#i’m not perfect about this either i’ve been steadily going back to describe my old pictures but yeah there’s still a ways to go

[transmalewife]

i’m a bit confused by the concept of tagging things as ‘not image described’. obviously when the op does that with the assumption that they’ll remove it if they see someone has added a description that’s great, but i regularly see people add that tag when reblogging posts with 100k notes and i find it hard to believe that they went through all the notes to find a description. at that point it would take less time to just describe it. but they tag it as not described anyway which means people who have that blacklisted won’t be able to see the post at all, even if there is another thread with descriptions going around. like the thought behind it is great but i think we should try to find a better way of executing it

#i think it might be because people don’t know how tumblr blacklisting works #in my understanding if even one person adds the tag the whole post gets blocked #i’ve also had people tag my posts described in alt text as not described #i’m not perfect about this either i’ve been steadily going back to describe my old pictures but yeah there’s still a ways to go #image id #mine

[inkandpen22]

Shared Minds and Shared Souls (1/?)

Pairing: Spike x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, swearing

Word Count: 2.9k

Story Summary: Driven by the power she posses as a witch and psychic, Y/N returns to Sunnydale to pay a visit to her family after she has a vision about Dawn. She isn’t exactly like her duty first and justice before all else cousin Buffy as Y/N follows her own rules. She offers her aid to the Scoobies during their drama with Glory. Y/N doesn’t plan to stay long until she experiences an unparalleled connection with a certain vampire from North London.

Masterlist

I never imagined myself visiting a small town like Sunnydale. I’ve lived in many places, but never California. The west coast isn’t exactly my style. For one, it’s hot. Two, the hippy-dippy happy-go-lucky attitude makes my eyes roll. Finally, Los Angeles reminds me of Celia, my cousin. Buffy, Celia, and I were inseparable as children. Dawn tried to tag-along in our make-believe games, but Buffy grew annoyed with her quickly. I haven’t been back in California in a decade for this very reason. Everything about California reminds me of a time when we were just kids. Before everything went to Hell in a hand basket. 

Blasting Green Day in front of the hospital, I park my 1967 bright red Mustang. I take a minute to collect myself before barging in. Buffy and Dawn don’t exactly know I’m coming, but there’s something I have to warn them about, something so crucial that I drove here all the way from New York. The funny part will be explaining to Buffy that I know she’s the Slayer. To her knowledge, I’m just her ordinary cousin who she hasn’t seen since we were ten. In reality, I’m a psychic witch, have been since birth. Well, I’ve been psychic since the womb, the witchy part came later. Oh, and I can’t forget seeing the dead part, I always do. That little twist comes with the psychic part. Yeah, imagine a little ten-year-old me seeing my recently deceased cousin at her funeral… fun times. It explains the whole discomfort toward California. Low-key traumatized, but all good. Any who, I should probably stop the hesitation and just head inside. 

As I stroll down the bitter cold hospital hall, I grip the leather straps of my backpack nervously. 

“Hi Buffy,” I rehearse under my breath. “You probably don’t recognize me, I’m Y/N… your cousin. It’s great to see you- God I sound so stupid!” 

I follow the signs on the wall toward the Neurology unit. Hospitals, cemeteries, funeral homes, old buildings, all great places to bump into ghosts. The things I do for family, boy do these guys owe me. 

As I turn down yet another peach colored hall- geez this place is dated- my eyes land on a familiar blonde in the waiting room at the far end. Oh great, here we go. Buffy doesn’t notice me right away, being too occupied with doting on a sleeping Dawn resting her head on her lap. I take note of the blondie boy sat beside her. I’m guessing he’s with Buffy. Good for her, a strong seven out of ten. I would rate him higher, but he’s not my type, too All-American boy-next-door. 

“Looks like I’m right on time,” I determine once I’m closer, thus making my presence known. Buffy peers up at me and her eyes widen steadily. Blondie next her looks between me and Buffy. Her surprised reaction makes him tense, I nearly assure him I’m not a threat. 

“Y/N?” She gentle shakes Dawn to wake her as she rises from her seated position. “What are you doing here?” 

“I heard about your mom… ” I explain vaguely. In truth, I saw it in a vision and a lot more beyond that, but I’ll just say my mom told me for now. 

Buffy makes long strides and warmingly embraces me. I can sense the desperation in her touch. Her ora is all out of wack. I could see the mess her colors are from yards away. It seems like I did really arrive at the perfect time. Buffy needs me now more than ever. 

“Y/N!” Dawn gasps behind us. 

Buffy and I part, her eyes stare into mine pleadingly. Yeah, we really need to have a chat. Preferably somewhere we can be frank, truly frank, no bullshit like I’m spilling right now. 

“Oh my God!” Dawn squeals, rushing down to greet me.  She squeezes me like a stress ball as she rambles on about how much she’s missed me. Then, Dawn starts to ask the tough questions as usually does. The girl has never quite had a filter. “Where have you been?”

“New York mainly,” I laugh. 

“How come you’ve never come to see us before?” She rushes out as Buffy continues to stare at me in awe. It could be she thinks she’s dreaming this. 

“Dawn, I-” 

She cuts me off, “how’s aunt Lolly? Are you college? When did you get in?”

“Dawnie!” I laugh, “I will answer all your questions, promise. We’ll catch up! For now,” I look at Buffy. “I need to have a chat with your sister…” 

The girl scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Of course, you’re for Buffy… everyone is always here for her. No ever visit me,” she grumbles. 

“I’m here for you too,” I assure Dawn. “I just… it’s important I speak with Buffy right now. It’s about something-” 

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Blondie interrupts, his face covered with confusion. 

“I’m Y/N,” I introduce myself. “I’m Buffy and Dawn’s cousin.” 

“I’m Riley, the boyfriend,” he offers me his hand. 

Wow, quite the introduction. I’m not much of a contact-person, but this seems like the perfect opportunity to gather information on G.I. Joe. As I shake his hand, I’m able to visualize memories and emotions from him. They come as flashes before my eyes. I hear his thoughts, see through his eyes, and feel what he’s felt. All I see Buffy, moments they’ve had. At first, pleasure and immense happiness consumes my head. Then, it’s replaced with doubt and self-deprecation. The obsession with Buffy is replaced with desperate longing. He feels her slipping. 

My visual is cut-off when Riley removes his hand. I’m brought back to current moment, surrounded by chaos of the hospital. 

Dawn frowns, curiosity etched across her features. “What’s so important that you had to come all the way? Does it have to do with Mom?”

“You came all the way from New York?” A male voice questions behind me. 

What is this an interrogation? The sooner someone tells me where Buffy is the sooner I can head back home. Believe me, I don’t want to be here longer than I have to be. I glance over my shoulder, Willow and Xander stare at me in confusion. We’ve never met, but I know of them, the visions. I’ve been keeping tabs on Buffy and the family since… well… since Buffy became the Slayer. 

“Yes,” I answer Xander directly. Turning back to Buffy, I not so discretely tell her it’s urgent. “Please, Buff, do you have minute? I know this isn’t exactly opportune but-” 

“Of course,” she swallows hard. “We can uh… we can talk outside. There’s a courtyard just over there,” she gestures down the hall. 

“I’m coming with,” Riley declares next to her. 

“I’m sorry, is your name Buffy?” I sass, much to his frustration. “What am I going to do her? She’s my cousin. I’m only borrowing her for a second, then you can toss the leash back on her.” 

“Y/N…” Buffy mutters for me to stop. 

Riley narrows his eyes at me- oof, I’m real scared now! While I giggle at her boyfriend’s expense as the two of us start down the hall. I’ve missed Buffy, we used to be like two peas in-a-pod. Once all this drama I’ve seen in her future is over, perhaps we can be close again. I refuse to settle in Sunnydale though. At least we have phones and email. 

Once outside, and we’re certain we’re alone, Buffy cuts to the chase. “Not that I’m not happy you’re here, Y/N, I am but, why are you here?” She hasn’t changed a bit.

I snicker, peering up at the sky as the sun it starting to set. Gosh, I hate the day. That sounds weird because what human hates daytime, but I do. I’m much more… in tune with myself when it’s night time. I thrive off the moonlight and stars. The sun and its rays are hot, too hot. I like the cold and darkness of night. 

“Fine, let’s get right to it,” I smirk at my cousin wickedly. Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my pack of cigarettes, feeling a bit anxious. “You mind?” I ask her, not really caring but figure I should check. 

Timidly, she shakes her head. Her arms are securely crossed in front of her as she watches me take a smoke. “Those things will kill you,” she advices the cookie-cutter phrase. 

“So can a car accident, yet we still drive,” I remark with sass. “What’s life without a little risk?” I wink. 

Buffy shifts on her feet as her jaw clenches. Her aura is shifting again, Black to red, I’ve never seen someone change on a dime so fast. That’s change is funny, she’s either angry or afraid of me, maybe both. I can’t blame her, I’m not exactly a Care Bear. My black and red attire doesn’t scream comforting. 

“Then again, you would know all about death, right Cuz?” I suggest subtly. 

Her eyes lock with mine and I start to see the wheels turning her head. ‘Does she know? How could she?’ She’s likely thinking to herself. One touch and I could hear for certain what she’s thinking. 

“What are you talking about?” She mumbles, barely meeting my eye. 

I scoff, tossing my head back, why can’t this be easier? You know what, fine! Growing impatient, I hold my hand out, palm to the sky. “Light,” I verbalize and within seconds a bright orb floats above my palm. 

Buffy stares at my magic stunned. Yeah, I was sort of expecting that kind of reaction. 

“How… How…” She stutters. 

“If you’d like a mini bolt of lighting I can do that too,” I offer. “I kind of prefer them, far more powerful!” 

She doesn’t share in my excitement as she slowly steps closer still in awe. “You’re a witch?” 

“Yep!” I smile, rather proud. “Have been for a while now, gotten pretty good at it too, not to brag or anything…” 

“So…” Buffy continues to process everything. “You know about demons, vampires-” 

I hum, “all of it. Including that you’re the Slayer, congrats by the way! Fun shit,” I compliment with a snicker. 

“Not exactly how I’d describe it,” she mutters defeatedly, her eyes still on the orb. 

Closing my fist, the orb disappears and I place my hand on Buffy’s shoulder. Her eyes meet mine solemnly. 

“How long have you known?” She asks unfazed. 

“Since forever,” I answer truthfully. “Sorry I never called or have come to help. I’ve sort of been cheering for ya from the sidelines. In all honesty, I’ve been away perfecting my magic with a coven. I’ve met some pretty interesting people along the way, all dazzled when they find out I’m related to the Slayer,” I gush. 

She pays no mind to my compliments, still in a daze. “Does anyone know? Does your dad?” 

I shake my head and sternly tell her, “he can never know! He thinks I’ve been away at school in Boston. In truth, I’ve been in New York with a coven.” 

Buffy nods in understanding, though I know Joyce is aware of the supernatural world. My mom could never handle it. “Did you come all the way here to tell me that?” 

Okay, here’s the hard part, the real hard part! I finish my cigarette, pondering the last relaxing bit of it before tossing it to the ground. “Okay, so here’s the deal,” I begin. “There’s a this big nasty bitch I’ve seen in my visions- I see visions by the way-” I add in passing, having forgotten it. Then, I remember I can’t forget the ghosties bit. “Anyway, you’ve already bumped into her, Glory. Yeah, she’s a real charmer from what I can see. I’m here to help because based on my visions, she’s kicking your asses.” 

I leave out a crucial bit of information, a part of the visions I’m not sure I can share. One important thing about being a psychic is not changing fate. As much as I want to tell Buffy everything, I know I can’t, not if I don’t want to mess with the world. 

“So, you’re here to help us stop Glory?” She clarifies. 

“It gets real fucked at some points,” I tell her, hoping that doesn’t reveal too much. 

“And I take it you know about Dawn…” she insinuates. 

I nod my head slowly, “you mean that she’s The Key? Then yes, I do. She’s about as human as the Teletubbies, but of course I won’t mention that to her. Who all knows?” 

“As of right now, me and Giles. He’s my Watcher,” she explains. “Did you already know that?” She’s catches on quickly. 

“Kinda…” I answer hesitantly. “Sorry if that’s weird. I’ve tried not to pry with my visions. If it makes you feel better, I didn’t know who Riley was! He mustn’t have been around the last time I checked in!” 

“When was the last time you… ya know… checked in?” She asks, unsure of how to phrase it. 

“Well, I’ve been away with the coven. I joined them right after high school, so I suppose it was when you started at UC Sunnydale. I know all about Willow and Xander, they seem nice from what I’ve seen. Angel, his in-and-out appearance in my visions was confusing for a while until I realized he was doing that in real life too,” I laugh.

“So you saw all of the Spike drama and my mom finding out about me too?” She asks. 

I frown, I saw Joyce learning about Buffy and that whole conversion, but I’ve never heard of a Spike. Based on my expression, Buffy predicts the answer. 

“Spike is the biggest pain in my ass,” she groans. “He and Angel used to be all vampy together. Then, Angel gained a soul and Spike got worse from what I’ve gathered. He’s killed two Slayers, so we’re not exactly friends. We met when he tried to kill me. He’ll show up and leave again, kinda like Angel but less helpful. Except now, he’s acting all infatuated with me and sticking around.” 

I snicker, “oof, so you have a psychotic vampire lusting after you? How did I miss this?!” 

Buffy rolls her eyes, “believe me, it’s not fun.”  

“Is he hot?” I inquire, always interested in a troubled bad-boy type. 

She stares at me with narrowed eyes of disapproval and scoffs, “oh my God… never ask me that again.” 

 “He must’ve showed up and gone between visions,” I determine. “I wasn’t able to check in much after you started at UC. Which reminds me, your roommate Kathy- not a fan of her,” I confess with a bit of humor. 

“Turned out to be a demon,” Buffy explains, much to my surprise. 

I gasp, “no way! Ugh, I saw you move-in, some interactions here and there, but that’s about it. I knew there was something up with her!” 

Buffy laughs, actually smiling for the first time since our reunion. It feels great having someone know I’m a witch who isn’t a witch themselves. Being away in New York with the coven was great and utterly freeing. They were the first people who I showed my true self to. Now, finally, someone I care about knows the real me. I have so much more to share with her! 

Buffy takes my hand gently, “I’m really glad you’re here. Lately… lately things have been more difficult than I could’ve ever imagined,” she confesses, swallowing back her tears and looks at the ground. “With Mom and protecting Dawn, I’m not sure I can do it all on my own. I mean, I have my friends, Giles, and Riley but…” she meets my gaze, tears puddling in her eyes. “I needed you, I just didn’t quite know it. I needed my other sister,” she weeps. 

Immediately, I pull Buffy into my chest and hug her tightly. I should’ve come sooner. I should’ve felt Buffy’s pain. I guess I was so caught up with the coven and I forgot to check on her, so I missed the signs. I’m here now, that’s all that matters. Now, I can help. Seeing Buffy so upset makes my blood boil. Anyone who fucks with my family gets knocked off this planet, which means Glory has another coming at her in the form of a powerful witch. 

__________________________

Masterlist 

#spike #btvs #fanfic #spikexreader #dawn summers #buffy #buffy s 5 #buffy summers #spike fanfic #spuffy #spike x buffy #spike x reader #btvs imagine #btvs fanfic

[anfie-in-the-box]

X-tra Dark Cream Teaser

Notes

I’m still very much not participating in Dark Cream Week, yet somehow this thing is done right in time, so I’m posting it with respective tags.

The story of X-tra Dark Cream is going to be pretty big and serious. Like, plot-wise, lore-wise, so-many-other-aspects-wise, you have no idea what you’ve got coming. And I just really hope you all will enjoy the ride.

What you need to know now is that I’m kind of getting back to my very own idea that you can find right here. Though it’s a different timeline, not Genocide Route. What they share is a concept of both Dream and Cross being villains, at first sight their atmosphere and aesthetic are kind of similar, but that’s it. What exactly is happening here will be explained in the story, and let me tell you, Dream and Cross have a long way ahead of them before they reach the point described in this little teaser.

So I’ve got a question for you. Answer honestly.

Would you like your Cream extra dark?

。。。

Just a Bad Dream

Once the portal is safely closed and there’s no more negativity pouring right into Dream’s cursed soul, he hurries to Cross’ side, hugging him tightly. Dismissing his huge knife, Cross hugs Dream back with a weary yet content sigh. “My greatest hero, once again taking down the whole world in my name,” Dream murmurs, ever so appreciatively and very, very gently. Cross caresses his spine through the clothes and the gloop, and, although he never really bothers to use words after a foray to one AU or another, the tremble of his hands is telling Dream enough. So, as much as the fallen guardian wishes to hold Cross like this forever, he lets go.

“I believe you are due for a good rest now.”

Dream cannot help a smile when Cross doesn’t argue, merely lingering to give his spine one last stroke. One could say they are finally figuring out their routine, grasping the ways to make their complicated lives easier, if only a little bit. For Cross it’s definitely lots of sleep and lazing around after all the work he’s done; no matter how much he doesn’t like it, and despite all the bad dreams that he’s most likely to have with all the LV, both old and new, still raging in his soul.

Dream, on the other hand, won’t be sleeping any time soon. It would do him no good at all — this lesson he learned the hard way. There isn’t much to be done when Dream’s whole being is brimming over with shattered positivity of the whole AU, — agonising grief and fear from those who survived; absolute despair from the last moments of those who died; guilt of those who were supposed to protect their people, parents and rulers all the same; at last, contempt and helplessness of every single soul. Oh, the two of them truly are beneath contempt, aren’t they? Breaking entire worlds, taking away a mere possibility of them functioning like they are supposed to. Monsters who only seek to twist and corrupt.

That’s what they say, Dream knows it all too well, both from careful whispers that no one else was supposed to hear and from straightforward, provocative screams right in his face. It’s good, exactly how he wants it to be, but right now he couldn’t care less. Dirt on Cross’ clothes matters more than this.

Actually, that’s what Dream’s going to busy himself with. Cross’ new uniform is piled up beside their bed, soaked in humans’ blood and covered in monsters’ dust. There’s no doubt washing these will be a real pain in the neck, but that’s exactly what Dream needs right now. Something basic yet not too simple. Easy enough for Dream to be able to pay more attention to Cross, whose even breathing and serene expression bring peace to the fallen guardian’s rotting soul, too. This way his hands are occupied, all of the energy he’s gathered is guided in the non-destructive direction until it settles, and his troubled mind is resting even without sleep. It’s a nice bonus to be able to look after Cross, ready to help him break free from yet another nightmare, for the dreadful, horrific visions are always haunting him in reality as well… At least in the first moments after waking up, although sometimes it takes Cross much longer to snap out of it, even with the aid of Dream. Hopefully, this time won’t be so… troublesome.

