#we’re normal people but in a strange way. we’re abnormal but not in the way people think about scientists

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

i need people to start writing scientists as completely batshit. none of us are normal. the “uptight and logical and rational” stereotype is a facade

#i love my labs. no one is normal #everyone is nuts!!!! you think someone is super impressive and normal and then you’ll hit a topic and be blown away because they immediately #shift to the weirdest possible person you’ve ever seen. the most normal person ive seen is the entomology professor who was so pissed about #the reclassification of cockroaches that he will start yelling #my boss is a post doctorate. he’s so smart it’s nuts. i was told AT LENGTH about his cats’ grooming habits #one of my coworkers was tipsy and was showing us her beetle tattoo and then immediately pivoted to animal noises #‘yeah and then the tattoo artist made it simmetrical. i can make a noise like a dying seal want to hear’ #we were playing jackbox and I got the prompt ‘my asshole is leaking’. i drew a butt plug. my boss and my entire lab was in the room #the p.i. of my other lab keeps emailing the entire lab memes #we’re normal people but in a strange way. we’re abnormal but not in the way people think about scientists #one of my coworkers was a music producer who made hundreds of thousands of dollars if not more but just. has a personal passion for #plant genetics. so he works in labs. but he’s a music producer #idk im just thinking about this bc of the party Friday

[too-antigonish]

Morse and drinking in the 70s...

Long....because I can't write short. And obviously, a lot of you will already know this stuff...

Just want to take a moment to talk about alcohol and alcoholism in the context of the early 1970s and remind folks of how totally and completely different it is from how we see it today.

Drunk driving had not been outlawed in most countries. Not only that, it was widely regarding as funny—funny enough to be used as a regular “gag” in movies. Problem drinking was also seen as funny. There were regular cartoon strips about it. The “drunk” was a funny stock character in all sorts of plays and movies.

Alcohol was ubiquitous. We’re not just talking liquid lunches. We’re talking drinking at work, while you work—just as you see in Endeavour. Think about that for a second.

And politely saying no wasn’t something you did without social consequences. It wasn’t just seen as a personal preference. Unless you had a specific, acceptable reason, turning down a drink was often seen as stand-offish and judgmental or as a social snub. Teetotalism was regarded as rather naive and ridiculous—not something any man or woman of the world would embrace.

In the early 1970s, there was no widespread understanding of alcoholism as a disease. It was still seen very much as the consequence of personal weakness—still a matter of “If you cared enough or tried hard enough, you wouldn’t do this so it must be a character flaw.”

Plus, most people, “normal” people don’t have problems with alcohol, so if you do then there’s something abnormal and defective about you—most likely something you brought upon yourself.

And as a “personal weakness” and a “defect,” the shame around it was profound and the secrecy matched. If someone went away for treatment, it was very much akin to an unwed mother going off to have her baby and then returning without the child. You never spoke of it. You pretended that it had never happened.

If you were a kind person, you also didn’t go out of your way to parade babies in front of her or talk constantly about children when she was with you. But refer to it directly? Never. Ask for help? Never. It was always something to be hidden. Everyone did their best to forget that it had ever happened and saw this as the "kindest" thing to do.

When Morse returns from his “cure,” it would simply be assumed that everyone would pretend that nothing unusual has happened. Why he’s  just been off on a tour of the West Country and nothing else! Hope you had a lovely time! That sort of polite fiction was exactly what he would have expected upon his return. Anything more direct—at least in a public setting—would have been shocking to him and everyone else.

Where things break down, however, is in the more personal interactions. His relationship with Thursday is such that they can at least broach the topic of drinking. When they do, my impression is that Thursday is well-aware that Morse not “cured.” However, in the context of the time, saying this would be akin to saying, "You failed," because there was no disease model of alcholism in widespread use. You went to be cured and it worked or it didn't.

However, I'd also add that Thursday is almost to the breaking point with the cumulative strain he is under. He can’t cope with the “burden” of Morse being in a precarious state and he knows it. He feels desperately guilty about that—as well as about other things like Strange and Joan or about life having moved on so much while Morse was gone—and so he just shuts down. 

Shutting down is Thursday’s go-to strategy when he’s overwhelmed. We’ve seen him do it many times before. And part of that for him, is that he pretends that the people around him are ok—even if they are anything but ok. Not surprisingly, he does it the most with the people he has the closest emotional ties with—Win, Joan, Sam, and Morse.

So the only way that Thursday can cope is by having Morse be perfectly fine. Conveniently, his preferred coping strategy fits exactly with his society's expectations about how alcoholism works. If Morse is "cured," you don’t need to worry about sparing him the constant offers of alcohol in the same way that the young unwed mother might hope to be spared babies. You certainly wouldn’t embarrass him (especially after he’s been through the humiliation of rehab) by drawing attention in any way to a possible to the idea that he still has a problem. 

