#told myself i was too tired to use a reference but i gave in

[daily-beau]

Day 30: Unwell

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Jealousy, Jealousy - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer and reader are both BAU agents in a secret relationship and a charity gala has reader tired of hiding.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Trying something different with the first person perspective here! bc of that I did have to use y/n twice so sorry for that lol. This is later seasons but pre-prison Spencer, so he’s a little more sure of himself and in return more dominant without being fully there. I promise I’m working on a few sub!spencer fics right now but I stumbled across this old fic of mine while going through my past works and I was dying to rework it because I wasn’t happy with what it was before lol.

TW: jealousy, angst, kissing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, afab reader, use of “girl” in reference to reader.

Rating: R, 18+ only please!

——

We’d already been here for three hours and I was growing weary watching Spencer make awkward conversation with every person at this charity gala. There were hundreds of people neither of us knew in this room, but bureaucratic duty required the both of us to make small talk with everyone no matter the department. Heaven knows Spencer didn’t have any intention beyond professional with these people, and I certainly didn’t either as it came with the territory of being BAU agents, but somehow I couldn’t help but find the jealous side of me rearing its ugly head with every attractive colleague that looked his way.

I’d kept my distance, allowing him the space he needed to not seem too attached. I knew how important it was that everyone assumed we were both single, interpersonal relationships between agents aren’t exactly looked highly upon here. Still, watching him talk the ear off of another woman had that familiar blossom of insecurity blooming in my chest. No matter how clueless he was, I knew just how many women and men in our professional vicinity would risk a lot to be with Spencer, and they figured that maybe given the right set of circumstances, perhaps they’d have the opportunity. He never gave them that privilege of course, even though we weren’t public with our relationship, we knew what we were, and he never betrayed that trust.

Still, as he was approached by a particularly tall, gorgeous redhead I found myself growing more and more jealous. He said something and she laughed a little too hard, laying her right hand on his bicep and tossing her hair over her shoulder with the other, and the green eyed monster returned, fiercer than ever. A tear slipped down my cheek as I watched, but I quickly wiped it away, fighting to keep my composure.

When he finally broke away from her, I made my way through the sea of elegantly dressed attendees, whispering his name to catch his attention. He turned to me, features softening as he registered my features.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, concern lacing his tone.

“I’m not feeling well, I’m going to head home.” I told him, forcing a reassuring smile so as not to worry him.

“Would you like me to come with?” He whispered, brushing his hand against my arm, just as the redhead had done to him. Such a simple, loving gesture, and the thought of someone who was not me doing it to him made my blood boil. I shook my head, giving him one last look of reassurance before gathering the top of the skirt of my overly detailed gown in my hands and making my way out of the ballroom and ordering an uber.

When I got back to his apartment, I kicked my heels off haphazardly the second the door locked behind me before stumbling to his bedroom. I don’t know why I’d come back to his apartment, I should’ve gone to mine, but I didn’t want to. I was sick of the hiding, the secrecy. I wanted him. I wanted to live with him. I wanted to be with him.

I reached around to the zipper on the back of my dress, roughly pulling it down halfway before it got caught, the expensive fabric bunching under the hardware. I pulled as hard as I could, desperate to get out of the increasingly suffocating garment, but my attempts seemed in vain as the zipper stayed put.

All the emotions I’d been holding in throughout the night boiled to the surface, showing themselves in the form of hot, frustrated tears. I collapsed face first onto the bed, letting the plush bedding consume me as I folded my arms beneath my cheek, feeling the wetness gather against my skin. I let it all out, quiet sobs wracking my body as I groveled in my jealousy, the physical pain of the restrictive fabric only doubling my emotions.

I didn’t know how long I’d been laying there, but his hand on my shoulder broke me out of the jealousy fueled haze I’d been locked in.

“Y/n? Why didn’t you go home? What’s wrong?” His voice sounded fuzzy as I quickly stood to face him, wiping away my tears.

“I don’t want to go back there Spencer, I want here to be home. I’m not home if I’m not with you. I’m so sick of hiding. I want to be yours.” I blurted, too overwhelmed to think about what I was confessing.

“You are mine.” He whispered.

“I don’t believe you.” I responded.

“There’s no one else y/n, you know that.” He continued, but it did little to calm me.

“All those women at the gala, touching you, flirting with you. I don’t want to have to sit back and watch it anymore. I die a little every time I see it.”

“Y/n, you know I don’t-“

“I know! You don’t enjoy any of it, I get that, but they do! They want you, Spencer, and I can’t bare the thought of losing you to one of them.” I confessed, tears welling in my eyes again.

“That won’t happen.” He said, a kind of sureness in his tone.

“How do I know that?” I asked.

“Because you’re the only one I want. You’re the only one that understands me for who I really am. I don’t care about them, not the way I care about you. I’ve never cared about anyone as much as I care about you.”

“I love you, y/n.” It rolled off his tongue as if they were the truest words he’d ever spoken, and as he placed his hands on my hips I practically melted under his touch.

“I love you too.” I breathed, looking up at him doe-eyed, lip quivering as I held back the tears of contentment fighting to escape my waterline.

“I’m yours.” He whispered, pulling me into him before crashing his lips to mine. I turned to putty in his hands, hanging on his every touch as he pulled away and spun me around, large hand resting on my exposed shoulder as the other worked carefully to untangle my zipper, finally allowing the fabric of the gown to fall from my frame.

His lips met my neck, sucking hungrily against my blushed skin and I brought my hand to rest in his brunette curls, holding him steadily against me. He pressed his hips flush against my lower back, his member growing hard as he marked my neck, drawing his swollen lips over the purple patches forming across the sensitive skin of my neck.

I whimpered as he nipped at my pulse point, nimble fingers undoing my bra before letting it join my gown on the floor, immediately cradling my breasts in his soft grip. I rolled my hips back against him, earning a deep groan as my free hand moved to palm him through his fitted slacks.

“Let me prove how devoted I am to you.” He breathed, spinning me back around before laying me slowly onto the bed. I propped myself up on my elbows, watching as he removed his suit jacket, then undid the buttons of his dress shirt one by one, maintaining eye contact as he undid his belt and dropped his pants and underwear, leaving him bare for me to take in.

He knelt at the edge of the bed, taking my ankles in his grip before parting my legs, placing a soft kiss to the small dip on the inside of my ankle. He looked up at me, his gaze never leaving my face as I watched him plant wet kiss after wet kiss up the expanse of my leg before repeating the action on the other, the intimate act arousing me more and more by the second.

When he finally reached my left upper thigh, he lingered, drawing his tongue over the apex of my thigh to my panties, licking a flat stripe over the soaked panel of fabric, drawing a panting moan from my throat. He locked eyes with me, placing a kiss over my clit before taking the waistband between his teeth and letting it slap back against my hip, earning a whimper from me.

He gripped either side of my hips, taking my underwear in hand before pulling them slowly down my legs and discarding them across the room.

I watched transfixed as he kissed his way up my body, leaving soft magenta marks blooming like peonies over my damp skin, paying special attention to my breasts.

“You’re perfect.” He mumbled, tongue tracing around my nipple as I blushed at his words.

“I want to devour every inch of you.” He continued, taking the stiff peak gently between his teeth and tugging, sending a delicious mix of pain and pleasure to every nerve ending in my chest.

“Then do it.” I gasped, relaxing back into the bed. He hummed against me, flicking his tongue over my breast as his other hand slid between my thighs, cupping my cunt. He dipped his index finger to part my folds, already swollen and sticky and dripping with need. I wanted him, and although this certainly was not the first time we’d had sex, I was finally going to have him, all of him.

“So wet…” He trailed off, dragging his mouth up the expanse of my neck before drawing me into a kiss, deep and warm and full of a fire I’d never felt from him before. It’s like his confession had set something free in him, torn down a wall or two, uncaged the animal of desire within him.

“All for you.” I whimpered, pulling him down into another kiss.

He pressed two fingers in slow, pressured circles against my swollen clit, his full lips swallowing every last one of my needy moans and whimpers. Any other night I would’ve reveled in it, secretly loved the slow burn of his teasing, but I was far too emotional for that tonight, and I couldn’t put up with not having him inside of me anymore.

“I need you.” I whined, rutting my hips up into him.

“What do you want me to do, my love?” He asked. I huffed, knowing the game he was playing.

“Please Spence, I need you inside of me. Fuck me, show me what I mean to you.” I practically moaned as he continued rubbing harsh circles against my clit.

“That’s my girl, always so eager.” He praised, snaking his hands around the back of my thighs and lifting to wrap my legs around his hips.

He rubbed himself slowly through my folds, properly coating his cock with my slick before aligning the head at my slit, ready and inviting him in. He pushed slowly into me, a low groan slipping from his clenched jaw as he savored every inch of my wet heat and I met him with a tight embrace, gasping at the way he filled me.

I’d never felt so connected before, like I could feel him in every fiber of my being and as he was seated fully inside of me I felt whole, like we were made for each other.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss before he pulled almost completely out, pausing before pushing back in, my wetness making it almost embarrassingly easy. He angled his hips upward, knowing how quickly I’d crumble beneath him with the repeated brush of his cock against that soft spot inside of me.

He looked down at me, a certain warmth spreading over his dilated pupils as he halted his hips and opened his kiss-swollen lips to speak.

“It’s only you. Forever.” He purred, pushing the stray hair from my face before kissing my temple and pistoning his hips forward, punctuating his words with a deep thrust.

Each roll of his hips against mine had my muscles contracting, pulling him closer in every way, never wanting this to end. His rhythm remained steady as he picked up his pace, driving the pressure building inside of me ever closer to bursting.

I snaked one of my hands into his hair, gripping tight as the other found his bicep, matching my grip. I needed to hold him, to feel him, to know that having him here like this wasn’t all a dream. His groans and pants filled the thickening air, like a melody in my ear, mingling with my own and the almost feral “mine” that ripped from his throat on a particularly hard thrust had me crying out for him, clawing at his arm as he repeated the intensity.

I was close, so close and as I felt his cock twitch inside of me I knew he was too. I locked my ankles around his hips, holding him inside of me as he rolled his hips quickly, head dropping onto my shoulder. The continued stimulation of that spot, the sweet spot inside of me only he could hit became too much, bringing stars to my eyes as I cried out his name, euphoria so strong I couldn’t feel my legs as I dug my nails so hard into his arm that I had surely drawn blood.

“I’m yours.” He groaned, hips faltering as he filled me, my cunt still pulsing around him with every spurt of warm cum.

Everything after that was a blur of being held in his arms, whispered I love you’s, and gentle caresses.

“We’ll go to HR as soon as possible, I don’t care what paperwork they want us to fill out or how much shit we’ll get from Morgan, I want everyone at that gala tonight to know that I love you.” He broke the silence, his words a final cementing comfort.

No more hiding, no more sneaking around, no more secrets. Only the two of us.

——

Tag List: @pleasantwitchgarden

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Pregnancy scare with Tan? 🫢

im so not okay bc I love stuff like this😮‍💨 thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

I haven’t used a tan gif in so long omg!! this makes it fun

BROWN PAPER BAG.

tangerine x fem!reader — angst

word count. 895

warnings. made it angsty and a little dramatic bc i love prego scare fics. the ending is meant to be up in the air, so you can imagine the results you want.

Late periods were often nothing to worry about, your underwear almost always spotting with blood mere hours after your little panics. Though, this time, it felt different. Those few hours never rolled around, and they quickly began to turn into days - and with every day that passed, your head filled with more dread.

You didn't want to worry Tangerine with something that could be nothing, so you kept all uneasy thoughts to yourself - letting yourself wallow in the feeling alone. But you were never truly alone, and no matter how hard you pushed him away, he would still be there - patiently waiting for you to let him back in.

He noticed the change in you recently, and every time he tried to question it, all he would get from you in response was a simple, 'it's nothing,' or a 'just tired.' But he's far too stubborn to let that be it. 

You had just returned home from the pharmacy, brown paper bag stashed tightly inside your handbag - keeping it hidden. You place it on the sideboard beside the front door and head to the kitchen to get a drink, filling a glass with water. 

Tangerine makes his way over to you and presses a kiss into your cheek, welcoming you back. "Don't suppose you got me deodorant?" he asks, referring to the little list he gave you before you left.

You hum, smiling at him as you place the glass down, moving across to get a snack from the cupboard. "In my bag," you gesture to the front door.

Before you have a second to realise what you've said, Tangerine has his hand in your bag, his grip tight on the paper bag. When you hear the rustling, you rush over to him and try to pry it from his hands.

He would've left it be, but you were so desperate to stop him that it only made him more sceptical. He holds the bag at a height, extending the other out to you - keeping you at a distance.

"Don't— just," you mutter, reaching for the bag. "Come on, just— please. Give it back."

"No," he shakes his head, voice almost stern. "Do you want to tell me? Or should I save us the trouble and look myself?" he asks, giving you no options.

You shake your head, lips tight to stop them from wobbling. You felt cornered, stuck in a problem you created for yourself. You stand still, containing your attempts to stop him, but when his hand reaches inside the bag, you turn around and leave the room - the atmosphere growing tense for you to want to deal with.

You make your way to your shared room, leaving him in the hallway to connect the dots by himself. You felt mortified for the way it had all just played out, embarrassment creeping in and replacing those feelings of dread. You close the bedroom door when you hear the stairs creak, the familiar footsteps of your lover making his way up. 

He knocks on the door before he opens it. He lingers in the doorway for a beat, watching you fiddle with things on the dresser. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, tone like that of hurt. "That's why you've been so off with me."

You hate keeping him in the lurk, especially about something as big as this —though it still could be nothing— so you decide to stop fighting it. 

"I'm late," you utter, avoiding his focused gaze. "I'm late. And I'm scared for what it means."

He pauses, trying to collect himself and push away his prior wounded feelings - wanting to reassure you, seeing as you needed it more right now. 

"And that's why you bought..." he strings off, referring to your bag of pregnancy tests. 

You sigh softly and pinch the bridge of your nose. "Yeah," you nod, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. "I should've told you," you speak towards the floor - diverting from his attention.

He follows suit and stands in front of you, crouching down to meet your eyeline. "Yeah, you should've," he hums. "But that don't matter right now. How late are you?" he asks, looking over the rectangular box.

"Nearly two weeks," you mumble, sadly smiling at him.

"Two weeks?" he repeats, tone hurt like that time before. "You've been feeling this for two weeks. And you didn't tell me?"