It’s so obvious that Dream isn’t in the slightest used to doing the laundry — any laundry at all, let alone something as tricky as washing all this blood and dust out, — it’s almost funny. Although, to be fair, it really isn’t supposed to actually be useful — a mere distraction, nothing more, nothing less.

Cross will overwrite his clothes anyway. And, if that fails (though lately the number of failures has lessened significantly; the thought makes Dream’s chest tighten with warmth and pride in his most loyal ally and dearest fiance), they’ll just trade new armor in some AU for the delusive sense of safety. Material needs don’t concern them anymore.

Dream’s progress on washing the uniform is still close to none when he feels a sudden powerful wave of severe distress, and merely a moment later the air gets heavy with magic. Bones and blasters are everywhere, there are so many of them there’s no speck of whiteness left, everything bright red and purple instead. It’s not the first time — neither it is the last one, Dream’s under no illusion about that part, — yet it’s no less mesmerising. If only it weren’t so dangerous for both of them.

Dodging all the attacks, getting closer to Cross is the easy part, that Dream’s doing effortlessly, without sparing it much thought; it’s not like Cross is able to properly hurt Dream, neither in his sleep nor while being fully conscious. Especially not like that. Cross wouldn’t gather enough harmful intent, and considering Dream’s nature is far from ordinary…

It’s even easier to throw Cross out of their bed, his body light, though trembling violently. He jolts awake the moment Dream’s hand touches his chest to grab the fabric of his shirt, but his mind is still very far away. Out of reach. It’s only the lack of resistance that shows Cross has recognised him, if only a little, on some kind of subconscious level. Nothing other than that — just pure black hate pouring down his cheeks and LV raging on within his soul. No way Dream will stand such a state of affairs any longer. Cross is his and his only, he doesn’t belong to whatever hell he’s seeing. And so the fallen guardian growls, as if his own life depended on it, “Wake up!”

Please, please let this one end quickly. Dream hates hurting Cross more than needed.

“Wake up!”

Of course that doesn’t work, it rarely does, but Dream has to try anyway. Besides, it’s usually when the struggling begins. Not this time though; good. Dream feels every single bone directed at his back, oh so clearly hears the Gaster blasters charging. Nothing ever comes. Nothing ever would; not when he’s close enough for Cross to feel the familiar warmth and weight of his body, that Dream knows for sure.

Holding Cross’ hands tight, chanting “Wake up, wake up, wake up”, as if it were a spell (or a plea,  or a prayer), Dream reaches out to Cross’ chest with one of his tentacles, pressing firmly right in the middle of the ribcage, forcing his soul to appear. Cross sharply inhales, obviously in pain, and even tries to arch his back, — only Dream doesn’t allow it, keeping him in place. That’s when his tentacles come in handy…

Other than that, nothing much happens. “Thank stars,” Dream thinks, taking a deep breath. From now on, he needs to be extremely careful. Souls are not to be toyed with. Or, well, the souls of those he loves are not to be toyed with. All the others are perfect but hollow dolls to be filled with oh so very hurtful fragments of their shattered dreams.

That’s what Dream and Cross do. That’s what they’ll continue doing, and no haunting visions would ever take Cross away. They’re together in this.

With his gloved hand Dream cautiously touches the soul, pulsing with LV and shining red and purple, no trace of it ever being one of a monster. Cross’ eye sockets and mouth open wide… It’s almost like he’s screaming without a sound, or maybe the sound merely goes just as far away as his mind is.

Dream’s never asked. He’s not going to ask this time, either.

The charged blasters fire all at once, and the bones are falling behind his back, yet none of the attacks ever land as Dream bawls, “I am Dream, and you are the one who swore an oath of loyalty and love, the one who saw through me, and accepted me, and stayed by my side! You are Cross, and whatever hell you’re seeing, you do not belong to it!” Cross’ mismatched eye-lights get a bit less blurry for a second, and that’s Dream’s cue to finally act with all he’s got.

And so he lets Cross go, leaving utterly motionless body lying on the floor, only for all of Dream’s tentacles to hit the soul at same time before it disappeared once again.

This time Cross actually screams; there is unparalleled agony in his voice, unexpectedly hoarse, as if he’s been screaming like that for hours. It hurts so much to hear it.

Dream is certain it’s better than whatever Cross has just broken free from. As Cross himself once said, “At least in reality I’m in this mess with you.” Very vividly Dream remembers his own response — a warm smile and quiet, confident “Likewise.”

That was then. Now Cross is looking at Dream with lost, pained, vulnerable expression, and his eye-lights, though faded to white, are still blurry — only this time from exhaustion, not because he’s seeing something too much different from reality. That Dream knows how to deal with. He doesn’t help Cross get on his feet, picking him up instead, holding him with hands and tentacles the same.

It’s nice to feel Cross’ weight, and his soul beating more and more steadily. Soothing, really. And that is why Cross only squeaks a little, otherwise showing no signs of discomfort or desire to argue about his position. Not like an argument would lead him anywhere, even if he had enough energy to start one.

They don’t talk until both of them are back in the bed, so close to each other it’s still very easy to hear their souls beating, their breaths warming what little space is beetween them. Dream squeezes Cross’ hand and offers a smile. It’s a tender one, if only a bit teasing.

“Hush now, Cross. It was just a bad dream.”

No words can ever describe his immense relief when Cross smiles back. And all too clearly Dream sees the moment some kind of mischief sparks in his love’s eyes.

“Oh? Well, then I definitely woke up,” Cross says, almost nonchalantly, though there’s no way that would fool Dream, who knows exactly how much he weighs every word. “Because what I see now is not 'just a bad' dream but the worst Dream ever.” At that the warmth in Dream’s chest is blooming like a flower, bursting like thousands of fireworks. Then Cross adds, so gently, as if the two of them might break — and take the whole world with them. “You are my worst.”

And places a kiss on his forehead. Like a final blow.

That weird, silly fool. That wonderful idiot. Dream loves him so, so much.

It takes the fallen guardian a moment to find his words again, and to be sure his voice won’t be trembling as soon as he starts talking. For a moment Dream simply stares at Cross, who just looks back, so calm, so sure, so present.

“Good one,” Dream finally says. “Though if you're feeling fine enough to make flirty puns, we should go back to sleep.” It’s a perfect moment to return the kiss, only on the cheek. Cross seems content anyway.

“Yeah, let’s do that.” He chuckles. “Won't summon any more bones. Or blasters. Promise.”

。。。

Credits:

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dream © jokublog

Cross © jakei95 / xtaleunderverse

Shattered!Dream © shattereddreamsau

Dark Cream © zu-is-here

X-tra Dark Cream © me (anfie / anfie-in-the-box)

Link to the Russian version will be here!

。。。

Notes

I'm too sleepy to write down the references, but there are quite a few! I'll update them later.

But god and stars, do I love Cross' wordplay in the end. That's the first thing I got to know about this story. Then it became "Two villains who have the whole Multiverse terrified being idiots in love". Then I blinked, and suddenly it's huge and super serious. That was fun. It still is.

#dark cream week #dark cream #x-tra dark cream #shattered!dream #cross!sans #undertale #utmv #anfie writes #x-tra dark cream fic #A glimpse into this ship's life #So much more is coming! #I love these two too much for my own good #Hope I'll be able to tell their story #It will be quite a journey #and for once I'm more excited than nervous #Not sure if it lasts though #But I'm determined anyway!

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Whoever your three favorite Batman villains are, following your "Henchman shared custody" thing (Because I need headcanons to fix my shitty day): Say there's this one henchperson who just... even these villains know something is wrong, they're so clingy and desperate to please. Eventually Joker calls them and says "Oh yeah, they have anxiety and PTSD from years of physical, verbal, and emotional abuse" because let's face it he knows this shit

Oooh, I wanna get right into this! However, I’m afraid I can only do one right now. Mr. Freeze is my ABSOLUTE favorite, though.

Mr. Freeze:

He was already kind of socially awkward to begin with - a lot of academics generally are - but now that he’s been pretty much without strong emotion and the general public for so long, he treats the henchman as independent people that need little support.

This can cause a bluntness that most tolerate, some appreciate, and others are put off by.

This henchperson in question is glad that they don’t have to explain their unwillingness to go home at night or their overwhelming need to be perfect, but a small part of them wishes that they’d ask.

Finally, it all comes to a head when the assistant accidentally knocks over a set of beakers, which shatter on the hard floor.

Mr. Freeze, without turning from his current project, asks them to sweep it up and get a new set. He isn’t happy about the delay or the money that will have to be spent on new beakers, but he isn’t too angry. After all, they’re just beakers.

The villain hears shards of glass being swept, but not very fast or with much effort, which is very odd for this particular henchman.

He turns around to find them on their knees, their shoulders shaking, too distraught to sweep the glass. Their hands were covered by the ski mask they were required to wear, but it was clear they were trying to keep back sobs.

Mr. Freeze didn’t question the behavior at the time - he assumed it was a normal emotional reaction - but as time went on, these events started to happen more and more frequently. Soon, Mr. Freeze could barely get through the day without seeing the henchperson in the midst of a stifled breakdown.

The work got done, but at what cost?

So, without any knowledge on the only subject he was ignorant in (emotions), he called Joker.

“Howdy! This is the Funny Farm, Old McJoker speaking. What can I do for you, pardner?”

“I don’t have time for your antics, clown.”

“Ouch. Cold shouldered again by Frosty the Snowman. I thought you were supposed to be some happy, jolly soul! Where’s your Christmas spirit, french fry?”

“Firstly, it’s August. Secondly, and I cannot stress this enough, my last name is pronounced freeze. Thirdly, I require your assistance, not a half-baked pun.”

“You’re getting a little nippy on more than my nose, Jack. Either you can get rid of that bad attitude, or you can make like snow and flake, got it? Today hasn’t really given me much reason to smile, Fry. And if you push my buttons, it’ll be out of the grease and into the fire for you.”

Mr. Freeze checked himself, took a deep breath, then described his issue with the henchperson.

“From my experience and research, humans don’t usually experience such reactions. Was I too harsh? Was my brusqueness unacceptable? Have I really been away from my own kind for so long...?”

There was a brief silence on the other end, but Joker eventually spoke. There was no humor in his voice.

“You mean Emma? That bright-eyed, bushy-tailed blonde? She’s what Wall Street would call unfortunate, but what the rest of us call crazy. And not the fun sort of crazy, either - mostly just pathetic. Like a dog on one of those activism commercials. On one hand, awwww, but on the other, what can you do? The damage has already been done.”

“What...happened to her?”

“What hasn’t, Jack? Parents kicked the bucket, she got bounced around a few foster homes, landed on one that had some sort of pageant dream she lived vicariously through her, a car crash killed daddy number six, and mommy soon after with a few too many special pills. She won a big pageant the night after the funeral and used the money to get herself an apartment in the bad part of Gotham, but ran dry a few weeks later. Signed up for the Henchman Program, bada-bing, bada-boom, there’s Emma.”

“How do you know so much?”

Another silence, then a half-hearted laugh.

“Some mixture of morbid curiosity and a love for tragedy. Isn’t that funny, Freeze? The King of Clowns being a sucker for sad endings and bitter tears? For dead parents and freak accidents and runny mascara? What can I say? I’m a gossip.”

Mr. Freeze felt what little rage he could welling up in his chest.

“She isn’t for your entertainment. Her unfortunate circumstances aren’t a punchline for your pathetic charade - the only true tragedy is your failed attempt at dark humor.”

Joker snarled. “Bye bye, Fry. Say hi to Nora for me, won’t you? I’ve heard she isn’t feeling too well...I’ve heard there has been a chill going around...”

Mr. Freeze gritted his teeth and slammed the phone back on the receiver. He had had enough.

However, his conversation with Joker made him take initiative and make the work environment better for Emma.

Freeze started with giving the henchwoman a place to stay. He disguised the repurposed rooms as a commute issue, so he encouraged anyone who would rather stay in the workplace to use them if their shift lasted more than a day.

Emma snatched the opportunity up like a starving dog, as did a few others. The group became fast friends, and Mr. Freeze could frequently hear them in the guest bedrooms playing board games or sharing stories.

Her mental health steadily improved, as did her work ethic and physical health. After a while, she had made such a recovery that Mr. Freeze asked her to be one of his permanent henchmen.

She accepted ecstatically, taking the martial arts and survival courses with unquenchable determination.

After a few weeks as an official Fractal, she was promoted to team leader, which Mr. Freeze bestowed with great satisfaction.

It was almost like having a daughter of his own...

#btas batman #batman villains #batman #batman the animated series #batman headcanon #batman incorrect quotes #humor #funny post #just for laughs #funny content #funny #dank humor #send asks #ask blog

[undercoverclover]

Make You Happy

Pairing: Donghun x OC

Genre: Angst

Warning: None, I think.

“I can’t do this anymore, Donghun.”

“What do you mean? I’m trying!”

“You’re trying? You’re never home! I get working, but the extra hours are too much! I need you!” I scream, tears streaming down my face.

“I- please. Please, don’t do this.” He says, defeated. The tears running down his face hurt beyond anything describable.

“I don’t want to! Don’t you see that? It’s not how I wanted this.” I turn and walk away from the man I thought I would love for the rest of my life. I probably will, but I can’t be with him until he’s ready… if that will ever happen.

Getting back to my place, I see the photographs plastered on my wall of him and I. I pull them off one by one and put them in my keepsake trunk. I wish it was me that made him happy.

2 years later

“Hey! Long time no see!” I hear. Looking around I see a woman, around my age with light brown hair and blue eyes, had said.

“Liliana?” I gasp.

“Hello, love. How are you? I’ve missed you!” She exclaims, giving me a hug in which I return happily.

“I’m alright. How are you? How’s everything going?” I ask, smiling.

“It’s been pretty good. These past few years have been a lot better than it has been in a while.” She smiles, seeming genuinely happy.

“That’s great! I’m really happy for you.”

“So, what have you been up to since you left?” She asks, kind of nervously playing with her hair-tie to see if it was still a sore subject.

“Once I moved to NYC, it was rough starting off. After everything, I was a disaster. But, eventually I opened up my gallery with a friend and we’ve done pretty well so far. I think anyway.” I smile.

“What? That’s amazing! You’ll have to show me some of your work! Maybe I can get one to ha-”

“Sorry to cut in, but I need my girlfriend for a second.” A familiar face cuts in and smiles at me.

“No way.” I smile, wider than I thought possible, “Chan?”

“Hey, it’s been a long time.” He says, smiling but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“How long have you 2 been together?” I ask, astonished.

“Um… About a year and a half.” He says, smiling and wrapping his arms around her.

“That’s awesome. I’m really happy for you guys.”

“Thanks.” Liliana says, smiling widely, “Well, I guess I’ll be back in just a few. We can finish catching up then?”

“Definitely.”

They take off to wherever Chan needed her and I look around at the room full of people. A high school reunion shouldn’t make you this nervous. I guess that’s what you get when you only had a handful of friends in a sea of people back in high school.

I spot the drink bar and walk towards it, maybe something over there will save me from being lonely.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asks. I look at everything and decide against it, I have to drive back to my parent’s house later.

“Just a sprite, thanks.” I smile. He nods, leaving for a split second to retrieve it.

“I’d never thought I’d see you back here again.” I hear in my ear and freeze.Why….

Turning around, I see Donghun… The same gorgeous man he was 2 years ago, except he had medium platinum hair and wore a suit.

“Hello, Donghun.” I smile slightly, trying to hide the pain I feel looking at his big brown eyes.

“It’s nice to see you again, Anya.” He smiles and looks down anxiously.

“You too. How have you been?” I ask, realizing I might get a hateful response.

“I’ve actually been okay. Better than I was. How about you?”

“I’m alright. It’s been a rough couple of years, but they’re finally getting better.” I say, truthfully.

“Yeah. I get that. What are you doing in NYC?” He asks.

“I have an art gallery up there with a friend.” I smile.

“That’s really great. I’m glad you found something that makes you happy.” He says looking down at the ground again. I feel the stab in my heart and my breath hitches. I regain composure before he looks back up, but the tears are wanting to form.

“Yeah, it’s helped.” I say, “What about you?”

“I mean, we just got back from tour last week, so it’s been rough trying to fix my jet lag… but I’ve been steadily busy.”

“Tour? Are you serious? That’s so awesome!” I smile, really happy for him.

“Yeah. We got signed about 6 months after everything happened.” He smiles but sadly.

“That’s so awesome though. I’m really happy for you. Truly, I am.” I smile at him.

“Anya! There you are.” Liliana smiles, dragging Chan behind her.

“I didn’t leave yet, don’t worry. Plus, you know there’s only one hotel in town.” I chuckle at her.

“That’s true.” she laughs.

“I’ll leave you two to talk, is that okay with you Lil?” Chan asks.

“Yeah, you know where I’ll be.” She smiles, looking up at him and kissing his cheek.

“That’s fine. Donghun, you want to join me with the other guys?” He smiles at his friend.

“Yeah, sure.” He replies then turns to me, “Catch up with you later?”

“Sure.” I smile and they head to find their friends.

I sit and catch up with Liliana for a while, talking about life in a bigger city and what has changed since I’d moved. We talk about good and bad, things in between, and make plans to hang out outside of here tomorrow afternoon. By that time, Chan came to find her and take her home since she had to work in the morning.

Saying their goodbyes, I grab my purse and jacket so I can head out as well.

“Goodnight, Anya.” Donghun says as I pass him walking out to my car.

“Goodnight Donghun.” I smile at him.

Arriving at the small hotel, I open the door and collapse on the bed and pass out from exhaustion. When I wake up the next morning, I notice I never took my makeup off…

“Geez. I need a shower. I look awful.”

Looking at the clock, I notice it’s almost one. I check my phone and Liliana messaged, asking if around 3 this afternoon was a good time to meet up. I text out the short reply and get up to take a shower.

Lil and I met up right at 3, at the cafe beside the hotel.

“Hey! Over here.” I say, waving at her to get her attention.

“Oh! Hey! There you are.” She smiles.