And finally, a last note on time context. The scene in the pub where Morse has that first drink after finding out that Joan is marrying Jim is utterly heartbreaking for so many reasons. One of those reasons, however, is that we know it’s the first drink—and that the first drink leads to the second, and so on and so forth. Then Morse says to Thursday, “They said the, the odd beer, the odd shot, does no harm…"Everything in moderation," they said,”  and we automatically assume he’s lying.

I’m fairly sure that those scenes were meant to be interpreted through our modern viewpoint. However, it’s worth noting that again, the model of alcoholism in the 1970s was nothing like what we have today. The idea that someone with a drinking problem/addictions needs to abstain entirely was not even close to universal at that point. It’s perfectly possible that the advice Morse is quoting is the advice he received!

#itv endeavour #endeavour morse #shaun evans #fred thursday #endeavour: prelude #thursday thursday #sort of #but mostly meta about alcohol in endeavour and the 70s

[anti-psych-pro-endo]

Appealing to psychiatric authority will not bring long term legitimacy to plural systems. We have seen the attempts to show modern pro-system and pro-endo sources to antis and cringers fail to change their minds time and time again. And even if it was an effective tactic, legitimizing psychiatry is dangerous in its own right. In order to create a society primed to accept all ways of being, we need to foster acceptance of the strange and abnormal, NOT fight to be assimilated into normality.

People have compiled impressive and comprehensive lists of sources that show how modern psychiatry and psychology is not as hostile to the idea of systems, whether traumagenic or endo, as antis believe. It has likely been very validating to the community, but has it actually changed the minds of skeptical singlets and anti-endos? I'm not seeing much evidence of that. Time and time again we see interactions where anti-endos are given the sources, but they do not read them, do not engage with them, and do not provide sources back for their own points. It might be fun to laugh at them, to feel validated in their inability to engage with sources or arguments, but aside from feeling our own validation and feel as if we ‘owned’ someone, what does it accomplish?

Anti-endos do not trust the sources that pro-endos provide. Period. Why would they? Most anti-endos already think they know what scientific authority says, and like transmeds, feel this is a situation of appropriation and delusion. Cringers don’t give a damn either. We’re all just freaks who think we’re more than one person, or a bunch of silly children pretending to have a ‘mental illness’ to them. We’re an acceptable target for them to make fun of. Both anti-endo systems and singlet cringers have entire communities at their back to affirm their existing beliefs about what science says, about what is possible. Put yourselves in their shoes. If a conservative came to you and said you were wrong about something, and provided a long laundry list of sources to prove you wrong, do you think you would read it all? Trust any of it? Or would you dismiss that information because of who is presenting it to you? Most leftists would! Because looking over sources, especially scientific sources, is difficult, it's time consuming. Trying to change people’s minds through pure evidence and logic does not work. It's not capability with how most people function.

But is this evidence maybe convincing so-called neutrals, or mainstream singlets who don't know any of this discourse yet? Possibly. But it feels less about actually educating folks on systems and plurality, and more about convincing the mainstream left to adopt plurals into their assimilated group along with gay, trans, and other queer folks, so that there is a social pressure to accept the identity. Because NOT accepting a valid identity gets you kicked out of the in-group, and accepting the wrong identity does the same. That’s the band-aid solution, make enough appeals of authority to get a seat at the valid marginalization table, and right now, the anti-endos want in on the basis of being a valid disorder, so endos aren’t allowed. But it is just as shaky a foundation to argue that all systems belong at this table BECAUSE there are scientific sources that say it is so.

But assimilation will not save systems. It will not save the freaks, or anyone with an identity strange, bizarre, and too unresearched to make the cut to the validity table. I’m done arguing for a two-pronged approach. I am done with the idea that we need to shill psych research and defend a field that is rooted in harm and has continued to do harm throughout its whole existence. I will not legitimize an institution that abuses its power, its patients, and serves capital, not people. Because that IS how it functions, no matter how good intentioned those that enter the field may be. A good intentioned cop is still a cop. A good intentioned therapist is still inside a system that works to make everyone normal, good, and productive under capitalism. Just because they’re starting to see some systems as normal, doesn’t mean the foundations of their philosophy aren’t toxic, harmful, and wrong. I will not give them any more social power by pretending I give a damn what they have to say.