"I wanted to be sure," you shrug, trying to ease the tension. "It's usually nothing to worry about. It's late sometimes, but," you exhale, halting the rest of your sentence.

"But not like this," he finishes your thought. "I really wished you'd told me."

"I know, I'm sorry. I feel awful about it all."

"I wanted to be there for you," he places a hand over your knee, using you for stability as he stands back up. 

He reaches for your hand and helps you stand, his gentle grip leading you towards the bathroom. He stops when he reaches the door and turns to face you - the small white box clutched in his free hand.

"Do you want me to wait out here?" he questions, trying to scope you out.

"No," you reply, finally letting him in. "Can you do it with me?"

He hums, giving your hand a squeeze. "Course."

[obrowne21]

ʙᴀʙʏ ɪ’ᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ

Chapter 2 - “Hates the Perfect Word”

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“Don’t stay out here too late, Baby.”

Sergeant Ken Lemmons was only partly joking with Baby when he said this to her. However over the three weeks of getting to know the stubborn blonde, he realized it wasn’t so far fetched for her to lose track of time.

And that would be proven correct as Baby was still out on the Airstrip, working away. She found it difficult to leave seeing as the view was so beautiful. The sunset painted the sky a warm orange and pink tone. A calm breeze briefly passed her, ruffling the tall grass, the trees, and even the bottom of her dress as it did so.

Sighing, she found a comfortable spot on a nearby crate. Busying herself by screwing two engine pieces together with a basic rod. The action was done smoothly like muscle memory.

A loud sound of an engine and the screech of tires had broken her peaceful state. Internally rolling her eyes, Baby prepared herself.

That could mean only one thing.

The jeep made a rough stop in front of her causing her to look up at the person responsible for the interruption.

Major John ‘Bucky’ Egan.

Even the thought of his name sparked annoyance in Delilah. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him that was so infuriating.

Maybe it was the way he walked around base like he was the king of the world. He had everybody under his spell, especially her brother Gale. She couldn’t understand how the two had ever became friends.

Or maybe it was how he would sometimes get caught looking at her but would never say anything.

It was like a game of tug of war. Always giving her signs of interest but then taking it back as if he physically and mentally couldn’t bring himself to go there with her. Like something was stopping him, more like someone.

She had a pretty good idea of who.

“A little birdy told me you were out here.” Leaning back in his seat, Bucky faced the woman.

Delilah, uninterested, gave him a nod before focusing back onto her work. “Never really liked birds.”

“Sad to hear that. They’re real fascinating creatures. I’m more of a unicorn guy myself-”

“I bet you are.”

After a beat of silence, Delilah glanced up to see him staring at her once again. It could’ve been because she had just rudely interrupted him but by the way the corner of his mouth twitched into his signature smirk made her think differently.

His eyes held nothing but admiration as he kept his gaze on her. The way she smoothly worked away like it was her second nature was wildly attractive. Not to mention the quick wits that shamelessly left her pretty mouth, which instead of feeling insulted he would always feel more amazed by her.

“Gale send you out here?”

“No.”

“So tell me…Major Bucky,” The name rolled off her tongue as a taunt. Placing the tool and engine piece down beside her, she leaned back onto her hands. “To what do I owe the pleasure of being in your presence?”

Bucky watched as she seductively crossed her legs and tilted her head awaiting for an answer. The reminder that she was his best friends little sister kept blaring in the back of his mind. But it was so damn hard to listen to.

“Maybe I just want to be in yours.” Copying her action, Bucky tilted his head. “You ever think of that?”

”It’s hard to when you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

He knew exactly what she referring to. Part of it was intentional but at the same time he really never knew how to approach her. Which was odd for him.

John Egan never struggled in talking to women. However he would always overthink with Delilah. She made him nervous, in a good way.

“Can’t say I know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” Bucky let out a nervous scoff knowing he had been called out.

The use of the nickname made Baby raise her eyebrows in surprise. “That’s a new one.”

“You like it?”

“I’m not sure yet.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve been called many things, Major Bucky, but sweet has never been one of them.”

“What?” He dropped his jaw dramatically, pretended to be shocked. “You’re the sweetest.”

Bucky watched as she let out an adorable laugh as she threw her head back. A small wave of pride washed over him at the fact that he got her to smile, let alone talk to him for more than five seconds.

“If I’m sweet then you’re a good singer.” She playfully jutted.

“Oh,” He placed a hand on his heart. “You wound me, Baby. I’d have you know I’m an excellent singer.”

“A little birdy told me differently.”

Looking away Bucky chewed away on the piece of gum in his mouth. Damn, she was good.

“If this birdy happens to be tall, boring, and has a head full of blonde hair on his head than you should ignore him and come see for yourself.”

Delilah laughed not taking him seriously. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious.” He said. Eyes connecting with her honey brown ones. “There’s a dance, day after tomorrow. Come and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Might skip out on this one.” She declined.

Nodding Bucky looked down. An idea popped into his head that might change her mind. “Huh, guess you Clevens are more alike than you want to admit.”

If there was anything he learned from witnessing the Cleven sibling duo was that they both were complete opposites. Buck was more serious, rule follower, and never really liked to do anything risky.

And although he didn’t talk to Delilah much, he would notice how she liked to do things in an untraditional way. Her presence here as one of the first female mechanics proves that. She also loved to make fun out of most situations. A small joke was always at the tip of her tongue and she could never keep it there.

He’d like to bet she loved to dance too.

Picking up the tool beside her she pointed it at Bucky with an annoyed glare. “Take that back right now.”

Bingo.

“Makes sense.” He shrugged his shoulders innocently. “Guess the ‘never have a good time’ genes got passed down to both of ya.”

“I can have a good time.” She rebutted.

Bucky nodded, not really convinced at all. “Okay.”

A moment of silence passed as Bucky continued to poke fun at Delilah as she thought over his words.

Letting go of her cheek, the one she was anxiously biting, Delilah sighed. “What times the stupid dance?”

A smile of victory took plastered across the Major's face as he mentally celebrated. “I’ll be there at 8:00, that’s when the real party starts.”

“Can’t wait.” She gave him a fake smile.

Taking a look around, they both knew that it was about to get dark soon and should head back.

Reaching over the passenger seat of the Jeep, Bucky propped open the door with one arm. “Hop in, sweetheart. I’ll give you a ride back.”

“I have a bike, you know?”

“That old thing?” Simultaneously the two turned to look at the bike leaning on the side of the crate she was sitting on.

“Yeah,” Delilah smiled proudly. It was one of the things she built on her own when she first got here. “Isn’t he pretty?”

“He?”

“Well you men always refer to your cars and planes as woman, so I’d thought I’d return the favor.”

As the blonde continued to admire her piece of work, Bucky’s gaze shifted to her. Taking in her smooth tan skin and pretty freckles that he’d like to individually kiss. And finally her full lips that were just calling his name.

He watched as she grabbed the handles of the bike and easily kicked her leg over to get on it. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Baby?”

“I’d rather ride a thousand miles on this old thang than one in there with you.”

He was left speechless as she petaled away without a second thought. The fact that her and a Buck were siblings was still a shock to him.

No matter how different the two were they both had something in common. The Clevens had captured John Egans heart. With a Buck it was respect and friendship. And with Delilah.

Oh, Delilah. He hadn’t even got to know her fully yet and she already had him hooked.

Snapping out of his trance he started the engine before catching up and riding along beside her. Now he was back to looking between the road and her pretty side profile.

“Still got you to go to the dance with me.” He gloated.

Once again, John Egan had managed to make her smile. Shaking her head she tried to petal faster but he would just match her speed. “I hate you!”

“Hates a strong word.”

“Hates the perfect word.”

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A/N : As y’all can tell I love a good slow burn. Hope y’all liked it! Let me know your thoughts on it please, I love to hear feedback.

ALSO DAYUM YALL REALLY CAME THREW WITH THE LIKES ON MY POSTS

Tag list(I can’t believe I have those now🤭):

@valenftcrush

@justheretoreadthhx

[love-kurdt]

Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 21

word count: 966

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

May 17, 1989

Dear Will,

Today started out pretty rough, since one of my tires on my bike popped when I was halfway to your house. And given how quickly Hawkins has become a fucking sauna over the past few weeks (thanks, rural midwest), it was not a blast to push my bike the rest of the way on foot. Again, I could have taken my car to begin with, but I think in some way shape or form, we crave that element of our childhoods, riding bikes through the neighborhood like old times. Plus, Lucas and I are the only ones who have cars right now, so majority rules. Anyway, I still wound up at your house about half an hour early, and we spent that time trying to figure out how to patch up and refill my tire. No dice, unfortunately. But our hands brushed a few times, so it wasn’t too inconvenient.

Jonathan ended up coming into the garage at one point to grab a few tools (he’s been helping Hop out with some home projects, like a new shelving unit for your living room and a deck out back— but you already know that, why am I going on about this?) and suggested I just share your bike with you. You laughed so loudly that I thought I was gonna puke. I forced my anxiety back down and reminded Jon of how tall I am (last time I went to the doctor they said I was 6’3”– no, I’m not kidding), and he insisted that I, “just try and sit on the handlebars, or something.” I thought the idea was insane, but you seemed to be pretty entertained by it, so I shook my head with slight embarrassment before I motioned for you to mount the bike.

You swung your leg over the bar and rested your feet on either side, a huge grin on your face. “Do your worst, Wheeler,” you told me. I was so tempted to dramatically fling myself over the handlebars like a ragdoll, but then again, I didn’t feel like throwing out my back at the ripe age of eighteen. I turned so my back faced you, reached behind me to grip the handlebars, and hoisted myself up as best as I could, while you reached a hand out to hold my side and keep me steady. I must’ve looked like a fucking praying mantis or some shit, with my knees almost hitting my chin because of how I was balancing my toes on the front fender, but I didn’t care, because your reaction was fucking priceless. You were hysterically laughing, and I couldn’t help but begin to laugh as well.

Before I knew what was happening, Jonathan had disappeared and come back within record speed, and a bright flash hit my eyes as he clicked the button on his camera. I glanced back at you, and thankfully, you didn’t look fazed at all. In fact, you said to Jonathan, “please tell me I’ll get a copy of that,” while catching your breath from laughing so hard.

After that whole debacle, we actually tried riding the bike with me in front, but you couldn’t really see on account of the top of your head barely reaching my shoulders. So we eventually gave up on trying and just walked to Dustin’s to meet the rest of the Party, since his house isn’t too far away from yours, and Jon was still busy with his project and couldn’t drive us. Which I was totally fine with, because… duh, time alone with you is time well spent. We played D&D, and I kind of got a little too invested in your campaign. I think I just love seeing you so happy. I don’t think I could ever get tired of watching you in your element.

Once the session ended, Lucas gave us a ride home (I love how I just referred to your house as my home, I might’ve gotten a little emotional just now while writing it). We walked into your living room and saw Jonathan sitting on the couch with a bunch of photos spread out across the surface of the coffee table. Apparently, he’d gone and processed all of his films at Melvald’s while we were at Dustin’s; there were two copies of the photo he’d taken earlier.

He gave me one before asking if I wanted to stay for dinner. As much as I would’ve loved to, I actually did need to take care of Holly tonight, since our parents are in Ohio right now at some conference for my dad’s job. You offered to drive me back to my house, and I tried not to look too excited as I said yes.

Once we arrived in my driveway, I leaned over the center console and hugged you, telling you I had a great time with you today. You hugged me back (you hadn’t for the first few seconds and I nearly had a panic attack) and said you had a great time with me too. I went inside, holding the freshly printed photo of us in my hand.

So… I might have framed it. I know, it’s weird and frankly kind of stalker-y, but… deal with it. You’ll never actually know about this anyway. Not unless I leave the frame sitting in plain sight when you come into my room, or if I recklessly forget to hide these letters detailing where exactly my copy of the photo went, as well as the countless times I’ve talked about wanting to kiss you. For now, I’m keeping it under my pillow. 

Okay, I’m gonna stop writing now in order to stop myself from sounding like even more of a creep than I already am.

Love,

Mike

-

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[obsessedwithlute]

Cherrisnake lover here! Can we see what a first date might be like for them?

I am certain that by this ask, you did not mean "Modern AU where Emily pays for their whole date because she's sick of seeing them dance around each other for years and they go see Hamilton".

Alas, I cannot control myself.

Contains swearing, queerphobia (specifically transphobia), slander of religion, people using religion as an excuse to discriminate and possible implications of child abuse and anxiety.

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

Pentious’s hands were shaking as he stood at Cherri’s apartment door, trying to work up the courage to knock. I’m still five minutes early, he told himself. I’ve got time. He clutched the bag with two priceless tickets to Hamilton inside, reminding himself that Cherri had agreed to this and he had planned it to perfection and really, what’s the worst that could happen? Hmm, I don’t know. I could be humiliated forever and cry myself to sleep for the next month.

Cherri doesn’t like cowards. She’s into bravery and all that. I’m only lowering my chances by hiding out here.

Pentious lightly banged his fist against Cherri’s door and waited for a few seconds that felt like eternity.

The door clicked open and Cherri stood in front of him, lightly smirking. Don’t blush don’t blush don’t- Goddamnit, he could feel the blood rush to his cheeks. After some awkward silence, Pentious uncovered in himself the otherworldly determination it took to whisper, “Hi.”

He cursed himself.

“I mean, um- hello!” he blurted. Stop stop stop code red you are actively making this worse-

“Hello to you too,” Cherri responded, a sarcastic but kind smile stretching across her face. She grabbed Pentious by the arm and dragged him into her apartment. He fumbled in his bag for the tickets and handed one to Cherri.

“H-here,” he stammered. “Please don’t think this is, like… too much for a first date… Emily gave me the tickets so…” Jesus Christ, Pentious what are you thinking don’t tell her that!!!

“Are you kidding me?? You know I love musicals, don’t apologize… But you will be sitting through my terrible Angelica impression on the way back so… just wanted to warn you.” Cherri smirked again.

Pentious smiled. “I am well known in my friend group for my horrid George Washington voice.”

Cherri nodded and turned her back to remove her coat from the hook it sat on. “Hm, well I must say I find horrid George Washington voices very sexy.” Before Pentious could respond to that, she held up a finger and hissed, “I said what I said.”

Cherri and Pentious walked to the subway station and after a twenty-minute wait due to some hold-up, collapsed into the comfortable train seats.

Pentious reached in his pocket for the cards he had prepared. The first read, in last night’s tired, drunk scrawling ASK HER FAVORITE COLOR.