“Yeah, sorry. It was the only table open when I got here.”

“No that’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“How was work?” I ask.

“It was hectic but okay. We’re normally not very busy, but today we were swamped.” She explains.

“Dang, I hope it doesn’t happen again.” I smile, hoping she’s taking care of herself properly.

She only nods and smiles. Catching up on even more stuff, it’s past six p.m…

“Shoot, I have to go, I told Chan I’d be there to drop his bag off at practice in fifteen minutes.”

“Aw, dang that sucks!” I frown.

“Yeah, how much longer are you staying?”

“I leave out in a few days. I can stay longer if necessary but nothing crazy, like a month.” I laugh.

“Dang, thought I could get you back for good.” She smiles, “Do you maybe want to go drop the bag off with me?”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“Yeah, for sure.” She replies.

Getting in the car, we drive for about ten minutes and pull up to an old studio. It was bringing back some memories that I don’t know if I want.

The dance lessons by Donghun, the cake fight with everyone and this… this is where I said goodbye…

We get out and head inside to the practice room, noticing everyone huddled around a piece of paper. I reach up and knock on the door and wonder if they’d heard me.

“Hey guys, come in! Thank you baby.” Chan says, acknowledging us and kissing Liliana on the forehead. I feel a twinge of longing seeing that. I quickly push it away before it causes any more damage.

“Hey, Anya!” Sehyoon says, looking up and sidestepping the others to give me a hug.

“Hey Sehni!! It’s so nice to see all of you again.” He smiles at me as do the others.

"Yeah! I'm glad you stopped by." Jun smiles.

"I hope you guys have been taking care of yourselves." I smile.

"They have or at least I think they have." Lili smiles, "considering I try to cook for them often and bandage their injuries,” She says and they all look at Chan… “What? She’s clumsier than I am, okay?” He groans.

She smiles and adds, “Also, I put cookies in Yuchan's bag."

"Sweet!" I hear Chan say, breaking free from her to go grab a cookie.

Someone lightly brushes past my arm and I look up to see that it's Donghun.

"Hey Donghun! Lil brought cookies." Byeongkwan says with his mouth full of cookies.

"You better save me one." He says, glaring at Jun. Sehyoon takes a cookie out and sits it on a napkin for this friend.

"Thanks." Donghun smiles.

"Hey, I'll be right back," I smile, looking outside. Liliana nods and I step outside to get some fresh air. Sitting down and leaning up against the building, I rest my head back and close my eyes to think. You shouldn’t be here. It still hurts just as much. He doesn’t want you here either. It’s just an open wound.

“Are you okay?” I hear beside me. Opening my eyes, I see Donghun eyeing me.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I say, hoping he walks back inside. Instead, he sits beside me against the wall, turning his head to look at me.

“What is it?” He asks.

“It’s nothing.” I say, my cheeks going red.

“Anya, you are such a horrible liar.” He states, “Why’d you come back?”

I look up at him, shock written on my face and not sure how to answer, “What do you mean? I came back for the reunion.” I say, confused.

“Okay.” He says.

“I did, Donghun. I missed my dad as well.”

“Are you seeing anyone there? I know you said you had a friend who owns the gallery with you.”

“No, I’m not. That’s all he is. Just a friend and quite frankly, he’s not my type. What about you?” I smile, nudging his shoulder.

“Nah, I tried a few more times after you.” He sighs, continuing, “Nothing short of complete failures within a week.. I decided to just give up and work on my career.”

“I’m sorry.” I say, feeling the pain of that day weigh on me again.

“Don’t be. I needed a kick to get my life on track. I was so absorbed in working that I neglected the one thing that was perfect.” He says, getting quieter as he speaks.

“Your dreams came true though.” I try to smile, but it just didn’t feel right.

“One of them did, not the biggest one.” He says, looking at me with a tear sliding down his cheek.

“Donghun, I-” I had no words.

“Don’t worry about it. You did what you had to. I get that. I’m really sorry that I was that way. Nothing’s been the same without you.” Wiping his eyes with his shirt, he tries to stand up.

I place my hand on his arm, “Wait. Please?”

“What is it?” He asks, leaning back.

“You know that’s never how I wanted our lives to be.” I choked out.

“I know. It wasn’t your fault.. I just didn’t realize what I had, until it was gone… Did your dad tell you I tried to come by the house two days after that? I was going to quit. I’d have given it all up for you, but you’d already left.” He says, looking into my eyes, “You are my happiness. It’s not the same without you, I’m not the same.”

I feel tears running down my face now, “Really? You-” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Yes.”

“I’ve never moved on. Not since you.. I haven’t even tried.” I say, quietly. His eyes grow wide and I hide my face in my hands, embarrassed to admit it outside of my head.

“Anya? Why?”

“You were my entire world, Donghun. It hurt so bad that day that I couldn’t deal without your love. I closed up. I’ll never let anyone in like that again.”

“Give me another shot.”

“What?” I ask, thinking I misheard him. He leans closer to me, tears still falling from both of our eyes.

“Let me show you how much I still care, my love. Give me a second chance, please?” He pleads and places his hand on the back of my neck and gently pulls me in close to kiss me. The salt ridden tears not making any difference, I kiss him back.

He pulls back, breathing heavily and smiling, “Always and forever?”

“You and me.” I smile, kissing him again.

#a.c.e #acewriters #donghun #ace donghun #lee donghun

[katierosefun]

andddd july flew by, and i’m here to give everyone an unasked for report of...things...i watched / read / listened to this month because why not

kdramas: 

miss hammurabi

aaaah oh my god the way i told myself that i won’t be watching any more legal kdramas because your honor stressed me out so much--but god. i wound up watching this and fell in love with it so fast? miss hammurabi is about a rookie judge (the gal on the right) disrupting the judicial system with her strong sense of justice. i really wasn’t too sure if i’d like her, but oh god. i fell in love with her so fast, with her desire to make the world a better place and her ability to smile even though she’s had a horrific life of her own.

honestly, i really just loved this show, mostly for how it covers so many issues in the courthouse, from working overtime to the emotional fatigue to the frustrations with those brought to court to the actual cases themselves, which are all civil court things (so we get some stuff about sexual harassment, child custody, medical malpractice, etc). this show really demonstrated that each of these cases were important--and also...really hard-hitting. i think i cried at least once per episode just because...yeah. i’m reminded that no one goes to the courthouse because they’re happy or because they’re having a good time, and it really is the job of judges and lawyers to keep a cool head and execute justice the best they can. 

so basically: i loved this show. i loved it a lot more than i thought i would, and that’s always a good thing. there’s also not a whole ton of romance here either, if you’re looking for a show that’s not really too deep into that. it’s def. more focused on depicting the legal field, as well as all of the complications that come with that. as a result, there’s a lot of heartbreaking moments in the show, but there’s also many, many, many uplifting ones that reminded me a lot of why i personally want to enter the legal field. so if you’re looking for a show that might restore your faith in humanity, then i def. recommend this kdrama!

beyond evil 

so.....it’s no secret that i’ve been mildly obsessed with this show. i binge-watched it in the span of...i think four (4) days, so that’s averaging about four episodes (4 hours) a day. let me just say...i was kind of on the fence about watching this, but now i’m really glad that i did because whooo boy, i was in for a ride. basically, this show is about lee dong sik, who was accused of murdering his sister (amongst others) 20 years ago...and han ju won, the young detective / inspector who’s trying to track down the murderer (who he believes is lee dong sik). 

lots of other things happen, but that’s the least spoiler-y summary i can give of this show because....whooooo boy, there’s just so many twists and turns in this show? as soon as you start thinking you have everything figured out, this show tosses in another thing that reminds you of just how clueless you actually are. that said though, none of the twists felt out of place--they all felt very planned and very smart, so kudos to the writers for that! 

overall, i hella enjoyed this show--the plot, the characters (who all want to do the right thing, but they’re all very jaded in their own ways which makes being a 100% good person basically impossible in this monster of a town), and, of course, the relationship between dong sik and ju won. there was just an absolutely fascinating push and pull between their relationship, lots of distrust and mocking each other in the beginning...only to slowly but steadily grow into trust and respect for each other (and in my head, def. something more....but lol i’ll let you guys decide on that for yourself ;)) 

i.....genuinely loved this show. i found this show just incredibly smartly written, and all the characters were incredibly intriguing? and the relationships were all fascinating to me? just. god. this show ripped me apart so many times, and i loved it all the more for it. like. guys. i wrote or started writing about six fics for this show in the span of 48 hours because i love it that much.

movies:

the handmaiden

ohohoho this movie has been on my to watch list for the LONGEST TIME, and i was glad that i gave myself some time to watch this movie at the start of the month, because...whoooo boy, it was so good. this movie is inspired by the book the fingersmith by sarah waters, only whereas i think the book took place in victorian england, this movie takes place in japan-occupied-korea. sook hee, a pickpocket, is hired by a conman to persuade the secluded lady hideko to marry him. the conman plans to later inherit hideko’s wealth and send hideko off to the madhouse. 

many things happen over the course of this movie, and i’m not going to spoil anything, but oh boy...oh boy. i mean, this movie is pretty well-known for the main relationship between the two protagonists, sook hee and hideko. the romance was such a ride, and i thoroughly enjoyed every aspect of it. this movie really said “be gay, do crime” in the best way possible. 

as a quick warning though, this movie definitely is erotic. i kinda knew that heading into the movie, and i was still a little caught off-guard. so maybe if you’re a little squicked out by sex/erotica in general, i’d maybe skip over this movie. that said, this movie was beautifully filmed, with beautiful writing, and the cast was just perfect. i don’t think i’ve seen a movie so beautifully or smartly crafted like this before, and i’m very glad i watched this film. 

the meg

let me caveat by saying....i watched this because my brother wanted to watch it, so i sat through this movie and...y’know? it wasn’t awful. kinda predictable as far as shark movies go, but it wasn’t bad! i found myself enjoying it a little more than i thought i would...? but basically, this movie is about, you guessed it, an underwater research facility that was just looking into a deeper part of the ocean and etc. surprise, they found! a megalodon. multiple megalodons! cue the chaos. 

so...there were definitely some more suspenseful moments. i shouted “these people just KEEP FALLING OFF THE BOAT” a few times. there was one character who i was like “oh man he’s gonna be the villain isn’t he :( darn :(” to “oh hey he has a heart” to “oh never mind” to “ooph”. there were some more slightly emotional moments, but?? not particularly thought-provoking or impactful. so like? overall? it was one of those movies where like....it’s not bad, it’s not really good, but! hey, not all movies need to be incredibly deep to be even somewhat enjoyable! (and like, i mostly just enjoyed watching this movie because my brother and i cracked commentary all throughout it, much to my father’s chagrin.) 

music: 

so, apparently my music taste changes when i’m thinking about something that’s not star wars related, and i saw a bit of that when i was making this playlist for lee dong sik and han joo won from beyond evil. as spotify works, it wound up with me adding a few of my songs that i thought fit them, and then i wound up going into the radio part of my playlist and listening to a lot of new songs, and i just have to list some of my new faves here: 

let me follow by son lux: you know when you hear a song that just feels so...strangely cinematic? like, you get all kinds of vivid images in your head and stuff? this was def. one of those songs. it’s quiet, and there’s something weirdly...ephemeral about it? that’s the only way i can describe it. and mildly haunting. and mildly tragic. idk why, but i think big fans of tragedy & the patroclus/achilles kind of feel might like this song. it’s just. god. i spent 2 hours sitting in my bed just listening to this song on loop. 

not in the same way by 5 seconds of summer: this is a public scolding @ 15 year old me who thought it was lame to like 5sos just because they were getting popular. boo, 15 year old caroline and her “i’m a weirdo, i’m not like other girls or other people my age” phase! because 5sos actually slaps, and this was one of my fave songs? idk. another weirdly cinematic song. the refrain is just chef’s kiss, in the kind of rambly way that leads to a shout. i love that kind of stuff. 

start of time by gabrielle aplin. bro...the way gabrielle aplin’s voice brought me straight back to 2014-2016 era caroline...but weirdly, i haven’t heard this song from her before? and bro. bro....i’ve never wanted to run to the top of a hill and watch the sunrise with a loved one so bad in my whole life. god. idk. if you need a song that makes you feel like. things just might get better. this one’s for you. 

sedated by hozier: okay, so i’ve only ever listened to a handful of hozier songs in my whole life (i know, i know, how can i bicon like myself not listen to hozier 24/7? le sigh), but bro.....bro. i get it now. i get why people screech about hozier. i already liked his music before, but...ah. idk. something very powerful about this song. i now understand why people want to lie down in the middle of the woods when they listen to his music. 

#caroline recs #i didn't watch or read a whole ton of things because....super deep into lsat prep now #but yee here we are

[the-sheep]

ID GO ABSOLUTELY BONKERS IF U TYPED OUT HIS ENTIRE HISTORY FBFBFBFB i would like 2 see it..........

alright right right

This ended up being A HUGE POST so all info is under the cut.

Unless you’re on mobile, in which case, enjoy scrolling.

It all starts on flight rising. Well, Heart starts on FR. It REALLY starts with my webcomic/animated series.

It wasn’t well drawn or animated at first, but it steadily got better. One of the plot holes, back in 8th grade, was “who created priscilla and Jake?”

It was mostly summed up to “Penny made all the bots its all simple” but i was a middle schooler and i needed a complicated (and edgy) story. 

Thing is I had already made Fandragons of a good chunk of my ocs on flight rising.

I bred two dragons to get my main characters, so why not just use them?

Christy Suggested the name Cavet, and I liked it.

Yeah this is my first digital image of him as a human and he DOES NOT LOOK RIGHT

no necklace, no beard, orange eyes…

horrific.

So I made human designs for them both, but Chrysanthemum remains forgotten, not even canon to Mechanical Fury anymore.

Here’s old art of her and Cavet back before she got wiped out from existence.

the art is bad btu the Heart gimmick is there

Here’s him in his second image ever. The one that pretty much defined his design.He also quickly gained a husband

Anyway he quickly morphed into a villain several time more dangerous than the main villain

He’s responsible for the deaths of not ONE, not TWO, but THREE children.

Two his kids, one the younger sister of a character that one of the dead kids liked.

One of his dead kids got his own story, the other was literally a main character.

Chloride, (Charlie) in all his glory, lucky enough to get resurrected as an android but after finding out he’s not who he thinks he is, has to attempt to live a normal Human life… when his two best friends are paranormal investigators, his love interest having lost their arm and their only remaining sister to the main villain.

He originally found out he was an android by finding his own blueprints, hearing his Mom cry about it, and then cutting open his face (for his signature scar) and running off. 

Running into Cavet’s husband, Nathair Liu. He stitches him up, know all about robotic n all that but he is.

also a secondary villain….

I hate the art in this video but its not my worst.

(Video was Vendy’s debut, too. tho Vendy was more Nate(logan/mind/princi/whatever)’s kid than Cavet’s)

Okay i’ve gotten off track.

Yeah at this point I was really loving Cavet, on FR, and wrote an entire long story between him and Skittles based on the events of Mechanical Fury.

This was where I got the idea for reincarnation.

I needed an explanation for why the same character was in two different universes, and it was perfect. In fact, it lead to an amazing way to end it. 

But what is in control of all this? What does he see in the in between?

Well, Death was packaged with two other red herrings to keep people from thinking she was more important than them from the start, when in fact, she was. One of the plot points is that Cavet dies. He continues causing havoc, but nobody can figure out why or how. he doesn’t have a body.

Except he does. Death.

She was scary, but that was just her, she was a literal robot grim reaper. Nobody suspected she was spreading a virus to make robots susceptible to Augap’s control everywhere she went. Not even her. Cav liked hanging out in the AI scape, AKA the robot afterlife or virtual heaven.

What a fun way to make a real grim reaper.

I never really kept track of the transition from “cute robot char” to “cute real god char”

and i guess it never happened. Heart still thinks of her as she was, as cute little Litty. Except when she’s not. He gave form to the literal concept of DEATH. And became her friend. She still calls him Papa, sometimes.

In any case, Cavet’s doodles started being more and more revolving around his angst with the reincarnation.

in fact, i had a few character in the same boat as him, as I had made a couple dragons into MF characters as well.

I called them The Artifacts. It didn’t seem rounded out with only four, so I added a 5th. To give me more leeway in case I make a character i like enough to bring with them.

and turns out. I did.

I was sad enough about Cavet losing the love of his life, betraying him, creating a rift between them with his descent into obsession.

So he came with them.

They’re inseparable.

after a few lives of getting revenge on him for killing his sons and some adult humans and a BUNCH of robots, (not even counting his crimes in the vampire life he committed because he thought he lost Liu forever) Soul revealed to him something about Heart’s 6th life, which Mind doesn’t remember.

But he was there.

Long story short, he was Captain Shuggazoom. Yeah 10 lives of stuff he forgot before he started remembering his past lives. Messed Heart up.

ANYWAY BACK TO DEVELOPMENT!

I went around, making original characters to fill in Heart’s lives. I put him in a LOT of stories, but a notable one is My Old Ask Blog, @ask-musical-monsters

In which Heart is our lovable Tweedle, Bean.

He’s the bird. (this is also the blog where Willow was made!) (also a character i referenced when putting antauri on the baldi blog)

I still hadn’t abandoned MF so Bean has a lot of influence from Cavet. 

I REALLY liked bean. It occured to me here-ish that Heart isn’t constrained by being my oc. He can be whoever he wants and nobody will care. 

So of course I immediately declare him purple guy. No drawings of him, but I know I said he was purple guy at some point. Also at this point in time I started organizing the lives by number order, and making a simple arc for Heart and the others to follow.

1000 lives. 

I made a brief description of heart’s 1st life, but made it purposefully very superfluous so i can change it whenever i want. All i know is he had albinism, and a desire to live forever.

That summer I got an amazing idea. I would take advantage of the Baldi’s basics trend with a ASK BLOG.

It was a mathematically calculated success. I did as many things as possible to generate more audience. MAIN thing being posting as often as possible, and being REALLY funny. 

But knew I wasn’t going to like adding to the ask blog if i didn’t like the main character

I already knew he was going to be Baldi, but I wasn’t sure exactly how to characterize him either. 

Turns out making him heart solved both of those problems. He’s always been Heart.

And Princi has ALWAYS been mind.

Even if they don’t always show their artifacts, they always were the same people as all these other things ive made. They have a DEEP connection to both each other and me.