Legitimizing psychiatry is dangerous. If we use their words to prove our own validity, what happens when their attitudes change, aren't radical enough, single out certain sections of our community as invalid or something that needs to be cured? If we continue to point to scientific research to prove that gay, trans, plural, and others are valid, what happens when their ideas change? What about those with neurodivergencies or other identities that aren’t validated by science or even dismissed by them? Priming the public to trust psych more does not prime them to trust peoples’ words about their own internal experiences and desires.

Being gay and transgender were disorders until activists fought to change that. It wasn’t as if cis and straight people woke up one day and decided, oh actually we should do some research to make sure these aren’t disorders.

Every time a new identity group becomes more public, they become a laughing stock to the right AND the left. People on the left compare them to being gay or trans and other marginalized groups. They’ll say, ‘you’re not oppressed like trans people, your deluded,’ or ‘you just want to be oppressed,’ to a wide range of folks including plurals, nonhumans, and more. Maybe once systems get tarred and feathered enough they’ll get that application for assimilation. Maybe we’ll see ‘We believe in science’ and ‘Trans rights are human rights’ alongside ‘Systems are real’ on someone’s lawn someday. But will accepting conditional assimilation on the basis of scientific authority pave the way for all systems to be accepted, and other fringe identities to be accepted? Or is it just continuing the cycle of assimilation and gambling our continued acceptance on the hope that psychiatry won’t come back to bite us in the ass? If we keep pandering to the institutions in place, instead of working to teach society to accept everyone’s identity based on their word, then we’re relying on a shaky foundation that is only a few conservative movements away from being swept out from under us all entirely.

-Mod Simon Metafarers

#actually plural #actuallyplural #pro endo #anti psychiatry #anti psych #assimilation #ableism #endo safe #mad liberation #mod meta

[redheadbigshoes]

i really dont like being called "queer" or seeing that "queer" is being so rapidly used for and by our community.

being gay, lesbian, bi etc is not "queer" which means abnormal or odd or strange. its NORMAL. its a normal variation in the evolution of our biology.

because in calling us, the gays, lesbians and bisexuals etc "queer" we have to then determine what is "normal", which by process of elimination would be anyone who isnt gay, lesbian, bi, trans etc.... which only perpetuates homophobia.

and now that we're known as "the queer community" it makes the jump from "queer" to "perverse" to "immoral" even smaller and easier for the homophobes who want us either converted, arrested, or dead to traverse and use against us and regress all the progress weve made.

but no. "queer" is inclusive, right? its empowering, right?

I think it’s totally understandable to not be comfortable using the word queer and seeing people using it, especially if English is your native language and you’re used to seeing the word being used in a negative way.

I think when people in the community use to refer to themselves they all know we’re not abnormal, that’s what they’re trying to do, make people see being part of the community is okay and is not odd or strange. Basically people are trying to change the meaning to something more positive.

I don’t really agree with you that perpetuates homophobia using that word to describe yourself. We have the right to reclaim slurs that have been used against us in a negative way, we have the right to try to make those slurs into something positive and into something allo cishets can’t use against us.

And yes I think it’s empowering using a word that has always been used as a way to attack your identity. If you don’t agree with that that’s okay. People are allowed to have opinions, I think as long as we respect people who don’t mind using queer to describe their identity as well as respect people who are not comfortable using that, then there’s nothing wrong.

Just like we shouldn’t shame and attack people who like to use queer, we shouldn’t force others to use the word if they’re not comfortable with that.

#stephanie answers #anon #long post

[bwhitex]

Exploring the Nuances of Weirdness: An Interdisciplinary Perspective

Introduction

Being strange is a complicated thing that plays a different role depending on where you look. Some people see it as a bad thing, something to shy away from, something even “toxic”. Others see it as an accomplishment, and something unique to celebrate, rather than toxic they see as something akin to “over excitability”. Being weird puts you somewhere else on the guidelines of what’s normal or usual and lets all walks of life have their own stage.

Where ‘weird’ came from

The word ‘weird’ originates from Old English, stemming from the word ‘wyrd,’ meaning fate or destiny. At its core, this suggests that it’s inherently linked to the supernatural or extraordinary. On top of that, each variable in wyrd can be assigned a value. For example, destiny and fate differ, with destiny being a path one choses, and fate being what is always at the end of that path. Supernatural and extraordinary, are both beyond the “natural”, or life that is. Let’s use fate (W) maximized by extraordinary (Y), and add the route maximized by destiny R(D) , the choice one takes in life to get there. If we conceive of 'weird' as a mathematical formula, it can be reinterpreted as the outcome (W) of amplifying the extraordinary (Y) This would become:

W (Y) + R(D)

What each means

When we multiply W with Y we’re combining fate with extraordinary upsides and showing how they affect each other in life direction. By adding RD after that multiplication, it brings forth the idea that life path is affected by this interaction of extraordinary and fate combined with the transcendental trajectory (R) is intensified by one's chosen destiny (D). Supernatural, is in this case a transcendental trajectory.