He obeyed himself, turned to Cherri, and asked, “What’s your favorite color?” 

“Red, you know, like blood,” she said absentmindedly. “Why?”

“Oh, um no reason, just, you know, get to you know shit and all that, even though I mean, like, we've been friends for years, I should probably know your… OH FUCK! I mean, dammit! Um- Sorry for swearing… There are little children here… fuck it…”

“You’re capable of swearing?” Cherri asked incredulously. “You seem so… innocent… like one of those people who apologizes for saying, like, heck.”

“Um… it’s something that I accidentally do whenever I’m nervous- I try to work on it but often fail, and you’re referring to Emily, not me.”

“Don’t remind me…”

“Of the time she basically got on her knees and begged forgiveness for saying gosh?”

“Blame her upbringing,” Cherri scoffed. “And Sera. And the church.”

“Mostly the church,” Pentious agreed.

“A-hem,” a brunette woman coughed from across the train. She stood up and began to march over towards Cherri and Pentious. “I will not hear the good god-fearing community slandered in the vicinity of my young, impressionable children. And I will certainly not tolerate that propaganda pinned to your shirt, ma’am.” She pointed to the transgender flag and he/him pins on Pentious’s shirt, clearly taking a look at his visible hips.

Cherri stood up. “Hello, what are your name and pronouns?” she asked, a fake-sweet smile on her face.

“I have very strong words to say to you, but unlike you young miscreants, I won’t allow them to taint my mouth,” she said.

A second woman, this one in a leather jacket, left the herd of children the brunette had been ushering on the train and stepped next to her. “Sis, we both know your mouth is already tainted. And if you can’t stand these people insulting your ‘good community’ in front of your impressionable children, why don’t you go spend some time with those children, instead of just insulting their clothing like you have all night?”

The brunette turned to leave, but before she did so, she eyed Cherri, Pentious and her sister, and told them, “You should ask God for forgiveness.”

She turned on her heel and stalked off.

“I am so sorry,” the woman in leather said. “She was completely out of line.” “Please make sure she doesn’t rub off on those kids too much,” Cherri told her at the same time Pentious said, “Forget about us, just worry about those poor children.” The woman smiled. “You too are such a cute couple- don’t worry; I’m not making some stupid ‘people of opposite genders in public- ooh, they must be dating’ assumption. You’re just obviously compatible!”

“Oh, um, well-” Pentious blushed. Again. Fuck.

“It’s just our first date,” Cherri finished.

“I see,” the woman in leather said, nodding. She removed a small notebook and pen from her pocket, ripped out a page and scribbled something on it.

She handed it to them and smiled. “Here’s my number. Call me when you get engaged so I can show up at your wedding.” “Our what?” Cherri demanded. The woman just smiled and left.

After their stop was called, Cherri and Pentious looked at each other, simultaneously shrugged and just laughed.

Suddenly, Pentious gasped. “We’re going to be late, we need to fucking run!”

“Okay, then let’s run!” Cherri yelled, grabbing Pentious by the wrist again and basically dragging them out of the station.

Once they’d finally made it to the theater and dodged death a few times, Pentious was gasping and Cherri was barely breaking a sweat.

“How… are you… so fast?” he demanded between breaths.

“I did cross-country in high school. Come on, we can’t miss anything!!” she yelled.

Finally, they managed to make it to the theater and settled into their seats. Somewhere between “The Schuyler Sisters” and “Right Hand Man”, Cherri and Pentious’s hands found each other.

After the show, Cherri and Pentious bought pretty much their weight in Hamilton merch (Emily was sponsoring their whole date, anyway, what did it matter?) and called an Uber- they were not in the mood for another wonderful subway experience.

Waiting in the dark, they talked about a lot of things they just hadn’t had time to discuss before, smiled, laughed, and got a little emotional.

Their Uber arrived and dropped Cherri off at her house, then drove Pentious the rest of the way to his.

The next morning, Pentious’s phone lit up with one text from Cherri: So, what flavor cake should we have? Wouldn’t want to let the cool aunt down.

[sofiaispunk]

The Space Cowboy and his Ladybug - CHAPTER 6

Javier Peña x reader

Summary: You visit Chucho's farm with your husband, Steven, where unexpected tensions and old wounds resurface. Tensions escalate to a boiling point, leaving you with a life-altering decision to make.

Words: 2,7K

Warnings: angst, trust issues, violence, brief mention of past domestic abuse (mentally and physically), insecurity, references to suicide attempt, smut, TRAUMA, slow burn, heartbreak, cheating, unhappy marriage

The gravel beneath the tires of your sleek, black car crunched as you pull into Chucho's familiar driveway. The familiar aroma of hay and livestock filled the air, stirring up a cocktail of nostalgia and anticipation within you. As you looked out of the car window, your eyes are met with the timeless beauty of the farm. The barn stands as tall as ever, its rustic red paint worn yet still vibrant. The old oak tree, your childhood retreat, cast a long, comforting shadow over the familiar scene.

Stepping out of the car, your sandals sank into the soft earth. The landscape looked almost the same, except now, it was bathed in the golden hue of your memories. You recalled the countless hours you spent playing here, always with Chucho ready to tend to your scrapes and comfort you after your father's bouts of anger.

Chucho emerged from the barn wearing his usual cowboy hat and plaid shirt. His face lit up at the sight of you, "Mija!" he called out, pulling you into a big bear hug. You breathed in his familiar scent, a comforting blend of earth and tobacco, and for a moment, you feel like you're thirteen again.

You introduced your husband to Chucho. While Steven shook  Chucho's hand, he looked down to check his shoes for dust. You just rolled your eyes to that, how rude.

As you all walked towards the farmhouse, Chucho peppered Steven with questions. However, Steven’s curt responses, which were always mainly centered around his achievements and possessions, slowly erase the initial warmth from Chucho’s face.

You noticed Chucho settin an extra plate at the table, your heart fluttered. "Is Javier joining us?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. Steven looked at you, confused, "Who’s Javier?"

The room went silent as Chucho looked up to you, shock evident on his face. "You never told him about Javier?" he asked, disbelief lacing his voice. Steven, however, seems uninterested and casually flicked through his phone, "She never talks about her past."

Chucho’s eyes softened as he turned to you, his understanding gaze seems to read the pain you carried from your past. After a moment's hesitation, you spoke up, "We grew up together. Javier is … was my best friend." Steven gave you a short nod, signalizing he heard you.

 As you all sat down at the dinner table, the delicious aroma of the food Chucho prepared envelope the room. The wooden table is set with care, and Chucho sat opposite to you and Steven.

Chucho cleared his throat and begins to engage Steven in conversation. "So, Steven, what do you do for a living? I heard you are a lawyer?" he asked politely.

“Yep, I’m a lawyer,” Steven replied nonchalantly, without looking up from his phone.

 “Ah, that’s a noble profession. You must help a lot of people in need. Tell me, what was the last case that made you feel like you’ve made a difference?”

Steven smirked, still not looking up from his damn phone. “Oh, I don’t do that kind of law. I’m a corporate lawyer. My last case got one of the biggest tech companies off the hook. Saved them a fortune and made myself a pretty penny.”

Chucho raised an eyebrow but continued. “I see. Well, providing is important too. How do you two like to spend time together?” Chucho asked, his gaze shifting between you and Steven.

Steven finally glanced up from his phone. “Well, you know, parties, events, the usual. Anything where she can wear one of her fancy dresses. Right, honey?” He chuckled.

You felt your cheeks turning red with embarrassment as Chucho looked at you with concern.

But he continued his inquiry. “Steven, tell me son, what do you think is the most important thing in a marriage?”

Without hesitation, Steven answered, “Well, stability, I guess. And by stability, I mean financial stability. Everything else can be managed.”

There’s a slight frown on Chucho’s face, but he pressed on. “And how about love? Trust? Spending quality time together?”

Steven waved his hand dismissively. “Sure, those are nice bonuses.”

You could see Chucho's face becoming a mix of disappointment and concern. 

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Steven, this wonderful woman sitting next to you, she is like a daughter to me. Her heart is made of gold. She’s been through enough for a lifetime. What I want to know is, are you going to be the person that makes sure she never has to face a day without love and understanding?”

Steven rolled his eyes to that, “Look, I get it. You care about her. But we have our life, and it’s working just fine. Plus, I don’t need your approval or anything.”

As Steven leaned back, seemingly oblivious to the gravity of his words, something inside you finally snapped. Your voice, firm and resolute, filled the room. “Steven! How dare you speak to Chucho like that? This is the man who was like a father to me when my own wasn't there! Show some respect!”

Chucho placed a comforting hand on your arm, trying to calm you down. 

“Mija, it’s okay. I am sure he didn’t mean it like that. Let’s just enjoy the dinner,” he said softly.

But you were struggling to contain the pent up emotions. Before you could say anything else, the sound of a truck pulling up outside caught everyone’s attention.

The door swung open and in walked Javier, wearing a light blue button-up shirt with his signature yellow aviators hanging on his shirt. His hair was slightly tousled, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe. You couldn’t help but think that he looked like the epitome of perfection.

Javier took a seat and gave a curt nod to Steven after Chucho introduced them. There was a distance in his eyes, especially when he looked at you which you immediatelty noticed.

The air was thick with tension. Javier’s presence brought  a rush of memories and emotions, making the atmosphere even more charged.

Steven's eyes suddenly narrowed and he leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Oh, so you are the Javier everybody keeps talking about. Weird, she never mentioned your name before,” he said, gesturing towards you.

Javier's face remained unreadable as he coolly replied, “Yeah, we knew each other briefly. Wasn’t too important.”

You felt like his words just cut through you, and you involuntarily gasp. You tried to hide the hurt his comment caused, but you felt the weight of his words pushing down on your chest. You remained silent, biting back the flood of emotions threatening to spill over.

Chucho, always the peacemaker, tried to steer the conversation away, but the damage was already done. Your heart felt heavy, and the room suddenly seems much smaller.

As the dinner progressed, Steven seemed to take an interest in talking about himself again. He started describing one of his latest cases in elaborate detail, mentioning the enormous settlement he managed to secure for his client.

Finally, Steven took a breath and looked at Javier with a somewhat condescending smirk. “So, Javier, what do you do? You said you’re a pilot? What, like for a small airline or something?”

Javier straightend up in his chair. “No,” he said, his voice steady. “I work for the DEA.”

Chucho couldn’t contain his pride and added. “He was in Colombia for years. Took down Escobar, he did!” he beamed excitedly, his eyes twinkling with admiration.

Steven chuckled dryly. “Wow, running around in a poor country playing superhero. I could never do that. Be away from the comfort of my home and, of course, my lovely lady here.” He said this in a tone dripping with sarcasm, pointing to you.

You felt a twinge of annoyance at Steven's condescending attitude but remain silent.

Javier’s jaw clenched, but he maintained his cool demeanor. Steven, meanwhile, continued to prod. “So, are you married, Javier? Got someone waiting for you at home?”

Javier’s eyes flickered briefly towards you before he answered curtly, “No.”

The room fell silent again for the 124524 time. You could almost feel the weight of the unsaid words and emotions between you and Javier. Steven, oblivious to the underlying currents, continued to dig into his meal.

Chucho, sensing the tension, began to talk about the farm and how the harvest has been this year, slowly steering the conversation back to safer ground.

The conversation at the table continued to swirl around you, but you felt your chest tightening. You couldn’t  take it anymore – the bickering, the memories, the hurt, all of it was just too much. Without a word, you pushed back your chair and rush out of the room.

You headed towards the stables, where the horses were. This place was your sanctuary when you were a teenager, and everything seemed overwhelming. The soft neighing of the horses and their warm presence always managed to calm your stormy heart.

You buried your face in the mane of one of the horses and allowed the tears to flow. The weight of the years and the emotions that you kept buried for so long seem to finally found release.

After a while, you heared footsteps approaching. You didn’t need to look up to know it’s Chucho. He always knew where to find you.

You both stood there in silence for a while. The night air was cool, and the gentle breeze carried the earthy smell of the fields.

Finally, Chucho broke the silence. His voice was tender but firm. “Mija, why did you marry him? I know, and you know, that he doesn’t deserve you. He’s a total jerk.”

You just shrugged, your eyes welling up again. There were no words that can capture the depth of your emotions right now.

Chucho opened his arms, and you collapsed into his embrace. His warmth and strength enveloped you, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be that scared teenager again, finding solace in his care.

“I still love him,” you whisper through sobs. “I love him so much it hurts, and I can’t bear it anymore.”

Chucho didn’t need clarification on whom you were talking about. He knew. He’s always known. He simply held you tighter and let you cry.

After what felt like an eternity, you felt a sense of calm. Chucho gently pushed you back, holding your face in his hands, and looked into your eyes.

“Let me tell you something, mija, something you need to know.”

You looked at him attentively, your heart pounding in your chest.

“The day you left Laredo,” Chucho started, “Javier went out of his mind looking for you. He drove around town all night, shouting your name, knocking on doors. It was as if a part of him was ripped out and he couldn’t breathe.”

Chucho’s voice softened. “For weeks, months even, he was looking for you. We all were worried sick about him. He was like a ghost, going through the motions of life but not really living.”

Your breath caught in your throat as Chucho continued.

“And then, the night before his wedding, Lorraine told him the truth. She was drunk, and it slipped out. She told him about the phone call she had with you, how you told her you were hurt by your dad and needed help.”

A single tear rolled down your cheek as you remember the pain of that night, the utter despair.

“Javier,” Chucho’s voice broke a little, “he went wild with anger and guilt. He drove straight to your dad’s house in the middle of the night. He confronted him, and it took five men to pull him off your father.”

Your hand immediately flew to your mouth as you stifle a sob. Chucho’s arm was still around you, his presence strong and comforting.

“And the next day,” Chucho’s voice was now barely above a whisper, “he didn’t show up to his own wedding. He couldn’t marry her, knowing what he knew, knowing that he failed the one person he truly loved.”

The night air was still, and the only sounds were the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft breathing of the horses. You felt like your heart is going to burst from your chest.

Chucho looked at you and smiled tenderly. “Mija, love is a powerful thing. It can break us, but it can also heal us. Don’t let the pain of the past rob you of the joy that could be in your future.”

You took a deep breath and nod.

Chucho continued, his eyes looking now up at the night sky.

“Javier, he’s always been running. After the wedding that never was, he fled to Colombia. Searching for something, anything, to fill the void. He thought that if he could save others, maybe he could save himself,” Chucho’s voice was laden with emotion.