At some point, I re-re-discovered SRMTHFG. The first few seconds I saw SK I knew he was Heart. It was so perfect it scared me.

HE EVEN DOES THE POSE!!!!! RED EYES!!!! AAAH!!!

I got an idea for a storyline based on formless and regret and monkeys… so.. uh

Anyway that kinda brings us to today, where the events of the blog have happened based on Heart things, and i can play around with Heart as much as I want.

And Willie’s next life? Well, 23 is my favorite number. It’ll be cool, but I’m not sure how. All I know is 23 wears a striped shirt, and is a vamp again.

In summary, Heart is the most important character I’ve ever made, and I will never come close to anybody as wonderful and as complicated as him. He’s the greatest formless, the best villains, the heroes, and one character i want to hold out for finding irl.

 I love them even in scribbles i find on bus seats, in fanart of him, love her in songs i hear, in flowers i see in the wild.

Whoever they end up being, it’s safe to say I’ve fallen in love with Heart. 

If you want me to describe his in universe story, I’ll need a seperate post.

Other Heart Resources:

The Spreadsheet

The Playlist

#heart id tag #long post #baldis basics #my singing monsters #mechanical fury #fnaf #the mind electric #srmthfg #hfytus #IM SORRY IF THIS ENDS UP IN THE SRMTHFG TAG SHOWOFF

[wolfinpink]

English Tea Kiss

***

Z Nation One Shot!

For Pride Month I made some Bi!10K fic with an OC named Jamie. First meetings and first kiss. Super cute and fluffy. First time same sex attraction for 10K as well so he’s a little flustered by these new feelings.

Happy Pride everyone!

***

Cold metal pressed against 10Ks exposed neck. His hands immediately gripped his rifle tighter and his legs began to pivot.

���Nah – ah – ahhh.” A mans voice whispered against his ear, “not unless you want some mercy.”

10K sighed and let his rifle slip to the floor. It clattered against the bricks and echoed around the bar. The man huffed but didn’t say anything as the sound of footsteps heading down the hall grew louder. Warren, Doc and Addy filed inside; weapons raised.

“Hello all.” The man behind 10K said. His free hand slipped around the boy’s waist, holding him firmly in place.

“There is exactly 0% need for violence.” The man said, leaning his head out from behind 10K.

“Actually that percentage depends entirely on you.” Warren replied, taking another step forward.

“Let the kid go.” Doc commanded.

“The only way this goes well for you is if you release him.” Addy agreed, coming into step with Warren.

There were a tense few seconds. The sound of Zs beating on a barricaded door came from outside. The rest of the room was silent save for everyone’s shallow breaths.

“Got a name?” Warren asked, her pistol remaining steadily trained on the two.

“Jamie.” The man replied, shuffling his feet behind 10K, “and you are?”

“Warren. This is Doc. Addy. And you’ve got your piece against our boy, 10K there.” She motioned to everyone as they were introduced.

“Nice to meet you all. Is there a reason you’ve broken into my home?” Jamie asked, his tone was civil and calm. 10K wasn’t a good judge but he thought he sounded British. There was something about his accent that reminded him of old doctor who episodes.

“We’re just looking for shelter from the herd.” Warren explained, she took another step forward as she lowered her pistol, “we’ll be out of your way as soon as they move on.”

10K felt Jamie relax a little against him. The pressure at his waist lessening. After a moment, Doc and Addy followed suit and lowered their weapons. No one sheathed them, but they were down.

“Well.” Jamie swallowed thickly, “I don’t see any reason why we can’t have a cup of tea while we wait.” Slowly he slid his hand off 10K and gave him a small push towards his group.

Warren and the new man mirrored each other as they slotted their weapons back into holsters. The tension immediately dissipated.

10K turned to see the man that had held him captive. Man? Maybe boy was a better fit. He must have been barely older than 10K himself, wearing blue jeans and a jacket with metal rivets and plates sewn into the fabric. His hair was light brown, scruffy, and a 5 o’clock shadow curved over his cheeks.

Doc slapped 10K on the arm as he grabbed up his rifle and re-joined the group. The bar they were in was English themed. Banners hung over the walls and union jacks adorned the chairs. Jamie had cleared away most of the seats and tables but left a few in the centre as a kind of dining area.

“I’ve got earl grey and a lot of green.” He says, tossing the flap door up and sliding behind the bar. He pulled up a camp cooker with a small gas tank attached and began boiling some water.

“Can’t be a coincidence that the first Brit we meet is in a pub called the Queen’s Best?” Doc laughed, taking a seat and making himself comfortable.

“It was my sisters.” Jamie said, “she use to live above it.”

Warren and Addy pulled up a chair while 10K leaned against the wall, next to a ripped union jack flag. The place where Jamie had gripped him felt strange, and he ran his fingers over his waist. It almost tingled. He kept his eyes on the boy as he potted about, collecting cups and tea bags. 10K had to admit, he was kind of graceful.

“Sorry about before.” Jamie glanced over at 10K, giving him an apologetic smile. His stomach clenched in response.

“Don’t worry about it.” He mumbled back.

“Had any contact with the UK?��� Warren asked taking her own seat along with Addy.

“None. I was just here on holiday to see my sister when day one happened. Pretty much been here ever since.” Jamie replied, pouring hot water into a collection of mugs. He tossed a handful of teabags onto an empty tray and loaded it up with steaming hot cups of water before bringing it over.

“Shoulda known this is where all the damn tea went.” Doc said, taking a green and dunking it into his mug.

“This was all just my sisters stash.” He chuckled, “I limit myself to one a day now. Barely enough to last the year. But what are the odds that I’m gonna last it either?”

“Amen brother.” Doc said, and held up his mug to clink.

Warren wrapped her fingers around the mug and breathed in the scent. Addy waved off the option of tea and crossed her legs, letting her Z-whacker come to rest gently against her knee. Jamie plopped a bag into a mug and turned to 10K.

“You look like an earl grey kinda guy.” He said and extended him the drink.

Now that he was closer 10K could see his bright green irises. His lashes were impossibly long and there were lines around his eyes that came together as he smiled. 10K realised he thought this boy was… pretty.

His lips turned up into a sweet smile as 10K hesitated to take the mug.

“I don’t bite.” He laughed, “unless you’re into that.”

Warren and Addy shared a smirk as 10Ks face lit up bright red. He snatched the mug and clutched it to his chest, savouring the warmth. Jamie sauntered back to the table and took his own seat.

“So where are you guys headed?” He asked, taking a sip of his own tea.

“Not sure.” Warren replied, “just heading.” She closed the subject with a long gulp.

“I only ask because I’m running out of supplies here and you’re the first people I’ve come across that didn’t try to fill me with holes. I’d happily share what I’ve got for some safety in numbers.”

Warren glanced at the rest of the group. Doc shrugged and sipped his tea. Addy sighed but didn’t reject the idea. 10K took pains to stand perfectly still, as his heart beat erratically against his chest. He wasn’t sure if he wanted this boy to come along. Logically, he shouldn’t have a problem with it. Besides the fact he could kill them in their sleep, but that’s the same risk they’d taken with him. Still, knots tightened in his stomach at the thought of going on the road with him and his graceful movements, his long eyelashes, his pretty mouth.

“I’m good in tight spaces.” Jamie continued to sell himself casually. His elbow was resting on the top back of the chair, his body relaxed into the worn wood.

“How about this? That herd isn’t going anywhere tonight, so we’ll hunker down here. Tomorrow, if they’re gone, you can come with us until you find someplace more suitable. A community. Another group. Whatever.”

Jamie beamed as he nodded. Tension that hadn’t been visible before was released from his body. 10K internally groaned. His cheeks were still burning and he wasn’t sure if it was from the boy or the steaming tea.

“Perfect. We can stay upstairs. My sister has – had a two bedroom. It’s cosy.” Jamie smiled, finishing off the mug.

He placed it back onto the tray and slapped both of his thighs before standing up. The rest of the group followed suit, Doc downed the drink but Warren and 10K held theirs to their chests.

“Please, follow me.” He said and lead the group to a well-concealed door in the back of the bar. He unlocked it and it swung open to reveal a narrow staircase. Jamie ushered them up and he locked the door behind them as they went.

Upstairs was just as the English boy had described it – cosy. A tiny kitchen overlooked a two seater couch, crammed next to a dining table which was piled with books. Half a dozen were open, most were survival guides and native plant information. A few were fantasy novels.

There were three doors, the left most leading to a staggeringly small bathroom with no working water, the middle to a master, and the right to a kid’s room with a bunk. The few windows overlooking the road were half covered by blinds, but the light was waning anyway.

“I’ve got some canned food and a few litres of water in the kitchen. There’s two single beds, a double and the couch.” Jamie gestured around the apartment before plopping down on the lounge.

10K weaved around the furniture to peer out the window at the horde making its way through the streets. There were a few clawing at the barricades to the pub downstairs but most were staggering onward.

“I wouldn’t worry.” Jamie appeared next to him, making him jump. He leaned in to see through the window, pressing his shoulder against 10Ks.

“I welded that door shut with some bars I found. The only way in is up the ladder you guys used.” He turned to smile encouragingly, their faces were barely a few inches apart.

For a moment 10K could smell Jamie’s sweet breath against his face. He drew in a deep breath before he could stop himself, savouring the taste of tea leaves. Jamie’s eyes leisurely rolled down 10Ks face, making no attempt to hide the long seconds he stared at his lips.

10K swallowed thickly as he felt his cheeks burn.

“Button mushrooms and pineapple for dinner, kids.” Doc clonked two cans down on the counter, making the boys jump apart.

Warren had surveyed the apartment and was quietly speaking to Addy in the corner.

“We’re going to leave someone on watch.” She said, making her way into the kitchen.

“I’d be happy to go first.” Jamie piped up, “you’re being generous taking me with you after all.”

“No offence, but I’d rather one of us took the shifts, not in the mood for a knife at my throat.” Warren was even-toned as she spoke, casually glancing over the cans that Doc had chosen.

“No offence taken.” Jamie replied, “I’ll stay up anyway, if you don’t mind.”

Warren nodded before assigning 10K the first watch duty. Next was hers, followed by Doc and then Addy if it came to that. 10Ks stomach twisted at the thought of being in relative privacy with Jamie but he kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t about to make a fuss when he wasn’t even sure why he was feeling one in the first place.

The group shared out the cans evenly as they sat staggered around the tiny apartment. Doc asked a few questions in good humour. If he’d met anyone else decent? If he’d been out to scavenge much? Jamie answered anything and everything thrown at him with a charming ease.

“So, what’s with your name?” He asked, motioning with his mostly empty can. 10K’s head jerked up and he glanced at the others, willing them to speak for him. When it was evident they were staying silent, he sighed.

“It’s how many zombie’s I’m gonna kill.”

“He’s a hell of a shot. Already up to 3489.” Doc beamed proudly.

“No way.” Jamie’s confident bravado slipped away for a moment, showing an enthusiastic young boy as he jumped up and skipped over to his table. He snatched up a small notebook and brought it back to the group. He sat closer to 10K than before, but no one seemed to notice except 10K himself.

“I count them as well.” He flipped open the pocketbook to a tally marked page.

“I’m barely into my 800s though.” A little pink dusted Jamie’s nose as he passed the book to 10K.

He skimmed through the pages and read small notes on the side of the page. Every so often a tally mark coincided with a little blurb of a significant kill or a small crude drawing of the event. 10K continued to flip back through the book until he reached the first page. 30 or so tally marks in was a mark that had been scratched harder than the rest. The gash penetrated the next few pages, as if someone had scored it over and over. 10K looked questioningly up at Jamie to see he was looking away. He closed the book and pushed it back into his hands, his fingers grazing Jamie’s knuckles.

“You’ll be up into the thousands soon when you come with us.” Doc again broke the trance 10K hadn’t noticed he was in.

The sun had gone down a while ago now, the drone of Zs below was quiet but consistent. Addy picked up the two empty cans and returned them to the kitchen.

“I’m gonna turn in.” She said, speaking mostly to Warren, “us girls take the double?”

“Sounds good. A real bed.” Warren nearly moaned the last word and Addy chuckled.

Doc squeezed 10Ks shoulder as he turned towards the kid’s room.

“I call top bunk!” He laughed and skipped into the room.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the group to gather their things and retire. 10K sat agonizingly still as they retreated, leaving Jamie and himself alone. Of course, the walls were thin and the doors thinner, so it wasn’t as if they had much privacy. But still, the empty room seemed full of a tension that hadn’t been so strong when the others had been there.

“Honestly, it’s pretty damn secure up here.” Jamie commented after a while. He tossed the book back onto the table and came to sit next to 10K on the lounge, “there’s a trip wire that will sound if they get through the door as well. Tin cans.”

10K shuffled back a bit from the heat he felt as their legs accidentally collided. He pressed himself awkwardly into the arm of the couch. Sensing his discomfort, Jamie shifted over slightly as well. In the corner of his eye, 10K thought he caught a twinge of pain cross over his face, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

“What was with that mark in your book?” He asked. Usually 10K was okay with silence. He wasn’t one to speak for the hell of it, or to fill a space. But with Jamie, the tightness in his chest was compounded when there was nothing to say.

“It was my sister.” He shrugged, but his hands wrung together in his lap. They twisted roughly over each other again and again. The English boy stared out across the room as his hands writhed.

10K glanced at his hands and longed to still them. His fingers twitched with need to calm the boy’s pain. He struggled with the feeling for a few moments before it became too much and his hand shot out to rest on Jamie’s. He stilled immediately.

“My dad was my first.” He said quietly, as his fingers began gently running over Jamie’s knuckles in small circles. It took the two a good full minute before they looked up at each other.

“It wasn’t her / him.” They both spoke at the same time, about their own loved ones. A small smile crept across 10Ks face as he looked at Jamie’s grin. The English boy slid is bottom hand out from the pile and placed it on top, sandwiching 10Ks fingers between his own.

Doc’s gentle snoring emanated from the room to their left and they both chuckled.

Somehow they’d come to slide closer together on the couch, but it still took 10K by surprise when Jamie leaned toward him, angling his head to touch their lips together. In a knee-jerk reaction 10Ks head lurched back before the kiss could happen.

Jamie’s eyes snapped open and he pushed away, pulling his hands away from 10Ks, as his face flooded with colour all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Bloody hell. I’m sorry. I thought you - ”

“It’s just I’ve never…” 10K started, he brought his hands up to his face and scrubbed at his eyes. What was happening? His heart ached in his chest when he looked at Jamie’s lips. His stomach was full of butterflies. His hands were curiously cold now that he wasn’t holding Jamie’s and it wasn’t a feeling he liked.

“You’ve never kissed a boy?” Jamie asked, head tilted a little.

10K slowly brought his own arm down and let his hand gingerly rest on Jamie’s knee. He couldn’t look him in the eye, but felt in his peripheral vision that he was smiling slightly.

“I’ve never kissed… anyone.” 10K admitted.

“Anyone?” Jamie replied, his slacken jaw evident in his tone.

“No.”

“Oh.”

Jamie touched his hand to 10Ks cheek and gently brought his head up to look in his eyes. 10K was trembling terribly, but his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“Can I be your first kiss?” Jamie asked softly, his eyes glancing down and up 10Ks face.

His voice was stuck in his throat like he’d swallowed too much bread. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out so he nodded quickly. Jamie smiled. He shuffled closer on the lounge and his other hand came to rest on 10Ks shoulder.

Slowly he closed his eyes and leaned in. Their lips pressed together in a chaste kiss. 10Ks heart soared. Jamie let his tongue slide over his lips as he deepened the kiss a little. His fingers wrapped gently around 10ks shoulder and slid upwards to rest in the crook of his neck. He broke the kiss and pulled back as 10K let out a small gasp.

“You taste nice.” 10K whispered absently and then blushed a furious red colour. Jamie just chuckled softly.

“So do you.” He whispered back, and pressed his lips to 10Ks again.

#10k z nation #tommy 10k #10k/oc #gay10k #10k #z nation #z nation warren #roberta warren #z nation addy #z nation doc #save z nation

[anthracenes]

Passion-Based Learning | Chapter 2

Tags/Trigger Warnings: Non-Con/Rape, Hypnosis, Hypnotism, Abuse of Authority, Conditioning, Dehumanization, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Dom/sub, Brainwashing

[read on AO3 here]

Isaac stares at the tray of cookies on the table.

He figures these must be the snacks Alex was referring to earlier, but he’s still taken aback to see them here just the same. In all of his time with the posh, high-end programs of his parents’ choosing, no one has ever done anything more for him than what was strictly required. He can't seem to recall a time when any of his tutors had shown the slightest modicum of interest in him as a person—let alone a gesture as thoughtful as this.

The cookies had smelled great even before, filling the rest of the house with the rich aroma of butter and vanilla from all the way back in the kitchen. But now—sitting right here in front of him—they smelled nothing short of divine. The sweet, delectable scent wafted from the freshly baked goods into his nose, making Isaac salivate at the sight of them.

It's enough even to momentarily distract from the strangeness of what had just happened.

“Please, help yourself to some,” the tutor insists, gesturing to the tray as he sits himself down. “I’ve made them for you to have as you study.”

Isaac thanks him as he takes him up on his offer. Remarkably, the cookies are one of the best Isaac’s ever tasted: warm, fluffy, and just as sweet as they smelled—with the right amount of butter in them to make them melt perfectly with every bite. If he wasn't already hungry before, he certainly is now after just one taste. Isaac proceeds to munch on two more, finishing each one just as quickly as he takes them.

“While you’re at it, why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself, too? I prefer to get to know my students first before we start working together, if that’s alright.”

Isaac is only happy to oblige over the scrumptious treats. He tells Wilfred all about himself: that he’s a first year undergraduate, 18 years old, and a double-major in both biology and chemistry, under the premedical program at the Institute of Health and Medicinal Sciences. “I’m currently taking organic chemistry after having finished accelerated general chemistry last semester,” he shares, in between bites of his third cookie. “That's why I'm here: to receive help for that class. I’ve come here after seeing one of your adverts posted on the Chemistry department’s bulletin.”

"Double major and premedical program, all on top of attending one of the best schools in the country?” Wilfred whistles appreciatively. “You must often have your hands full."

Isaac nods. "Just today I hadn't even had the time for lunch. I came as soon as I could—I headed here immediately after finishing up with my lab and coursework for the day."