Putting them together

The equation W (Y) + R(D) shows us how being weird isn’t just one trait for some but rather a personal trait and an evolving characteristic shaped by their experiences through life journey.

Picture normality

"W” represents our twist of fate while standing out in what’s perceived as normal comes at hand with Y which is extraordinary nature itself going against what society might think. Directions set over time are part of both R and D which follows up on how abnormal influences normie stuff “W” meeting “Y” will always push boundaries of normality and change the way society thinks norms are. Normalcy itself is just a category that can hold weirdness as well, especially when perspectives shift and societies evolve over time. We give you a bunch of ways to shake up the world while being part of it too. Because at the end of the day, we see that being weird isn’t just what people call us, but rather what they enable us to do.

The Ability to Survive

With W x Y, we show how weirdness gives you an advantage in surviving life situations. Combining fate with extraordinary upsides might help you find a partner or avoid something about to eat you. It’s also been known to result in innovation and adaptability which are both good for evolving and rewarding by natural selection.R x D shows that not all traits are beneficial when differentiating from normality but some might be important enough to shape the face of society in the future if used correctly. Anomalous traits aligned with environment demands will have an impact on species overall trajectory so it’s never bad to be yourself and stand out from everyone else.

Being Creative

When looking at creativity (W x Y) this whole concept circles back again with simply standing out against societal standards (R x D). Though inventions like phones aren’t exactly what one would think is unique, their purpose in life was. To put it simply, W x Y beats R x D every time when trying to build creative ideas for example. Taking risks when designing something could be all it takes to make them explode into popularity because face it - no one wants boring. If anything comes out of this section make sure its understanding that there’s no such thing as “too unique.”

Weirdness and Fate

Weirdness and the extraordinary are often combined in people to create something truly unique, referred to together as ‘W x Y.’ It is these individuals who have a high impact on their fields, each adding to the collective direction of progress. Weird ideas or approaches are often what disrupt conventional thinking and lead to breakthroughs. Throughout history, there are countless examples of people whose peculiarity drove them to create, invent and inspire others. The equation shows us that weirdness isn’t just a personal trait but can be a catalyst for societal advancements.

Psychological Perspectives

From a psychological perspective, 'W' and 'Y' are two personality traits that don't follow the norm when put together. The 'R’ and ‘D' reflects the personal growth and development that comes from these traits. A person with openness to experience, always questioning norms and pursuing unconventional paths stringing along ‘W x Y’ leads to a fuller understanding of oneself and the world around them which is represented by ‘R x D.’ So this equation emphasizes the potential in weirdness contributing to diversity within your own psyche.

Embracing Authenticity

Authenticity is being able to accept ourselves for our “W x Y.” The little extra bit we all have that makes us unique. In this context R x D represents self-actualization and fulfillment one feels when they stop hiding their true selves from society's expectations. Embracing your super strange side brings you freedom in its strangest form while experiencing life differently than others would expect. This equation reminds those who struggle with it that authenticity is not something you’re born with but instead it’s acquired through practice.

Mutation and Genetic Diversity

In humans mutations have produced an array of genetic diversity that sometimes manifests as traits outside of the norm, which may be considered “weird”. These can range from benign physical characteristics to more profound adaptations. Per the research of Tishkoff et al. (2010), this is evidenced by Humans having selected for and developed lactose tolerance because of a mutation. Most mammals lose their ability to digest lactose after weaning, but certain human populations have developed lactose tolerance due to a genetic mutation. This adaptation allows for the digestion of milk into adulthood which provides a nutritional advantage.

Behavioral flexibility is a hallmark of our species which allows us to inhabit diverse environments and cultural niches. Such adaptability is often driven by our capacity for complex language, social learning and innovation. This is evidenced by the ability humans to rapidly acquire knowledge has been an important factor in our adaptability as animals over time such as cooking food has improved caloric intake efficiency.

Sexual Selection

Based on the findings of Singh, D. (1993), in Adaptive significance of female physical attractiveness: Role of waist-to-hip ratio, Unusual and "weird" traits in humans can be subject to sexual selection. Traits deemed attractive by potential mates can enhance reproductive success. This was evidenced by sexual selection influences facial symmetry, female body ratios (e.g., waist-to-hip ratio), and other “attractive” traits associated with health and fertility.

Heterozygote Advantage

According to Allison, A. C. (1954), in protection afforded by sickle-cell trait against subtertian malarial infection, sometimes in humans, carrying a disease allele may protect against another condition, creating a survival advantage. This is evidenced by the one copy of the sickle-cell trait protection against malaria. Although two copies cause sickle-cell disease, one pair offers malaria resistance — a boon in regions where malaria is endemic.

