sleep. The Winchesters were having a great time lingering in the crowd so you decided to leave them to have their fun and go to sleep. 

"Guys, I'm gonna go hit the sack!" You shouted from afar, since you saw, they were talking to someone – a man you didn't know and didn't want to know.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)?" Sam asked.

"Yeah I'm tired! Good night, guys!" 

"Good night!" They said in sync.

You snuggled up in your sleeping bag, shivering from the cold and realized; since you were sleeping on the ground you won't be able to get one hundred percent comfortable so the only logical thing was to take melatonin for sleep. That magic pill could make any surface feel like clouds and on top of that made you actually have nice dreams, since you didn't dream as much.

You took one pill and chugged a good amount of water. You were out in about 45 minutes.

***

Sam's lips were on your neck, kissing, biting, making you shiver; while Dean's lips went lower and lower. You didn't know which name to moan first, hell, you didn't know where you were, but it was blissful and a whole lot of sinful.

Dean's lips reached your panties and before he moved them to the side, he placed a kiss making you squirm. Sam's large hands were playing with your breasts while he couldn't separate his lips from your neck.

As soon as Dean's tongue touched your throbbing clit, you arched your back in pleasure. He was slow, and with the combination of Sam's rough kisses, your body was overwhelmed and feeling nothing but intense pleasure.

"Dean!" You whispered. “Dean!”

"(Y/N)?" Dean mumbled, his eyes half open, even though he couldn't see shit. 

"Sam! Fuck!" This time, a whisper, sounding more like a light moan of his brother's name.

"You kiddin'?" He was now fully awake and fully aware you were in fact not trying to wake him up.

"So good!" 

"I'll be damned!" He whispered, not really sure what to do. Sam wasn't saying a word so he figured he was in a coma since he had too many beers a few hours ago. You were squished between them but somehow ended up being closer to Dean so he decided to snap you back to reality.

"(Y/N)!" He whispered, this time a little bit louder. "Wake the hell up!" He said, trying to shake you to wake you up.

"Huh, what?" You finally mumbled as he violently pulled you back to reality. It took you a couple of seconds to realize it was, all in fact, just a dream.

"You snore like a buzzsaw!" He lied.

"Oh sorry!" 

And without saying anything else, you both went to sleep. It took Dean a couple of minutes though, since he couldn't stop thinking about what he heard.

Dirty girl. 

Was the last thing he thought before passing out.

****

The next morning you woke up well rested but in pain. Your body felt stiff until you stretched and actually got out of the tent. It was cold during the night, the air was fresh, but with the first rays of the sun came the heat, and you weren’t awoken by the sound of your alarm, it was the heat and stuffy air. When you looked at your phone, it was almost eight in the morning and time for breakfast. You were alone in the tent, Sam and Dean were already up. You got your toothbrush and toothpaste and went to do your business. You couldn't stop thinking about the damn dream. It was too vivid for your own good. The way Dean kissed you with his perfect full lips, Sam’s hands on your hot skin, their moans, groans and big girthy co-

“Good morning, princess,” you heard Dean say as you waited in line to get your breakfast sandwich, still sleepy. He wasn’t a morning person whatsoever so hearing him sound this jolly was strange. 

“Morning,” you didn’t even bother to look at him as you turned around and went to find a place to sit. People were already chatting, having their morning coffees and enjoying the fresh air, while you struggled to exist. It was too early to think, too early to speak and too early to be a human. 

Dean followed you after he poured himself another cup of freshly made black coffee. 

You lazily opened your sandwich from the wrapper and took a first bite; ham, cheese, ketchup, lettuce…usual stuff. It was a little dry for your taste buds, but it wasn’t bad. 

“How did you sleep?” Dean asked, sitting next to you. 

“Like a baby,” You mumbled, chewing. You could feel his eyes on you, as you turned to look at him, he was indeed staring back at you with a little smirk on his face. “What?” 

“Oh I bet you slept real good,” he teased. His deep and raspy voice was too close to your left ear, sending shivers down your spine, all over your body. You ignored it.

“What are you implying, Winchester?” You asked, genuinely confused, not really thinking about…oh. OH! You remembered. The dream. Maybe he heard you mumbling in your sleep. Do I sleep talk? You still played dumb.

“Dream a little dream of me and Sammy, eh?” His smirk was still there, you knew he wasn’t going to let it go. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” You replied. “Where’s Sam?” 

“He went Dora the explorer around the park.” 

Sam was both night and day. He enjoyed both darkness and light. The darkness was for reading and the light was for hiking and jogging.

After you finished breakfast, you poured yourself a cup of coffee that was now lukewarm. It still tasted like coffee when it touched your lips and still gave you that kick you needed. 

Dean was still keeping you company for some reason, he was close, too close and kind of getting on your nerves. You had a feeling he wanted to ask you something but swallowed all the words in the English language. You assumed what he was curious about, you just didn’t want to embarrass yourself. We are our egos after all, and in time we learn how to tame that part of ourselves and not let it control us. You weren’t going to blush and get flustered in front of Dean Winchester.

“What’s the plan for today?” You asked. 

“Did you dream about sleeping with me and Sam?” Dean evidently didn’t register your question. And he finally found the words. You choked on your coffee not expecting to be hit with a question. You didn’t expect that kind of question.

“You did!” He said as his face lit up in a second. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” 

He was a child. A man-child. He wasn’t going to let it go, not until you confessed. Sighing in frustration, you calmly put down your coffee-stained mug and looked him in the eyes. They were beautiful, greener than the forest around you.

“I did,” you confessed. 

“Yeah, I know I heard you,” he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. He was beautiful but you still wanted to punch him in the face. 

“Can I drink my coffee in peace now, please?” 

“Yes, you may, sinner.”

The embarrassment you felt disappeared as soon as you saw Sam coming back from his little, to quote Dean, ‘Dora the Explorer’ adventure, all sweaty and ready for a shower. You weren’t embarrassed, you were horny. 

“Morning!” 

“Morning Sam!” You spoke. 

“Sleep well?” 

“Oh yeah, you bet she did!” Dean told him. You rolled your eyes.

Sam gave him a confused look not getting the joke. He doesn’t know.

“Awful, your brother kept making happy noises all night,” you lied. Figured you would get back at him for being a dick. Dean’s mouth slightly opened. 

“Dude, gross!” Sam’s reaction was more than welcome considering Dean hadn’t stopped annoying you ever since you had a bite of that dry sandwich. Once he left to shower, you turned to his older brother. 

“Don’t fuck with me!”

***

The day was cloudy and cold. Some people were playing board games and listening to music, some were reading their favorite books, while others went to explore the national park. You immersed yourself in the book you were currently reading, while Sam and Dean played Monopoly under the kitchen gazebo that wasn’t just a kitchen, it had a space for everything; space where you could sit and relax, a table, and two couches placed right across each other. A multipurpose gazebo: kitchen, dining room and a living room. Well, Sam was teaching Dean how to play and Dean was losing and cursing every few minutes.

“You were never good with money, Dean!” You chuckled, eyes still on the page you were reading.

“And you’re loud!” He sassed. You lifted your head to look at him and he just gave you a wink. You knew damn well why.

You elected to ignore it. 

Soon enough, it was lunch time: delicious goulash and for dessert, a slice of apple pie. 

“Warrior food!” Dean said, stuffing his mouth. 

He wasn’t wrong. The food was fresh and absolutely delicious. 

“Do you guys want to play volleyball after we eat?” Sam asked. 

“You’re joking?” Dean lifted his eyebrow. “I don’t do sports and I especially don’t do sports after lunch.”

“Grandpa!” You said and told Sam to count you in. 

 A few minutes later, the bald, good-looking dude came to say there was going to be another party, from 7pm to when everybody goes to sleep. He also said there was going to be lots and lots of alcohol considering it was a goodbye party. Dean was excited, you were too busy reading your book and Sam finally bankrupted his older brother. 

You ended up playing volleyball with Sam for almost two hours. He asked the bald guy if they had any volleyballs after lunch and the guy was more than happy to be of service. There was a small chunk of land which they turned into a volleyball court, far away from people who were hanging out around the gazebo and far away from Dean who decided to take a nap after eating too many slices of pie.

“Are you enjoying your birthday so far, Sammy?” You asked as you served him the ball which, he slammed a little too hard and it flew across your head. 

“Oops!” He said with an awkward smile. “Best one so far!” 

“Told you!” You raised your voice going a few steps away from the court to get the ball.

As you were playing and growing tired, you couldn't help but notice how tight his black t-shirt was, perfectly hugging his body as he started to sweat. His hair still a little damp, slick back and tucked behind his ears, his lower lip between his teeth trying to concentrate on the ball in the sky – the man was simply gorgeous. It was hard to concentrate on the damn game when your mind wandered.

How does his lips taste? Does he have a big dick? Probably. The man is huge. FOCUS! 

So many questions and no wins.

After losing 3:0, you decided to take a shower and get ready for the party. You were in the mood to drink and not get nervous around both brothers.

It was getting cold, so after a quick cold shower, you decided to wear your favorite pair of gray sweats and a very old Led Zeppelin hoodie your dad gave you a long time ago.

People already started drinking by the time you finished getting ready. 

"Hey, nice hoodie you got there!" Dean commented as soon as he saw you. One of the things you absolutely adored about Dean was his awesome music taste. You were both old schools. 

"You've seen me in this at least a hundred times Dean!" You chuckled. 

"And every time I'm going to tell you how awesome it is," he said proudly. "Where's Sam?" 

"Showering." 

"Again?" 

"Yeah, you know Dean, after physical activity you get all sweaty and gross," you told him and took a paper cup filled with red wine from the table under the gazebo. Suddenly, the familiar melody of Toxic by Britney Spears blasted through the speakers.

"It was sweaty and gross alright," Dean joked and like always, you rolled your eyes, and took a sip of the wine. It wasn't too sweet and definitely was cheap considering how watered down it was.

***

After three cups, you grabbed your fourth one as your vision started to blur. Your thoughts were scrambled, between being nervous because of Dean's annoying teasing, and not giving a flying fuck about anything and just wanting to let loose, but there was a sense of tranquility in them. You loved the idea of him knowing your dirty thoughts, and you loved even more watching Sam being simultaneously confused and stunning while listening to you two bicker. The alcohol wasn't helping you. The undying need to be in a delicious Winchester sandwich only grew stronger with each sip…

You saw Sam coming from the toilet after the shower and something in you snapped. You swallowed nervously before chugging the rest of the wine and decided to toss all the fucks you had out the window. 

“Hey, handsome!” You said, seeing his face change from content to a little nervous. You'd never called him that. 

“Hey!” Was all he could muster.

“In the mood for a drink?” 

“Sure,” he said. “But only one, and I'm out. I’m tired.” 

“Okie dokie.”

Sam's drink of choice was beer. Dean was somewhere in the crowd, nowhere in your sight. Perfect.

“Cheers!” He said. No matter how big or small his smile was, his dimples would always show on his cheeks and you found it adorable. He was adorable and his lips were much more kissable after almost four cups of wine. 