"In all of my years of working as a tutor it never ceases to amaze me, how diligently students work these days. I can't fathom how so many of you kids do it: juggling that many classes, labs, homework." Wilfred smiles at him, cloying and sweet. "And finding the time for outside help still, on top of all that? It’s all so impressive."

Isaac feels his face flush at that. It's not even a particularly big compliment, but Isaac is terrible at receiving praise—always had been, after years of rarely receiving them as a child. It takes nearly everything in him to shyly accept this one from the older tutor.

"How many semesters of organic chemistry are you required to take for your premedical track? We can definitely alter the structure of our sessions so that we slowly ease you in to learning the more advanced topics while still covering for this one, if you'd prefer."

"Ah, that won't be necessary—I only need one semester," Isaac replies, adding, "though, I have to warn you: I am really behind as it is. I don't know if I will ever catch up in the class, or even what we will be able to cover in the span of time that we have together. At this point though, I'm sure any little bit helps."

“Do you have any other help available to you for this challenging class? Office hours with your instructor, maybe—or perhaps any student mentors or tutors in the school?”

He shakes his head. He shares with the tutor just how dismal the student mentor shortage had become in recent times, the unapproachable professor of the class, and how little options both had left him with.

“Well there's no need to worry anymore, at least,” Wilfred says, reassuringly, “It's what we tutors are here for, isn't it? We'll do our best to get you up to where you need to be. With some hard work you'll be in a better place by the end of it, I'm sure.”

"For now..." The tutor pulls out a whiteboard and a handful of colorful dry erase from underneath the table, “...Why don't we just get started and see where we go from here?"

Isaac nods, eager to get to work.

- - - - -

“You’ve mentioned your interest in going over the basics, so let’s start with a review of molecular bonds and orbitals.” Deftly uncapping the red marker with one hand, the tutor starts drawing on the whiteboard a chemical structure as he continues to speak. “This should be familiar to you from general chemistry, but I’d like to emphasize a few things from this section because a few of these concepts will be important in building the groundwork for future topics.”

Isaac does his best to follow along. Just as Wilfred had stated, most of these are concepts he'd already learned from the previous semester. Still, Isaac is grateful for it nonetheless; it’s good to have a refresher, after quite a while since having last seen the material. He can also appreciate the way Wilfred is approaching the material, too—enunciating clearly, concisely, always maintaining a balanced pace between not too quick and not too slow. He doesn‘t want the entire session today to only consist of review of course, but he does not want to risk glossing over anything either.

Something noticeably changes as the tutor segues into the new material, however.

Isaac could feel goosebumps prickle his skin as, all of a sudden, Wilfred’s voice seemingly takes on a strange quality to it. Softer. Calming. Pleasant to the ears, in a way he can only describe as almost inhuman. Isaac finds himself drawn to this new soothing voice, as the tutor continues his lecture on arrow pushing. He feels himself unconsciously relaxing to it—the tension practically melting away from his muscles as he listens attentively, until his frame had sunk back against the cushions entirely. Isaac appreciates the way the tutor adjusts his pace, too: gradually slowing down, until both his honeyed words and the arrows he drew on the board start to fall in rhythm with one another, and eventually with the steady ticking of the cherry-red grandfather clock.

To and fro. To and fro.

To and fro.

“I want you to focus on the flow of electrons about the molecule, depicted here by these arrows we push. Bond-to-bond... To and fro... Students often feel as if the concept of arrow-pushing is difficult—but there's really nothing to it, see? As long as you focus, you'll do just fine...”

Isaac nods, slowly. Nothing yet of organic chemistry seems challenging or anything out-of-the ordinary. In fact, it felt rather nice, even—to be going over such simple material like this with someone so nice to him. Why was it that he needed help with this, again? What did he even struggle with before? Isaac can’t seem to remember anymore, transfixed as he was to the pull of Wilfred's voice and the structures on the board.

“It becomes so much easier when you focus only on the important things, doesn't it? Just these arrows; nothing else. There's no need to think of anything else right now—thinking is too difficult; thinking will only... complicate things." Wilfred smiles, dark and predatory. "We want things to remain easy in this course, don't we?"

"Let everything go, Isaac, and focus. Focus on these arrows; focus on the clock. Focus on the sound of my voice...”

Isaac moans. He's helpless as he feels the rest of his thoughts scattering away one by one, slowly being siphoned off until his brain is little more than mush, whipped senseless by the constant, repetitive stream of stimuli. His body sags further down on the couch, sinking with the newfound weightlessness. The dazed expression left across his face is as empty as his head—a blank slate, perfect for Wilfred to write over as he pleases.

"Yes, just like that. It must feel so good, to relax and let go of everything." Slowly, the tutor gets up from across the table and makes his way towards him. He sits on the couch next to him, whiteboard still in hand, as he continues drawing the arrows that hold Isaac captive. Over and over again.

To and fro. To and fro.

"Do you want to feel even more relaxed, Isaac?” he whispers, hot against his ear. "Would you like me to make you feel so much better?"

Without once taking his eyes off the board, Isaac silently nods.

"Good," Wilfred drawls, fingers gently stroking the hollow of his cheeks. "In a moment, Isaac, I'm going to count aloud all the arrows here. With each one you hear me count, you'll be made to feel so much better: warm, and sleepy, and all the more relaxed for me."

"You'll feel like you want sleep more than anything in the world—but you won't be able to until I finish, no. I'll let you have a little 'study break', but only once we're done. Then, and only then, will I allow you to fall into a nice, deep sleep."

Without further ado, Wilfred starts to count. Steadily, to the rhythm of the grandfather clock, he counts aloud the curved arrows as he draws them—plunging Isaac closer and closer to the brink of sleep, edging him without any reprieve. He had merely gotten to the fourth one, when Isaac interrupts him with his whimpers.  

"Please," he breathes out, barely coherent in his delirious, semi-conscious state. "Please, please let me..."

Wilfred smiles. He hushes him and continues on counting, without skipping a beat.

Six...

Seven...

By the time the last number had left the tutor's lips, Isaac's entire body had fallen limp across his lap—out cold; blissfully asleep.

#Anthracene AO3 fic #original fic

[waywardrose13]

The Frayed Ends of Sanity- Chapter Four

Catch up here!- TFEOS Masterlist // Rose’s Masterlist

Summary: Y/N Winchester was the sweet, innocent younger sister of Sam and Dean Winchester. After a fight between her and her eldest brother, she is abducted by Lucifer himself, who turns her into someone completely different. Someone feral and psychotic. Something that will be the perfect weapon against the Winchester brothers.

Pairing: Winchesters x Insane!Sister!Reader

Warnings: Angst, descriptions of injuries, descriptions of death, mentions of torture, deadly disease.

A/N- So, I’m not 100% happy with this chapter, but it gets the point across and it went where I wanted it to go. But here it is, and hopefully THD will be posted tomorrow or Wednesday:) Love y’all and hope you enjoy!

*Please excuse any/all grammar mistakes. I’m not a professional writer whatsoever. I proof read but may not have caught everything. Thanks!*

It was worse than he thought. Her soul was almost dead, the small light almost completely faded out. And once it burned out, so would she, and Y/N would be dead, not even in the empty. Completely obliterated without any way to bring her back.

Lucifer had done quite a number on her, and if Cas couldn’t find a way to heal her, Y/N Winchester would cease to exist.

Castiel bent down, his eyes scanning Y/N’s life force carefully. She shook like a leaf, her E/C eyes full of fear, pain and something Cas could only describe as desperation. Her knees were tucked up under her chin, blood dripping from each wound steadily.

“I’m going to do my best to heal you, Y/N,” Cas told her. “But I’m going to have to get close to you, is that alright?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment. She knew Cas wouldn’t hurt her, but what if this was another one of Lucifer’s tricks? It wouldn’t be the first time he had gotten into her mind pretending to be her angel, saying these things to weasel his way further into her mind and hurt her more.

But this time, it seemed different. Worry was etched into Castiel’s features, true horror flickering in his blue eyes. Lucifer’s version of Cas always had a sense of bitterness to him, he certainly wasn’t as gentle as this Cas was, which made Y/N think it really was Castiel.

So she nodded her head reluctantly, hoping to God this wasn’t another one of his tricks, and this was really her angel.

Castiel reached out to her, Y/N’s eyes squeezing shut as he did so, and placed two fingers onto her forehead. A light emitted from them, a warmth automatically spreading through the broken girl’s soul and flooding through her, the black veins under her skin pulsing angrily.

She winced, a sudden jab of pain splitting through her head. The light under her skin began to move from her head to her neck and shoulders, reaching its long fingers to the wounds there and wrapping themselves around them, the missing chunks of flesh on her shoulders slowly filling in, her skin stretching and restoring itself.

Castiel looked closer at the dark veins clearly seen underneath Y/N’s mangled skin. Whatever coursed through them, moved rapidly, and he could see almost a shimmer as it pulsed through her.

His heart tightened when he realized what it was, and what exactly Lucifer had put inside her. He wasn’t sure what could kill it, or even if there was a way too, but he was determined to find one.

Castiel could feel his energy quickly draining with the strength it took to undo the work of the devil himself. With each pulse of light from him, a bit more of his energy was drained.

His light didn’t move much further from her shoulders, just wrapping itself tightly around the wounds there, focusing in on one specific area.

Cas became weaker with each passing moment, the amount of energy pouring from him close to painful. He pushed his light and grace into her at full force, but Lucifer was stronger, and whatever was inside her was eating at her at a rapid pace. The thick, black substance that ran through her veins barely flinched at the angel’s light, and he knew that it would be difficult to get through, if he could at all.

The shoulder wounds were nearly healed, but Cas began to feel the pain of his power decreasing. He pushed a little more, his eyes falling shut and his body shaking with the force it took. Another jolt of power was sent through his fingertips and into Y/N, the two largest wounds on her shoulders healing.

He pulled his hand away and fell to his hands and knees. He took in gasping breaths, his energy low and faltering. Y/N opened her eyes and glanced down at Castiel, her eyes widening as he tried to regain his strength. As she moved her arms to help him, she didn’t feel the ache of stab of pain it brought with it. She looked down and gasped at what she saw.

She ran her fingers over her newly healed shoulders and a small smile spread across her face.

“Thank you, Cas,” She said. He looked up at her, a smile growing on his own face at the sight of hers.

“You’re welcome, little one,” He told her. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “I will be back when I’ve regained some strength to heal you some more.”

“Thank you,” She murmured. He smiled brightly, his eyes looking around, his heart lifting at the what he saw.

The small ray of light had grown, not by a lot, but Castiel could clearly see it had grown a bit. It was working, but he knew it would be incredibly difficult to fix her completely, if he could at all. It unfortunately seemed like it would take much more than him to fix Y/N’s soul, but he wasn’t sure he trusted anyone enough to allow them inside her mind.

He felt himself being sucked back suddenly, the world around him folding in on itself. A screeching sound shot through his ears and he found himself beside Y/N once again in Bobby’s study.

His eyes flickered up to the men watching anxiously, Dean’s eyes hopeful.

“Well?” He asked. “How’d it go?”

Cas sighed and looked back down at the now sleeping girl, his hand reaching over to run through her untangled hair.

“It’s worse than I thought,” He said. “But I managed to heal her a bit. But I’m afraid if I don’t heal her more soon, she will die-” Dean sucked in a harsh breath, his heart clenching in his chest- “There’s some sort of… substance inside her. I’m almost positive Lucifer put it there. I know what it is, and unfortunately, my grace barely poked it.”

“What is it?” Bobby asked crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t like the sound of that, and he knew if Cas’ grace couldn’t do anything to it, it would be a bitch to get rid of.

“It’s called ‘infernum in plaga’, or, ‘Hell’s plague.’ It comes from the bowels of hell, a place the darkest of demon’s won’t touch. But Lucifer… He created it. It was used as a punishment for disobedient or treasonous demons. One catches it by having it injected into their bloodstream or blood contact with a carrier of the disease. My guess is that she was injected with it but I’m not sure.”

“Can this… Hell’s plague… kill her?” Sam asked.

“Yes. Once it spreads to the brain or the heart, it will suffocate it. If it reaches the heart first, she’ll die within two days. But with the brain, the plague will eat away at it slowly until she dies, painfully,” Cas answered.

“Will you be able to cure her?” Bobby asked.

“Maybe. There are a few ways that I could try to treat her, but I must also work on the soul itself. But I’m weak. I need to regain strength before even attempting to get inside her mind again.”

“How will you do that?” Sam asked. Cas shrugged, a simple gesture on vulnerability. He wasn’t sure how to regain strength very quickly without touching a soul. But he was reluctant to do that, knowing how painful it was for a human, and how large of a toll it could take on them.

“I’ll need to refrain from using my powers. There are a few things I could try, a few different spells and hex bags that could help, maybe a few sigils I could surround myself with, but that could take up to two weeks to get back to full strength.” He looked back at Y/N, his thumb moving to soothe the worry lines etched between her brows. “But I’m afraid we may not have that long. Without constant care of her soul, healing everyday, the darkness spreading within her, I’m afraid that if it spreads to her brain- or heart- it’ll kill her right away with how damaged she is.”

“How close is it to either of those?” Dean asked. Castiel looked up at him, his hand still running through Y/N’s hair.

“Honestly?” Cas said. “Best case scenario, it’ll reach her brain in about a week and her heart in about two. It seemed to be making its way upwards through her arm. I think that’s where Lucifer injected her with it. It’s crawled over her shoulders and up her neck. It moves slowly but effectively, evidently destroying everything in its path. Blood, healthy tissue, everything. If we don’t find a cure, and fast, she’ll be dead by next Friday.”

The room was silent then. If Cas couldn’t get his strength back up before the plague reached her brain, Y/N was out of luck. Her soul would have been completely eaten away, and there would be absolutely nothing anybody could do about it. If they couldn’t find a cure, it would be out of Cas’ ballpark, out of anyone’s really. Not even a demon could fix it. The only person who held the key to a cure that would definitely work, was Lucifer.

Lucifer had injected Y/N with the infernum in plaga for this very reason. He wanted the men to know they were helpless against him. That he would always win, and there was nothing they could do about it. Yes, he loved having Y/N as his pet, but honestly, he enjoyed watching the brothers torture themselves over this even more.

He currently sat at one of the cool, metal tables in the common room of the old prison. His latest victim sat tied to the wooden chair merely ten feet from him, the corpse lifeless and the head sitting arms length from Lucifer on the table. He twirled the small vile through his fingers, a pleased smirk on his face. Whether the Winchesters knew it or not, he was still inside Y/N’s mind. He knew every thought and feeling she had, and when he felt a new presence inside her mind, he knew his plan was working. The angel had entered her mind, trying so desperately to heal her. And when he was in there, he found Hell’s plague running through her veins. He knew Castiel would scurry back to the brothers and tell them about his findings, tell them there may be a way to save her.

Lucifer laughed at how naive the angel was. He sat the vile down on the table, a smile ghosting on his lips as he stared at it, as he stared at the only cure to the infernum in plaga. He laughed once again, a hearty laugh that echoed off the crumbling walls around him. Because even if the boys didn’t know it yet, he had won, just like he always did, and always will.

The Frayed Ends of Sanity tag list:

@crowleyshenchmen

@starlight-xxxx

@i-am-now-a-taco

@gh0stgurl

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@susan-in-the-house

@constant-writers-block

@lovethyname12

@theunemployableparts

@emwinchester1

@bee-wrecker

@anothershothuman

@mellxander1993

@hahahahahangst

@weirdoblogger69

@colie87

@capsofwinchesters

@internationalmusicteacher

@humanexile

@spn-imagines-fics

@shadowstalker102001

@maisley

@nyxveracity

@weirdest-nerd-you-could-find

@prettylittlebxitch

@thoughtfullyfurryangel

@danica-queen-of-hell

@jackjackljaqui

Forever tag list:

@jennalyncarrigan1230

@mogaruke

@kittyk26

@lurelarry

@luciferslucille

@cookiecakeslive

@wheres-my-cheese

@supernatural-strangerthings-1980

@sunnysaysbookreviews

@nyxveracity

@raining-murder

@just-a-supernatural-sister

@hi-my-name-is-riley

SPN tag lists:

@impatient-witch

@sandlee44

@blackcherrywhiskey

@ain-t-bovvered

Dean/Jensen tags:

@aubreystilinski

@whimsicalrobots

#dean winchester #sam winchester #winchester brothers #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x sick!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x reader fanfiction #sam winchester x reader fanfic #sam winchester x insane!sister!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x read #dean winchester x reader fanfiction #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x insane!reader #dean winchester x insane!sister!reader #sam winchester x insane!reader #castiel x reader #castiel x insane!reader #insane!reader #sister!reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #insanity #the frayed ends of sanity #metallica

[melindacoulson4]

Decode

Phil Coulson + 2 times parasailing has come up in his life, both equally unexpected (+ philinda)

This is dedicated to @thatbottleofhaig for opening the gates of heaven and gracing the tag with the parasailing urban dictionary post. This was born bc of you!

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

Every time he thinks he knows all there is to learn about Melinda May she seems to surprise him. And this time it's no different.

As they stand on uneven ground, white hot sand beneath their shoes he can't help but feel like they're minutes away from completely obliterating every boundary that's left between them.

Even now as her palm presses against him, steadily gripping his bicep, the skin underneath his shirt seems to burn. In fact, his entire body buzzes in anticipation as his mind wanders towards images of a bare Melinda standing before him. Then of her touching him and him doing things with her he's only ever dreamt of ever getting the chance to do.

It's her fault, she's gotten him all riled up at her suggestion of parasailing. There's no denying what she really meant by it. They were both there. They both read the words on that cell phone screen four years ago.

The Bus, 4 years ago

His brows furrow as he reads the words on the page in his hand for the third time in a row.

Got them? (sent 2:03pm)

Ya (received 2:10pm)

How much? (sent 2:11pm)

$20 per (received 2:12pm)

Meet 2:30 @ B's (sent 2:16pm)

Then it's parasailing all day baby 👄(sent 2:17pm)

💞(received 2:18pm)

No matter how many times his eyes run over the words he still cannot understand what the conversation was about.

The situation is dire. An inhuman's life is hanging in the balance with every second that ticked by. They need to solve this case. Unfortunately for them, their star witness is an 19 year old smart ass who still lives in his parents' basement.