Adaptation to Environmental Niche

As noted by Beall, C. M., Cavalleri, G. L., Deng, L., Elston, R. C., Gao, Y., Knight, J., ... & Moore, L. G. (2010). Natural selection on EPAS1 (HIF2α) associated with low hemoglobin concentration in Tibetan highlanders showed genetic adaptations and cultural innovations help populations thrive amidst environmental challenges. This is evidenced by the high-altitude Tibetans have unique physiological features that enable them to live there. A variant of the EPAS1 gene helps regulate blood oxygen content differently than lowland populations.

Conclusion

The notion of weirdness, quantified in the equation W × Y + R × D, serves as a metaphorical tool to explore the complex interplay between inherent individual traits and their expression throughout the journey of life. The variables and operations symbolize the idea that being weird is a confluence of destiny, the extraordinary, and the individual path one follows. Weirdness, thus, can be viewed not as an aberration but as a vital element of human diversity. It challenges the status quo, spurs innovation, and enriches culture. The equation W × Y + R× D is less about mathematical precision and more about appreciating the nuanced tapestry of human experience, where the threads of the weird are interwoven with the fabric of society. In essence, weirdness is not merely a trait to be quantified but a dynamic aspect of human nature that defies simple categorization and continually shapes our collective and individual journeys.

As of the latent era, normality isn’t something so black and white that everyone easily falls under one category of sane or insane. In the view of Foucault, M. (1965), in Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason, he examines how conceptions of madness have been shaped by societal and cultural changes throughout history. He states that "The boundaries between sanity and insanity are not rigidly defined but are shaped by historical, cultural, and social factors."

In fact, sane is pretty subjective when you lay out all the factors such as culture, time frame, and social era ones too. Laurence J. Kirmayer, an interesting psychiatrist and researcher, someone well known for his work in cultural psychiatry. The article "Cultural variations in the clinical presentation of depression and anxiety: Implications for diagnosis and treatment" indeed discusses how mental health conditions can manifest differently across cultures, which can have implications for diagnosis and treatment. He states, that “Normality and mental health are not universally defined concepts but are deeply influenced by cultural, temporal, and social determinants (Kirmayer, 2007).”

Reference:

Tishkoff, S. A., Reed, F. A., Ranciaro, A., Voight, B. F., Babbitt, C. C., Silverman, J. S., ... & Deloukas, P. (2007). Convergent adaptation of human lactase persistence in Africa and Europe. Nature Genetics, 39(1), 31-40. https://doi.org/10.1038/ng1946

Wrangham, R. W. (2009). Catching fire: How cooking made us human. Basic Books.

Singh, D. (1993). Adaptive significance of female physical attractiveness: Role of waist-to-hip ratio. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 65(2), 293-307. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.65.2.293

Allison, A. C. (1954). Protection afforded by sickle-cell trait against subtertian malarial infection. British Medical Journal, 1(4857), 290-294. https://doi.org/10.1136/bmj.1.4857.290

Beall, C. M., Cavalleri, G. L., Deng, L., Elston, R. C., Gao, Y., Knight, J., ... & Moore, L. G. (2010). Natural selection on EPAS1 (HIF2α) associated with low hemoglobin concentration in Tibetan highlanders. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 107(25), 11459-11464. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1002443107

Foucault, M. (1965). Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason. Pantheon Books.

Kirmayer, L. J. (2007). Cultural variations in the clinical presentation of depression and anxiety: Implications for diagnosis and treatment. Journal of Clinical Psychiatry, 62(Suppl 13), 22-28.

#weird art #weird dreams #weird aesthetic #evolutionary psychology

[glutenfreecinnamonroll]

i’m so tired.

i’m so tired of pretending. pretending this is who i actually am.

i wish i hadn’t made myself in this image.

this image of being normal.

i’m not normal. i have never been normal. i have monsters in my head. spiders in my skin. glass in my throat. my whole body in on fire. up in flames. since the day i was born.

and yet, as soon as my mind was able to understand this, i have been pretending that i am fine. i am normal.

this sham, this act has been going since i can remember. someone or something made me so scared, to be myself. a teacher probably yelled at me for reading during a lesson or my closest friend group started slowly leaving me out of things and ignoring me. (totally made up situations that did not for sure happen and they did not forever haunt me into this shell of a person i’ve become:)

the fear of being true and not wearing the mask has alway out weighed the fear of letting myself down.