“Cheers,” you smiled back. “To you Sammy!” 

“I didn't tell you but you're a solid volleyball player.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “A solid player? Really? You won 3:0.” 

“Well, yeah because you're short, and for some reason your focus was nonexistent but your serve was excellent.” 

“I'm short?” You weren't offended by any means, he was in fact much taller than you, but still surprised he said it so bluntly. 

“Short and sweet?” He corrected himself with an awkward smile before taking another sip of his beer. 

“Sweeter than sugar, sugar,” you didn't know where that came from. It sounded kind of lame, you thought, so you quickly changed the subject. “And my focus was nonexistent because of your sorry ass.” You said before playfully tapping him on his shoulder.

“Me?” 

Something about the innocence of that man made you absolutely feral. You had a feeling he wasn't so innocent behind closed doors. The idea of his lips on yours didn't want to leave your mind as your eyes couldn't stop staring at him with pure, drunken adoration. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You wanted to speak but something told you to not use a single word of the English language. Instead, you pulled him by his black hoodie and crashed your lips on his. Surprisingly, he didn't pull away, his body was stiff for a few seconds before letting go and deepening the kiss, making you balance yourself on your tiptoes. You felt him cup your left cheek with his free hand as you bit his lower lip, earning a moan from him. His nose crashed against yours, tasting alcohol mainly from your lips, Sam felt his cock getting hard. It hit him that he was wearing gray sweatpants so naturally that was a sign to pull away. People around you were too busy singing ABBA songs to give a fuck. 

“Well…” Sam said, not knowing where his thoughts were as he instinctively looked down and saw the outline of his cock. “Crap.” 

Your gaze followed and you were happy it did. He was big, bigger than you'd imagined.

"Sammy, is that a gun or you're just happy to see me?” You winked. That was horrible. 

“Shut up,” he sassed back, giving you a bitch face he would always give to Dean.

He covered his groin with his hands, looking around awkwardly to see if anyone was looking. Of course they weren't. Everybody was either drunk or high or both. 

Suddenly Sam's gaze was fixed behind you as he visibly clenched his jaw. You turned around and of course it was Dean.

“Oh there you are!” You said with enthusiasm and kissed him, pulling him closer by his jacket. 

Sam was stunned, while you could feel Dean smiling before kissing you back and letting you put your tongue in his mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and enjoyed the softness of his puffy lips on yours. He was a lot gentler than Sam – more innocence but still the same amount of passion. 

When you finally broke away, your drunk self just mumbled, “You two are irresistible.” 

Sam was still visibly confused while Dean couldn't stop smiling. 

[martyfive]

i didn’t know what the legend of zelda was when breath of the wild came out. i was probably in a middle of something very important at the moment, alright? something like sitting on a subway train on my way home. or like being in a middle of another family scandal. or failing another attempt of becoming someone i never wanted to be. busy stuff. i never even heard of the name zelda unless we were talking about zelda fitzgerald. i was nineteen and i wasn’t fucking around.

moreover, i didn’t know what zelda was about even when i bought breath of the wild itself.

what i always knew for sure is that i had never been and never would be a princess. every time i was told during our family dinners that those like me were never meant to be married to a handsome rich prince to live happily ever after, i was trying to find comfort in the vocally unannounced title of a friendly local knight in the shining armour bestowed upon me. the one who was there to shine and save and protect those in need. the one who wasn’t supposed to care about their appearances, being securely hidden behind a chain mail and metal shell that still never saved from bruises. a knight with a bear trap instead of a helmet. born to be the best and somehow failing every day. almost like a dream come true. not my own dream, but a dream nonetheless.

the life in our kingdom was a total disaster and i was a wreck of a knight.

by the time i escaped i had been depressed for approximately twelve years. i left everything i knew behind and moved to another country. i actually married my prince to make the paperwork easier for both of us. i found myself roaming in the wilderness i knew nothing about. i tried to take the bear trap off but every time i attempted to free myself from it it was hard to breathe through the neck that was losing its familiar balance. i didn’t know how to be an adult. i didn’t even know how to be a child. i wanted to learn, but i didn’t know where to start.

“what do you want for your birthday?” my prince asked me.

i didn’t feel like i deserved gifts. i did not achieve anything to receive them. the knight was technically laid off duty and the salary once paid in clothes and food was still haunting me. and i needed something else. we also needed something else to bond over except for our childhood bruises.

so i received nintendo switch for my birthday in a year i almost broke my neck trying to forcefully remove my fancy helmet as soon as i realised i couldn’t walk around like this anymore.

“games could be a part of a therapy,” the lady that was helping me with my breathing exercises said while i was pouring my blood trauma on the carpet in her office, “but they’re not gonna remove this bear trap of yours, you know?”

i knew that. i also knew i didn’t really want to live, trapped or not. so it made sense to me to start living my new life from the very beginning — to start from trying to be a child i barely ever was — and to try and learn how to be an adult like most healthy children did. meaning, to give myself time. to make choices i was robbed of. mistakes too, if necessary. to take a breath before heading off to run a marathon i never foresaw.

so yeah, i didn’t really know what the legend of zelda was when i bought breath of the wild. i only knew zelda was a princess i had never been and never would be. what i knew for sure is that the main character named link was supposed to save her.

and that he was her knight.

the whole thing sounded like a sick joke, but i was determined to know what the fuss was all about. looking back a couple years later, i’ve been wondering how it was even possible for me to stumble upon this exact game when i needed it that much.

while on my journey across the kingdom i wasn’t familiar with, with my own land shaded by the war and destruction, with no recollection of who i was and who i was to become, with a trapped in a castle tired princess named zelda, with the only light shining on the horizon gloomed by the darkness, i felt bad for link. what did he ever do to deserve all of this? i thought. why is this his burden to carry? is this normal for a character to stay silent before the impossible challenge he was supposedly destined to face and just… move forward no matter what?

i didn’t even know at the time how the zelda universe worked. that the event of link saving the world was something that threaded through the kingdom’s history like a football cup everyone was expecting to inconsistently happen once in a while. there was only this link and his own crazy challenges for me, and his destiny felt like a weight on the neck i, personally, being a broken knight i was at the time, wouldn’t be able to drag to the end.

but i had to.

i ran through the green fields from one destroyed town to the other and thought of link’s footsteps echoing in me as if every abandoned ruin was a part of my own depression i was supposed to face. every location had a name and each felt like it was important for someone who lived here a hundred years ago before the war took everything from them. the names meant nothing neither for me, nor for link and his amnesia, but for someone who wasn’t there anymore it was everything. and i had to accept it. there still was something to save. i had to look the destruction and what was left of the kingdom in the eyes and find a way to save what i can so the future would have a solid foundation they could build upon.

zelda couldn’t have saved the kingdom by herself. she had been trapped in that castle for a hundred years and she needed help of her knight. the task no single person deserved to condemn their soul with. i had no particular feelings about zelda herself, but it was a kingdom worth saving and there was only one knight that could do that. somehow, it had to be me.

so i visited every corner of the land and found everything there was to uncover, talked to everyone i could, solved everything there was to think of and turned up all the stones to find all the koroks. i just had to.

a couple months later i defeated the calamity and finally saved zelda. i took a breath and i let it out. and after that i felt better and empty once again. but it was something else this time.

it was the foundation. it was bare, but at least it was there.

i came a long way since finishing breath of the wild. i learned a new language. i grew up. i gave up my antidepressants to try and live without them. we moved from one city to the other. i got a dog that made me go outside and laugh every day. i started to make money. i started eating healthier. i started talking to people more. i took the responsibility. one by one, i pried the screws of the bear trap on my neck. it was still there, but it became easier for me to breathe. i realised that the kingdom i was raised in was never meant to be the only thing to define me. i was building my own on the ruins of what withstood. there was no other way to survive. and i just had to.

waking up as link once again years later and looking out to see the skies of tears of the kingdom, i cried. i felt like i met an old friend that was once everything to me and who i lost contact with for years, and then finally hugged them again. it was like finding myself a couple years later from where i was left dealing with my own shit and realising that my journey was worth it.

the ruins were still there, you see? but now we had so much else! there was another civilisation hidden in the clouds in the sky! and the whole another biome underground! giant temples to get confused about while looking at the map! there were new people to meet! new cataclysms to endure! new puzzles to solve! new koroks to find! damn, what a mess. i couldn’t wait to be a part of it!

and, of course, there was zelda to be saved.

zelda, who spent thousands of years in a form of a dragon waiting for her knight to take the previously shattered master sword she healed and to kill ganondorf. zelda, who was supposed to forget everything that made her human, but still was fighting for the light in the end. zelda, who was robbed of her life by the choice she made to protect those she loved, and who was blessed with another chance in the end. even a thousand years curse was finite. somehow, i found myself in love a princess i was never meant to become.

and it felt right.

and when link caught zelda falling from the sky over hyrule, i realised that the kingdom i was building with my own hands would always be there. and it was only my destiny to get to the rotten roots hidden underground in the darkness where no life was meant to exist but was flourishing in it’s own way instead, and to remove the sickness from it. to heal and to be healed.

and then i took my bear trap helmet off and smouldered it into a crown.

maybe i was never meant to be a princess. but in the kingdom that i built on my own, with all of its countless layers and clouds in the sky, with its ruins and old stones, with its depths and lurking horrors, with its riddles and joy, traps and secrets, songs and laughter, disasters and questions, dragons and princesses, with all the troubles and their resolutions…

there, i was only meant to be the king.

20/6/2024

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for making my sister lie about her gender for BOTH our financial gain?

Tw for mentions of transphobia, abuse, and suicide

I (26F she/her) and my sister (21X she/they) are both transgender. We're extremely low contact with our father, and moved out together at the first opportunity. Our parents are conservatives and emotionally abused us basically the entirety of our childhood, and after my mother died and after covid it only got worse (think alt-right, flat earther, qanon)

Basically, as much as I would love to go completely no-contact with our father I'm sticking it out in the lowest contact relationship I can manage. My father is severely transphobic, but we live on a "don't ask don't tell" kind of rule where even though we are both obviously queer and transgender (on HRT nonetheless) he just keeps pretending that nothing has changed.

Recently out of nowhere my sister has gotten extremely hellbent on the idea of telling him off in one last "fuck you" before cutting him off. I have been very vocally against this, even if I also would love to because:

1) if we blow this entire relationship up we'll be taken off the will and removed from life insurance, which equals over a fat MILLION as well as a full paid off property. You can imagine as two broke 20 y/os in this economy this is a literal dream. This is our one shot at getting a house and being financially stable.

2) she does not have to interact with him. I'm the one who has to do all the talking over text when he reaches out every few months. She does not see the texts where he misgenders/deadnames her. She herself hasn't had to interact with him beyond a short birthday wish for the past 5 years, so I don't think she has the right to blow this for the both of us just to get the final word

3) not to be crass but he might do it soon, and there's nobody left in his life who's going to talk him down off that ledge. Chances of success are pretty high. Family history of depression, no friends, he's dead to us already, he also made me suicidal from abuse so I have no empathy for him etc etc. Payout is less, but still 5% is life changing for us. Point is I'm not asking my sister to lie until she's 60 here.