The guy's name is Darren and uncooperative doesn't even begin to describe his personality. His mother is an attorney and she is on her way here, so they are about to reach a dead end in a matter of minutes.

The printed out conversation that they are trying to decode was between Darren and his girlfriend. It's the only evidence they could find that could be used against him other than the fact that Darren was at the scene of the crime.

Phil reads the conversation again and still it leaves him with more questions than answers. What 'them' were they discussing? Who is 'B'? And why were they talking about parasailing?

Melinda stands by his side, eyes trained on the paper too.

"Am I just really out of touch or do you not know what what the hell parasailing is supposed to mean either? I feel like I'm reading hieroglyphics."

She meets his gaze, slightly frowning but saying nothing. It's all silent communication. If she knew then she'd say something. But since she doesn't she chooses to stay quiet.

His attention shifts to Skye huddled in the corner of the room with her eyes carefully trained on her own copy of the page.

"Skye?" He asks. Out of everyone she would know. She's the closest in age to Darren.

Without a word she walks over to he and Melinda. She pulls her cell phone from her back pocket, quickly types something, and places it on the table next to them. The screen stays brightly lit, but she makes no move to pick it back up.

"It's-I.......just. I'm just going to leave this here and I'll be back for it in like an hour....maybe 4 months...possibly a year," she mumbles, purposefully not meeting his eyes as she quickly exits the room.

"What's her problem?" He points a thumb in Skye's direction.

Still he gets no answer only an unreadable expression- as always with Melinda these days. Sometimes she'd give him micro-expressions, miniscule hints as to what was going on in her head. It was nothing compared to how open she used to be, but that was before Bahrain and he could never blame her for that.

Her eyes suddenly widen as she stares at Skye's phone in her hand.

She passes it to him. Their fingers brush together, making his stomach flutter. He's a little embarrassed by that. He can't help but feel like a middle schooler with a crush that doesn't even know he exists. Melinda is out of his league. Realistically he knows she'd never settle for someone like him, but he certainly can't order his body to stop reacting to her no matter how much he wishes he could. It's uncontrollable and had been ever since they'd met.

Focus on the mission, Phil.

He reads the opened webpage on the screen:

URBANDICTIONARY

Top definition

Parasailing:

Having wild sex, plowing a man or woman

"Oh." His eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. "It's....creative I guess." Urban dictionary, he'd have to bookmark that.

Before he can even blink Melinda is halfway through the interrogation room, clutching their copy of the text message conversation. The door slams shut.

A bang reverberates through the closed door a mere second later.

Oh, no.

He rushes to the group of monitors that Skye set up in the room next to interrogation.

There's a clear profile view of Melinda and Darren on the top right screen. She has her hands splayed out on the metal table with the paper between them. Darren slouches on the chair in front of her.

"Those are personal!" Darren yells.

"And this is an investigation. Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

"I know my rights, bitch," he snarls.

Phil's nostrils flare in response to the pure disrespect directed towards Melinda. She doesn't deserve that.

"Tell us what you've been up to or I'm going to show these texts to your mother," she says.

Darren sits forward, arms crossing over his chest. "I don't care," he says, volume much quieter this time.

She's found his weakness.

"Fine." Melinda turns towards the door, then pauses, keeping her back towards Darren. "Oh and just to let you know....not only am I going to show her this. I'm also going to explain to her what parasailing means."

"Like you know."

"I know what it means and soon she will too. I wonder what she'll think of her perfect son talking like that to a classmate."

Darren's jaw drops, clearly concerned by Melinda's threats now. "She'll kill me!"

Melinda grabs onto the door handle and shrugs her shoulders. "Less of a headache for my team."

"No please! I'll talk! I'll talk!"

After fifteen minutes, Melinda has all of the information they need.

By the time Darren finishes speaking, he's covered in sweat and has his hands running through his hair worriedly.

Melinda opens the door to leave. "Also just a little hint. If you're too embarrassed to use the word sex then you really shouldn't be having it."

Phil smirks. That's how he knows he didn't make a mistake by asking her to join the team. She's skilled and gets results. He knew the agent inside of her was still there. He just had to slowly let it come out of her.

He meets her outside of interrogation.

"That was effective," he compliments.

He thinks that he catches a ghost of a smile developing on her face, but she turns her head before he can be sure.

They find the inhuman three hours later. It's takes until the next morning for Skye to even stand in the same room as him.

Tahiti, now

If he knew then that she would be suggesting parasailing for them in their not so distant future his head would've exploded.

He knows it would've because his heart feels like it's doing that very thing right now. If he's not careful he'll go into cardiac arrest before they even set foot in the bedroom.

Breathe, Phil.

But he can't seem to settle his rapidly beating heart when she stands next to him so calm and collected, blissfully staring out at the clear ocean, a neutral expression on her face.

If only she didn't have the sunglasses on he'd be able to read her thoughts.

Deep breath, relax.

"Melinda," he says, calling for her attention. He doesn't have the nerve to say these words twice, so he wants her to hear him the first time.

"Hmm?" She murmurs, as her thumb begins rubbing back and forth against his bicep again.

Take the leap, Phil. Be bold. Shock her just as she's done to you.

"I need you," he tells her.

Her thumb stops moving as her grip on him loosens, almost moving away completely.

He can see her head turn towards him, her mouth opens to respond, but before she can, he interrupts her.

It has to come out before he loses the nerve.

"I can't wait anymore. I want you now," he blurts out, clarifying his previous statement. The tense muscles in his shoulder blades deflate a bit as he let's go of the burden of keeping this from her. He can't help it. After living through so many years of build up and secrets between them it's been a difficult habit to break.

"How do you want me?" She asks, ducking her head a bit.

Honestly, her words go straight to his groin. If she doesn't mean what he thinks she means this is going to turn into a very uncomfortable situation.

"In every way. But not here. I've heard sex is terrible on the beach. Inside, on a proper bed. We've at least earned that." The fingers on his right hand flex outwards as he speaks. It's one of his anxious ticks.

A pause that feels like eternity fills the air.

"Then let's go," she tells him simply as her lips curl up into a smirk.

Her eyebrows raise above the sunglasses lenses as she waits for him to act on her words.

He grabs her right hand tightly and starts moving them towards their hut.

He's never moved so fast in his life.

//end...I may add a part 2//

#philinda #philinda ff #philinda fic #philinda fanfic #philinda fanfiction #phil coulson #melinda may #oneshot #5x22 #this is total crack

[taelicacy]

Monochrome Season

Genre: Fluff, future smut, angst, mental health

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4  (not yet available)

Synopsis: (Y/N) is a very reserved kind of girl that has lots of trouble connecting with people and has unresolved issues with herself. Being forced on a group date who will she meet? And how could he possibly change her future prospects?

Word count: 3k

In my eyes I’ve always been able to classify people in two categories: those who dared to live their life at their fullest and those who simply were too afraid to step out of their comfort zone to do so. However, even if I myself viewed life this way it didn’t prevent me from being classified in the latter group, for various reasons I don't dare to confront.

Those kind of people who simply follow the tide paved by society, those who blindly believe what they were made to believe is good for them, those who won’t ever wonder if there’s something beyond what they’re told to do... I like believing I'm not one of them.

If somebody asked me how to describe myself I wouldn’t really know where to begin.

Actually, that’s a straight out lie, I perfectly know who I consider myself to be, it's just that my opinion on myself is not socially acceptable. Or rather unhealthy , I'd say?

"You must smile, be positive and accept your flaws!" is what everyone preaches from behind a filter, a flawless make up technique and a superiority complex. Meanwhile, even if I tried and blend with the rest with a fakery mask on, the truth is still floating in the back of my mind, like a seed of discord waiting to be watered by negativity and self-doubt.

The truth is that I’m a coward. Such a big coward that I prevented myself from growing because of it. 

What is that? I don't know. I keep it caged in the back of my mind. It's not something I am willing to change. You should just ignore it, like I do. That way I can keep living.

This is how I begun my daily reflections as I let myself fall on my bed like a dead body, exhausted from yet another day of endless college classes and a flooded whatsapp group that made me wonder if it was even possible to feel more unattached to my friends, or any other human being for that matter.

Still, I had to push myself a bit further if I didn't want my existence to be forgotten. I couldn't let myself give in to my hermit tendencies.

I unlocked the phone. “Why do we always spend weeks without talking and then we suddenly have texting fits?” I reprimanded to no one in particular. After all I was living alone in an apartment by myself. Sounds fancy right? Not really, the smallest flat one could ever conceive.

Still, if it meant me being able to be alone it was more than enough for me. I was secretly thankful that my parents didn't oppose to the idea of me not having a flat mate. Not that they would like me being so antisocial.

The mobile phone's light blinded me a bit amidst the dark room. The group bombarding me with messages was the one that I shared with my closest friends.

My eyes quickly skimmed over the hundreds of messages. 

Break-up, was the key word that caused such a ruckus.

My eyes widened in surprise, and I ran to get my bag. 

Me and the girls were to meet up in the usual cafe, we would often go there to hang out from time to time when we managed to make our schedules match. I really liked that coffeplace. It was the perfect mixture of old and modern, isolated it was located in an alley next to a main street, bearing the perfect balance between noisy and quiet, modern and outdated. 

I took a glimpse of them sitting in the furthest table from the entrance, our usual spot, with their respective favorite mixes of coffee and my usual Frapuccino waiting for me on the table, rather seducing me to quicken my pace towards them.

As I was approaching something actually put me out of the food craving trance I was in. Kara’s expression was a mix of “Oh, (Y/N) you’re gonna hate us”, and “I’m so sorry, we are doing this to you, but we are”.

Reflexively, I frowned as I sat in the seat reserved for me. “...So, what’s up? Please don’t scare me...”.

They both cracked a smile as if I had just nailed something, pity in Kara’s eyes, as she tended to be a very empathetic person. That was reason enough to make my mental emergency alarms go off.

Mira's expression went stern again. What the heck was going on? “...I’m just gonna be direct (Y/N)… I’ve broken with my boyfriend already...”.

Oh, Ape, Mira’s boyfriend. That’s actually how me and Kara called that guy, derogatorily. Nickname well deserved, he was a brainless man that had cheated on Mira more than once and who we wanted to punch fervently. Still, she seemed pained.

“Why now, after so much time after the cheating happened?” I asked sincerely.

“I may hold affection for him, but there's no love anymore since that happened. I guess now I’m finally free”.

As we pulled each other in a hug, we kept on pressing the issue to get her to vent the most she could to forget the bastard.

“Actually… It may seem too soon, but if I’ve been able to call this relationship off it’s because I am interested in a guy” Mira murmured hesitantly as if she were afraid to seem too shallow.

“I was hoping you’d help me by going to a...” tension built up while Mira stopped to breathe deeply, squinting her eyes she quickly muttered “...group date”.

OH. Okay, it makes sense that they’d plan to carefully throw this bomb to me, since it’s obvious that I’d say no, because hell NO. These kind of social conventions were the epitome of my social anxiety triggering situations. I mean, imagine the pressure of being set up with a guy you don’t even know, who won’t want you to be his pair and having to interact with a dude forced to talk to you for the whole afternoon. Oh, yes it sounds like a dream come true!  I'm sure it won't be awkward at all and I won't want to flee and curl up like a worm into a safe position into the safety of my house! It sounded like a great idea, right?  And---

“Wait (Y/N), I know what you’re thinking, but it isn’t necessarily a triple date, it’s just us and his friends hanging out to have fun, and me trying to get closer to him while we are at it!”

"Well, there will also be as many guys as us girls, but hey, that doesn't mean anything!" snickered Kara.

“...That actually sounds reasonable… But--” I stopped as Kara actually made a pleading look to me. I had to be more reasonable. Mira had gone through a lot because of that Ape, and we didn’t want to see her like that ever again. Going could even help us see if this new guy was a threat Mira couldn’t spy, like it usually happened to her, since she tended to be too naive. Yes, maybe it was time to be less selfish and act for the sake of my friend.

Therefore, I ended up accepting and suspiciously being told the place and the date when it was happening, as if they had been planning it all along even before I accepted.

Will they were both very excited I had a gut feeling that something was gonna go really wrong.

It’s not a date, relax, understood? Understood. There is NO pressure, I don’t need to pretend to be more talkative and friendly than I am, understood? Understood. I’m just going there to make new friends and help my own, understood? Understood. Okay, then, WHY AM I STILL FREAKING OUT.

As you can probably guess I’m not a really a... people person, to put it lightly. 

If there’s something that bothers me is the awkwardness associated to meeting new people. And not only because of my deficient social skills, but the weirdness of the situation itself. The shortest silence makes my brain freak out trying to find a topic that is smart enough to stop the excruciating silence, most of the time failing and not being able to join in the conversation. It's not nice, feeling out of place.

I’d just say I’ve learnt out of trial and error that the wisest course of action is to stay out of this situations the most I can. Maybe that’s the reason why I don’t have many friends. Or maybe the reason is because I’m plainly a strange and awkward person, who knows?

Who’d say that as a college student I’d keep having the same issues as I had when I went to elementary school?

The reflection was worthy, however, the time to leave was approaching. I had already been dressed hours ago and now I was getting urges to either change my whole outfit or just pick the phone and make a shitty excuse to not go altogether.

I looked at myself in the mirror one last time. I didn’t choose anything special, just a casual outfit that I’d wear normally but that fit me and made me feel a little bit more safer and confident. The urges kept coming harder and the uneasiness growing steadily as I encouraged myself to just ignore them and crack the door open.

When I finally were approaching my all too familiar cafe, I got angry with Mira for making all of us meet there. I would probably always remember this awkward encounter everytime I went there again.

The door's bell tingled as if it was a sign that I could no longer back down from this. I noticed the usual excited salutation from Mira on our usual table, Kara timidly smiling on her right side and a guy who I suspected was Mira's interest on her left.

He gave off a warm and approachable vibe, with a smile so broad that I could tell right away why she was became interested in him in the first place. 

His name was Namjoon and despite my inherent nervousness he was able to make me feel  a bit more at peace as he hugged me in a brotherly hug after introducing himself.

"Oh, nice to meet you, my name is (Y/N)" I managed to blurt out thanks to being a bit calmer.

"You know, we were just talking about you" Namjoon said jokingly still with a soothing smile that pinpointed why Mira had her eyes on him. The guy gave off a warm vibe, that of an understanding person.

"Oh no, what did you tell him Mira!" my cool went out the window, my impulsiveness striking yet again.

"Oh Namjoon you're such a snitch!!" Mira exclaimed."We were talking about how late you always are..." 

"... and how we - as foster mothers - will have to keep you on a leash to keep you from running away" Kara finished with a smile.

I could feel my cheeks grow redder by the second as I understood they exposed my more than obvious uneasiness in social situation. Maybe explaining why Namjoon so friendly? 

"If my mothers have to be such a snitches maybe I should change families" I said as I averted my eyes and sat on a chair between Namjoon and Kara.

"...well, if it makes you feel any better at least you dared to come here. Jungkook-ah on the other hand blatantly refused to" said Namjoon with a disappointed look while I took a mental note to pat this guy’s head if I ever met him.

"And this other was just too lazy to come and that other one was just too busy cooking... well let's say that the ones we are missing are the leftovers. Expect them to be 2 hours late." 

“...Wow, okay… I guess now we’re genuinely intrigued” we muttered in unison.

The conversation fluently went back and forth. And all throughout it I became aware of the amazing people skill the guy had. He knew perfectly how to joke around without awakening further than necessary my anxiety, nor did he try to make me ‘more outgoing’ like some people would try to do as soon as they'd realize how shy I am. Honestly, he was an interesting guy to talk to, specially how he managed to make me feel comfortable.

At some point, probably after almost an hour, just as Namjoon predicted, the bell rang muffled by the complainings of a pair of boys, which I supposed were the special cookies.

My heart raced at the thought, in a mix of expectancy and anxiety to meet them.

"I told you we should have used google maps!!"complained the shorter and blond one to his tag along.

"Aigo, shut up already, you were as lost as I was" answered with little guilt the other one, with a hint of a strikingly lower voice than the first.

The blond, despite his complaints, left me in awe with how flawless his complexion was. He had plump lips and enviable fair skin, that suddenly drove me self-aware of my own skin, rougher in comparison to his.

This one walked in front of his taller and deep-voiced friend, whom had a white cap that covered his face as he lazily approached the table.

"Hyung! It was Jimin-ah’s fault all along, you know how he's always a trillion years late when he goes to the bathroom" the white-cap guy told Namjoon with a hint of real annoyance in his joking overall tone.

Namjoon facepalmed at the situation.

"AH! What are you saying in front of them!" The blond guy apparently named Jimin whined.

Probably Namjoon’s statement reminded white-cap guy of our existence, since he let out a subtle “oh” as he turned his head in our direction, letting me finally see his face. “Oh, hello” he faintly smiled to us as he seemed to realize he had made a fool out of his friend.

His dark strands of hair messily peeked from under his cap covering his thick eyebrows, and despite his low voice I wouldn’t have been able to decide whether he had a childish face or a manly one. Somehow his smile stirred a certain uneasiness on my gut that not even I understood.

"Hey! My name is Mira, and I'm Namjoon's friend from uni" she started quickly with her trademark presentation. Always a spotless smile in her face. I was always amazed by how she and Kara managed to look so lovely and draw a flawless smile on their lips with little to no effort. 

The nagging uneasiness kept on creeping, growing stronger every passing second as I watched everyone introducing themselves to the newcomers. I had no intention of being the one going next, but at one point it would be my turn right? 

By the time Kara had already started her warm welcoming it was a countdown to me pulling myself together and acting like a normal human being.

Both Jimin and cap-guy looked as if they were from a different whole different dimension from me, even I couldn't avoid noticing how Mira and Kara measured up to those stylish guys. That realization only made me more displeased with the situation. It was a given that I would look out of place.

I could hear a faraway "Nice to meet you too" coming from the newcomers mouths. That was a signal that I was out of time and all the rushing thoughts came to a halt.

By the time they were already finished and it was my turn I had realized I had to pull myself together and stood up from my seat like the others, adrenaline rushing through my whole being. The nagging uneasiness never leaving. It was always better to ignore it in such situations since trying to address the elephant took more time than the few seconds I had left.

I was ready to mask my inner turmoil with a smile, the less crooked possible, when Namjoon grabbed me by my shoulders, and I could swear that for a millisecond his expression was trying to reassure me. He directed me towards the guys and joked again "Aaand this is my new friend (Y/N)."