as long as everyone around me is comfortable. as long as i make no one upset it’s okay. who cares if it absolutely works me thin and crushes my bones into gritty sand. who cares if it means leaving all my wants and ambitions behind in the house that’s on fire. because it doesn’t matter, you can rebuy ambitions. but you cant rebuy other people’s feelings. or how you were perceived. no, those are priceless, important. how i feel is not important. who i want to be is not important. the things i want to talk about are not important. the things i want to try are not important. the places i want to go are not important. the sound of my voice and how it sounds fine to me but “weird” to you is not important. how often i speak is not important. the sounds i make when im focused make you uncomfortable but is grounding to me, that’s not important. the way my body moves when i’m nervous or waiting in line, weird, strange, not safe, not important.

it’s everything.

every. single. thing.

every thing i do. i have to pretend. i can not be true my own mind body and soul. because it makes other uncomfortable.

and not just strangers. my god, if i was only worried about what strangers think, a slight weight would be lifted from my back. but no, it’s my family, my loved ones, my friends. my mom, my grandma, my uncle, my cousins. they we’re the first people to bring my “weird and uncomfortable” “habits” to my attention.

why else should i care so much? why the fuck else would i kill myself,, lose my mind, over being normal? if not for there worried stares, and shifting glances. the ever so subtle comments on the way my voice changes depending on my mood. or how lazy ive become in my teenage years. or my obsession with one direction and music in general is abnormal and i need to focus my energy on more important things.

the truth is i’ve been burnt out since elementary school.

and it’s never been about school or math or spelling or my bad hand writing and needing a tutor or being in extra circular activities or making friends or socializing enough or going to church every sunday and twice during the week, reading my bible, making my bed keeping my room clean, doing the dishes, helping ur mom out because she’s a young single mom working multiple jobs just to keep you safe and fed, or having good manners, being kind and seeming nice. alway talking to everyone and being happy to talk to them. looking nice, fixing my hair, ironing my clothes, showering everyday, washing my face, oral hygiene, painting my nails, fixing my hair (again), learning how to straighten it myself because my natural hair is just not going to make the cut.

it’s all of this. on top of never ever, ever, under any circumstances, being my fucking self.

because it’s no safe to be myself.

it’s makes other people uncomfortable. and for some fucking reason, i care about how i make others feel. i care about how my actions will affect others.

just like i was taught to.

i was raised to be this over critical, self aware, judgmental, critiquing beast.

and now. i’m here. 23, alone. sad. tired. not doing a damn thing that i actually Want to do. i have totally lost sight of myself.

when i try to find her all i see is a hazy, distant memory of her. young, tiny me. with pigtails in a two piece swim suit, running through sprinklers in the back yard. screaming at the top of my lungs, not because i’m scared or hurt, but, because i was free. and screaming just, felt good.

#god i’m depressed #these are the things i would tell my therapist #but i don’t have one #so #im just going to post this into the void #i hope no on reads it #but if you do #im sorry #and if you relate to anything i said #im double sorry

[artsychristie]

The concept of “normal” is overrated, and more than that, the word “normal” itself does not exist and means nothing. We assign meaning and power to language, not the other way around. “Society” is a construct that pits words and people against each other. Think “us vs. them” or “cool vs weird”. Say the following words out loud and hear the power that they hold. “Normal”, “Cool”, “Popular”, “Timeless”, “Trendy”, Crazy”, “Weird”, “Abnormal”, “Strange”, “Atypical”. When repeated out loud they lose meaning, but when repeated internally to oneself they can engender dangerous and incorrect beliefs about one’s self. Stop calling yourself “crazy” or “weird” or a “weirdo” even as a joke. And please, for your sake, try to stop worrying if other people think you’re strange. Thank me later. None of the above words are helpful words in my book. Humans made the DSM-5-TR that defines “abnormal” and they also made the dictionary. They gate-keep which words belong in those books. Language is a construct. Don’t forget that. You hold power over the language you use and how you use it against yourself and others. No one is better than anyone else. No one is “normal”. No one is “atypical, abnormal, or weird”. These concepts are made up by society and advertising to sell you things and make you feel “less than”. Don’t buy into something because it will make you look or feel “normal”. Only subscribe to things you can learn from or that help you feel better about yourself, but not because “society” told you to feel bad about who you truly are. Also, “society” is a construct too. Don’t flinch away from challenging it, vehemently and frequently. To quote the influential and wise man in this photo, Dr. Gabor Mate: “The myth of normal is that we consume the conditions of society are healthy simply because we’re used to them.”🤔🧐💭 And to quote my favorite “strange lady in black”, Morticia: “What is normal to the spider is chaos to the fly.”🕷️🕸️🪰🖤🥀 📸: photo credit belongs to @gabormatemd. Edited by me! #mentalhealth #gabrielmate #drgabrielmate #normalisamyth #myth #normal #abnormal #atypical #weird #crazy https://www.instagram.com/p/CltvHCxOH1U/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#mentalhealth #gabrielmate #drgabrielmate #normalisamyth #myth #normal #abnormal #atypical #weird #crazy

[disabled-kain]

When you're autistic and have social anxiety, it is not just because of an unfounded fear of social rejection.