Now I think the reason my sister is so focused on getting the final word *might* be related to that last point, wanting to get it in before he kicks the bucket. But I don't think it's a worthy tradeoff for everything else. I've told her that if she does something stupid and blows this for us, she'll have to find another roommate (I would not be kicking her out, I would move out, she just doesn't like the idea of living with anyone else but me).

So, AITA for making my sister lie about her gender to our father, just for a little while longer?

[garbinge]

That One Christmas Without Carmy

Michael "Mikey" Berzatto & Platonic!F!Reader

30 Day Fic Challenge (22/30)

Word Count: 2k A/N: A little flashback with Mikey.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Mentions of abuse, angst, sadness, depression. Other fics from this universe The Bear Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @quixscentsposts @dadbodfanatic-x @adorable-punk-superheroes @lodeddiperrodrick @isalver @captainweasleybarnes @musicwithteeth @fancyvoidtragedy @shinebright2000 @knight4xmas @gills-lounge @navs-bhat @cosmicak @kmc1989

It was the one Christmas Carmy didn’t come home. With how things were with him, you weren’t shocked. He barely answered your texts, you talked for two minutes every few months. Things were just different, you knew he was distancing himself. It took some time but you put the pieces together as to why and weren’t going to force him into anything. 

You walked into the house, apple cider in your hand, something you did every year you came. Sugar hated that Donna drank herself a mess every holiday, which made bringing alcohol feel wrong, not to mention when you started coming over for these events as an adult, you were still under the legal drinking age and you knew food was off limits when Donna was cooking the 7 fishes. So apple cider it was. 

Not bothering to engage in whatever conversation was happening in the living room, you moved throughout the house looking for a quiet corner to just collect your thoughts. Life had been pretty rocky lately, you just moved back not that long ago and you still felt like you were trying to get your footing from being in Indiana with the jackass that was your ex. You weren’t sure what life held for you, but the pressure alone was enough to weigh you down. 

You let out the deepest sigh as you collapsed your back on the wall next to the pantry where Mikey was standing, the only quiet corner of the house that wasn’t the bathroom which was currently being hot boxed by the Faks. 

He let out a chuckle and a head shake, letting his long hair fall all crazy around him. 

“Just need a minute.” You stared at the ceiling. 

“Feel that.” Mikey was now staring up at the ceiling with you. “Sorry about the craziness.” 

“Ironically, Mikey, this is the most stable environment I’ve been in.” 

“You know that’s fucked, right?” He looked over at you with a smile. 

“Beats sitting in an empty house waiting for a santa that never comes.” You remembered the one Christmas in middle school where your dad told you he was going to visit Santa and to stay in the living room and he’d be back with gifts, he didn’t show back up for 3 days, and all he had in his hand was a public indecency ticket and a 6-pack. “I don’t think you get how much this shit means to me Mikey. You, Sug, Carm, shit, even Richie. You guys saved me, Donna being well,” you pointed to the kitchen as a way to replace any verb that just felt completely underwhelming in comparison of the action, “it’s something I’d happily deal with just to have your guys company.” 

“We love you, kid.” He grabbed your shoulder, staring at you. 

After a moment of silence, you spoke up. 

“You talk to him lately?” 

“No.” He answered quickly. “You?” He was now staring down at the floor, waiting for an answer.

“Not really. Maybe a month ago. He actually called me once, wished me a happy half birthday.” You chuckled and looked over at Mikey who was making a weird face. “It’s like a tradition.” You started to explain since he looked very confused. “We’ve done it since we were kids.” You shrugged. “But other than that and a text to let me know he wasn’t coming home, he hasn’t answered my calls. Barely texts me back.” 

“You know last year, he was standing right there where you are, giving me shit ‘bout talking to Claire Bear for him.” He laughed at the memory while you rolled your eyes. “Jealous?” Mikey caught you and smirked. 

“Barely.” You huffed. “It’s just so crazy you guys can’t see it.” You shrugged and looked at Mikey who was giving you a look like ‘are you going to continue?’. It made you laugh but you obliged. “You’re gonna make fun of me and him for saying this, but Carm, he’s so delicate. He gets tipped off his scale so easily you gotta ease him into things. I bet you, you, Richie, and Fak bum rushed him about how hot she is, and how he needs to hit that and whatever. That shit throws him off, you gotta be smooth with it. When he’s here, he’s waiting for something to tip the scales, that's why it’s so easy to tip.” 

“It was cousin Steve, not Fak, but you’re not wrong, that is what happened.” He nodded, letting his hand rest on the frame across from him as his head dropped and his back was still against the other side of the frame. “It’s like you’re his best friend or some shit.” It was meant as a joke, a light hearted comment but it held a lot more weight for you.

“I don’t know about that anymore.” 

“What happened to you out in Indiana. Could tell shits been different for you since then.” Mikey continued the conversation, his leg now lightly kicking the door frame as a subconscious tik. 

“Some really fucked shit happened. After all of it, I went to see Carmy, could tell he was working really hard to separate himself from this, and I just so happen to be a part of this. I think I tip the scales.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I most definitely tip the fuckin’ Carmy scales.” Mikey laughed, looking back down at the ground. 

“You know, you’re like a brother to me, Mikey.” That comment brought his eyes back up to you, his head nodding and his hair flopping all over the place as he acknowledged you. 

“I love you like a sister, you know this, sometimes even more than Sugar, you don’t ask Ma if she’s okay 20 times a day.” He teased, a smile growing on his face. 

It was nice to see him smile, it was so rare these days it felt like. 

“Your moms scales are easily tipped, too. Probably where Carm gets it.” You were now walking past him in the door frame and sitting on the radiator box that was parallel to the stairs. “Guess I got my dad’s scales, untippable.” You shrugged as you jumped up. 

“Think I got mine’s too.” Mikey’s eyebrows raised, he shifted his positioning, so he was facing you since you moved, but quickly mimicked how he was standing before, back against the door frame, hand on the opposite side holding him up. “How is your Pops?” 

You laughed and shook your head. “It’s Christmas Eve so, drunk, probably in a casino.” 

“Some things don’t change.” His eyes were now connected to yours. 

“And yet I feel like I can’t recognize my life anymore.” Your legs began to kick back and forth slightly hitting the radiator beneath you.

“Well, a lot of things do change.” Mikey shrugged, a smile growing on his face at the irony of his statements. 

“Funny guy.” You smiled back. 

“Bear made me this drawing that Christmas. Told me about Copenhagen.” He let out a deep sigh. “I tipped the scale though.” 

“He just misses you, Mike. Wishes he was doing this with you.” It was spoken like it was so obvious and Mikey missed all the signs. 

“He told you that?” It was curious how he asked, like he knew all along, but there was some shit no one but him knew that prevented it all from happening. 

“No, but I know he told you that, he’s my best friend, I've known him since we were kids, I know what he’s thinking before he thinks it.” You spoke jokingly but obviously.

“It’s just a mess here.” Mikey wasn’t in the mood to joke about this and you could tell that immediately.

“But it’s home.” You spoke in the same seriousness.The doorbell rang and you looked at Mikey and quickly nodded your head to the right. “I’ll get it.” 

Mikey stayed leaning against the pantry’s door frame as you walked over to the front door. With a smile, you tossed open the door, expecting to see Pete or even one of the Fak’s since they always managed to lock themselves out every year but your heart dropped when you saw him. 

“Hey, I uh, called your dad, said I could probably find you here.” 

The last time you saw this man was when Richie was pointing a gun at him in the middle of The Beef which was last year. That added with the fact that he mentioned talking to your father, you barely got to talk to him and he can just call him up and he offers up your information like its nothing. The feeling of your heart dropping was quickly being replaced with rage bubbling in every part of your boddy, but your hands and arms specifically. 

“What the fuck do you want.” It must’ve been obvious you were getting angry because the man in front of you lifted his arms in a sense on innocence but you knew there was nothing innocent about him. 

“Was back in the area, missed you, I know how much you love the holidays, figured maybe we could go out, catch up, or not talk at all.” His eyebrows raised and as he was talking you definitely smelt the alcohol on his breath. 

“You should actually get the fuck out of here.” Your hand was firm on the door, despite them shaking, ready to slam it closed. 

The man took a step forward now, his begging mixed with a desire to show power. As his hand rested on the door he began to slightly push it open against yours.  “Don’t be like that, I always hated when you were like that, you’re too pretty to have an attitude that ugly.” 

Suddenly, the pushing on the door stopped and you felt a hand right above yours. Turning you saw Mikey standing behind you, taking all the weight of the door in his hand as he held firm with a deep frown on his face. 

“Pretty sure she told you to get the fuck outta here.” 

You weren’t sure if you were mortified or happy someone had your back right now. 

“I’m talkin’ to the lady, alright, don’t mean to be a bother, you don’t–you don’t gotta get involved.” It was said to be nonchalant but anyone could have read between the lines. 

“No, you’re not talkin’ to the lady.” In a way so opposite of his other hand, Mikey lightly touched your shoulder and smiled at you as he nodded behind him. Quickly he was taking your hand in his and moving you behind him. “C’mere sweetheart, stand right there.” He turned his attention back to the man at the door and hardened his face again. “You’re talkin’ to me. Who are you?” 

“I’m a friend.” He pointed to you and tried to peak past Mikey at you. 

“You ain’t shit. This is my house, my property, and she’s my friend. So I’m gonna need you to get the fuck out of here.” Mikey gripped the guy up with such ease, if it wasn’t for the flex of his muscles and the veins on his arms popping out, it wouldn’t have been obvious as to how hard his grip around this guys neck was. He tossed him down the stairs almost like a ragdoll, it helped that the man was in the bag drunk and had little to no reflexes readily available anymore. “If you ring this doorbell or do any other shit in or around this house, I’ll kill you.” With that the door was being slammed and he was turning to look at you. It broke him to see someone he saw as family so scared, your eyes were terrified still. 

He was tossing his arm over your shoulder and pushing you back through the kitchen and to the dining room where the chaos was. A sure way to keep your mind off everything. 

“Hey, c’mon now. Ignore that, let’s steal one of those cannolis, yea?” 

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/12/2024

this one's a bit short. i am now thirty and still unemployed (ten months this week) ://// if you enjoy the tuesdayposts and are not maxed out on your charitable donations for other causes (american healthcare access, healthcare access in other places, war relief, any number of other good causes) i am going to be $300 short for december rent. here is my paypal.

listening

listening to a lot of pete seeger, for my health. there are about one zillion recordings of Old Man Atom, all ever so slightly different. it starts off as a perky gee-whiz-science! tune and continues frog marching the listener along in an increasingly jaunty manner. it's

Then the cartel crowd put on a show To turn back the clock on the UNO To get a corner on atoms and maybe extinguish Every darned atom that can't speak English Down with foreign-born atoms! America for American atoms! I hold this truth to be self-evident That all men may be cremated equal!

it's very depressing to listen to early anti-nuclear protest songs and realize they hold even more true today! song's a bop tho!