“But no matter how many criminals he caught, no matter how many lives he saved, it never was enough. It couldn’t bring him peace. Because what he was really searching for was not in Colombia or anywhere else in the world.”

Chucho turned back to you, his eyes piercing into yours. “He was looking for you, mija. You are the missing piece in his soul, just as he is yours.”

You felt like your entire world is spinning. All these years, all the pain and loneliness, it all made sense now. You and Javier, two souls lost in the world, looking for the one thing that could make you whole – each other.

As you entered the house again, you found Steven pacing the living room like a caged animal. His face was red, and you could feel the anger radiating off him. The moment he saw you, he stormed over, his fingers biting into your arm as he grabbed you.

"Where have you been?" he snarled, his voice reverberating through the room. "You leave me alone in this place, and you make a scene? What is wrong with you?”

The pain from his grip made you cry out. Your heart was pounding as tears welled up in my eyes.

That’s when you saw a blur of motion from the corner of your eye. Javier had emerged from the kitchen, his face set in stone.

“Get your hands off her,” he thundered. Before you knew what was happening, Javier had Steven by the collar and shoved him up against the wall. His voice was low and menacing as he growled, “If you ever talk to her or touch her like that again, I swear to God you’ll fucking regret it.”

Steven’s eyes were wide with shock and he stuttered, trying to form words but failing.

Javier's gaze didn’t waver. He looked like a man who’d seen too much, and wouldn’t allow another ounce of pain to be inflicted upon someone he cared about.

Suddenly, Chucho appeared in the room, taking in the scene with a calm but stern gaze.

“Javier,” Chucho said firmly. Javier seemed to hear something unspoken in Chucho’s voice, and he released Steven, who crumpled to the floor.

As Javier’s dark eyes bore into Steven, he commanded him, "Leave. Now."

Steven, still panting from the confrontation, replied with a snarl, "Gladly." Then, he reached for your arm and yanked you towards him. His gaze was cold as ice as he looked down at you. "Are you coming or what?"

The room seemed to constrict around you. Your breaths came shallow, and you felt like the walls were closing in on you once again.

You were torn from your thoughts when Javier's voice broke through the tension. "No... wait, Bug, please..Stay.”

[dib-thing-wannabe]

The Villain's Untold Moldings - Chapter Three

<<<prev

(Reminder: Robot doesn't have his canon design in this fanfic, he has the more human design made by @taxlthomas / @itsalldownhillfromherehoney so I highly advise that you go take a look at their design of him before reading any of the chapter's of this fanfic. If needed, I'll happily tag you in their art if you can't find what I'm referring to.)

Memory log 3,693 - Date: Oct. 19, 2015 - Time: 00:42

Romeo was in middle of setting up another machine as I overheard the Pj Masks make a plan as to stop him. Honestly, I see a very easy way as to how they could stop him. The machine he is currently working is simply just to transfer all the power from the city to another device which would trap the city in a dome, and effectively making it his. The device for the dome is practically indestructible, but if they destroy the part that causes the transfer, not only would it completely put the plan to a hault, but it may also destroy the machine that creates the dome as well. From the looks of it, only Gecko recognizes this, and is trying to tell the others.

"Guys, look!" He whispered to them, pointing at the transfer. "We don't need to focus on the big machine just yet, we need to focus on-"

"Hush Gecko, we're trying to come up with a plan." Catboy cut him off, speaking sternly yet quietly.

Gecko had a shocked look, but simply stayed quiet for the time being.

"Maybe we can unplug it! Then the dome can't be built!" Owlette spoke up excitedly.

Gecko gave her a confused look before softly speaking up. "Um, actually, it doesn't have a plug, it has a-"

"That's an amazing idea! Let's do it!" Catboy told her, cutting Gecko off once again.

As both Catboy and Owlette dashed towards the machine, Gecko let out a tired sigh before following behind them reluctantly. This goes on for around an hour more, where Gecko tries to tell his teammates this vital information that's definitely needed yet they instead ignore him. This isn't the first time that I've seen this routine happen, and I doubt that it'll be the last time for a while. They have gotten better at listening to him from what I have seen, but it's still obvious that they don't listen to him as often as they should.

After a while, Romeo eventually captures both Catboy and Owlette as they had gotten ahead of themselves again. Gecko is hiding from Romeo's vision, yet I can see him still. He looks... tired. Tired and frustrated.

"Let us go, Romeo!" Owlette cried out.

"Unhand us this instant!" Catboy growled at him, trying to escape.

Romeo let out a teasing laugh before speaking. "Oooh, but why? You both are much less annoying when you're like this! It's so nice!"

The two continued to bicker at him and even at one another, with Romeo taunting them about how he's going to take over the world and there's nothing they can do about it and they demanded for him to let them go. Out of the corner of my robotic eye, I see something green moving towards Romeo's machines. I turned and saw that it was Gecko, who is at this point ignoring his teammates, I'm guessing because he knows that they aren't in any danger at this time.

"Hold on, what are you doing-" I say to him, walking towards him as to stop him from presumably destroying it.

He quickly shot his head in my direction and spoke in an annoyed tone. "Something that I have been trying to tell my friends that we should do for the past hour."

I froze as he spoke and as I saw his face, and more importantly, his eyes. His body language, his voice, his determination, it all read off as angry and frustrated with everything, but his eyes.. his eyes show deep sadness and tiredness, just wanting to be listened to for once and not be ignored by the others. A look that I'm all too familiar with because of Romeo.

I could only bring myself to look down at him as he turned back towards the machines and continues walking. Quickly, he made it to the part that transfer's the power for the dome and grabbed it.

Holding up the part with one hand using his Gecko super strength, he turned towards the three who are still talking and whistled loudly towards them. They all looked at him, with his team looking confused while Romeo went wide eyed, realizing what he was planning.

"WAIT, DON'T-" Romeo cried out, reaching his arms towards Gecko, ready to run at him.

*CRASH*

Gecko threw it directly below him with all his strength, the gears, bolts and nuts flying everywhere. The power to the city was temporarily cut off, as the part was connected to it, but it only lasted a second, basically having it only seem like something minor. With it also being connected to the machine that was in middle of forming the dome, not only did the dome dissipate, the machine also started making noises that were clearly not something that was good. Gecko gave Romeo an apologizing glance before looking at his teammates. By the looks of their faces, they could definitely see that he was angry with them, but even underneath his rage, I could see that he is just trying not to cry in front of his friends.

*WARNING: UNCONTROLLED FIRE IN AREA*

The machine, from the inside, had caught on fire. This, after not being able to move out of shock, caused me to grab Romeo and start running away from the area, trying to not get him hurt incase of an explosion.

"ROBOT, WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP HIM FROM DESTROYING IT?! YOU WERE RIGHT THERE!" Romeo yelled, slamming his fists into my metal shoulders. This was something he did often when he's upset, considering that it couldn't hurt or damage me.

"Sorry, Master. Something else had caught my attention before I could."

Memory log 3,698 - Date: Oct. 24, 2015 - Time: 01:36

"Master, you need to go to bed. You can continue working on your next plan in the morning." I told Romeo sternly, trying to get him to comply with me on this for once.

"Come on, just a few more minutes! I'm so close to perfecting it!!" He said, still writing it on a whiteboard for himself.

"You said that 15 minutes ago. It's time for you to sleep." I told him, picking him up.

"Wha- come on!" Romeo whined, though he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around my neck when I placed him on my back.

"You heard me, Master. Now, let's get you ready for bed."

"Hngh..." He reluctantly complied, resting his head on my shoulder.

After a few minutes of walking towards his room, I could feel his head lift up from my shoulder and turn towards the window.

"Wait, put me down, I need to see something-" He said, trying to get down from my back as I held him.

"No, Master. I'm not having you try to run off to avoid sleep."

"I'm not this time! I promise I won't! Please, put me down for a moment!" He cried out, pulling at my shirt as he continued to try and get down. I could tell he was genuinely trying to get a closer look at something.

"Fine, but it's not going to be for long." I told him, putting him back on the ground. He quickly ran over to the window and looked down.

"What's he doing over here? Luna said that she was going to be on the other side of town.." He whispered to himself, looking puzzled.

My own curiosity got the better of me and I walked over to Romeo and looked where he was looking. It was Gecko, sitting down against the brick wall of a building, his head resting on his knees while he curled up.

What was he doing over here? He doesn't look hurt at all, at least not from up here. And his team is on the other side of town, just around where Luna Girl was, I saw that for myself. So why?

After a moment of silence between us, Romeo spoke up, backing away from the window.

"I'm going to see why he's over here."

"No, Master. You need to go to bed!" I told him sternly, turning towards him.

"I need to see what Gecko is doing! I promise I won't be long!" He cried out, looking up at me with those big blue eyes of his.

I mean, should I? Sure, he could just be using him to get out of going to bed, but he seems to be genuinely curious. And I can't say that I'm not curious either.. or maybe even concerned. But I can't experience that emotion, or any human emotion... Can I?

I let out a defeated sigh before answering. "Fine, but don't make it too long. I'll prepare you some tea and clothes to sleep in for when you get back."

"Ooh! Okay, thank you Robot! I promise I'll be quick!" Romeo yelled out as he ran off towards the door that leads outside.

25 minutes has passed, and Romeo still isn't back. I couldn't help but wonder if he just ran back to his lab after talking to Gecko, as it would be a good time to do so. I decided to go back to the window where we first saw him to see if either Romeo or Gecko was actually there. As I was looking down, both of them were sitting on the ground, backs against the brick wall of the building. Gecko looks to be yelling and going off, but not at Romeo or about Romeo. Just in general, as his arms were expressive and his hands talked along with him. Romeo was clearly listening very closely, occasionally joining in and making a statement of his own, which Gecko would stop his rant momentarily to listen to him and agree. Still curious about what happened, I decided to open the window to maybe hear what they're talking about.

"AND IT'S JUST- IT'S LITERALLY NOT THAT HARD! JUST GET OUT OF YOUR OWN HEAD FOR MORE THAN A FEW SECONDS AT A TIME TO ACTUALLY HEAR ME OUT!!" I heard Gecko cry out, holding his arms out. "THAT'S ALL I ASK FROM THEM, BUT NOOOO, BECAUSE I AM YOUNGER THAN THEM, STRUGGLE WITH SCHOOL, AND EVEN STRUGGLE WITH THINGS LIKE SOCIAL CUES, THEY JUST THINK THAT I HAVE NOTHING IMPORTANT TO SAY!!"

Romeo simply nodded his head in agreement before speaking up, letting out an annoyed scoff as he rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it! Night Ninja and Luna Girl think the exact same thing about me! It's so hard to actually come up with a plan when I work with them at any given point!"

Gecko let out a chuckle as he took in a deep breath. "Well, at least you don't have to work with them 24/7 like I do! Or heck, even really be friends with them! You could just be like a co-worker to them if you want!"

"Yeah, true. At least there's that for me! But hey, unlike me, you could at least have a chance to correct them without needing to get physical at all or raise your voice!" Romeo chimed in, giving him a soft, genuine smile, which he rarely gives out to anyone except me.

"You aren't wrong on that, but it feels like that's the only way to get them to listen to me! Just simply talking to them doesn't seem to work for more than a week!" Gecko yelled out, holding his arms out again.

"Ooooh-ho-ho, don't even get me started on that!"

As I listened in on their conversation, I quickly noticed just how similar they were. They both have trouble getting others to listen to them, they both struggle with school and the social aspects of life, and their ages are the youngest of their respective groups. Both of them are tired of not being taken seriously, but they handle their situations very differently. Romeo often just makes them listen to him after so long, ranging from restraining them or just straight up hitting them until they do as he says. From all that I've seen, Gecko just sits backs and stays quiet about it, and the few times he does speak up, he just yells at them about it. Nothing more. Romeo shows anger with his issue, while Gecko shows sadness with his.

After a few minutes of listening to them, something in my metal chest just slowly started to feel what humans describe as an ache. Not a physical pain, but something similar.

Why am I feeling like this? Nothing is wrong with my internal system or anything, but why do I feel terrible? All I did was listen to those two and their struggles, but it shouldn't make me feel like this. It shouldn't.. yet it does. Seeing them just rant about their problems, not even looking for a solution for it as they have already tried to, it just.. The looks of tiredness on their faces, the anger yet sadness in their voices, I just cannot- I can't-

I closed the window, trying to get whatever this supposed aching feeling was in my chest to stop. I walked away from the window and started to clean up a few things to take my mind off of them and their conversation.

Around 10 more minutes pass by before Romeo comes back inside, rubbing his eye as he let out a yawn.

"Hello, Robot. Sorry about taking so long, got a bit caught up in conversation.."

"Hm? Well, what did you find out while you were talking to him?" I asked while picking him up again, as if I didn't already know the answer.

Romeo stayed quiet for a second before speaking up quietly, giving me a soft smile. "That someone else can actually understand the way I feel."

"... That's great, Master."

[kellycataclysm]

for a while now, i've been feeling like writing a sdv story myself, as i've been reading many fics lately (yours included and by far my favorite) and daydreaming a lot (i need escapism). however, it's been a loooong time since i've written anything like this. when i was 15/16, i wrote an entire (unfinished) original story that haunts me to this day, but i lost the original files and now it lives only in my head. it's been 8 years. so far, i had many original ideas that i long to write, but never do, but i have never written fanfiction and that makes me a little insecure. why did you decide to write lyra and harvey's story? i'd love to hear your takes on writing fanfiction, as i really look up to you in a way. xx

ps. there's another detail as i desire to write in english (everything i read is in english), but i am non native, as i once told you, and even though i write in english all the time in university (english major anyone?), it dreads me to fuck things up and embarrass myself.

Thank you for asking this. I am so humbled that you thought of me. I am so honoured and grateful to you. As I always say, thank you for loving my two dorks. 

Why did I decide to write? I was once referred to as ‘a writer without a story’. I could write if I put my mind to it. However, I needed an idea. My sister, who is a prolific fanfic writer for another fandom encouraged me to try fanfic. In her words, if she could do it, then so could I. 

I started playing Stardew a few years ago but only began reading fics at the start of 2023. I spent nine months consuming everything but it wasn’t until I was in a period of stress at work that I realised I needed some escapism 

I was inspired by many writers, but there were a few who were a huge influence. Their writing helped me to develop the characterisation for my version of Harvey and at the time, my nameless farmer. (Lyra got her name about four months after I started her story). The fics I read also helped to determine the story I wanted to write. I was drawn to a number of angst/ mutual pining fics that seemed to suit the melancholy mood that my ideas were taking at the time. In fact, the first story idea I had was a break-up story in which my farmer would leave Shane for Harvey… exactly what I had done in my save file at the time.