I have experienced real social rejection, from both my parents and peers, because of my abnormal (to neurotypicals, anyway) social approach and ways of communicating, specifically because I am autistic. A lot of neurotypical people do register me as strange enough as to not want me around, even if they don't know or don't guess that I'm autistic.

It is still socially acceptable to openly mock autistic traits. Until that changes, it is very likely I will always be treated poorly. Both by people I know and people I don't know. Of course that makes me feel anxious.

Being told again and again that you're weird and not being able to 100% hide that no matter how hard you try is going to make you feel bad about yourself. Having to manually teach yourself how to come across as 'normal' does make you feel socially incompetent. Being scolded for 'not socializing the right way' does make you anxious of interacting with people, because you're being openly told that you're doing it wrong. And it just keeps happening, across a variety of contexts with different people.

It makes negative evaluations in social situations feel inevitable.

Of course a lot of people who are autistic also have social anxiety. We reach out in the ways we know how, with what comes naturally to us, and we're often treated badly for it.

#kain's original posts #autistic #actuallyautistic #actually autistic #nd #nd culture #actually neurodivergent #autism #autism spectrum #social anxiety #socially anxious #social anxiety disorder #autistic and anxious #ableism #ableism tw

[midnightsconspiracy]

The Missing Piece

The Missing Piece - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: Hank being jealous of your and Jay’s platonic relationship leads to a relationship of his own

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1801

Requested: Yes!!

‘I need some jealous hank pleeease 😩💖🙏🏻’

A/N: This is my least favourite thing I’ve written so far, I just feel like it doesn’t flow well but we move :)

I only have one request at the moment so send in as many as you like, trust me when I say this you are not ‘bothering’ or inconveniencing me at all, I love when people message me or send requests in. So don’t overthink it, just do it!!! :)

Masterlist

Your life always felt incomplete, like something was missing, but you could never put your finger on what the thing was. You had a modest apartment, a positive relationship with your family and a job with co-workers you absolutely adored. So what left did you have yet to find? Every having romantic relationships in the past left you feeling that way still, a void that could only be filled by a specific something, without knowing what it was. It was infuriating, finally feeling happy with your life but still, there was a piece of you missing, a bit that felt empty. But maybe you would find that something was nearer than you thought, and maybe that something was a someone.

The day started off as normal, getting up, making breakfast then heading out to start the day at your job in intelligence. Pulling into the car park you noticed Jay beside you, sitting In his car, reading something on his phone. Looking up as you got out of your car, he smiled, proceeding to also get out of his vehicle, greeting you just like he did each day. You walked into the district together and to the upstairs intelligence unit, talking about some recent gossip while having the same playful conversation, laughing with huge smiles on your faces. Once you had reached the unit’s floor, you both headed to the coffee machine, needing your caffeine fix before you started. Noticing that others already seemed to be deep in work, you closed the door behind you, hoping to keep as much noise in as possible. Drinking your coffee, you continued talking to Jay, putting off work for as long as possible and wanting to know anything new that could get from the man. Any time you conversed with him, it always had an unconsciously flirty undertone, not because you liked him that way, but because it was in both of your natures, not being able to turn it off specifically for each other. After a while, you still hadn't noticed that the coffee had been drunk already, the time having flown by, neither of you realising you should have started working ten minutes ago.

Unaware to you, Voight was in his office, working on some files from a case that had been passed down to him from people higher up, stress levels increasing with each sentence he read. The sound of yours and Jay’s conversation breached the walls, seeping into his office, making him angrier than he already was. ‘Why did you have to flirt with Jay all the time, was he not good enough for you?’ He thought to himself, the attraction he had for you clouding his mind. Clenching his jaw, he went back to reading his document, knowing when he thought about you too much it bought out his emotions, and that’s not what he needed right now. But he couldn’t help it when he heard your laugh, knowing it wasn’t caused by him, but instead Jay. That man was a damn good detective but also a bloody good flirt, and in Hank’s eyes that made him a threat. He wanted you badly, having liked you since you’d first joined the unit, although Jay was not the only thing in the way. The biggest problem was himself. He was so insecure, thinking that if he did eventually have the courage to ask you out, you would say no. It was just you were so much younger than him, and much better looking and just all these other things that made him think you were better suited to someone like Jay. However, that still didn’t stop him from getting angry when Jay was buttering you up. Suddenly, he stood up, not being able to stand hearing you and Jay in the room next door anymore. Swinging the break room door open, he stood in the doorway, a stern expression on his face. As soon as the door had open, you and Jay had turned towards the intrusion. Noticing it was just Voight, you both relaxed, thinking he was going to idly chat with two of his favourite detectives.