-

reading

the feds nabbed someone allegedly related to the semi-dire Snowflake data leaks that have been ongoing throughout the year (Santander Bank, AT&T, Ticket Master, Neiman Marcus, etc).

this guy has been a real thorn in krebs' side for a year or so and participates in some of the worst corners of the internet, which explains the adversarial nature of the writeup. i read through the whole thing going "yeah this guy is Very annoying but why is krebs so mad at him" and then got to the bottom section about other activities. italicized OH moment in real life but bad.

-

watching

continuing noirvember with The Maltese Falcon (1941, dir. Huston).

The Maltese Falcon is a 1941 American film noir in which a San Francisco private detective deals with three unscrupulous adventurers, all seeking a jewel-encrusted falcon statuette.[3] Written and directed by John Huston[3] in his directorial debut, the film was based on the 1930 novel The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett and is a remake of the 1931 film of the same name.[4][5][6] It stars Humphrey Bogart as private investigator Sam Spade, Mary Astor as his femme fatale client, and as villains Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet.

i have two really snotty thoughts to get out of my brain: the modern letterboxed reviews like "i liked this but the homophobia ruined it" weak. all of you are WEAK.

and

i appreciate the work of the tumblrinas trying to queer this story in a more 2020s friendly way. however. sam spade canonically calls someone a slur for using cologne that he deems too feminine. the noir detective series you want is Philip Marlowe, who is at least homophobic in interesting and less physically violent ways.

anyway! gorgeous gorgeous movie. mary astor goes toe to fucking toe with bogey in every scene. a very frantic and frightened woman who is one jump ahead of the pathway crumbling behind her at all times. but she takes the jump and makes it! every time! except for the most important one!!!

-

playing

having a normal one with 12 hours of powerwash simulator

new genshin update rapidly approacheth. there's a lot happening in this screenshot. accidentally careened right past this npc, with one bullet for the poor low-level slime in the background, floaty blue pet in tow. the npc wanted me to deliver something to her sister who is visible under the big tree in the background. i love early area spaghetti code.

-

making

deep cleaned my house again bc i had people over for my birthday, which was a very lovely and very drunk evening of star wars on in the background while we played trivia. not how i expected to enter my thirties! i am not in the life circumstances i expected to be in my thirties, i do not have the life i expected to have in my thirties, etc. feeling a little maudlin and need to do crafts about it but also all the crafts in my home are not quite right!

[redwolfxx]

get him back!

jonggun x reader

inspired by "get him back!" - Olivia Rodrigo

tw: none

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

"I met a guy in the summer and I left him in the spring"

----

I guess I never really did know him. Sure, we dated for a little over three years, but it wasn't like we were going to stay together in the long run.

Sure, I loved him, but it was just a fling.

It wasn't anything serious.

---- "He argued with me about everything He had an ego and a temper and a wandering eye"

----

Shit, I mean it was an open relationship.

He could date whoever he wanted, fuck whoever he wanted, you know, free souls.

Sure, I wasn't allowed to even be in the same room as another guy, but that's just how it is. It was a healthy relationship.

I mean yes, we did fight often but doesn't everyone?

'how often did often mean?'

it was just small things.

'and what's this call on...on july 17th, the transcript says an individual, you, called crying, scared?

a vase was accidentally knocked over.

'sure...and the hole in the wall?'

what are you getting at?

'did he ever hurt you?'

can we move on?

---- "But he was so much fun and he had such weird friends And he would take us out to parties and the night would never end Another song, another club, another bar, another dance"

----

But we had fun.

We partied all night long. Sure, I had school the next day, but it was fun.

'did he go to the same school?'

i think he dropped out. like i said, we barely knew each other.

'you dated for over three years.'

We were young.

Back when we could drink all night and still function the next day. He had interesting friends sure.

I remember one guy, he was a blonde. He always had this smile on his face, he was always looking for the next high. He was a good friend.

He would always argue with my boyfriend on occasion. But it was always good fun.

'it says here that they were often seen physically fighting.'

they were teenage boys. of course, they'd fight.

I wonder what happened to him. It's been years.

'prison.'

what for?

'i'm not at liberty to disclose.'

hm.

---- "And when he said something wrong, he'd just fly me to France"

----

He was definitely rich.

'was it his money that-'

no. i loved him.

He wore brands that I would never dream of owning.

'but you eventually would.'

sure.

He bought me gifts ever y now and then. But, I wasn't with him for the money.

I did truly love him.

'it says here you missed school for a week, due to...mono...?'

'was it really mono?'

nah, we just needed a reason to fly to paris fashion week.

x

'he paid?

yeah. i told him i couldn't afford it, but he said not to worry about anything. so i didn't ask. and like that, we were in paris.

I think we were good together.

---- "So I miss him some nights when I'm feeling depressed"

----

We lasted a while. But, life goes on you know?

We had a good run.

'do you still talk?'

ha.

'so no? if you did love him as much as you say, why'd you end things?'

---- "Til I remember every time he made a pass on my friend Do I love him? Do I hate him? I guess it's up and down"

----

I loved him more than words could express.

But I guess he just didn't feel the same way.

He was always watching my friends.

I actually don't know if I have any memories of him looking only at me when we went out to party.

'so he cheated?'

did i say that?

'it sure sounds like-'

assumptions kill.

---- "I picture all the faces of my disappointed friends Because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do"

----

We were on and off.

Sure, he forgot anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, important events, graduation, etc.

But at the end of the day it didn't matter. It was me who he came back to.

'it says here you filed a missing persons report.'

yeah, i guess.

'it says he was gone for a few weeks.'

he forgot to tell me about his work trip overseas.

'he had a job that sent him overseas at the age of eighteen?'

he had to pay the bills somehow.

----

"I wanna get him back I wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad

I wanna break his heart Then be the one to stitch it up"

----

But sometimes, sometimes? I hated him.

God I just wanted to make him feel like I did.

How could he think it was okay to dance with those girls wearing almost nothing. I mean it's crazy right?

It hurt.

I cried, and I cried, I got angry, and we fought.

But him?

He was always sooo calm. He never thought he did anything wrong. He was trash.

I kept breaking up with him, telling him I was done with him. Done with his games. Done with the pain.

'but you got back together?'

yeah.

'why?'

I wanted him to come crawling back to me. Begging me to be his one and only. I wanted him to feel what I felt when I saw him with other girls.

So I partied at places I knew he would be. I would wear the most revealing outfits I could.

I felt so powerful.

I would attend school, get straight A's. I was an academic star.

'why did you get back together then?'

He always showed up at my door a week or so later. He looked paler than usual. He would come disheveled, smelling like alcohol. He looked tired.

He would ask to talk, and we would.

The next day we would be back together like nothing ever happened.

'how many times did you go through this cycle?'

only a few times.

'how many?'

does it really matter?

---- "Wanna kiss his face With an uppercut"

----

I used to be a world-class fighter too.

He always did have this attraction to fighters.

I used to be a part of the underground fighting ring. I was probably one of the best, if not the best fighter there.

He wasn't too bad himself.

So every now and then we would spar, we would get each other good.

But at the end of the day, we would help each other. Stitch each other back up, clean the cuts, and wipe the blood. Kiss it better.

Sure, we had our lows, but we also had our highs. And our highs used to be pretty damn good.

But we were teenagers then. And we broke up not long after I left for college.

'and you haven't seen or talked to him since?'

no. it's been ten years. he was an ex. sure, i miss him every now and then. but that's probably the nostalgia talking. who doesn't miss their youth every now and then

'and you don't know where he is either?'

like i said. it was like ten years ago. he was an ex boyfriend. i moved on and he probably did too. now, can i go? my ass is starting to hurt and this cold ass interrogation room isn't doing my skin any favors.

'this investigation isn't over.'

sure sure, you know where to find me. if you miss me that much, just call next time. the whole military wasn't necessary.

'fine. but you can't leave this country, and -'

yeah, i get it. i'm leaving now.

'before you go, can i ask one last thing.'

quickly.

'why did you change your name when you were yonger?'

i was young. my car's outside, can i go now?

'alright, ms. park, you can go, thanks for your time. and if you do see him, or hear from him at all-'

i'll be sure to call.

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

unknown number: out front.

me: be there in a sec ♡

unknown number: did they buy the story?

me: do you doubt my acting skills? how dare you even doubt me.

unknown number: sorry mrs. park i didn't mean to offend you. now come out to the car, we have a plane to catch.

me: thanks mr. darcy ♡

[desire-mona]

heard we were making house ocs and ive had a dingus floating around in my head since january so i FINALLY got around to actually making a proper ref sheet. i present my silliest

Dr. Nanette "Ninny" Amesbury :3

more under cut !

big warning lore n backstory n stuff is very bare bones and not all the way there cuz im #lazy

birthday is vague but lets go with ~35 circa s2

if i had a nickel for every oc i had who had absent parents and was raised catholic by their grandparents, id have two nickels. unintentional that it happened twice i sorta forgor the other one's lore for a bit and now its stuck so ummmmm sorry laney. wont be going into childhood bc i havent come up w that yet and honestly i dont care to!!! yada yada yada catholic guilt but not in the chase way bc she hasnt left the church n likely never will

ummmm relationship chart + template

lets just quick go over some relationship highlights cuz some are def more important than others

wilson: mr president a 4th ex wife has hit the james wilson. when were they married? ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm 😁

but they were married for like. 3 years? YES it ended bc he cheated but nin also wasn't the best either her ass was literally never ever there she was ALWAYS at work (like more than normal doctor amounts of at work - only came home to sleep and even that was only 4x a week(also worked at a different hospital))

tw suicide for next part bee tee dub

a big part of the beginning of their relationship was (big surprise) wilson's attraction to what he THOUGHT was neediness but was literally just nin wanting (and trying) to kill herself lol. once the magic of all that went away (perceived independence thats rly just #bottling shit up) he was just kinda like oh :/ its not cool to have a mentally ill wife anymore :/ i was expecting ramona flowers :/ or whatever. so infidelity impact font, hijinks and moving away for [amount] years ensue before nin being hired at ppth as the head of pediatrics. brief fwb situation w wilson Again b4 she finds out shes a lesbian at the end of like. s2.

oh yeah she also tries to kill herself again once she figures it out (see catholic guilt mention) but its cool she lives

cuddy: GAAAAAYYYYY GAAAAYYYYYYY GAY!!!!! DR AMESBURY WANTS TO FUCK THIS WOMAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! its one sided tho boooooo cuddys briefly like Wait ? just b4 nin moves away at the end of s6 roughly but shes already. thats done its not happening.

kutner: dont even fucking talk to me. i dont wanna talk about it. im gonna talk about it.

so kutner (like the slut that he is lowkey but society isnt ready for that) asks nin out just after he gets hired and shes like ermmmmmmmmmm! but sensing his loser aura she (still deeply closeted) is like hey haha i dont swing that way sorry !!!!!!! but its ok they become super mega best friends and get nerdy together

i like to think they listen to weird al together OH YEAH NINS THE BIGGEST WEIRD AL YANKOVIC FAN IN NEW JERSEY

and then nothing bad happens!