BUT then, the idea of a slow burn within an established relationship came to me. I didn’t want to follow the path within the game, but wanted to use the valley as if it was a real world location for a struggling relationship. I used elements of the fandom to suit the things I wanted to explore. All the spicy fics came later because I read many and was curious to try writing it. I then realised that I could have a little fun with this, using year one spicy fics to explore the relationship I was saving in my long fic. 

I still love writing both the melancholy content and the fluffy/ flirty spicy fics and have so many tropes and ideas I would love to explore. I love that a fandom like Stardew allows you to choose the elements you want to play with. For me I use real world elements but I read so many fics from writers who develop beautiful AUs or work with the supernatural/ fantasy elements that the game offers. 

I am finding that within this little universe, the possibilities are endless. I have friends who have written huge casts of original characters, and have other friends who are already developing their next farmer for their next fic. You could set a story in the future, in the 1950s, or during the Regency. I didn’t know that fanfic gave us this opportunity to explore so many avenues and I only wish I’d found it years ago!

When it comes to writing, many people have different ways of working, and you make it suit yourself and your schedule. I write almost every day (no set word count) so that I can stay with their story until it is finished. If I am too tired or don’t have the mental capacity to write, I read what I am working on so that the ideas stay fresh. I am quite structured in how I do this, but this is to suit me so that I can finish Lyra and Harvey’s story and I fully understand that this wouldn’t suit everyone. I haven’t read much since I started writing and have a reading list I want to get back to soon. It’s almost time to feed the creative brain cells!

As to your writing, it is so amazing that you wrote an original work before. I think that once the muse awakens, you can feel comfortable that everyone here is trying their best and trying to have a little fun. There are no rules. You can also join online communities of others in the fandom or chat with other writers if you want to brainstorm things. I am in a few servers but have a close group of writer friends that I chat with almost every day and we support each other in our writing. You can also ask people you are close with to beta read for you. You also don’t have to post online until you feel comfortable. We all have some level of anonymity and that is quite comforting, but when you do make friends in your fandom, people are very welcoming. 

I am completely convinced that you will do just fine and look forward to reading what you write when you choose to do so. 

Thank you again for dropping into my inbox. You’re welcome any time! <3

[bekolxeram]

Sorry for the whining lately, I'm gonna talk about other unrelated things for a while to get out of the dead end that I seem to have drilled myself into.

Here's an absurdly ridiculous story from my past.

I've brought up here before that one of my best friends dated an absolute asshole for around 6 months.

The first time we talked was over text. My bestie mentioned that I majored in European Studies in college, so he kept making his girlfriend ask me questions, as he was a "fellow European history enjoyer". My field was more about modern politics in the EU and France, but fine, I was familiar with a basic level of historical background for context, so ask away. My bestie eventually got tired of constantly passing messages back and forth so she gave him my number for direct contact.

You know the kind of guys who would ask a woman to name 3 Joy Division songs after seeing her in an Unknown Pleasures T-shirt? Talking to asshole felt exactly like that, it was more a test. He would constantly cut me off and "correct my mistakes", when in fact I just didn't get to finish my sentence. He would also "educate" me on varies topics: military history of different empires, descriptions of ethnic groups that are all based on stereotypes, or Francisco Franco using his favorite club Real Madrid to oppress the people of Catalonia. (Yes, I've read Fear and Loathing in La Liga by Sid Lowe. This is a simplified myth, the real history is much more nuanced.)

Once, he asked me for French music recommendations. He was probably expecting accordions and Edith Piaf, but I just sent him some songs I was listening to at the time, you know, some rap, some electro-pop, some Stromae. (I might've done that intentionally because asshole refused to refer to anyone non-white as European.) One of them is J'aimerai by Johan Papaconstantino:

He told me he couldn't tell I would be interested in Algerian pop, so I said, "oh, it's actually Greek."

Oops. I shouldn't have brought up Greece. That man was obsessed with Greece, as you can imagine. He once asked me for my opinion on the North Macedonia name dispute just to write a 1000+ word essay about his love and admiration for his personal hero, Alexander the Great, and how the "Slavs misappropriate the name of Macedonia, they should come up with their own, of Slavic origin."

But it was too late, the conversation went like this:

Him: Wow, I never expected you to like Algerian pop.

Me: Oh, it's actually Greek.

Him: No, it's not.

Me: Uh... he's singing in French and Greek? I actually do listen to some Arabic pop if you're interested, I quite like this Lebanese band called Soap Kills.

Him: It's clearly Turkish. It's not real Greek music, it's the music the Turks forced upon the Greeks during years of subjugation! (Insert 3 hour rant about Greeks living under the Ottoman Empire.)

Me: Um... so you're familiar with Turkish music?

Him: Of course! I know the Turkish March.

The

Turkish

March

Me: You know Mozart is Austrian right?

Him: Well, it's Turkish style

This Turkish style?

Eeeh🤷🏻What do I know? I'm just a dumb woman.

Maybe he should educate me on this classical Turkish music extraordinaire:

[nsk96]

Personal rant:

I'm getting real tired of my mom always talking down to me as if I'm a kid that doesn't know anything. I'm tired of her insulting my intelligence.

I talked back to her today and stood up for myself. I was washing some small tomatoes, the tiny ones, for my breakfast. I always wash fruits and veggies with soap (I usually use the dish soap). One dropped into the sink for like 3 seconds and I picked it up and was ready to wash it with soap again. My mom made a fuss saying to throw it away because "the sink isn't clean" despite me washing it with soap before consumption.

I told her we shouldn't be eating on the plates then. She asked why, and I said they touched the sink too and we only use the soap to wash them. She was like "they're not fruits though." I kept going and said we shouldn't be using forks. Then she was like "forks are fruits?" in a condescending way.

She was like "you're the pharmacist, you should know about bacteria" and I said that doesn't mean shit. Pharmacists pick your pills off the ground and still give them to you. Then she was like "well do you think that's right?" I said "no, that's my point."

I went on about how she doesn't believe me anyway, and she was like tell me when I didn't believe you. I reminded her of the time I got a small burn and she told me to put it in ice water and I told her no I need to run it under room temperature water first. Her response was "okay, keep believing in doctor medicine" in a condescending tone.

She was like "I was sharing my opinion, and you shared yours." The problem isn't that she shares her opinion, the problem is that she treats her opinion as fact or the law of the land, and has to make a big argument out of it if she gets any push-back. She literally can't handle being wrong and has to insult my intelligence if I don't do things her way. When you prove her wrong she just goes, "oh." Only a couple times have I heard her say, "you're right," but again, she would never admit that she was wrong.

Another example: in the morning times I'm a little congested and I cough up mucus. She makes a big deal out of it saying that I need to take the cough medicine she gave me a year ago (when I had covid) to stop coughing because it "sounds like it's in your lungs. It shouldn't be there. You need to take the medicine to dry it up". She's referring to a cough suppressant. I don't cough all day, it's seriously just when I have a little mucus which is at most 3 times a day (but usually just the morning). I tend to get it if I eat food I'm hypersensitive to like wheat, egg and cashews. I get a post-nasal drip because of my allergies (despite taking an allergy pill daily). I tell her that I can't take a cough suppressant if I need to cough up mucus.

But she she keeps bringing this topic up and I tell her that if I take a cough suppressant long term and cause myself to not be able to cough up mucus from my lungs, I run the risk of getting pneumonia. She still insists on me taking the cough suppressant saying it will help "decongest" me despite me telling her no. She's brought up the argument over 5 times already, me telling her the same thing every time that I need an expectorant and decongestant, and telling her that cough suppressants really just reduce the feeling to cough. But she's convinced it will help with congestion, and of course her response is "keep believing in doctor medicine", insulting my intelligence every time, as if I didn't spend 3 years in hell of pharmacy school to learn this stuff and apply it to make people's lives better. Next time she says this, I should probably say, "oh that's why you're taking so many medications for your blood pressure, type 2 diabetes, anxiety, and nerve pain, right?"

Honestly, it hurts that she doesn't believe me and would rather me risk getting pneumonia just because she wants me to do as she says.

Then after the whole tomato argument, she still kept going about how she shares her opinion and then "stops talking". I said "no, you don't (stop talking)." That triggered her so much she felt the need to compare me to my dad saying that's the line he uses. I asked what line, and she went on about how he wants her to just shut up. I told her "i never said that".

I told her that what I mean is that she just keeps repeating herself (she repeats herself 3-5 times in the same argument/lecture/talking down to me etc. and keeps bringing things up later on). She was like "i repeat myself because you don't listen. I talk and you don't say anything." Not my fucking fault that she raised me to silently obey her, and scared me into silence all throughout my childhood and teen years. I look at her when she talks, but look away when I'm busy doing something (I learned is okay from her because she does the same). It's funny she expects more when she never taught me that, nor gave me a chance to speak much in the past. And when I say she never taught me that, I mean that when I talk to her when she's busy, she doesn't answer me either. Sometimes when I talk to her she changes the conversation while I'm still talking (which I think could just be that she gets distracted easily like I do, but she'd never admit it). But it makes me feel like what I'm saying is never interesting enough.

I do the same quiet behavior when other people are talking to me. I look at them and either nod, but I don't really say anything unless I have something to add. It's only recently, now that a preceptor on rotation bluntly pointed out that I have a tendency to give him this blank stare, that I started forcing myself to at least go "m-hm" when people are telling me something. It's so bad, that sometimes I don't process what their saying because I'm too busying worrying about when to go "m-hm" and when to make or break eye contact.

Now she wants to call me rude and act like I'm mistreating her when I return her energy. She's done it so much to me, it's ingrained in my behavior now, and I didn't realize this until recently when I started paying more attention to my own behavior and feelings, and how she ignores me or at least fails to acknowledge what I'm saying. I spent most of my life feeling unheard, unseen, not believed, scared (of her especially), crying myself to sleep and comforting myself, and now it's biting her in the ass as I'm finally getting my voice.

She's probably getting scared now, thinking I won't take care of her when she's old and frail. Lucky for her though, I'm a person of my word. She sometimes rants about how the culture in the U.S. tells children that they don't need to take care of their parents (partially because she's still bitter about how my brother left)...while not understanding that:

1) you chose to have a child; they have no obligation to be your retirement plan. It's unfair to dump that responsibility on them for just existing. Btw, she didn't have to take care of her parents, despite wanting to, because they were in Trinidad being "cared for" by her brothers and sisters. So, she doesn't know the sacrifice it takes especially here in the U.S. for one single child to do it. I know, because I see and hear about people who go through it here. I don't blame those people who decide not to care for toxic parents. How your kids treat you when they're grown, is often a reflection of how you treated them as kids.

2) she seems to forget that this same U.S. "culture" tells parents to kick their kids out at 18, and iirc it was once allowed younger in some states. When you choose to become a parent, you choose to raise an adult to have opinions of their own and they will learn things that you probably don't know. You don't have to agree to everything they say, but at least respect their opinions and knowledge instead of talking down to them like they're stupid. You should not be raising them to be your personal caretaker and if you are, you shouldn't be a parent at all.

If she thinks I'm getting like my dad, then she probably shouldn't have forced me to live with him. But I'd say most of my "rude" behavior I learned from her.

One of the things that hurts the most is that I can't even talk to my brother about everything that's been going on. His view would likely be that I should just leave like he did, forgetting that when he left, he dropped out of college because he apparently couldn't balance a job with college (just like me) and his pay barely affording his rent that he wasn't eating. After all he went through when he left, no sympathy for what I've been having to deal with dealing with both our parents and school. Btw, it was our parents' he was running away from, and let's just say they got much worse towards me after he left. He himself even admitted that I got the most corporal punishment and saying "I'm surprised you didn't become a serial killer". When my mom told him what she and I are going through, his response was along the lines of "either put up with or leave" despite knowing I'm on rotations, and rotations are pretty much a full-time job (40 hours a week not including commute time, projects, assignments, and studying). My mom attributes it to brain damage from his motorcycle accident, but honestly, I think he was always like this; his lack of empathy is so much like our parents...like my dad. The only difference is he's always been colder.

The moral of the story I guess: You live what you learn

[beerose-blog]

So, hello. I'm Bee. If you're one of my friends, you may recognize the title "Bee's Gradual Guide To Success". If you don't, it was actually the title of one of my personal "article series"/blogs that I made last November. I started it off with a lot of excitement, but I eventually got discouraged about myself and moved on, feeling so mortified about it that I wished I had never written it, even though my friends said it was really good. Here it is:

I think the funniest thing about this blog series is that it was all about being "real". You know, we live in a world where everything is completely over-saturated with success, and it's hard to find someone who will speak the truth about their experiences and failures. In the blog, I said and I quote:

"That’s actually the purpose of this blog/guide. First of all, I want to let the world know it’s OKAY to not know what you’re doing. Everyone, even the most successful people started from the very beginning. We live in a world that’s filled to the brim with the success stories of others- it can be overwhelming and make our own goals seem vast, intimidating, and unachievable."

Through my blog, I wanted to let everyone know that it was okay to have setbacks, that it was okay to fail at things; that all these obstacles would help us eventually succeed at whatever we wanted to do. And many people liked it. And then, do you know what happened?

I stopped writing it because I felt like a failure.

Now, let me tell you a little something about myself: I am the QUEEN of trying, failing, and giving up. I have had countless, countless career aspirations and dreams. I've wanted to be a business woman, running my own coffeeshop/bookstore called the CoZe Café. I've also wanted to be an artist who would sell commissions. For a very long time I also wanted to be an animator. I've had aspirations to run my own online shop with knitted and crocheted goods, I've wanted to be a seamstress, an accountant, the list goes on and on and on. It doesn't help, either, that I've got a cocktail of mental health diagnoses including bipolar 2 hypomania, which effectively makes me feel like a god that can achieve absolutely anything. But two times, so far, I've settled on novelist/editor.

Novelist/editor. What would it truly be like to live that dream? To work in some big publishing house, editing what could be the next famous author's story - making their dreams a reality, validating them. It sounds great! Right?

Well, I'm not quite at this point yet. In fact, about an hour ago, I was completely at my wit's end, even considering dropping my classes. You see, I'm an English major, working to get my Associate's degree at a Community College. The plan, currently, is to eventually get a PhD in English from Harvard. However that plan definitely seems far away considering this is my first semester and I'm already many, many assignments behind. It's week two, by the way.