At any other time I'd have had time to question why was he already calling me a friend despite just having met, but I was already mentally occupied with enough things as I got shoved in front of cap-guy.

Our eyes locked immediately. His pupils were the first thing mine could find as if Namjoon had purposely planned it that way. I was captured by the guy's eyes, fixated for a few seconds they were the only thing I could look at. As if I couldn’t fight how much his eyes pulled me in. His gaze seemed to dig a hole into my soul and back, yet for some reason I wanted to keep on looking at them regardless of my surroundings. 

"Nice to meet you, my name's Taehyung!" his bubbly words, unfitting the mysterious vibes that I had been getting from his glance, burst the bubble that surrounded us. Or maybe that surrounded only me? Was it my imagination?

Still, he greeted me happily as he pulled a grin like no other I had ever seen before, adding an even new flavor to the mix of feelings I was already experimenting.

#taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #bts mental health #bts depression #bts anxiety #jimin #suga #yoongi #rapmon #rm #jm #v #jungkook #bts au #bts alternate universe #bts self insert #jin #jhope #hoseok #namjoon #bts series #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung love #taehyung romance #taehyung smut

[dfroza]

how many give thought

that we’re being called up to a heavenly wedding?

for there are many who comprise the Bride (the Queen) of the True King

and rebirth of the heart through the Son is the only way “Home”

and marriage on earth is a mirroring of this. and did you know that it is not permissible in Love for a man to be sexual with another man, or a woman with a woman, as defined by gender at birth? this is spiritual truth, although some may disagree.

and life truly begins at the genesis spark of conception as a tiny seed (to be...)

and we are meant to respond to the call of the heart to “believe...”

and this is the beautiful mystery of becoming a child of our Creator which is what Paul describes in Today’s reading of the 9th chapter of Romans:

[God Is Calling His People]

At the same time, you need to know that I carry with me at all times a huge sorrow. It’s an enormous pain deep within me, and I’m never free of it. I’m not exaggerating—Christ and the Holy Spirit are my witnesses. It’s the Israelites . . . If there were any way I could be cursed by the Messiah so they could be blessed by him, I’d do it in a minute. They’re my family. I grew up with them. They had everything going for them—family, glory, covenants, revelation, worship, promises, to say nothing of being the race that produced the Messiah, the Christ, who is God over everything, always. Oh, yes!

Don’t suppose for a moment, though, that God’s Word has malfunctioned in some way or other. The problem goes back a long way. From the outset, not all Israelites of the flesh were Israelites of the spirit. It wasn’t Abraham’s sperm that gave identity here, but God’s promise. Remember how it was put: “Your family will be defined by Isaac”? That means that Israelite identity was never racially determined by sexual transmission, but it was God-determined by promise. Remember that promise, “When I come back next year at this time, Sarah will have a son”?

And that’s not the only time. To Rebecca, also, a promise was made that took priority over genetics. When she became pregnant by our one-of-a-kind ancestor, Isaac, and her babies were still innocent in the womb—incapable of good or bad—she received a special assurance from God. What God did in this case made it perfectly plain that his purpose is not a hit-or-miss thing dependent on what we do or don’t do, but a sure thing determined by his decision, flowing steadily from his initiative. God told Rebecca, “The firstborn of your twins will take second place.” Later that was turned into a stark epigram: “I loved Jacob; I hated Esau.”

Is that grounds for complaining that God is unfair? Not so fast, please. God told Moses, “I’m in charge of mercy. I’m in charge of compassion.” Compassion doesn’t originate in our bleeding hearts or moral sweat, but in God’s mercy. The same point was made when God said to Pharaoh, “I picked you as a bit player in this drama of my salvation power.” All we’re saying is that God has the first word, initiating the action in which we play our part for good or ill.

Are you going to object, “So how can God blame us for anything since he’s in charge of everything? If the big decisions are already made, what say do we have in it?”

Who in the world do you think you are to second-guess God? Do you for one moment suppose any of us knows enough to call God into question? Clay doesn’t talk back to the fingers that mold it, saying, “Why did you shape me like this?” Isn’t it obvious that a potter has a perfect right to shape one lump of clay into a vase for holding flowers and another into a pot for cooking beans? If God needs one style of pottery especially designed to show his angry displeasure and another style carefully crafted to show his glorious goodness, isn’t that all right? Either or both happens to Jews, but it also happens to the other people. Hosea put it well:

I’ll call nobodies and make them somebodies;

I’ll call the unloved and make them beloved.

In the place where they yelled out, “You’re nobody!”

they’re calling you “God’s living children.”

Isaiah maintained this same emphasis:

If each grain of sand on the seashore were numbered

and the sum labeled “chosen of God,”

They’d be numbers still, not names;

salvation comes by personal selection.

God doesn’t count us; he calls us by name.

Arithmetic is not his focus.

Isaiah had looked ahead and spoken the truth:

If our powerful God

had not provided us a legacy of living children,

We would have ended up like ghost towns,

like Sodom and Gomorrah.

How can we sum this up? All those people who didn’t seem interested in what God was doing actually embraced what God was doing as he straightened out their lives. And Israel, who seemed so interested in reading and talking about what God was doing, missed it. How could they miss it? Because instead of trusting God, they took over. They were absorbed in what they themselves were doing. They were so absorbed in their “God projects” that they didn’t notice God right in front of them, like a huge rock in the middle of the road. And so they stumbled into him and went sprawling. Isaiah (again!) gives us the metaphor for pulling this together:

Careful! I’ve put a huge stone on the road to Mount Zion,

a stone you can’t get around.

But the stone is me! If you’re looking for me,

you’ll find me on the way, not in the way.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 9 (The Message)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is chapter 30 of 1st Samuel where David and his people recovered all that was stolen from them:

[David’s Strength Was in His God]

Three days later, David and his men arrived back in Ziklag. Amalekites had raided the Negev and Ziklag. They tore Ziklag to pieces and then burned it down. They captured all the women, young and old. They didn’t kill anyone, but drove them like a herd of cattle. By the time David and his men entered the village, it had been burned to the ground, and their wives, sons, and daughters all taken prisoner.

David and his men burst out in loud wails—wept and wept until they were exhausted with weeping. David’s two wives, Ahinoam of Jezreel and Abigail widow of Nabal of Carmel, had been taken prisoner along with the rest. And suddenly David was in even worse trouble. There was talk among the men, bitter over the loss of their families, of stoning him.

David strengthened himself with trust in his God. He ordered Abiathar the priest, son of Ahimelech, “Bring me the Ephod so I can consult God.” Abiathar brought it to David.

Then David prayed to God, “Shall I go after these raiders? Can I catch them?”

The answer came, “Go after them! Yes, you’ll catch them! Yes, you’ll make the rescue!”

David went, he and the six hundred men with him. They arrived at the Brook Besor, where some of them dropped out. David and four hundred men kept up the pursuit, but two hundred of them were too fatigued to cross the Brook Besor, and stayed there.

Some who went on came across an Egyptian in a field and took him to David. They gave him bread and he ate. And he drank some water. They gave him a piece of fig cake and a couple of raisin muffins. Life began to revive in him. He hadn’t eaten or drunk a thing for three days and nights!

David said to him, “Who do you belong to? Where are you from?”

“I’m an Egyptian slave of an Amalekite,” he said. “My master walked off and left me when I got sick—that was three days ago. We had raided the Negev of the Kerethites, of Judah, and of Caleb. Ziklag we burned.”

David asked him, “Can you take us to the raiders?”

“Promise me by God,” he said, “that you won’t kill me or turn me over to my old master, and I’ll take you straight to the raiders.”

He led David to them. They were scattered all over the place, eating and drinking, gorging themselves on all the loot they had plundered from Philistia and Judah.

David pounced. He fought them from before sunrise until evening of the next day. None got away except for four hundred of the younger men who escaped by riding off on camels. David rescued everything the Amalekites had taken. And he rescued his two wives! Nothing and no one was missing—young or old, son or daughter, plunder or whatever. David recovered the whole lot. He herded the sheep and cattle before them, and they all shouted, “David’s plunder!”

Then David came to the two hundred who had been too tired to continue with him and had dropped out at the Brook Besor. They came out to welcome David and his band. As he came near he called out, “Success!”

But all the mean-spirited men who had marched with David, the rabble element, objected: “They didn’t help in the rescue, they don’t get any of the plunder we recovered. Each man can have his wife and children, but that’s it. Take them and go!”

“Families don’t do this sort of thing! Oh no, my brothers!” said David as he broke up the argument. “You can’t act this way with what God gave us! God kept us safe. He handed over the raiders who attacked us. Who would ever listen to this kind of talk? The share of the one who stays with the gear is the share of the one who fights—equal shares. Share and share alike!” From that day on, David made that the rule in Israel—and it still is.

On returning to Ziklag, David sent portions of the plunder to the elders of Judah, his neighbors, with a note saying, “A gift from the plunder of God’s enemies!” He sent them to the elders in Bethel, Ramoth Negev, Jattir, Aroer, Siphmoth, Eshtemoa, Racal, Jerahmeelite cities, Kenite cities, Hormah, Bor Ashan, Athach, and Hebron, along with a number of other places David and his men went to from time to time.

The Book of 1st Samuel, Chapter 30 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for monday, October 19 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

A repost from October 19 of ‘19:

something i read for Saturday, October 19 that isn’t an easy task in this world, yet in Love we are instructed to do so:

A wise person demonstrates patience, for mercy means holding your tongue.

When you are insulted, be quick to forgive and forget it, for you are virtuous when you overlook an offense.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 19:11 (The Passion Translation)

we need to forgive and move on with life by letting go of the past so that it doesn’t continually haunt us.

10.19.19 • Facebook

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research:

October 19, 2020

Christ in You

“To whom God would make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles; which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.” (Colossians 1:27)

The New Covenant includes a mystery Paul had the privilege of revealing to the Gentiles (Colossians 1:24-29). The history and prophecies of the Old Covenant contained a few hints of God’s plan for the last days, but the focus was centered on the “fulness of time” when the Messiah would come (Galatians 4:4).

Paul seemed thrilled to “preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ” (Ephesians 3:8) and to have the responsibility of unveiling “the grace of God which is given me to you-ward” (Ephesians 3:2). More than the obligation, Paul felt a dread judgment if he failed (1 Corinthians 9:16). It follows that we should be clear in our own declaration of this mystery.

Simply put, the mystery is “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” Obviously, that is the result of salvation. The new message is the completed work and resurrection of the Lord Jesus. The promises of the prophets and the long history of Israel tend to obscure the eternal plan of God (Ephesians 3:11)—thus the detailed effort of the New Testament writers to amplify the “whosoever will” aspect of the gospel message.

“Of which salvation the prophets have enquired and searched diligently, who prophesied of the grace that should come unto you: Searching what, or what manner of time the Spirit of Christ which was in them did signify, when it testified beforehand the sufferings of Christ, and the glory that should follow. Unto whom it was revealed, that not unto themselves, but unto us they did minister the things, which are now reported unto you by them that have preached the gospel unto you with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven” (1 Peter 1:10-12).

Now it is possible for the whole world to have a personal and eternal relationship with Jesus Christ. HMM III

[uschi-the-listener]

A Gratitude List for National Gratitude Day

I haven't written one in a while. That doesn't mean I haven't needed one. I write them when I feel down and need to remember that things aren't always absolute shit. And they aren't. I had an interesting and unusual Thanksgiving yesterday, at least, interesting and unusual for me. I spent it alone, eating a turkey leg and watching movies on Netflix, then going to my ACoA meeting in the evening, which is always great, but was especially great last night because there were only 3 of us, and I ran the meeting.

We had an old-timer, who has been doing this for years, we had a newcomer, who cried all through the meeting and shared very movingly, and there was me. I shared things I'd never shared before. The sharing was unbounded. In 12-step parlance, "sharing" is talking about personal stuff that is on your heart at the time. I mentioned struggles I've been having with loneliness and that feeling that I'm just not getting it right, and describing what I would want if all my dreams came true. Not sharing that here, right now. You aren't supposed to tell if you make a wish.

But I definitely ran a powerful meeting last night. I've been going there steadily for 11 or 12 weeks and am still struggling with the second and third steps. In my life, experience has taught me that trusting anybody or letting anybody else control anything is a recipe for exploitation and life-threatening disaster. So you can see why being willing to turn anything over to a Higher Power of my choice sounds like an attack. But I'm working on it and trying to be open to it. It's a difficult step.

But on to Gratitude.

1. I am grateful I'm working. The job is not my dream job, but I can do it, and what I do seems to be helping.

2. I am deeply grateful for my beautiful, funny, intelligent, compassionate, silly son, who owns my heart and is very gentle with it.

3. Dishwashers fill me with gratitude. I have spent most of my life without one, and now I've had one for several years. I know what it's like to do every damn dish by hand and what a disgusting nightmare it can turn into during flu season when there are extra dishes and they build up because you're too sick to stand for that long. Dishwashers aren't perfect, but they're close enough.

4. Cooling temperatures are such a relief; I'm grateful for the way the seasons change in such a way that we don't have to be either hot or cold all the time. It was a dreadful summer, here in the desert. I am sure my air conditioner use helped fry the environment, but I and my pets would not have survived the 127 degree Fahrenheit crap we had thrown at us this year without it. I'm expecting winter to be extreme, too, but it hasn't happened yet. It's still in the nineties here. It's ridiculous. But cooler.

5. I am grateful for the pain and suffering in my life, that seems to be, thankfully, subsiding somewhat. Why am I grateful for such awful stuff? Well, it makes me a more compassionate person. It helps me see everyone around me as someone with a story. It tenderizes my already soft heart. I hope I don't have to have any more of it because this last bout damn near killed me dead. But I have to be grateful for anything that makes me more myself, and pain and suffering do tend to strip away the non-essentials.

6. Always, always, I am grateful for the night sky. I spend time outside alone, just admiring the stars and the moon, nearly every night. It connects me to people who don't know I am connecting with them. It also reminds me of my dear late husband, who had a job once working for an astronomer at the observatory at Haleakala in Hawaii and learned a lot about stars, constellations, the moon, shooting stars, and satellites. He and I had so much fun, going out into the wilderness for a relief from the light pollution and watching the stars come out, and spotting satellites. We permanently dented the roof of one car we had from climbing up and lying on it. Neither of us was a lightweight at that time, and the roof was not expecting it. Anybody I go out with from now until the stars fall from the sky is going to be subjected to the night sky, like it or not.

7. I am grateful that even now, past middle age, I am still learning and discovering all sorts of new things about myself and about the world. There is no end to learning. Some of it isn't fun, but knowing things is important and sometimes a relief. It's amazing how our brains and minds can expand. Closed minds are not welcome here.

8. Of course I feel deep gratitude for my little pets, Miss Betty Anderson and Miss CarlyQ. They are always glad to see me and know when I need to be sat upon and treated lovingly. And it keeps me alive sometimes to have someone depending on me to scoop the litter and open the cans and refresh the water and arrange the little beds. Without Miss B and Miss C, I would have been in worse trouble this past few years than I had been. Pets look you in the eye and read your mind. They don't understand the reading, but they can recognize universal feelings of sorrow, happiness, defeat, and anticipation, among others. I am grounded in the basics around my little furry girls.

9. I could not survive homelessness, and I came close to it once or twice this past year. I'm a creative person, so I might almost survive it, and I did spend some time on the street at one time. Never again. I will die before I let that happen again. I am grateful for my small and cluttered apartment. I am gradually making it more like a home and less like a warehouse of sorrow and brokenness. This time next year it might look like people, and not trolls-under-the-bridge, live here. I wish I knew more how to achieve that, but I suppose I'll figure it out in increments. I didn't grow up in a house that made it possible for me to learn any of that. But I'm definitely learning now. There are no dishes in my sink, thanks to our friend The Dishwasher, who probably deserves a name and a title. I'll give it some thought.

10. I'm grateful that I see things. I am, of course, grateful that I have my sight, but you know, I see things that other people miss all the time. I see why people do what they do, and why they are who they are, at least somewhat. I see the hummingbirds perched in the tree. I see grasshoppers assessing me for danger. I see the way the flock of geese connects to each other and I see who's in charge and who is the goofy yearling who thinks he ought to be. I see little wrinkles and creases on the faces of people I love and know exactly what that means. I know who I am and there are things about me that I see very clearly that I hope aren't visible to everybody. I see. I look and look and I see. Now, if only I could afford to get my cataract surgery... everything in good time, right?

11. Typically, gratitude lists only include 10 entries, but I feel like I need a bonus here. I am grateful that I have this as a coping skill, and I've learned so many ways to light a candle against the backdrop of my natural darkness. I am by nature a morose and pessimistic individual. I don't have a lot of hope for the future. But I absolutely do not allow that part of me to control my actions. I recognize it and honor where it came from, but I prefer to live on the assumption that this is just my jaundiced and faulty view, that yes, life sucks and then you die, but you get to choose how you look at that. I'm a primate. My nature is to make a new nest every night. I get to decide what I take with me and what I leave behind. I am gradually eliminating pessimism from my life. It grows back, like a fungus, but I'm eradicating it as often as I notice it starting to take hold.

12. And another: I am grateful for my courage. Somebody complimented me on that last night. It always astonishes me when anybody notices. Courage is not something this current society "gets" at all. Courage in individuals is not encouraged. See what I did there? I am grateful for my mostly lack of cowardice and for knowing when enough is enough, most of the time.

So, comments, as always, are welcome. I would love to see somebody else's gratitude list because we are all so wildly and delightfully unique that we think things that don't occur to anybody else sometimes. I have lots more things to be grateful for, but this is enough for now.

#gratitude #thanksgiving #gratitude list

[jwnchstr]

SPN x Iron Man

CHARACTERS: Dean Winchester, reader!Stark daughter, Sam, Tony, Bobby (mentioned)

WARNING: None I guess?

WORD COUNT: 1,901 (according to Wattpad)

SUMMARY: You went for a drink at a bar and Dean came to join you. Your friendship with Dean started from there.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I like this, you know. I hope you like this, too :) You can read more Winchester fanfiction on my Wattpad account.

You just finished one of your shortest mission, but you didn’t go straight back to your home because you know your father was there. The one who wants you to be like him; the one who makes you turn like him. You hated to see that face so much even though you think you’ve started to accept your life. But the truth is, you don’t because if you do, you won’t try to be far from your family.