if youve seen this post about the little writing things kutner got after he croaked then hooray here's nanettes

they make me so fucking upset.

anyway as i stated above nin moves away after s6 for a bunch of reasons. 1) thanks obama 2) a big part of what contributed to her suicidal ideations n such was the fact that deep down she didnt ACTUALLY know what she wanted to do w her life. u may be like she doesnt. want to be a doctor ? NO she doesnt thats just what she did to get money to eventually do what she wants. whatever that is. something something feeling lost in life and unable to reach a goal when u dont even know what the goal is something something. also persistent depressive disorder but like spoon in kitchen.

idk what shes gonna end up doing after she moves but id imagine she shows up for house's funeral so i cant just be like lol nobody gets to know! im thinking painter but idk IDK guys her lore is ROUGH

thats it if u have questions ill answer thanks

[specialized-rexan]

SCREENSHOTS I GOT FROM THE JEREMY JORDAN LIVESTREAM YESTERDAY. especially love the comments on his duck drawings. he was very proud of some of them since he needed to practice before the stream. he admits he does not draw much lol

and here's Lucifer's signature that Jeremy came up with: a cursive capital L attached to a pentagram!

the stream was SO FUN and literally only felt like 20 minutes even tho it was almost an hour

at one point he mentioned he's making pancakes with olive oil now since he has high cholesterol, and that he LOVES how the pancakes turned out. someone responded:

(later someone joked he should make pancakes with bacon grease and he almost shouted (not angrily) "DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE? I JUST SAID I HAVE HIGH CHOLESTEROL. I just said. I had high cholesterol. Are you TRYING. To kill me."

anyway back to screenshots lol)

"Take that, depression!" was a popular quote to write on prints, and he said he hoped we're not depressed and it was very sweet

some more quotes written during the stream and other notes:

"I'm gonna be signing these prints of my boy Lucifer, the short king of Hell"

he drank both a cold smoothie and hot tea during the stream. "Doesn't make any goddamn sense, but here we go."

"It's never too late to fuck up--too late to fuck shit up" (a legitimate accidental stammer. but still perfect in its own way)

"Every time I hear the name 'Shay' I think of my daughter's friend at school. My daughter's obsessed with a friend named Shay. 'S all she talks about. 'Shay Shay Shay Shay Shay Shay.' Shay and Madeline. It's like 'You can be your own person. Clara. You are your own HUMAN.' …HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KATHERINE."

hopes to go to some conventions for Hazbin Hotel. more likely to go to cons in New York, New Jersey (where he lives), or Philly area

"He's just a li'l cutie. :3 Is he really da bosh? :3" (wondering if Lucifer really is the Big Boss of Hell Himself or if it's just more of a title)

"Hope you're not depressed"

" 'Write something Lucifer would say to cheer someone up.' And I think Lucifer would think that… 'SINGING MAKES EVERYTHING BETTER!' At least when it comes to rebuilding your relationship with your daughter."

"Guess what's in my smoothie. There are six ingredients. Go."

"…said draw a little duck, so I drew the smallest duck I could. (holds print up to camera then says in small high-pitched voice:) It's a little duck!"

MORE QUOTES UNDER THE CUT. THIS POST IS GETTING LONG ASFQJSKSKSKKS

_____

about his smoothie again: "Obviously, I just went to the gym. So I gotta have some kinda supplement in there. ... WHAT'S THE BASE, Y'ALL? YOU GOTTA HAVE A BASE." (someone could use that audio and give a character a bass guitar lol)

(still about people guessing smoothie ingredients:) "WATER? Why would I put water in my smoothie. (mutters:) Water is for losers. ... Kale! -grins and points at camera- That's it! You win. That's my smoothie."

his smoothie was blueberries, bananas, strawberries, protein powder, almond milk, kale

"…with a hUUGE shmiley faysh! :3" (about a little " =) " smile he wrote with an autograph)

"THAT DUCK IS CUTE!"

"We love, we stan Lilith"

AGGRESSIVELY, ABOUT A JOKE HE MADE: "GET IT?"

Some fatherly advice from Lucifer: "Don't fuck up your lives like I did 😎"

HE SANG THE START OF HELL'S GREATEST DAD AND WANTS A MIMZY-LESS VERSION THAT ACTUALLY HAS AN ENDING QSJFKSKKSKS

he's only seen Hazbin Hotel once, and he had "~champagne fountains, caviar mountains, that's just to staaart~" going through his head for the two+ years between recording his lines and the show airing. he wasn't able to tell anyone it because of non-disclosure stuff, and eventually he even forgot what that song line was from. but it still went through his head

"[Person he was signing an autograph for] is a bi girl [bisexual], and that's pretty baller"

"AN INCREDIBLE DUCK YOU SHALL HAVE"

"Take that depression!! Quack"

"Hold please!" (i just liked imagining Lucifer saying almost any small thing)

Jeremy Jordan says Lucifer is short, and not just that all the other characters are tall (i cannot confirm that that is canon even tho that's what i want LOL) "What gives!? There are short people in this world, and they need some love"

someone asked what he thinks about OC x canon ships. he was confused about what OC means and then when the chat explained, he was confused about how "OC x canon" works. but he figured it out after thinking for a moment. "So basically everybody wants to fuck Lucifer. GOT IT."

"Am I going to Hell for this" (about all the pentagrams he's drawing)

"…so i just did a bunch of stars and hearts around Emery's name 💜"

someone asked about his favorite Hazbin Hotel song, and he answered that season 2 has a rock song he really likes 👀 👀

"(a requested phrase for an autograph:) 'Duck lord loves you no matter what.' ...Don't know what that particularly means but…"

[annaphoenix1994]

You're My Heaven

Masterlist

After knowing Simon for eight years, you two almost fell into a romantic relationship. But given the risks involved as well as Simon's deep fear of losing you, you two mutually agreed to stay close friends. His feelings never foundered for you and neither did yours. Unfortunately, it took your fatality to make Simon realize that he wished to take the risk of having you as his lover instead of having to tell you he loved you before you died.

Author's note: This is nothing close to romantic, unfortunately. I've been very depressed for the past few weeks and I felt like writing about something sad may help me overcome this. Believe me, I cried when I finished this and while I was composing this, so I'm sorry in advance. 

This prompt is also heavily inspired by the show 1883 and if anyone has watched it, you can picture exactly how emotional this will be. If you haven't, I highly suggest you check it out! You can watch it on Paramount+ or if you don't want to pay for a membership (like me), you can watch it for free on myflixer.vc.

I'm sorry for breaking y'all's hearts! I've cried every single time I've opened this page to edit it!

*

Eight years. 

Eight longs years you've been incorporated with what was now Task Force 141. Having many operations under your belt, another accomplishment to you was being able to know Ghost - Simon - on a personal level, more personal than even his closest comrades have. 

Of course, your relationship was simply platonic. At one point, you both had expressed your emotions between each other, but given Simon's deep fear of losing someone he loves for having experienced it before, you both agreed to stay close in a platonic way versus a romantic way on mutual terms. 

He couldn't lie, he always was immensely attracted to you - how you always seemed to be his own personal beacon for emotional and physical support whenever he needed it. 

Just like he was for you. 

Outside of the military, you unfortunately had nobody waiting for you at home. No family, no close friends, no partner, nothing. 

A part of Simon wondered if that's why you stayed in the military for so long as your comrades, especially him, became a sort of comfort for you that you both knew you didn't have when you were on leave. This knowledge killed him the second year he knew you, leading him to eventually finding himself taking you out to places to help fill the void on your loneliness while you both were on leave. 

He wanted to have you as his life partner so bad, but due to his dark history at no fault of his own, he couldn't bear the thought of losing you to one of his enemies, even though the likeliness of it happening again was slim to none. 

But he figured that if he could keep you as a close friend, you'd be safe to be in his personal life without having that superior personal connection like lovers would. 

Even though you two occasionally did things as lovers, but nobody else needed to know that. These acts included gift-giving on birthdays (yes, Simon eventually unveiled a piece of his private life by telling you his birthday), holidays, and randomly. Simon was the type to get you a gift while on leave by simply seeing something he thought you'd like, even going as far as getting you flowers when you were lonely. You'd go to a movie together every now and then, went to cafes together, and just simply would be in each other's presence. 

There was no denying that it was lovely. 

Everything seemed euphoric...

Until you had gotten stabbed by an enemy with a filth-inducing and rusted blade, tearing into your liver like a scorched knife to a brick of butter. 

It was completely unexpected to you as the fight was not as close as you'd expect. Adrenaline kept the pain away as the blade was fully sheathed inside of you, keeping your fight with your enemy until Soap had come to your rescue as Ghost was on his way from overwatch. 

A mission gone wrong and not accordingly to plan. 

"Fuck," You groaned, looking down to see the knife still sheathed into your side, cupping your hands around the handle as the adrenaline wore off. 

"Don't-" Soap blurted, stopping you from pulling out the knife. "Don't pull it out. Price, we need evac immediately. Have a medic on site." 

"Copy that, Sergeant. Are you injured?" 

"No, Y/N is." He breathed a reply, knowing that Ghost was going to be livid once he found out you were injured again, not that it hasn't happened before, just that he wouldn't know the extent of your injuries until he was able to see you. 

 "Sitrep?" 

"Ghost, stay on overwatch for enemy activity until this dies over," Price answered. "The Sergeant and I will get her to the exfil site. Sergeant Garrick will accompany you on overwatch." 

"Yes, sir." 

After nightfall, Ghost and Gaz returned to their temporary safe haven for the next few weeks - a base nowhere near civilization, something that could be viewed as both a sanctuary and hell on earth. 

In your case, this was hell on earth for you. 

"Ghost, Gaz," Price called from the nearby tent. "A word on recon?" 

"It's all clear, sir," Gaz replied, nodding. "No enemy movement detected after you left." 

"Good. Ghost, come with me." 

Simon heaved a breath, knowing that the look in his Captain's eyes was nothing but pleasant. "How is she?" He questioned. 

"Medic removed the blade..." Price answered, dread coating his voice. 

"That's not what I asked, Price." 

"She's stable, for now. The nurse reported a slight fever and has her on an IV drip now, but he can't get the medication he needs from a doctor for another week." 

"So, what does this mean?" 

"I-I don't know, Simon-"

"Can I see it? The blade?" 

Price nodded as he escorted Ghost towards the medical tent, entering to frown at the sight of you on the bed, eyes lazily open while your aching body lay on the bed. "How're you feeling?" He spoke softly at you, standing next to the bed and curling his gloved index finger against the top of your hand. 

"It doesn't hurt," You replied, reassuring him of a soft smile - a smile he grew to adore with how your dimples caved in on your cheeks and your innocent eyes peering up at him - a look on your face that made his heart swell at the sight alone. "Not at all." 

"Still on the adrenaline high, love," He breathed a chuckle as his eyes moved down to where your wound was, exhaling a deep breath through his nose at the realization and needed to urgently seek for reassurance - reassurance from anyone but you right now. "Excuse me." 