Thus, once again, things become stagnant. I ask myself, "What do I do? How am I ever going to succeed? Am I just a failure like they all said I was?". And am I? It certainly seems so so far. But yet, someone told me I'm not.

This particular person told me exactly this:

"so i say, its not too late for you."

The "so i say" is in reference to the other part of the story he told me. He had spent his life working on various projects, writing and others, only to lose them all with the loss of his computer. So, he gave up. He worked, worked, and worked. He even said he was "Just a tired adult without hobbies". Until finally, he found a certain community, the same one where I met him. And through that community, he found friends and his love for writing once again. And he didn't give up. In fact, I'd even boldly claim to say he never gave up, as writing eventually DID come back to him.

So what about me? What should I do? Writing itself has been a theme all throughout my childhood, starting way back with my first attempted novel titled "Billy & Mandy" that I scrawled in a black composition notebook at age 8. It's always been present, coming back to me in bursts and staying longer each time. So what do I do now? Do I simply just "give up" on that dream?

And now, as you read, you may be wondering things. "What is the purpose of this? Isn't her blog called 'Bee's Gradual Guide To Success?' Where does success come in? What's happening? All she's talked about is her failures."

Or perhaps, you are just scrolling along, and clicked this by mistake. Or maybe your phone is in your pocket, and you've mistakenly buttdialed my tumblr account. Who knows! The world is full of endless possibilities!

However, if you are wondering what my purpose is by writing this, it's very simple:

There isn't any.

The only real purpose I have is personal; I am just trying to document my life, just in a public format.. Maybe, by sharing my story of success and failure, it will help you. Maybe you will continue to scroll. Either way, I will be here, posting. It makes me happy to do this, to document my story in vivid, painted detail. The idea excites me. And maybe someone out there will connect with my struggles, and find the courage to keep moving forward in the darkness, knowing there's someone out there just like them.

So I guess in that case I lied in a way, there is sort of a purpose. I mean, what did you expect? It is called "Bee's Gradual Guide To Success". And the main fact is, I have no idea what I'm doing.

So I wish you luck in your own journey, if you do end up seeing this - and maybe you'll find some of yourself in mine.

[zebrashork]

I don't really like making vent posts but I just feel the need to talk about it

Warning for misgendering and dysphoria, if that might make you uncomfortable

A supposed friend has been getting on my nerves (not anyone who may read this, this "friend" may use this site, but has no idea what my url is) a lot lately and I'm getting really frustrated and tired

He started off as just a friend of my brother, and then eventually he became my friend somewhat. We'd all hang out, and I came out to him as queer (both that I'm bigender and bi/aroacespec) because of a question he asked and I decided to be a funnyman about it. Even told him I have a girlfriend (Liz if you see this hihiii I had so much fun watching Dungeon Meshi with you mwah!!! ♡) and he was chill with it (we live in a small, very conservative town), and he even admitted he's attracted to feminine men. Cool. Swag. Me too, buddy

Like 3 days after I told him I have a girlfriend, he admits that he has a crush on me and asks if we could ever work out. No... I have a girlfriend. I'm not interested in you, I see you as a bro. And I am definitely not what he is looking for (when the three of us have discussed the future, he stated that he is a huge family man and wants kids. Multiple. I do not even want one child because I struggle to take care of myself and am not physically, mentally, and emotionally able to raise a child, now and far into the future). He accepts that on call. And then like half an hour later I receive a massive wall of text apologizing and groveling and then a call the next day asking again if there's even a chance and I shoot him down again. And that's the end of it. He respects my answer and moves on. Whilst still a shitty thing to do, he grew up in a specific culture that encourages that and whatnot, so I'm glad that he now actually views me as a bro

He's a cisgender guy and for the most part, Identities as heterosexual (sometimes he uses another label that is queer but not a whole lot), and he's pretty repressed, but I've seen him make steps towards improving. Since the town we're in is so small, my brother and I are some of the few friends he has, all the others are either old people who stick to these toxic standards or people who want to be gangsters. I know that there's gonna be bumps in the road, but he's been trying to improve...

...in all areas but one

Again, I told him I'm bigender and to use it/its for me around people who know (him and my brother)

And he never has

Not only that, but I haven't gone by my legal name since I was 7 years old, before I even knew not being a girl was an option for me, I felt more connected to my name (which sounds more androgynous) instead of my legal one, but I started using it since before I could even talk. My brother gave me my name and I can't see myself with any other name.

Despite this, this guy has a 30% chance to call me my legal name at any given moment, a 10% chance to call me by my middle name(? HUH???) which is also pretty feminine, a 40% chance to refer to me by "Ms [legal/middle/last name]", and a 20% chance to use my preferred name. There's also occasionally calling me "little lady" or by an online alias in front of people which I told him not to do, keeping my online and real lives separated due to fear of my family learning of my gender identity and other things they wouldn't be too happy about. He also uses my name way more often in sentences than other people would (luckily doesn't just apply to me, and my brother gets the middle name treatment as well)

I've tried to nudge him the right way, with a "we're friends, we don't need to be formal" or no response until I am called my preferred name, even saying "hey don't call me those names", but I'm tired. I've been fine with being viewed as feminine (hell, I see myself as cutely fem in an androgynous way), being called "Ms [last/preferred name]", but in moderation. This is constant and more often than occasionally calling the doctor's office to get a prescription refill or registering for a program where, due to paperwork, they use my legal name. I used to be fine with she/her pronouns used by people close to me, but now I'm not even sure if I want to use them anymore or any feminine titles because they feel so wrong and constricting

So when he did it again tonight, I told him, again, in WRITING, to stop

This fucking sucks. First he says that he's fine I'm bigender and supports me, but as soon as I am tired of the misgendering (whether he forgets (he does have adhd and sometimes tries to repeat conversations from the day before which I get but. Come on. My name. You know not to use my middle name which isn't even common info, you just heard my name story from my mom) or does it intentionally, idk) he is all "I can't believe that stuff" like. Hello???

If I cut him out or get angry, my mom will know something's up, and I can't tell her why because that involves telling her of my gender identity, and while she might accept that I'm bi, she is lowkey transphobic and doesn't even thing nonbinary Identities are real. So I'm stuck, left getting more frustrated until something else happens. I can only hope my wishes are respected for once

If you don't have homemade dysphoria, friend induced is fine

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S2:E7; Chapter Seven, The Lost Sister - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

In their search for answers, psychic visions draw Eleven and Y/n to a band of violent outcasts and an angry girl with a shadowy past.

⚠️ WARNINGS: canon use of a derogatory term referring to someone who lives with psychosis spectrum syndrome, or schizophrenia (used exactly twice, back to back)

📝A.N: I thank you endlessly for your patience, my dears. There's been and will be more rewriting (not storywise, really, just some polishing) for the lost sister chapters. Also, while I'm here, stranger danger is real, kids. Practice safety everywhere you can. Please be safe 🙏

||𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Hugging my jacket tighter around my chest does little to stop the chattering in my teeth thanks to the cold that has already sunk into my bones. Despite all that has happened, I count ourselves lucky the seats El and I picked ended up near the bus's heater. Though at least the lingering chill from outside is keeping me awake and alert.

Trying again to rub the very last of sleep from my eyes, I try even harder to make sense of the sudden change in my surroundings.

I remember drifting off on the futon at Becky's, the next thing I know El is shaking me awake and pulling me down the stairs. All I had time to grab was my jacket, counting myself very lucky I managed to slip on my shoes before we were out the door.

Another shiver hits me like a brick when a bit of cold sneaks down the neck of my jacket. I inwardly groan. I didn't even get to change out of my pajamas.

I tried asking El what was going on and where the hell we were going─not to mention so late at night─but nothing came of it. It was difficult not to ask again, but the look I caught in her eye as we fled the front porch silenced me, if only momentarily. I tried again, when we were halfway down the road.

That time she spoke. And with a breathless voice, a vice-like grip on my hand, and furiously banishing a single tear she thought I hadn't seen. "It's not safe."

So here we find ourselves... Squished into two little purple patterned seats on the first bus we could find. I'm just happy it's not another truck.

I feel a pair of eyes on me and I look cautiously to my side, already knowing what to expect. Several other passengers watch us discreetly─some not so much. A young couple across the isle and two rows back are whispering as they eye us, either heavily concerned or far too judgemental. I'm tired and can't bring myself to care enough to figure it out.

Sadly, however, my self anxieties are still in tact under these stares. I tug my jacket tighter around my torso, my arms staying folded across my stomach. I turn to look at El and I can make out her disheartened reflection watching droplets of rain trickle down the fogged window. I rest my head tiredly on the back of my seat and attempt to break the silence.

"El?" My voice comes out as strangled, but I don't know why.

Her head rolls across the seat to face me and I'm reminded she's just as upset about this sudden uprooting as I am. Likely, of course, even more so. Her brown eyes, normally sparkling, are dulled and sad. Her eyelids sag a little, but she's fighting it well. More than anything, I sense a great deal of it is emotional exhaustion.

A million questions run through my head but I only find myself asking one. "Are you okay?"

She sniffles but gives me no immediate answer. That's when I finally note the small trace of a copper red smear, barely visible at the base of her nose that she had otherwise hastily wiped clean. Blood.

One more look in her eyes and I know; El is debating on whether or not she should lie. Finally, she speaks, and somehow I know she has told me the truth. "No."

I wince at the sound of her broken voice, splintered and forced. I extend my hand, as she did this afternoon. I'm so happy when she takes it. I gave her palm a reassuring squeeze and I look carefully in her eyes.

"El, you know you can tell me anything, right?" I ask, not even completely certain she has something to tell. But I still need her to know this.

Her eyes fall to our hands, and although she tries to hide it, I notice the subtle flutter of her eyes working to blink back tears. Her free and restless hand─which had been fiddling with her clutched bag straps on and off all day─tightened considerably. She must be spending too much time with me, a part of me thought dismissively.

"She called us in." Her grip flinches tighter when she whispers this. "I'm sorry."

Called us in? I try to make sense of this for a moment. I wonder if I heard her correctly, she had spoken so softly.

"Wait, what do you mean?" I ask gently. "Why are you sorry?"

"I heard her," she choked back. Panic is crawling into her voice and her other hand leaves the straps of her bag in favor of holding onto my forearm. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she thought I would suddenly dissappear. "She called for the policeman. Told them about me. And... she gave them your name. I'm sorry Y/n."

"My name?" I gulped, but my throat felt suddenly dry. "So, the police are gonna--? They're gonna know that I'm...?"

She nodded, remorseful eyes brimming with tears. Her face twists up in a sour pout she quickly banishes. But it was clear. She was panicking, for both our sakes.

Instinctively, I gave her hand another reassuring squeeze and managed, at most, a half-assed smile. Maybe it's for her sake, or maybe it's for mine.

"It's okay, it's not entirely your fault El," I say instinctively. I gulp again despite my dry mouth, certain she notices, but there's little room to care. My mind is buzzing, sleep now a far off worry. "Yeah, okay. I'm not going to lie to you, that's... That's not good. But I also knew what I was risking when I went with you."

My words feel like they're coming in slower and slower as I process everything in real time. El's patience with me is genuine, at least, and I attempt to mirror that as I sort hastily through my thoughts.

"The truth is, things really haven't been going super well at home. Everyone's fighting─more than usual, I mean,"

El cracks a tiny somber smile at that, and I feel one spread across my face as well. But it hardly lasts for either of us.

"Like I said before, Mike hasn't been himself since you left. And now Will is acting up. In fact, he's... El, he's completely different. He's sick, he's really sick. And so angry.

"The party is falling apart, and I've felt more alone these past few weeks than I have in a really long time. And on top of it all," my voice lowers further. "I'm still finding stuff I didn't know I could do. I've been having trouble with... well, you know."

El looks to me in surprise, her eyebrows raised. Safe to say she understands what I'm getting at.

I nod. "The point is, you showing up has been just what I needed. And yes, it's scary, but thanks to you I found out how I got here─where I came from... That's really good. I have you to thank for that."

It takes her a moment to consider my words, but El eventually gives me a smile that doesn't quite meet her eyes. A mixture of remorse and fear is still etched into her tear-stained face as she needlessly pulls her bag further into her lap, her hand leaving my forearm again to do so. I almost think more of it before her face lights up in grateful remembrance.

El wiggles closer to me in her seat before dipping her head in. "I found her. The girl."

I perked up a bit, looking back at my friend with a daring crumb of hope.

"Really? That's great! So did you get anything useful? Maybe the girl's name or where we're going?"

The hope I saw in El's face disappeared just as soon, and she shakes her head. But her face scrunches up thoughtfully as if she was trying to remember something she might have missed.

"A city." She looks at me quizzically, repeating a word she must have heard only in passing. "Shuh-cago?"

My eyes widened. "Chicago?" El nodded. "We're going to Chicago?"

El shrugged her shoulders. This was the best she could give. "Shuh-cago."

Okay. Chicago. Deep breath in. I could do that. And out. Maybe. Maybe this was incredibly stupid. In. Then again, so was chasing down an interdimensional gate while on the run from top secret government thugs. And I had done that... Barely.

"Um, okay..." I sigh heavily, only now realizing I have been holding my breath. My eyes fall to my lap, noting my rapidly bouncing leg. "Well, are you sure? Is that what you heard, or maybe saw somewhere?"

El nodded. Another dry gulp.

"So you really think she'll help, huh?" I ask.

She gives me a weak, but reassuring smile and softly squeezes my hand. "Yes."

I look to her, grateful, but I'm unsure how genuine I appear. Yet another silence follows quickly after.

The familiar feeling bubbles up in my stomach again, though it is much more intense. Sure I had anxieties about leaving with El, but this overpowered that. At least I had the small chance of not getting caught─that I'd be back the next night and it could all be explained away by being at the Byers house. But this is quickly spiraling. This had already spiraled, and I am beginning to feel sick to my stomach with nerves. The moment the Chief got Becky Ives' message then it was only a matter of time before my mom was notified, and─oh no...

Unsurprisingly, she's going to the ends of the earth just to find Mews. I can't imagine the stress she'll inevitably be under when she finds out that some woman across town filed a report about me. And now I'm on a bus to Illinois.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. The last thing I need is spirlaing my way into another accident. I have a feeling I could do a lot more damage on a crowded bus than I did boiling some cereal.