So you spend your time at the nearest local bar in New York. Your home, the Avengers Tower, was only a few minutes ride. You want to be here until your father goes to sleep, and he usually does that around 5 in the morning because of his insomnia and panic attack. But you don’t care. If he hadn’t asleep when you’re home, he was already tired that your chance of being nagged is thin.

Glass after glass, but you control yourself from drinking too much because you don’t want to get drunk, actually. You still felt a little tipsy, but you can still think straight and drive like a fully-sober person home. You stared at the many alcohols behind the counter against the wall and thinking that your father had a lot of expensive ones that taste better than what you’re drinking. But again, you don’t care. You’ve drink a water that tasted like piss, so what else a bad alcohol could make you except wince?

It was 12 in the midnight though the bar was still bright and noisy. You continued to drink and think about the lives you could have saved including yours if your father didn’t force you to be in the Avengers. Even though the Avengers were good friends of yours, but you never feel good to kill people, innocent or not.

One man entered the bar steadily, but his face showed a thousand problems he’s been facing. Of course, you weren’t watching him while he was walking deeper into the bar and took a seat one gap beside you and ordered a whiskey from the bartender. While waiting for his drink, he had his head in his hands, sighing heavily.

You turned, not really interested in his problems because you have your own unsolved problems on your shoulders, but that’s usually what people in the bar do, and you’ve spent your time at bars countless of times that you started to feel like it’s your job too to talk to people. At least, it helps him to a little. After all, most people who came to the bar have the same issues, so why not?

“Hey,” you called. The man looked up to you, letting go of his head, his short hair stuck in every direction, but he still looked good. “Rough night?” 

“Ngh,” he muttered, turning to the bartender who is handing him his whiskey, thanking him.

“Let me guess,” you tilted your head, giving him a side look. “A fight with your wife?”

He raised his eyebrows, his hand reaching the bottle of whiskey he ordered. “Do I look like I’m married to you?” The man took a sip, not looking at you.

No, of course, you don’t, is what you wanted to say because you know how to read people very well. During your training, reading people is one of the core subject and you cannot fail. But here, you cannot just say what you wanted to say because they would think you’re creepy, so, instead, you lied to the person you’re talking to.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “You tell me.”

“It’s...complicated.”

“Try me.”

The man beside you chuckled softly and smirked. It was sweet and charming, like you’re seeing a different person when he’s smiling. “Trust me, sweetheart, you won’t understand.”

“Well,” you started, “I’ve had couple of reasons of why I’m here, too. And not feeling like being at home is one of them.”

“You think that would make me open up to you?”

“No,” you answered, being hard-to-get, being on your spy character. Sometimes, you can’t help it. Everywhere you go, you’d act like you’re still on a mission. Maybe because you’ve never stopped going to missions since you’ve passed your training level and your father never told you to stop. “I just feel like telling you. Because, you know, what else would we do if we’re going to spend the night here, right?”

“And why would you think I’d be staying here up late?”

“Because that’s why most people like you do,” you answered, this time honestly because you just know based on your experiences.

“And you don’t?”

“No.” You shook your head.

“So why you’re here?”

“Like I said, because I don’t feel like being at home at the moment.” You looked away, suddenly felt ashamed for having a broken family. Well, maybe people think that you have a perfect one, but to you, you don’t. You have a demanding father, over-work mother, friends only for missions. You don’t have real friends, who you would want to bring for shopping.

The man beside you stared at you as you drink. If a while ago, you were the one who wanted a conversation, but this time it was him who was wondering about you.

“Hey, you want to talk about it?” he offered his ears to you and he sounded genuine.

“Nah, I’m good.” You smiled up at him, glancing at the time on the wall behind the counter and saw that it was only 6 minutes passed.

“Okay,” the man said after a few seconds of analysing you. You know he felt bad for pushing you away just now, but you don’t actually care because you’re not good at feelings either. But, after a while, he spoke again.

“Have you ever felt like...being betrayed?”

You turned to him slowly, raising your eyebrows in confusion at him. You don’t know what makes him suddenly speaking with you again, but you go along with him. The time was slowly ticking by, and you started to feel drowsy, but you don’t want to go home or sleep at the hotel.

“Lots of times, to be honest,” you answered. “I’ve been surrounded with older people and they lie to me most of the times.”

“Huh. You must feel really bad.” The man took a sip.

“What, is this your first time of being betrayed?” You watched his reaction and when he didn’t wince with your question, you know his answer before he even answered it.

“No,” just like what you expected. “But this time’s lot more worse.”

“How worse?”

“Well,” he shrugged, thinking of where to began. “How about you just found out that your brother’s still alive and the second closest person to you knew, but never told you until a year later?”

You were actually speechless at that. Even being an agent, you never encountered something that bad. Your father had never faked his death even though lot of people want him dead. Your Avengers friends never faked their deaths even though they’re lost somewhere in the world. You guys always found each other back.

“Wondered why they did that to you?”

“They put the blame on me.”

“Well, I accidentally freed a murderer because my legs were injured with one of my teammate’s bullet and they blamed me,” you opened up unconsciously, but didn’t regret it all. Somehow, it felt good to finally let it out even though that person was a stranger. But, again, sometimes it’s easier to express to a stranger.

The man turned, staring at you. Both of your eyes locked as you gave him the look of honesty while he gave you the look of looking for the truth.

The man sighed. “They said they wanted the life.”

“What life?”

“Having a family?” He glanced at you. “No, I’m not married.” He showed up his fingers. “See, no ring. She was my old girlfriend and her son, I started to feel like my own now.”

“Isn’t that a good thing, that they want you to be happy? With the life you wanted?”

“Yeah, but- see, I don’t care if I have a family and know that my brother’s still alive and Bobby didn’t lie to me or any of them.” You took that Bobby guy was his second person that was close to him. “But- it’s one year. I grieved for my brother’s lost for one year and suddenly, after one year, he came back to my door and Bobby knew. And he didn’t look like he’s sorry!

“I seriously don’t know how to explain this shit.”

“You could never succeed to explain your feelings because words cannot describe.” Somehow, you two laughed at it. “None of my family faked their deaths, but I kinda get the same thing you’re facing. Kind of.”

“Really? How?”

“You know...going for a mission, being kidnapped and taken to somewhere you don’t even know?” you replied. None of you ever introduced yourselves properly, but you’re talking like you’ve known each other for years, because you don’t have to tell that man that’s you’re a special agent from the Avengers, but he looked like he gets it.

“Being locked up? You don’t have any communications there. They tortured you. They abused you. They made you think you’re worthless and that nobody remember you to save you. But somehow, we managed to track the lost person. I, myself, had been missing for months with no hope of living, but...yeah, I managed.”

“What job are you on again?” He frowned.

“An agent,” you answered without thinking twice. Maybe it’s in your blood that you like to say straight forward.

“An agent?” He raised his eyebrows, looking surprised. “An agent, like, the FBI?”

You chuckled at his guess. “I’m an Avenger.” And you don’t even care how people would treat you or think about you when they start to know who you are because you’re used to it. You’ve been an agent since you were young. Plus, being the daughter of Tony Stark, didn’t make you unknown.

“Hold on. You’re an Avenger?”

“That’s what I said.” You looked at him with no emotion. His reaction was what you expected, only he’s less freaky like he’s used with surprises.

“You mean, like, an Avenger Avenger? Like, Thor, Hulk, the Ir- Oh, man. I know who you are!” He brightened up at this. His eyes shone and his smile wide. He looked like he’s just gotten a good news from you. And the best part is that, he looked like he’s forgotten his problem when he’s smiling widely like a child.

You smiled, too, because you cannot resist his reaction.

“You’re (y/n) Stark! You’re Tony Stark’s daughter!”

“That I am.” You nodded your head, looking away and drink, suddenly shy.

“Wait, how are- what are- Gosh, I never think that I would meet you here. I mean, at a regular bar? I mean, aren’t you rich? Shouldn’t you be sitting at a luxury restaurant or something? With a date? I mean, you’re pretty. Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Well, trust me, when you’re an agent, you don’t want a partner because it risks his life.”

“I understand that, but you? Here?”

“Truth is, I don’t care,” you answered, not being slightly annoyed with the man beside you because, by only looking at his appearance, you know how he lives so he probably doesn’t know you at all. “I like being regular like this.”

“Wow! You’re not like your father, huh? Well, I am not like my father, too, even though I really want to be like him. I mean, hell, I dress like him.” He smiled.

“Well, I’m afraid we haven’t introduced ourselves properly.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.”

You smiled at him as well. “(Y/n) Stark.”

#spn #supernatural #cw #dean winchester #john winchester #sam winchester #winchester #iron man #avengers #tony stark #fanfiction #one shot

[glitterisevil-blog]

Regrets, I Have a Few....

Feeling unsettled about your completely transformed life with your newborn? Wishing that you could wave a magic wand and just go back to the way things were? You could be suffering from WHID Syndrome.

Which of course, is a completely fictional, unrecognised condition - but as everyone seems way more comfortable if a new mum’s feelings can be labelled as something, then let’s call it WHID or What Have I Done Syndrome for now.

Throughout pregnancy I was told countless times about this overwhelming rush of love that I would feel upon meeting my new baby. By the time my due date was approaching, I’d imagined what this amazing rush would be like. I suspected that if it didn’t arrive the second he was born, then it would catch me up later. I’d be doing something fairly mundane like hanging out washing, or perusing varieties of digestive biscuits in Tesco when all of a sudden this luminescent, ethereal figure would descend from the sky, sprinkle me with magical dust and I’d get this amazing glowing feeling that would leave me tingling from head to toe. Once I’d been sprinkled, I’d know I’d felt “it” for sure and I would never see, hear or feel things in the same way ever again. I would then spend the next few years floating around in this loved up, post-partum haze of joy.

And then he arrived. Ta-daaaa! And all I felt was knackered, emotionally hollow, and like someone had punched me in the fanny whilst wearing a knuckle-duster.

But I wasn’t too concerned about the absence of the love dust at first. It’ll all come after you’ve had a bit of sleep, they assured me. So I slept….nope, still nothing. Sore fanny – check.  Knackered – check. Emotionally hollow – check. And that was it.

For the next few days I just stared with bewilderment at this tiny human who I suddenly found myself sharing my life and my boobs with, feeling a steadily growing, rather uncomfortable mixture of resentment, regret and…well, just nothing much else really. Where was this massive thunderbolt that was supposed to happen? Wasn’t this thunderbolt/magic dust/rush of love the only thing that would help me get through the trauma and the sleep deprivation and all the crying? Why had Mother Nature fucked up my order?

I turned to my trusted pal Google for some answers, creating a browsing history that would surely have seen me on Trafford Social Services watch list had it fallen into the wrong hands;

Not bonding with newborn

Don’t feel love for new baby

Hate new baby

Missing old life post-baby

Regretting having baby

British Airways flights to New York (yes really – at 3 am one morning, I contemplated a flit to another country as an actual feasible solution to all of this!)

A trusty internet search engine can normally solve most modern day problems, from what the fuck “on fleek” actually means, to how to cook the perfect Beef Wellington. However on this occasion it just wasn’t coming up with the goods. Nobody else seemed to be in the same place as me, feeling vast amounts of nothingness, mourning a life left behind and just generally feeling, well, a bit sad.  

Everybody else on the internet was either having very serious feelings on a clinical scale, or else they were more loved up than Hacienda-goers circa 1992. Why was there no middle ground?

Let’s start first with those happy, loved up baby-bearers. Social media was full of friends, acquaintances and celebrities who’d had babies around the same time as me, but nobody seemed to be finding it that hard to adjust. In stark contrast, the rest of the childbearing world seemed to be cracking on very nicely with new parenthood thank you very much. I trawled through all the Instagram pics of smiling mums in fresh pyjamas, clutching their new additions with grins as wide as their c-section scars. Every hashtag compounded the fact that I was clearly just crap. Each #Blessed felt like a smack in the face. My hashtag would’ve said #thisisfuckingshit

Then there were the people who were at the other end of the spectrum. I read article after article about that condition that I might’ve had but dare not speak its name in case it came true. It was like Candyman – if I said Post Natal Depression out loud then it might just appear. Did I have PND? I didn’t think so, but I wasn’t deliriously happy about the arrival of my baby, so surely I fell into this category? Did I have to pick a side? After a week of going through symptom checklists I eventually came to the conclusion that I probably didn’t have it for a variety of reasons. And so I continued, and just got up each day, cared for my baby in a functional way, but felt no connection whatsoever with him because I just wanted my old life back.

I was one of the lucky ones, I was reminded. I’d had a textbook birth, which resulted in a beautiful happy healthy baby boy, I should be happy. I should be grateful. Didn’t I know about all the people who longed to have what I’m so nonchalant about? Of course, I knew this was true, but it still left me unable to explain why I felt so empty about everything. The only answers I could find lay in chat room discussions at ridiculous hours of the morning, because let’s face it – 4am is the witching hour of the new parent! I discovered a myriad of mummies (and a few dads as well) who were speaking out about how they felt about the arrival of their new baby and – just like me – they weren’t particularly over the moon about the disruption, the chaos or the sleep deprivation that had been thrust upon them. One mum wrote something like “We planned our baby, she is well cared for and loved but I wasn’t prepared for how much she would dominate our lives. I continually find myself missing how things used to be and feeling I’ve made a huge mistake that can’t be undone now.” Another lady described it as all the pieces of her life being thrown up in the air and falling back down in a random mess that she just didn’t recognise.

Yes, I thought! This is me, and exactly how I feel! As I read further, more and more people were saying the same thing. Once someone started off sharing, it gave courage to all the others that were previously afraid to speak. Here we all were at 4am - Selfish Arseholes Anonymous. One mum of a three week old baby owned up to having a packed suitcase full of essentials in her car boot, ready for the day when it all got too much. 

But just like my unbooked flight to New York, she never quite made it either. Once the murky mists of sleep deprivation had passed, and once the 4am outpourings had been shared we all had one thing in common; we all got up in the morning and carried on. We fed, we changed nappies, and we tried to do our best to keep our new hatchlings alive and well for another day. And whilst we did it we probably cried a bit, or shouted at our partners, or possibly even both because deep down we were wishing we could just go out for a spontaneous run, or nip to the pub, or sit down and watch TV for half an hour completely uninterrupted, and have a brew that we actually manage to drink before it goes cold. I’m fairly sure that nobody ever stares at a shitty nappy thinking they’ve totally won at life. No, we actually feel a bit pissed off and a bit sad that this is our life now for the next few years at least. And actually – what I wish someone had told me is this: It’s OK to feel a bit sad because sometimes, being a parent IS a bit crap and life pre-baby WAS probably much easier!

So if you’re reading this at 4am, staring at your baby and feeling shit that you’re not in the New Mummy Delight Club, and worrying that you might have PND because of this then relax – embrace the diagnosis of WHID Syndrome and be assured that there are some easy ways to treat it:-  

1.       Firstly, accept that it’s pretty normal and that you shouldn’t feel guilty about it. It doesn’t make you ungrateful or a bad person for lamenting over your old life. Your old life was probably a pretty great one involving gin, a disposable income and being able to go for a shit in peace. Well who wouldn’t miss that?!

2.       Keep the channels of communication open with your midwife, your health visitor and your partner/friends/family. Contrary to popular belief, health professionals don’t have social services on speed dial, on standby to whip your baby off you the minute you admit you’re not loving life. They actually recognise that this upheaval is pretty normal. If they (or you) spot anything that just might be PND then they will be able to support you. Similarly your partner or friends might actually be relieved to hear you say “Christ this is grim” and then everyone can drop the façade that becoming a new parent is all just snuggling your baby and eating lemon drizzle cake all day, because it’s actually fucking hard!

3.       Disregard all social media posts that depict the perfect life and the wonders of being a parent. It’s not reality and serves only to make you feel as though you’re doing it all wrong. In the same way that nobody’s Facebook profile picture is ever a photo of them hungover, vomiting into the cat litter tray with their Disney pyjamas on, nobody is going to show the gritty, shitty side of new motherhood which usually involve eye bags you could use for your entire Aldi shop, and the toilet bowl looking like a scene from Hostel every time you attempt a poo. It’s all bollocks, and in the words of Public Enemy “Don’t Believe the Hype”

4.       Do what makes YOU feel normal and ignore the Should Sharks. You know the ones who say things like “Oh, you should go to Baby Massage and get out the house because you need fresh air really” or “Going back to the gym so soon? You really should rest you know, because new mums shouldn’t exercise so soon…blah blah fucking blah!” So go to baby massage, or don’t. Go to the gym, or don’t. Abseil from a building dressed as Batman, or don’t. Stay holed up at home, or go out and paint the town – just find your normal, whatever that happens to be.

I got through the worst of my WHID Syndrome by having frank and open chats with my Health Visitor, staying off Instagram for a bit, and establishing a near-sexual relationship with white chocolate Magnums that lasted most of summer. I’ll never be completely cured though, as WHID is recognised as a chronic condition that will probably stay with you until the day you wave your baby off to Uni and turn his room into a walk-in wardrobe. I’m afraid to say that symptoms can only be managed and not completely eradicated. Things that are known to cause the odd flare up are:

-          Those rare English sunny hot days, which result in the temptation to sit in beer gardens and drink Corona all day rather than breastfeed/be responsible for a child

-          Indie bands from your youth getting their act together for a comeback gig that’s not in your hometown but technically still near enough for you to attend. If you could stay away for the whole night, obviously. Or get really pissed on Red Stripe. Or were able to do Britpop-style bouncing up and down without your uterus falling out in the middle of Leeds Academy.

-          Awareness of purchases that would have once been doable. Admittedly extravagant purchases that would’ve meant beans on toast for dinner until the next payday, but still doable. Sort of. But on maternity pay? Massive LOLZ!!

So when an attack of WHID strikes, allow yourself a bit of wallowing time (anything from an hour to a day is OK, any more than that and you might want to have a chat with your Health Visitor ) and then I’m afraid you’ll just have to suck it up buttercup. That Corona isn’t going to be sipped in the sunshine, that designer bag isn’t coming to live with you, and you might just have to download the band’s latest album on iTunes. Your time will come again, but those things aren’t gonna happen for you right at this moment. You have a far greater and more important task to focus on, and you’re the centre of that little person’s universe. That’s feeling has got to taste better than warm Red Stripe!  

#newmum #babies #just being honest #motherhood