Exiting the tent, Simon laid eyes on Soap who had been eating the last of his MRE, "Sergeant." 

"L.T?" 

"I need to ask you something." 

"Sure." 

"How bad was it?"

Soap frowned, "Bad enough. The nurse got the blade out and cauterized it, but without the proper medicine we need with the doctor, I don't know how long her liver can take it-"

"Her liver?" Ghost scoffed, refusing to accept the fatal fact. 

"With as close as that blade was, we're sure it hit one way or the other," Soap frowned, shaking his head. "I just hope that surgeon can get here fast." 

"What's his status?" 

"We don't know yet. The nurse is still waiting on him to signal back-"

"Why can't he call?" 

"We're remote. You know this. Off the grid unfortunately. We have to use what we got." 

Ghost shook his head, still refusing to believe what he had just heard as he turned on his heel to lay his own eyes on the blade itself, only to meet Price halfway as he held the weapon of discussion in his hand. "Let me see it." 

He frowned, opening his hand to reveal the knife that will fatally take your life. 

And in this case, you don't have the luxury of flying to a hospital. The base is off the grid, which had its benefits, but nothing prepared anyone for this. A helicopter had to be signaled in by flares - and that's if the helicopter was within range to see the signal. Comms barely could be understood, and emails/phone signal was unheard of since the team arrived.

With limited flares on the base, your death was slowly on the horizon and your clock was ticking out, but you just didn't know it yet. 

But God, Simon did. Along with the rest of the team. 

They just didn't have the heart to tell you. 

Your eyes held a life in them that they wished they could see, your smile held a vibrance that they kept close and dear to their hearts, your laugh brought them so much joy, even if your laugh distracted yourself from your own depression.

"It's filthy, Simon." Price frowned, handing the Lieutenant the knife in question. 

"But she's young. Soap said they got it out quick. She's so strong." He replied in denial. 

He didn't want to believe it.

Simon bowed his head, shaking it subtly, "She's going to die, isn't she?" 

"Don't think that way, Simon-"

"I'm a simple man, Price. I'm through being delusional." 

The Captain sighed through his nostrils, "I don't know how long she has. We have to wait until we can hear for an air lift and get her to a hospital. She doesn't have a fever now, but if she develops a fever and we can't get any help, I would guess maybe... a week."

"A bloody week," Simon grumbled. "Alright." 

Price knew that there was more than just a friendship going on. Perhaps what he would call a "mutual understanding of emotions." 

Either way, Price knew that Simon had very strong feelings towards you just like you did for him. 

Price hesitated before he put his palm on the Lieutenant's shoulder, doing his best to comfort him in what was to come, "I have faith in her recovery, Simon. She's young and so strong-"

"And she's the light of my life, Price. She fills a void in my soul that I didn't know I had," Ghost replied, his voice low as his heart broken. If it wouldn't have been Price he was talking to, he would have never admitted that you meant so much to him without any hesitation. "She... She's going to die." 

"Don't you dare, Simon-"

"She's going to die and it's going to tear me apart," He replied, his heart broken but his voice firm. Price could see it in his eyes that if he was alone, they would be full of tears, but instead, his brown irises were surrounded by a light shade of pink. "And if I don't accept it now, she's going to die in some hospital with some doctor doping her up until she can't see straight because it'll be too late. And I would have robbed her. She needs to see every sunset and sunrise with those big dreamer eyes."

"And what should we do when she starts asking how everything is looking?" Price scoffed. 

"We will lie to her and tell her she is fine. I need to let her look at this world the way she does, no matter how cruel it is." 

Price bowed his head and cleared his throat, fighting back tears of his own. He saw you as a daughter of his and was there from the very beginning - admiring how you were the only one who was able to break Ghost of his attitude, how he was never as stern with you as he was the others, how he always seemed to be somewhere alongside you until you got your bearings to take actions on your own, how he taught you how to fight better, and how he even taught you how to make a tea that suited your taste just so he could have an excuse to have you join him for a cup in the morning. Although Simon would always deny it when Price asked, the Captain knew that his best Lieutenant was very much in love.

And he even gave him permission to seek you in romantic interest, as long as he kept it under wraps to avoid altering your careers. 

"Then what're you going to do?"

"Where we bury her is where I stay, but not here. She needs to be where I know I can visit and just be some mound of dirt in the middle of this place."

"I'll find a place-"

"No, I need to find a place. By the grace of God, I will find a place." 

The Captain nodded, "I'll leave you to take things how you want, Simon. Just remember one thing,"

"What's that?" 

"Don't ever be too late to tell her how you feel. It wouldn't be fair to her to forever wonder where you two stood." 

Ghost nodded, watching Price walk away before he made his way into the tent to sit by your bedside. 

"Leave it to me to get myself stabbed in a gunfight." You giggled, watching his gaze strike into you before sitting down on the nearby chair. 

"Yeah," He sighed. "You have an act for getting yourself in trouble." 

"You always tell me that." You scoffed. 

"Do I need to remind you how you had to call me to bail you out of jail for getting into a fight at the market?" You could tell he was arching his brow under his balaclava. 

"You remind me enough," You rolled your eyes. "You weren't there, so you don't know the whole story!" 

"I know plenty, love. What do you want to eat?" 

"Oh, do I get to choose a four course meal? I need to get injured more often."

"Sure, you have three excellent choices of MRE's. You can choose from chicken alfredo, spaghetti and meatballs, and chicken soup. I'll even be nice and offer you my beef stew." He scoffed, his heart swelling once he had heard you laugh at his sarcasm. 

I'll miss your laugh.

"And I'll be nice and let you keep your beef stew and just have chicken soup. It always makes me feel better." 

"Aren't you a sweetheart. Would you rather try to eat now or before you go to sleep?" 

"I'm feeling pretty tired. I think I'd rather try to eat now so that I fall asleep on a full stomach." 

"You got it, love. I'll be back. Care to have someone to eat with?" 

"You... You've never eaten with me before while on duty?" You furrowed your brows, suddenly confused. Even when you have gotten hurt in the past, Ghost never sat alongside you while you were in the medic's tent. 

Ever. 

You watched him huff, "I could've lost you. I wasn't there to keep it from happening. I just... realize that it could've happened at any moment and I don't want to take it for granted." 

He was waiting for you to respond, growing uncomfortable at how you stared deeply into his eyes, knowing you were searching for a lie. But thanks to his balaclava, he was able to conceal his true expression behind the nylon and harden his gaze to make it look like he was being honest with you, which is what you'd known him for, but there was something in his eyes that you couldn't quite pinpoint and it nearly drove you to ask him what he was hiding from you. 

"Okay," You smiled weakly. "Well, I won't be going anywhere anytime soon." 

Once Simon returned, he held two MRE's and two bottles of water in his hands, setting them on the side table before helping you sit up. "Still feeling ill?" 

"I feel like I might be getting a fever," You breathed. "My head hurts and I'm burning up." 

"That comes with the territory, love," He assured you, his heart breaking at the worrisome condition that began to progress. "You'll feel overheated after a stab wound." 

"I'm sure you have a lot of experience in that."

"You should know I do," He breathed a chuckle while his right hand splayed between your shoulder blades while the other let you grab it to stabilize yourself while he helped you sit up in the bed. "Been in your position many times." 

"And you still never took off that damn mask." 

"Know me so well." 

I know you too well, Simon, you thought. When I looked into your eyes, I saw your worry. I saw how you desperately tried to keep a straight face behind that mask, but I've grown to know your eyes - the window to your soul - and I could see that your soul was somehow more broken than I remembered. Like you were already mourning me, looking at me like you knew it was coming. Maybe I'm overthinking like you always say, but the velocity of my injury is nowhere near as simple. You knew stab wounds and their effects better than any medic after being stabbed as many times as you have. You knew something I didn't, but a part of me was too scared to ask.

"You sore?" 

"Very," You sighed. "Will it hurt this bad tomorrow?" 

"The next day is always the worst." 

"What about the day after?" 

"That part's a mystery." 

*

Four days. 

Those four days were heated for you as you had developed a fever through the forty-degree weather of the rugged terrain of Alberta. 

"Can you take me to the creek?" You asked, your voice hoarse with beads of sweat along your forehead and brow, your skin hot to the touch when Simon removed his glove to press the back of his hand to your forehead. 

"If you're thirsty, I can go get you some water-"

"No, Simon," You shook your head. "I'm burning up and I want to lay in the water." 

"Love, it's forty degrees outside and it's only noon. You'll get sicker-"

"No, it'll stop the bleeding," You breathed, realizing that your health was deteriorating by the horrible gift of time. "My people would do this to their tribe when others got sick. It helps with the fever." 

"Your people?" 

"I'm a descendant of the Crow Tribe close to Paradise Valley, Simon. I've told you this," You breathed a weak laugh. "I thought you didn't forget anything!" 

"I don't, love," He assured you, gently wrapping his arm around your waist to help you walk while your arm curved around his shoulder to stabilize yourself. "I remember that story of how you used to mark horses for the relay." 

"If only those markings would work on me," You breathed a laugh. "They wouldn't have let me get worse. I just want this fever to go away so I can get better." 

"We all do," He frowned behind his balaclava. "But you will. Did you eat what I brought you this morning?" 

"Barely." 

You whimpered as he helped you to the nearby creek. He saw the blue bags under your eyes but your eyes still held that familiar light he grew to love over time. "Are you sure you want to step foot in this?" 

"Yes, Simon." 

He nodded before he set the blanket he had brought with him aside on the dry ground before watching you discard your shoes, grasping his hand as he helped you into the shallow water, admiring how you weren't bothered with the temperature of the water as he winced at the sensation of it seeping through his boots. "Help me lay down?" 

"You're crazy, love," He shook his head, thinking that you only wanted to soak your feet into the water. "Are you sure?" 

"My people have done this for hundreds of years," You scoffed. "I'll soak in here until I can stop the bleeding, then I'll go into the tent and start to make steam." 

"Alright, just tell me what I need to do." 

"Help me lay down and just keep me from floating away, okay?" 

He smirked behind his balaclava, "You won't float away anywhere on my watch." 

"Copy that." 

Your lip quivered as you lay in the freezing water, doing your best to relax and focus on steady breathing to lower your body temperature as well as stopping the bleeding that began to progress over the last couple of days. You looked up to see Simon's concerned gaze down on you before you lifted up your shirt to show the wound that would soon be responsible for taking your life. He continued to stay crouched next to you while you searched his eyes for how he looked at your wound, looking for some type of reassurance from your own doubts. 

I feel different now, Simon. I look to you for answers when I don't know them myself. Aside from myself, you've become to be the only person who knows me just as good. And when I looked at your eyes when you looked at my wound, I saw nothing. I saw no sign of relief nor worry. It was blank. You watched the blood drain from my liver and had no words of reassurance that I was looking for, but yet still told me that I was going to get better. My soul then felt stripped away from my body, like it had been loose and disconnected since it happened. I then looked up at the sky and somehow felt that I was back in my tribe from a hundred years ago. I studied into your eyes, Simon - looked deep into them. The more I looked, the more I saw what I wouldn't expect. I saw fear in your eyes.