I glance at El for only a moment. Her attention is back outside, peering through the fog and the reflections on the glass. She's (presumably) oblivious to the noise in my head. A part of me─the logical part of me─is angry with myself for being so forgiving. For not communicating my disappointment well enough. Dustin always said I had a problem with that. And yet, even though I meant what I had said to El about finding out where I came from...

Maybe I did it cause I felt bad for El. She was sorry, and she was in trouble.

But I'm in trouble now, too, I remind myself.

Part of me is hoping Chicago is a dead end, and while I feel awful for feeling that way, I do. I find myself longing to be with Will again. The old Will. He always had a knack for knowing when I wasn't okay.

He always makes me feel validated when I'm upset. He listens, and he'd do anything to get me to smile. The way I want to do for him.

It hurts thinking about that now.

Whether I like it or not, I've found myself on a one way trip to the unknown, straying further and further from the safety of home.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

I don't realize I have drifted off until I feel a tap on my shoulder. My head feels much heavier and I find myself squinting against the interior lights (which now seem much brighter than before) to find El gesturing towards the isle. Through bleary eyes I make out a small line of people already shuffling down the isle ahead of us. Quickly─but rather drowsily─I rise from my seat and join them, making sure El is close behind.

We had spilled out onto the busy streets among the rest but found ourselves stalled at the edge of the sidewalk. I'm unsure about El, but the sight before me succeeds in banishing my exhaustion instantly. Between the return of the frigid breeze, the towering architecture, and the swarm of strangers every which way, I'm questioning if I'll ever sleep again.

I'm captivated as I look around in an odd mix of awe and fear. Living in a small town like Hawkins for so long makes places like Chicago feel like another planet, so it would seem.

It doesn't feel as though we're standing in the heart of the city, more so the center of a giant hive─with bees buzzing in and out with no motivation other than work. No leisure, just urgency. The entire world is whirring around us─every which way─and I suddenly have this feeling if any one person were to drop at any moment this little world would keep on moving without a second thought. It's fascinating and completely terrifying.

One curious look at El told me I wasn't alone. Neither of us had fully comprehended what we were in for until this moment. But I suppose that in itself was even slightly reassuring─that neither of us were alone.

Standing here lost in a sea of strange people, that note hits a bit harder this time as the initial shock wears off. Nobody here seems to know anyone and they all seem angry.

She remains silent at my side but El's wisdom from earlier still bring comfort to me.

"Y/n, we can defend ourselves, remember?"

She did have a point, we do have certain advantages. But then again, came that convincing little voice in my head, if we were put in a situation where we were forced to use them, then all the closer we going were to being caught.

I look to El to try and gauge her reaction and I find she's still very much lost in the towering city skyline─a genuine smile on her face. For a moment I wish I can enjoy it, but there are simply too many reminders where we are, and why I can't.

Eagerly, she starts walking down the streets and I follow her. I'm thankful I was able to retrieve my shoes and jacket, but I still can't seem to drag my thoughts away from the fact that my teeth are back to chattering. The words I spoke earlier today pop into my mind only to mock me, "I guess I kept myself warm,". Just another reason to learn how to--

A strong force strikes my shoulder hard enough to put a stumble in my steps, and instantly my train of thought is gone. I whirl around to see a man throwing me a pointed sneer over his large, squared shoulders. "Watch yourself, would ya'?," Gawking back, I spy the man making steady strides down the sidewalk with no remorse.

Huffing, I burrow my fists deeper in my jacket pockets and lie to myself that it's simply to keep my hands warm. It's bullshit, considering I don't need help in that department, but it keeps us going forward I guess.

Well, me, anyway.

I don't get in two steps before finally noticing El was at a standstill. I stop again, this time confused, to see my friend rooted to the middle of the city sidewalk. Steam from nearby grates billowed all around her, ruffling her flannel collar. She fixes a hard glare on the man behind us.

"Mouth-breather," She says, her voice low. Just then, her gaze drops and my eyes begin to widen.

I spot the man in the crowd just in time to see him stumble forward onto the concrete. Angrily, he sits up, looking around frantically and glaring at anyone who dared to titter. I felt a chuckle coming on myself when I barely make out the string of curses directed at his shoelaces as he hotly retied them.

El looked to me, hardly suppressing a smile and a roguish look in her eye. Before anyone could see, she wiped her nose clean of blood.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

If I thought I was cold before, I was dead wrong. We've been walking for about two hours, if I had to guess. The muscles in my feet are beginning to knot, and my sweatpants are clinging to my legs.

About half an hour ago, a truck drove through a puddle and I caught the tail end of the splash when we turned the corner. To pass the time, I've been trying to dry them subtly with my hands against my legs, but it didn't get me very far, even with El's advice. I finally gave it a rest after a while. I wasn't getting terribly far and I didn't want to risk draining myself if the walk was much longer.

By now I've grown used to the odd and wandering looks we've gathered. But the tension creeps back in when El leads us down an incredibly questionable alley. We are definitely in the riskier parts of the city though I try to hold my tongue and save questions until later. My instincts tell me I need to appear more confident than I am. El seems to hold up that exterior well enough, though even her confidence is waning slightly.

We find ourselves surrounded by many sluggish people, all of whom mill about around us. The alley and its inhabitants are lit mostly by fire pits in steel barrels. The stench is hard to ignore; everything wreaks of booze, cigarettes, and urine.

A frightening, cackling, man steps towards my face as we walk by and I flinch back. "They're dead. They're all dead!" He cries out.

His hyena-like laughter bounces off the cement walls and echoes in my ears. I can practically taste his awful breath and I duck my head down avoiding eye contact as I pull El along forward with me.

I can sense her eagerness to leave the alley in her vice-like grip that rivals my own. Neither of us dare let go. Without a word, we break into a matching jog and scurry on.

We don't stop until we reach what looks to be an abandoned underpass. The stench is mostly gone, but in its place something else unidentifiable. Beer cans litter the concrete and every wall is touched with graffiti.

Finally, we emerge from the darkened space to find an old and windowless warehouse. Like the underpass, there isn't a single wall or slab of concrete that isn't decorated with spray paint and neon color. This is where El stops us suddenly.

I glanced ahead of me at the building a second time, now taking in the little details. There is one tiny door ahead of us supplied with only one window─the glass dirtied and fogged, shows us nothing but flickering yellow light. And beckoning us over, curling whisps of steam pouring out of the shadows despite (what appeared to be) the windowless, pipeless, boring metal box of a building.

"Is... this it?" I ask.

"Yes." El answers. And for the first time since the alley, she releases my hand.

El sets off towards the building without another word. Almost like ripping of a band-aid; if she didn't do it now and all at once... Or maybe that's just my reasoning. I quickly follow behind, attempting to prepare myself for whatever we might find.

Upon first glance, it's not much different to the exterior; boxes, crates, barrels, and planks litter the interior and the spray paint almost smells fresh. The entrance we stand in is part of a small alcove, and it's clear the further you step inside the ceiling extends. But what catches my eye are the four people huddled around another makeshift firepit.

One girl, who sits perched on several cushions and lighting a cigarette begins to giggle teasingly. "You should do stand-up, Axe. There's a spot a few blocks away."

The group chuckles, and a tall lanky man with a large mohawk rolls his eyes with a smirk. Among them, a rather large and beefy man, who clearly seems to be the muscle, and another young woman in cuffed jeans, gloves and a dark green flannel jacket.

There is no time to worry what they might say or do when they realize we are here. El is already calling out to them. Logically, I knew we would be making ourselves known one way or another, yet my knees now feel as if they are threatening to lock at the sudden action.

"Hello?" El's voice echoed out.

The group stops and turns, their faces illuminated by the fire. The shadows now casted across their faces are eerie, like someone about to tell a ghost story.

A sickening smirk curls along the lanky one's face. My stomach drops two stories when he struts around the fire, now making his way towards us.

"Well, well... What do we have here?" He purrs, still with that no good smile.

The others follow in their friend's footsteps and rise to their feet, no doubt an act of intimidation. I look anxiously between El and the strangers, though I somehow manage to keep a still face.

These others are now inching towards us and I feel my heart rate pick up. The woman in the green jacket scoffs, looking us up and down. If I were to guess, she was trying to decide which of us looked stranger.

"What are those, overalls?" She asks finally, referring to El.

The other young woman─who had been stalking around us like we were something to play with─finally stops at me. I try to hide the tense in my shoulders but I suspect it's no use. Her gaze is somewhat bored as she looks me up and down, then jabs a bony finger in my shoulder. I roll it when she does, as if shaking off the feel of her touch.

"And get a load of this one," she squeaks, blowing smoke into my grimacing face. She lets out an awkward snort, clearly amused with my reactions and uneasy demeanor. "Y'could knock this one down with a feather,"

I cough, fanning away the miniature smog cloud lingering in my face. This gave the lanky one, Mohawk, a chuckle. The Smoker turns to me and fakes a pout.

"What's the matter, kiddies? Thought your little slumber party could use a fun little adventure in the big city, huh?"

More laughter from the others. Fighting the returning impulse to roll my eyes, I instead take another subtle deep breath.

The woman is already answering her own rhetorical question with another fake pout and flick of her cigarette ashes. "Well, you ain't gonna find it here, so go on back to the farm now."

"We're looking for my sister."

My eyes jump to El in surprise but they quickly return to the group, not particularly eager to give away the fact I had no idea what she was talking about. Sister? I do have to applaud El's quick thinking, though, I suppose.

"Aw..." Mohawk jeers. "Shirley Temple lost her sister. So sad."

"I saw her. Here." She reaches into her bag, likely for the photograph clipping from Becky's. But they all tense.

"Uh-uh," The Muscle said suddenly. "Hand out of your pocket. Slow."

El complies and Mohawk rips the news clipping from her hand. "Give me that shit."

For the first time in this encounter, this man looks apprehensive. Seeing the photo was enough to shock him into temporary silence. And apparently this in itself is enough to lure the flannel woman forward to investigate for herself. Now, like the man, she is snatching the photo up with shock.

"Is that Kali?"

"Kali?" El asks.

Mohawk steps forward, visibly on edge. Taking advantage of his height, he towers over El with an impressive glare. I say nothing, but I mirror his actions─taking a step further into El's side with a tiny glare of my own.

"How did you find us?" He questions. "Who else knows you're here?"

El backs up slightly and suddenly I was jumping to speak. "No one knows we're here." I say.

"And no one was speaking to you, either," My face sours and he returns to El. "Is this true, Shirley Temple? So, what then? Poof! You just show up like magic with that picture?"

"Stay calm." Flannel warns. "They're just kids, alright?"

He turns on her quickly. "Some kids that could get us all killed."

Like that, his anger is back on El and he pulls something from his pocket. My eyes fall to the object in his hand and my heart sinks into my stomach.

"If I have to ask again, Shirley, you'll start losing things." He carefully unfolds the pocket knife, making sure we catch the light bouncing off the blade before waving it in El's face. "Starting with those pretty little locks of yours. Yeah?"

He's in more danger than we are. He's in more danger than we are--

I still look desperately between the man and his companions─it'd be helpful to know where they stand with the threatening of children. Each of them seemed uncomfortable with his actions in varying degrees, but it was Flannel, again, who stepped forward.

"Come on, Axe. Put down the knife." She warns, her voice getting sharper.

The blade grows closer towards El's face and my heart rate breaks hummingbird records. The man is only getting angrier.

"How did you find us?"

"I saw her." El's voice is rushed and shaky, but not completely fearful. I know why, and it's the only reason I haven't (completely) fallen apart.

He advances further, still with that stupid knife and everyone's voices begin to drown in the deafening roar of blood pumping in my ears. He's beside me now as El keeps backing away and I can't bring myself to move out of his way. I'm not sure yet if it's out of bravery or fear.

"That's not an answer!" He roars.

"Axe!"

I throw aside my common sense and step fully in between them, planting myself directly in his path. "Hey-!"

He freezes, wide eyes flying to his hand. My eyes follow, fearful I've done something unintentionally. But there's nothing. Just a shaky hand with a tiny blade. Yet Mohawk staggers backward, his blade-wielding arm extended as far away from himself as possible.

"Je-Jesus!" He huffs in ragged, near incoherent sqeaks. "Jesus Christ!"

He chucks the knife on the concrete behind us, the blade nearly nicking my legs. He looks up and down his torso, his face draining of color before our eyes. He frantically swipes at himself, several fearful squeals jumping from him. El and I share a look over my shoulder, confused.

"Get off! Shit!"

He is running across the room now, hunched over and desperately swatting at his head, face, and arms. I have to step back to avoid his path as he maneuvers around me and his companions have to do the same.

"You're a terrible dancer, Axel."

Everyone, including myself, turns towards the source of the newest voice. On the stairs, leaning on the banister with a sly smirk is another young woman. Half of her head is shaved, the other half tinted a dark purple. Like the others, she was dressed in grunge, but oddly, they didn't seem shabby or cheap.

The guy named Axel relaxes, only for a moment, before it evolves into anger. He smacks his head angrily and gestured towards her as she comes down the steps.

"I told you, Kali, stay out of my head. " He spits.

"So we're threatening little kids now, are we?" She asks, striding towards us.

"They know about you." Axel defends.

The Smoker─the one who mocked me─steps forward with the photo El had procured.

"Farmgirl here had this."

The new girl, the one I can only assume to be the one we were searching for, grabs the photo. If I had to guess, she is attempting to hide her shock.

El steps away from behind me and cautiously approaches her. I'm not entirely thrilled, nor surprised, to see this girl, Kali, sizing El up and down. I don't miss the quick inspection she gives me, either.

"Where did you get this?" She asks El.

"Mama," El answers, taking the photograph back and placing it in her bag.

"Your mother gave this to you?"

"In her dream circle," El says.

I raise my brow, and as I suspect the others don't take to it, or her very easily.

"Dream circle," Axel scoffs, pacing the room. "I think she's a schizo or something."

I'm beginning to believe this man is determined to be the biggest jackass in the room.

"Says she's looking for her sister."

"Yeah. Like I said, schizo."

There's a bitter taste in my mouth and an itch crawling up my back. The idea of holding back all this anger is withering before my eyes─every word this asshole says is added coal to the fire.

My glare follows him across the room as he bends to retrieve his knife. But the blade is flying through the air and into El's waiting hand before he can touch it. This almost makes me smile.

Mumbles of surprise bounce around the group, but I simply watch with pride building in my chest as El confidently folds the knife closed and hands it to the girl.

"I saw you. In the rainbow room."