That's when I knew...

I was going to die. 

After fifteen minutes, you decided that you wanted to get out and begin making your steam in the confines of your tent. After silently whispering a native prayer, you were unaware that Simon's heart broke every time he heard a weak whimper leave your lips. 

"You know what I'm afraid of the most about dying? It's being forgotten in some grave or on the side of a hillside somewhere." 

"Nobody is going to forget you, Y/N," He corrected. "And you're not dying." 

"You look at me like I'm dying." 

"I look at you for what you are, love. You're the most important thing to me on this planet and it comes with a lot of worry just in case you haven't noticed." 

Once he had helped you lay down, he let you be alone like you had requested once the steam began to grow, gently laying a blanket over your shoulders before he assured you that he would be outside by the fire, taking some time for himself. 

He listened closely for any signs of distress, occasionally hearing a native prayer every few minutes. 

"How is she?" Price asked as he and Soap met him to offer any comfort for their comrade. 

Ghost shook his head at them, "There's swelling in her liver. It either heals or it fails. Any word on that bird?" 

"We've sent signals all week," Price sighed. "We only have four left. We're going to shoot one tonight and another in the morning." 

"Roger," Ghost nodded, looking at the ground between his knees. "All I can do is hope and pray... If that even means anything." 

"It means something, L.T.," Soap encouraged. "She'll be alright." 

"One way or the other." 

"Are you sure there's swelling in her liver?" 

"I cupped my hand over it, Price," He sighed. "Fresh blood came out of that wound, not old." 

Suddenly, their heads turned to look at you stumbling out of your tent, a blanket covering your shoulders, your face drenched with sweat and tears, a thin stream of clear snot leaving your nose as Simon helped you ease down on the log next to him. "Feeling any better?" 

You paused, closing your eyes as your face scrunched to produce more tears, "You lied." 

He looked straight ahead, nodding and facing the accusation as Price and Soap both decided to dismiss themselves. "I'm sorry." He managed to respond, his heart shattered into a million pieces before he gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him as you uncontrollably sobbed. 

"I'm dying!" 

"I know, love," He closed his eyes, using every ounce of his being to hold back the tears threatening to brink his eyes. "I'm sorry."

You buried your face into his chest that was rid of his tactical vest, smelling his natural scent of musk and sweat while your other arm reached out to grasp his bicep while his left arm clasped the outside of your knee, keeping you close to him as you sobbed. "Can you make me a promise?" 

"Anything?" He replied, his voice broken. 

"I want to choose a spot." 

His eyes closed again at the sound of those words leaving your lips, his heart breaking even more knowing that he had to acknowledge that promise. He owed you that much. "You choose a spot and I'll make sure you get there." 

He felt you nod against his chest as you wept, "Why did you lie?" You asked, feeling a certain calmness to his heartbeat. 

"I didn't want to rob you of your outlook on life by being hooked up to monitors and being so drugged up until you couldn't see straight. You've outlived me - you've outlived all of us. I'm thirty-two years old and you've out smiled me, out loved me, and certainly outlived me. It would've been selfish of me to have you suffer when you're the least deserving of any sort of suffering. I lied to you to keep that worry off of your shoulders because as much as it breaks my heart to see you like this, it would've hurt more to have to tell you that you were bound for an awful fate when we couldn't get a bird out here to take you to a hospital. I know you, love, and it would've worried you to death." 

You sniffled, "I never thought I'd be happy that you were unfair to me." 

He barely smirked as his hand snuck up to cradle your head, keeping your face close to his chest as you two sat there for what seemed like hours. 

Once you had accepted your demise, you looked through your dry eyes to look up at Price, "Helo saw our flare. They're inbound."

Simon nodded, "It's time to go, love." 

You slowly loosened your grip on him as he stood to his feet, offering you his hand while Price gladly stood on the other side of you, letting you use them as a crutch as they escorted you to the medic's tent, gently setting you in a provided wheelchair to help ease your pain. You didn't see it, but a tear slipped from Simon's eye as he grabbed your small duffel bag that contained every personal item you were allowed to carry with you on your deployment.

He looked down at you to ensure your blanket was still snug around your shoulders as he began to push you towards the small tarmac big enough for a single helicopter. Your eyes filled with fresh tears when you saw Soap and Gaz waiting for you. 

To tell you goodbye. 

"Y/N, it was a bloody good time being by your side." Gaz forced a smile, his heart breaking too once he saw your condition had gotten worse. 

"I can't remember a sunset I've seen that's been as pretty as you," Soap teased, knowing it always got under Simon's skin once he learned that he wasn't the only one to find you attractive when you first met. "You'll always be the one that got away." 

"Johnny, you gotta be pretty damn good looking to think the one you never had got away from you." You giggled, making he and Gaz laugh. 

"Always got the jokes, I see." 

"Go back to Scotland, you pretty son of a bitch." 

"Aye." 

They both pat your shoulder as you passed by, their touch lingering just a bit more as they realized it was the last time they'd see you. 

"Nikolai, take them where they need to go!" Price shouted from the intense sound of the chopper's blades. 

"Yes, sir!" 

Both Price and Ghost helped your weak body into the helicopter, Ghost putting on a set of protective hearing muffs. 

"It's been a pleasure, sweetheart." Price smiled at you, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek with his gloved thumb. 

"Thank you, Price. I'll see you later?" 

He knew what this meant, and it broke him entirely to realize her statement. "I'll see you later." 

Blinking away his tears, Price took a final glance at you before closing the chopper door. "Love, you need to tell me where we're going so I can tell him." 

"Paradise." You smiled weakly, knowing exactly that Simon would know where you were meaning. 

Paradise Valley - a home you had purchased years ago to stay frequently every other year or so. A place to soon call a permanent home once your time in the service was over. 

A new start. 

Turns out, a new start wouldn't be in your near future. 

Paradise Valley, Montana

"This is a nice place, love. Shame you never invited me." Simon chuckled as he effortlessly carried you onto the front porch of the house bridal style. 

"Well, consider this your invite," You sighed. "Not here, though." 

"Where to, then?" 

"Out the back. There's a spot there." 

He nodded, carrying you through the small house until he reached the backdoor, his eyes widening at the gorgeous scenery before him. "Down there." 

He followed where her finger pointed, seeing a small creek that ran through the thick forest. With ease, he carried you there, waiting for you to point to where you wanted to be set down, effortlessly easing you down onto the thickest grass he had seen for late fall in his entire life, laying down beside you and tossing his balaclava to the side. 

This was amongst the handful of times you had seen his bare face. 

"How's this?" He whispered. 

"Perfect," You hummed. "Isn't it beautiful?" 

"That it is." 

"What's your favorite memory?" 

"Don't have many, love," He sighed. "I'd have to think far about a favorite." 

"I'm not going anywhere." 

"How come you never sang to me?" 

"What?" You giggled. 

"Don't think I don't remember how you used to sing to Soap when he got a cold last year. I have to admit it now, I wish it was me that was sick just so I could hear it better." 

"Well, I also told you that I'd sing at your funeral, but we both see how that turned out." 

He squeezed you a bit tighter after that statement, "Please?" 

"You'll have to remember what you heard that night, Simon," You giggled. "What about another memory?" 

"Probably when you and I saw the elk in Poland. How you told me how your tribe viewed elk and then you told me some story on how they used to refer as horses as elk dogs. I always remembered that for some reason." 

"Do you want to know what I used to call a horse?" 

"Iichiile," You answered with a weak smile. "I always wondered what Heaven would be like, you know? I always thought it would be something like this: quiet with nothing but the sound of water and trees, maybe a few horses or bison running around and hearing the wolf at night. But sometimes, Heaven can be seen in a person, too. A person who takes away your personal Hell." 

He nodded, "I agree." 

"Are you comfortable?" 

"That's not a concern of mine right now, love." 

You sighed, relaxing into his arm that was under your head like a pillow as he lay behind you, his other arm draped over the side of your hip away from your fatal wound, keeping you as close as he could without causing you any pain. "I feel like I'm about to fall asleep." 

"Fall asleep, love." He whispered, exhaling shakily through his nose as his thumb rubbed circles against your clothed hip. 

A couple of hours later, you two had ended up falling asleep briefly before the evening chill had woken you up. Fluttering your eyes open, they seemed to sparkle once they laid upon a palomino horse grazing on the other side of the creek, its white mane and tail blowing in the soft wind. Once its head rose from the grass, you could have sworn you had seen a red circle on its chest.

War paint meaning "strong heart." 

"I know what it is now." You whispered. 

"Hm?" Simon replied, his voice low and hoarse. 

"I know what it is. Look," You whispered, nodding your head towards the palomino. Simon saw it, grinning as he could agree it was a beautiful sight, but he saw just a normal horse. No war paint, just its magnificent golden coat. "She's not wild, but has a strong heart for grazing alone." 

"Do they not usually?" 

"No. They're herd animals." 

"I didn't know that." 

You slowly turned to lay on your back, taking a last look up towards the sky as it was an orange and purple hue that sat comfortably behind the mountains. Briefly, you thought of one of your favorite songs: the fiddle version of Zach Bryan's "Something in the Orange". It fit perfectly.

"You're my Heaven, Simon." You whispered, your eyes beginning to fill with tears as you looked at his bare face. 

"You're mine too," He sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, savoring the last bit of your natural warmth, knowing he was going to miss it. "I'll hate myself forever for not making you mine sooner. I could've kept you from this." 

"It was meant to happen like this," You assured him. "I've always known I was yours, even though you were always so stubborn-"

"Remember, Simon, don't ever be too late to tell her how you feel. It wouldn't be fair to her to forever wonder where you two stood." 

Price's advice rang constantly throughout his mind. Now's the time, Simon. 

"I love you." 

He watched as a tear fell from your eye, using his hand to wipe it away, "Don't do that, love." 

"I love you too," You breathed. "All I ask is that I hope I can leave this life knowing what it was like to kiss you." 

"You should know I wasn't going to let that happen," He assured her, moving closer to your face before his lips locked with yours. It was soothing, like it was meant to happen indefinitely. "Where you rest is where I stay." 

You nodded slowly, moving your head to receive another kiss from him, wishing that you didn't have to limit how much you wanted to take from him before you went. "What about Manchester?" 

"There's nothing left for me there. I'll be here until I can be right next to you. Here is the closest I'll be to Heaven with you in it." 

"That's not true, Simon. I'll see you in the valley." 

He kissed your temple, "I'll meet you there." 

You couldn't help but cry as you moved your head closer to his chest as you continued to lay on your back, his right arm resting softly on your sternum as he cupped your head for a few more minutes. He kept his focus on your heartbeat that he could feel softly against his forearm, dreading the moment he wouldn't feel it anymore. He didn't want this moment to end, even though he felt it would be selfish of him to keep you here, but a part of him knew that you were ready. 

And he didn't want you to suffer. 

He felt you take a deep breath, his eyes opening immediately as his eyes searched for yours, "I'm not scared, Simon." 