Something in the girl's eye changes drastically. She begins to stalk around El before she stops halfway to stand beside her.

"What is your name?"

"Jane."

I can't say I was expecting that, yet I wait. I concentrate my energy on keeping my jaw clenched. I've been fighting my chattering teeth ever since we stepped into this lions den and the muscles in my jaw have now grown weak and sore.

Kali grabs El's left wrist and pushes back her sleeve revealing her tattoo. In turn, El reaches for Kali's sleeve. It's pulled back to reveal a tiny cluster of ink to match El's. I almost don't notice─the sight of El allowing anyone to touch her tattoo had floored me.

That is, until I finally catch the three black digits etched into Kali's skin, and my stomach twists.

It's not actually...? My wringing hands find a new focus: the loud and blank skin of my left inner wrist.

I'm not sure why I'm surprised by this, not if we came here in search of someone like El. Someone who lived through the lab experiments with El. But the sight of the 008 tattoo hits me a little hard. Is it because it makes this all the more real? Or was it because of the longing in El's eyes as they cloud over in tears?

Her lips begun to tremble as their gazes met. "Sister."

Kali nods, breathless. "Sister,"

The two collapse into each other's arms and somehow I feel even more out of place here. It's inspiring to see; two sides of the same coin finally meeting. What each of them must have gone through─now free, now with one another. This is huge for El.

So why aren't I happy? And why does this feel like such a slippery slope?

There's no time to wonder, the two are breaking apart. Kali takes El's hands in her own, giving them a strong squeeze. The two smile at one another and my eyes fall to my feet, suddenly hyperaware of my myself and how I stand. The ends of my sweatpants are still soaked and the water in my shoes sponged up against my feet are frigid. Yet somehow, the stare of the others──the stare of Kali's──is what freezes me over.

"Jane, who is this?" She asks.

"Y/n. My friend."

Against instinct, against all comforting thought, I force myself to face her. Maybe I'm mistaken or just too damn hopeful, but the curiosity behind her eyes almost seems a bit more relaxed. Now with El's approval.

Hands still partially hidden in my jacket pocket, I send a tiny wave with my fingers and manage my best imitation of a smile.

"Hi," I mumble, trembling. Damn my chattering teeth.

The weight of Kali's stare is intimidating. I might not know the specifics of what makes her unique like us, but I can tell already her abilities aren't what make her powerful. She exudes that all on her own.

Kali looks me up and down and I almost convince myself my life depends on this one impression. And maybe it does.

Tearing me from my thoughts, Kali cocks her head and asks. "Why are you in pajamas?" She actually sounds, almost, amused? It's disarming.

"Short version?" I want to wince at the nervous chuckle that comes out involuntarily. But I'm too damn cold. And hungry. "We kinda had to make a quick get away."

Kali looks at me for a moment with an unreadable expression, though something tells me she understands. Another moment of uncertainty, seconds too long, and my mind runs in panicy circles. What did I say? What did I not say? Did I accidentally just insult her, her mother, and her entire existence without realizing? The part of my brain in charge of logic dismissed that theory almost immediately but unfortunately stress and fear were the perfect feul for doubt, as always.

Kali confirms this with a chuckle that brought time back out of slow motion. She then turns to another one of the groups members─the one who had taken caution with El and her photograph─the Muscle. He is a wide-set man with the long braid and a kindly aura.

"Funshine, take this one upstairs and help him find some warm clothes. I'd like to talk to Jane. Alone."

Her eyes fall on me, her amusement dimming away and back to speculation.

El doesn't appear to be as hesitant as I would have anticipated her to be. She's lost in the euphoria of reuniting with Kali. The idea of a sudden separation strikes fear in me─something far more powerful than the silly doubts flashing in my mind moments ago. This was a pit seeding in my stomach, ready to grow.

The larger man nods and steps forward. Surprised, my eyes flicker back to Kali and she smiles reassuringly.

"Don't worry, he's nothing but a big softie," she says with a simper, turning and leaving with El.

"El...?" Was she really just gonna leave? The two slow, and El pulls her attention away from Kali and over her shoulder to me.

"It's okay," she promises. "I'll be back," And then she was dissapearing up the stairs, Kali's arm slung over her shoulder.

...Somehow that made it worse.

The man I've been instructed to go with is smiling warmly when I turn to him. It's the first I'm put at even the slightest of ease since arriving.

"Don't you worry, we'll find something warm for you," he says, his voice deep and kind. He makes way for the stairs, pausing at the bottom with a hand on the metal rail. He throws me a brief nod over his shoulder. "We should get you by a fire, too, and quick. Dangerous for you to be walking out here like that─you'll catch your death,"

Against all odds, I feel a tiny tug at the corners of my mouth─a smile itching to spread. It doesn't quite, not with the dread sitting in my stomach like a chunk of stone or my friend walking off with a stranger.

But now, with little choice, I do the same.

My footsteps fall in sync with his almost instantly as we climb the stairs. Silence falls quick and heavy over the open space apart from our differentiating gait hiking the metal steps. I'm peering over my shoulder without much thought for consequence, my eyes meeting with the other three strangers─each of them watch me.

The way they eye me turns my stomach. The Mohawk──Axel, and the Smoker, in particular.

There was the Flannel woman─the only other person here who seemed to care El and I were children. She may be the other exception. For one, she doesn't seem interested enough, and for that I'm grateful. But mostly, I don't forget her attempts to cool down this Axel.

His glare on me sharpens, but to my surprise, I don't wither beneath it. I'm brave enough (or stupid enough) to glare back. He twirls his knife expertly in his hands as I turn away, eliciting a unpleasant cackle from Smoker. I don't need any further reassurance these are two I need to worry about.

But that's already being pushed to the back burner─Funshine and I reach the second floor and round a poorly lit corner and that's when I spot the two figures down the catwalk a ways. El and Kali. They're making their way for another, steeper pair of stairs. Smiling and laughing, already.

A sudden voice cuts through my storm of thoughts and suddenly I'm back on earth. "Right this way, friend,"

Funshine directs me to one of the makeshift bedrooms to our right and something in me weakens when we step inside. The concrete room is bathed in turquoise and peach shadows casted from the neon lights gathered inside. Where I expected all concrete walls to close me in, I see wide (albiet dirtied) windows overlooking the first floor. But the lure of it all is a split between the king size nest of pillows and blankets in the center and the fire pit in the corner.

The sight of it all is dangerously persuasive and so is the sudden wail of my aching bones and the shudder down my spine, louder than they ever were. I'm wavering already, but I'm alert enough to realize the longing in my eyes as they rake across the bed and fire is obvious.

Funshine gestures towards the fire in the corner and ushers me along. "Go ahead and warm up. I'll be right back with some proper clothes." He says before turning.

I nod absently, far too entranced and eagerly gravitating towards the warmth now before me.

He leaves from where we came and disappears around the corner. I stifle a smile when I feel the heat washing over my body. Muscles I didn't even realize I had are melting as they meet the warm glow of the flames.

I'm not sure how long I'm standing there, but it must be several minutes at the least. Enough time for Funshine to return with a bundle of clothes in his arms.

"Here you are," I trail behind him to the bed where he drops the small mountain on the edge of the sunken mattress. "I gathered a few things that I thought might fit you best. Theres plenty of stuff in here, so you'll have options. But I insist you consider dressing in layers. It'll only get worse out there," He sends me another nod and begins to head back for the door. "Alright then. You get warm, now,"

And that's all he says. He's already heading for the door. I have a sudden fear I won't get another chance to speak with him. Or let the swell of gratitude I felt be known. I couldn't hold my tongue any longer, nor did I want to.

"Hey," I call out, growing nervous. "Um..." I winced a bit at my trailing voice.

He slows at the door and turns around, giving me a curious look.

"Thank you," I mumble, mustering a smile as grateful as I felt. "For the clothes. And-- well, everything, I guess."

Another friendly smile stretches across his face and once again he nods.

"You're certainly welcome."

[the-spooky-archives]

Intros, among other things.

Cocoa Beane

Hello hello! Cocoa Beane (Any Pronouns), Head Archivist, at your service! Currently in the process of attempting to reorganize the archives while also keeping up with all the new statements that keep pouring in from Research. Scared of spiders. Just a tad.

catch me over at @the-better-archivist for daily liveblogs about the reorganization efforts, among other things. My posts here are denoted by #archivist speaks.

Vinny Seraph

Hi everyone, names Vinny Seraph, She/her. I’m yet another archival assistant here, and I also help Cocoa out with her organization efforts if I can. I like coffee, music, and more coffee. I’m not addicted, I swear. I just like the taste.

My personal blog is @magnus-coffee-shop and the tag I use for my posts here is #Vinny Coffee Talk.

Kairos

Hello. My name is Kairos, and I’m an archival assistant here at the Institute. I handle most of the tech side, because it’s abundantly obvious how much Cocoa needs it. If you need to reach me, I’ll probably ignore you. And don’t touch my plants.

But if you must ask me something, you can find me at @clock-weaver for…my own efforts in archival work. All posts written by me here will be signed off with the tag #clock’s ticking

Minty Mori

Hello Hello! My name is Minty Mori (He/him) and archival assistant. I do a lot of filing, paperwork, I handle a lot of miscellaneous tasks but really just standard paper things. I have narcolepsy and I wholly apreciate the patience of the archival staff. I'm not entirely sure what to write honestly, Hopefully this will be alright with the Cocoa.

You'll find me occasionally posting at @minty-mori-archival-assistant (gosh it's so long.) And my tag is: #Sleep talking Minty.

Michael (Angelo?)

Hi there! I'm Michael, short for a myriad of things! I go by Mikey usually. I'm an archival assistant, brought on by Elias. I used to know Gertie, my guardian used to bring me out to see her! I'm not telling what I do here, as I find it fun to keep it secret. I like to refer to myself as "Michael 2" as my guardian is also named Michael (part of why he adopted me in the first place). My blog is @a-second-smaller-door, and I post with the tag #Michael..... 2!

What is The Spooky Archives?

The Spooky Archives, aka TSA, is a TMA AU created by all the mods on this blog and a few others who haven't been introduced yet. In this AU, our own OCs/sonas take the place of the s1 archival crew (though of course they all still exist, they just aren't working in the Archives).

About the Mods

Cocoa

Names Mod Cocoa (Any pronouns). A few of my friends (who are also mods on this blog) told me I should listen to Magnus. I gave in after a few weeks and proceeded to listen to the entire podcast in two weeks, so that gives you an idea of my level of insanity.

My main blog is @ihavenohotcocoa, and I kinda just post whatever I want so like. Maybe some magnus, maybe not.

Vinny

Hi! Mod Vinny here! (She/her pronouns) I’m a bit of a newbie to the series, and pretty much still am. I started listening to TMA and then my progress grinded to a halt around 107(?) because I was too anxious for everyone. And then I just got Mod!Cocoa to tell me everything because I was tired. And honestly? I would have not survived. So please forgive me if I do things contradictory to canon because everything I got is from word of mouth.

My blog is @vinegar-on-main, but don’t expect me to post only TMA stuff. I post whatever I feel like.

Llama

HI HI HELLO my name’s Llama (she/her)!! I was one of said friends who bugged Cocoa to listen to tma and I don’t think any of us have been the same ever since, I know I haven’t :D

My main blog is @constellama, I post art and sometimes random thoughts on different fandoms I’m a part of :D Feel free to follow !!

Minty

Y O U. Hello! I'm Minty (He/him or any), and I was also bugged to listen to it!! It really spread like a plague/pos ofc. I post about a couple things?? DC and Spiderverse have me in a chokehold at the time of writing so you may see a lot of that.

My main blog is at: @hyperspix and yeah! Chilling and vibing. Always free to yell about something to me because I love hearing them! Have a lovely day <3.

Mikey

HI! My name is Mikey (He/They/It). I listened to tma back before s4 even ended. I like transformers a lot. like so much. so so so much. please someone talk to me about transformers. my main blog is @snowybookwyrm !

[thesnailkiwi]

for the queer ask game: 🍁🔥🧡🌼💛🌾🌱💚🔮🏳‍🌈🌈?

🍁 actually, it wasn't that long ago. Around last November I started suspecting, and in January I actually fully realized

🔥 not really. I mean, still a bit of yes, but not much. Mostly whenever anyone says anything suggestive about me I scrunch up my nose and dismissed them. I also am proud of who I am a bit more, knowing that there's a community if I ever need help.

🧡 none. None at all. I mean, I draw myself as a guy if that counts.

🌼 I fully went by she/her, but now I go by whatever. I'm not a stickler about Pronouns. I prefer she/they/he, but idrc if you use anything else. As long as I know you're referring to me.

💛 I thought about it a lot. No one or nothing really made me realize. It was just kind of a thing when I was trying to sleep one night and it hit me like a brick wall v. character in a cartoon. Though I will say that Scott Smajor, Notajlafond, and Ranboo helped me accept myself.

🌾 no, I definitely do not look the part. I act the part, apparently, tho. A few years ago, literally one of my closest friends asked if I was queer, and at the time, I wasn't. So that's a thing ig.

🌱 she'd be like "what tf happened?" And proceed to have a sexuality crisis. Maybe I'd even get denied, who knows? I wasn't a homophobe but I used to be the straightest person in the friend group. Huh, now that I think abt it, what did happen?

💚 too many.

🔮 twas a dark and stormy night when the queer monster appeared and attacked me with its vicious teeth. It gave me a device to do research on at 4 am and then told me "get used to it ur lgbtqia+" and disappeared in a puff of magic smoke. Then I proceeded to message the wrong person since I was tired and having a crisis. Luckily they were the same sexuality.

🏳️‍🌈 I love the colors of the asexual flag. I don't incorporate it in my outfits since I throw on whatever is clean and go about my day. I want to get one but idk how my dearest parents would react.

🌈 hmmm. So many different, smaller, less mainstream sexualities should get some attention as well. They're here, too! And they are part of the community but are constantly ignored! Also, some people need to experience the feeling of the hate we get and the struggles we face as a whole. Yeah, ok, cool - you have your beliefs and I have mine, but bro chill out agree to disagree you don't need to attack me because I like someone and you don't understand what love feels like. My parents pretty religious, and if they can accept me, you can. Anyway, moving on. This turned into a rant.

Enjoy, do want you want with this ig. Also you are a consistent person and highly appreciate you! They say teamwork makes the dream work, but I think they should replace teamwork with "my tumblr mutuals that I highly appreciate and want to give a blanket, plushie, and hot coco and proceed to pat them on the head"