"I've never known you to be scared, love-"

His assuring expression fell to a frown when he literally watched the gleam - that gleam that your eyes always held - fade from your eyes. He waited for you to blink, to twitch - something! 

He couldn't feel your heartbeat anymore, recalling the last time he felt your heart thud for the last time. He took a deep breath himself, looking up at the sky before a uncontrollable stream of tears left his eyes - tears he never thought he'd spill again after walking in to see his mom, brother, and nephew dead on the living room floor. He buried his face into your neck, feeling what was leftover of your natural warmth for as long as he could until your body turned cold. He smelled your hair - how natural it always was. "I'll meet you there one day. I promise," He sobbed into your skin. "Where you lay is where I stay." 

He laid with you until your body became cold, keeping his gaze on the horse that continued to graze across the creek. He then put the pieces together by what he could remember when you'd tell him tribal stories - how a horse would be seen before the death of a native to carry them to Heaven. Or in some tribes, a horse was to be buried with the native to carry them in the afterlife. 

He kept rubbing your skin with his thumb until you were completely cold, his brain immediately altering hope when he'd feel your limbs twitch in post-mortem, slowly being brought back to the reality that you weren't coming back. Placing the last kiss - which ended up to be the third - on your forehead, he slowly got up from where he was laying, wrapping your blanket around you while he left to go find a shovel. He knew he had to do this right, but he wanted to honor you the best he could, so he ended up having to make a call. 

One Year Later

With a consecutively broken heart, Simon returned to your home with the final suitcase of his belongings along with him to add to the pile of duffel bags and suitcases he had accumulated throughout the last year, having no time to truly put his things away due to his duties. But this year was different - he had completed his last tour and had time to focus on how he would truly honor you. Although he was glad to be done with his tour, he didn't know how he could keep his mind busy in the meantime. 

With a sigh, he brought his biggest suitcase into the bedroom that would've been known as ours instead of yours, setting it on the made bed that he had slept in when he missed you, the only blanket being the one you were last clutching to for warmth as your scent was still on it. Putting his best shirts on the hangers, he then opened your closet for the first time, seeing one of your favorite shirts that you had worn to the movies with him that one night in Poland to see the elk with him. He then wondered why you brought it here, but he never had the answer. His eyes filled with fresh tears as he slid your shirts to the far right of the closet, "I'm not removing them, love. Just... Just moving them over." 

After the next few hours and many tears later, he had finally finished unpacking his belongings. The cabin was small, yet comfortable. Just perfect, as Simon would say to himself. He had blamed himself every day for your death being his fault. 

Maybe if I would've told her I loved her sooner, she would've never been in that fight anyway!

Maybe if I would've been with her that day, I could've shot that bastard before he even got near her! 

It should've been me that was stabbed! 

I should've died first so that I could finally hear her sing to me! 

Like those many quiet evenings he spent at your house, he found himself looking at the creek that flowed alongside your final resting place: under the tree, ten feet away from the river. 

Every day, he fought the urge to cry over you again, knowing that it wouldn't get better, but easier every day. But even this, his heart still hurt. 

Suddenly, a faint nicker broke him from his thoughts. From the east, the same palomino horse he had seen every time he returned to Montana was in his line of sight. He wanted to keep the horse for himself as he knew the mare was the last animal you ever saw, but he knew that a true Crow Tribe horse would never be broken. Instead, he let the horse roam just like it did before, except he grew to gain the animal's trust over time. Never riding it, he always found himself buying a bag of apples and carrots every time he went to the store when he'd return from a deployment, the horse's treats being the first thing he got before he got food for himself. Just like he'd keep a pack of popcorn and a bottle of your favorite soda in the fridge for when you'd decide to sneak in the middle of the night like you used to in hopes nobody would notice you would cheat on your strict military diet. 

Although that same bottle was still in the fridge, he knew you'd never be able to physically be able to enjoy it, but it also brought him a sense of comfort seeing something you'd enjoy, just like he found himself always lingering his gaze on the photos you took during your travels together. The mountains in Switzerland, the grass in Scotland, the elk in Poland... 

How I wish I would've let me take a photo of you so I'd have something to remember. 

"Staying out of trouble, yeah?" He spoke calmly to the horse, returning outside with that bag of apples he always promised the mare. 

The mare nickered again when he removed an apple from the bag. "You'll have plenty of these from now on. I'm done with my tour," He said, watching the horse bite the apple resting in his palm before he looked at her mane, following the crest of her neck until his eyes stopped at her withers, seeing the knot he had purposely tied in her mane. A "fairy knot" as folklore called it, but he purposely tied a knot in the mare's thick mane on both sides of her neck, making it as a sort of handle for you to hold onto for when the mare carried you to Heaven. To some, it was silly, but to him, it meant everything. 

"Awáxe," He said, nodding to himself in approval after studying the word for God knows how long until he got it right. "That's your name now. You deserve a name after the good you've done for me." 

The name in Crow (Apsáalooke), your ancestral tribe, meant "Heaven." 

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Birthday Blues

Chuck Taylor X fem reader Main Masterlist

Summary: With Best Friend’s spitting up Chuck finds himself alone on his birthday, or so he thinks.

An: You know I had to write a little something something for his special day

This morning I woke up with dozens of text messages from friends and family wishing me a happy birthday. But no matter how many texts I got they didn’t make up for the fact my ‘best friend’ didn’t wish me a happy birthday. Trent and I had been friends forever. We grew up in the industry together, we did everything together. He was my best friend! I don’t know what got into Trent recently but I didn’t like it. I didn’t understand the reason for his actions. Sure neither of us has held gold in quite some time but we should be happy for our friends. Kris and Orange were doing amazing things, we should be celebrating with them not wishing for their downfall. 

It didn’t even feel like my birthday, all I wanted to do was rot in my hotel room. Last night Trent gave me an ultimatum. It was him or Orange. How could I pick between the two of them? Sure I’ve known Trent for longer and the two of us shared so much more but no way I would pick between my two best friends! I ignored all of Kris and Orange’s calls and texts. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, I wanted to be alone. I was never one for birthdays, I never felt worthy of the celebrations. Why should you all be celebrating me? I’m not special. I didn’t mind spending my birthday alone. In fact, I preferred it over spending it with my family. Every time I went back home everyone would ask about my dating life. Are you seeing anyone Chucky? When are you going to settle down? Your time is running up to have children, let me set you up with a nice girl Chuck. I wanted to pull my hair out at the comments. 

I didn’t want to date anyone. I hadn’t been in love for a long time. Even when I was of course I fucked it all up. I was okay with being alone. Just as I was busy sulking in my hotel room I heard someone aggressively knocking on my door. I yelled at them to go away but instead, they began knocking even louder. I flung open the door ready to scream at whoever was on the other side but stopped right in my tracks when I saw who it was. It was Y/n. I hadn’t seen her in years. 

“A little clementine told me you wanted to spend your birthday alone,” Said Y/n. As much as I was mad Orange somehow got my ex-girlfriend to pull me out of my depressive state I was also happy to see Y/n again. “Tell me Chuck, what’s got you so blue?” Y/n asked as she let herself into my hotel room. “I just don’t know what to do. How am I supposed to pick between my best friends? I don’t want to choose between them!” I confessed. “I know you are under a lot of stress right now Chuck. I get it, I do but that doesn’t mean you should spend your birthday feeling sorry for yourself. Birthdays are supposed to be fun! It’s the one day you can put yourself first and no one can say anything about it” Y/n had a point, all of this was making me look more pathetic. Trent said it himself, I was weak. “How about you and I go out for the day? We can do whatever you like Chuck. There are lots of things to do in the city! It’s your day to be spoiled!” Just before I could protest Y/n cut me off “Before you say anything yes Chuck you do deserve this. No Chuck, you are not pathetic. You have to stop being so hard on yourself Chucky, you deserve nothing but the best. I wish you could have seen that when we were together” Her words left a bitter-sweet taste in my mouth. As much as I appreciated her praise it reminded me of when the two of us used to date years ago. Y/n ended up breaking up with me due to my lack of self-confidence. I know that sounded stupid but it was a real thing. I was constantly shitting on myself, I was always so down. I’m sure that’s difficult to be around. 

I ended up caving and took Y/n’s offer to spend the day celebrating myself. However, I didn’t expect her to say this. “We can do anything you want today Chuck, who knows maybe I’ll stay the night” Best birthday ever! 

[gobbinhalfglass]

One thing that always bothers me in media is depictions of addiction and/or gluttony.

It’s… Hard to describe in only a few words. The two very much go hand in hand when they occur, and neither are often taken as serious problems by people unaffected. But the two have had hugely negative influences on my entire life so far. It’s especially bad with depictions of alcoholism, since overindulgence in alcohol is literally both addiction and gluttony.

Anime is the worst offender on that one. The whole genre seems to treat alcoholism as a fun quirk to give a character for comedy’s sake. But… Being so horrifically familiar with what the stuff does to people, and being genetically predisposed to addictions to begin with, it’s like I’m watching a slow motion horror movie while the rest of the audience is laughing at the same screen.

And when I say genetically predisposed I mean to a scary degree. I went to a bar once on my 21st birthday and I hated being tipsy, hated being drunk more, hated the taste and the smell and the atmosphere… I only went along with it because everyone else was insistent I have the experience. A rite of passage I guess. But my body still wanted to go back for weeks. I can’t articulate how horrifying that feeling is. To have my biology crave the worst experience I’d had in recent memory at the time. And to realize how terrifyingly slippery that slope really is for me. It’s like a shadow haunting every moment of depression, and occasionally intruding on quiet thoughts.

Needless to say, I don’t drink, I absolutely do not touch drugs or smoke, I refuse to touch any of the stuff. And it bugs me that nobody else seems to see the same darkness in it even though it is exceedingly common knowledge what all of that can do to people. Even with my own avoidance, these things fractured and broke my family apart. I still don’t really talk to my sister, and my mother’s still recovering. All because a meth addict wormed his way into her life at a vulnerable moment and weaponized that same predisposition to addiction against her.

I genuinely spent those years convinced I’d have to kill that man eventually or he’d kill someone else in my family. Spent all my time trying to keep enough of the bills paid that my family could at least keep renting the place. It managed to take over my entire life and every waking thought, and I wasn’t even the one addicted.

So why the fuck does damn near every single media treat this shit like a punchline? At worst it’s a plot point, like “Oh they did things with drugs here how horrible!” and it’s usually a context like an illegal lab or some shit. And the few pieces of media that take it seriously rarely even try to drive home the reality. They gloss over it as soon as they’re sure the audience gets it. “These people went through some shit. ANYWAY!-“ type attitude.

I’m not one to whine about representation or whatever, but it really pisses me off to see something so thoroughly dark and destructive treated so lightly so consistently. If you’re gonna write about it, maybe don’t make a punchline of the people affected by it. Maybe don’t make the viewer believe it’s less of a problem than it is. Maybe don’t make the people like me who understand how dark and depressing the topic really is seem crazy for talking about it around people familiar with the piece of media in question.

Addiction and a tendency to overindulge are serious shit with universally life changing and negative consequences. It only hurts people to minimize that.