“Hey Sarg, there is some coffee leftover if you want some,” Jay started, not thinking anything of Hank’s expression, considering he usually had a scowl on. This set the flames alight as the detective completely overlooked the anger he held in his eyes.

“Both of you should be working by now! You’re ten minutes late to start and I don’t appreciate you spending that time In here having fun and joking when you both know damn well there is a case you could be helping to solve,” he shouted, not only startling you and Jay, but also your fellow detections who had looked up from where they were working away quietly.

“Sorry Voight, guess we didn’t realise that time had gone past so fast,” Jay tried to rationalise, not understanding why Voight was getting so aggravated for something that would usually just result in a slap on the wrist.

“Get to work, both of you. Plus you both know the rules about in house dating, so sort out whatever this is out immediately.” And before either of you could tell him otherwise, he had stomped back to his office, slamming the door shut in the process. Looking at Jay, you gave him a confused look, trying to figure out why your boss had come up with these conclusions as you returned to your desk.

Throughout the day, you noticed multiple strange things happening. Firstly, Jay refused to look at you at all, looking at the wall or ground anytime you would address the room or would look away as quickly as possible if you accidentally made eye contact. It was abnormal, to say the least, considering you at Jay were usually tied at the hip, spending a lot of time together, both inside and outside of work. It had started even before Voight had split you up and assigned everyone in the unit new partners. Maybe you had subconsciously annoyed him? That you didn’t know but you tried your best throughout the day to get him to even acknowledge you, but each time failing completely. The second strange thing was the looks you were getting from both Hank and Alvin as well as the looks they were giving each other. Anytime you would look up from your work, you would spot one of them staring intently at you, then quickly retreating to look at each other. The ones from Olinsky seemed to be those of intrigue as if they were trying to gauge your reaction. But the ones from Voight seemed different. How it was different you couldn’t really pinpoint, but it seemed to be more out of fondness and concern, but you couldn’t really be sure, barely seeing it before he looked away. God, what was it with all these men today? One not wanting to look at you at all, the others wanting to look at you all the time it seemed. Eventually, you and your new partner Olinsky were sent out to talk to some woman. Wanting to know if she was aware of the illegal activity her boyfriend was running. After receiving some useful information, you both got back in the car, settling in for the short car ride ahead. A couple of minutes into the drive you turned to him, adamant about getting answers on why these men had been unnecessarily watching you all day.

“Why do you and Voight keep looking at me?” You ask abruptly, wanting to catch him off guard so he would answer your damn question.

“You should speak to Voight in his office after shift.” He replied, the car falling back into silence for the rest of the journey.

The statement played on your mind for the rest of the day, but finally, you would get some answers as the shift came to a close. Waiting for everyone else to leave, you wrote your statement longhand, knowing it would eat more time up. As the last person left the room, you got up, walking into your boss' office, closing the door behind you. He looked at you as you entered, holding an undistinguishable expression on his face, despite the nervous disposition he held inside.

"Detective Y/LN, what can I do for you," he asked, looking down at his papers as if he didn't care, although his brain was screaming at him to do something!

"You keep looking at me." You bluntly stated, wanting to pull him out of his comfort zone and get the answers Olinsky wouldn't give you.

"You are my agent arent you? Therefore I am entitled to look at you." Gazing up at you, he stared into your pretty eyes, resisting the urge to just get up and kiss you.

"B-but, this is different. You keep glancing at me as if you have some sort of adoration for me," thinking he was going to look up and find a disgusted expression, he was surprised as he found nothing but a small smile upon your face.

"Maybe I do, but that doesn't matter though does it? Considering you are seeing Detective Halstead." Confusion, once again fell on your features, still not understanding why he thought this madness, you are Jay were merely just friends.

"Me and Jay? We're just- Wait what did you say? Y-you, feel for me?" The confused look on your face deepened, never thinking this would happen. You weren't unhappy by any means, thinking very fondly of the handsome Sergeant, but he was your boss so why would he go for someone like you when he could have Burgess or even Platt! Rounding his desk, he walked towards you, stopping at a comfortable distance, not too far, not too close.

"Do you deem that as a bad thing?" Stumbling on your words, you managed to mutter a 'no', as you looked back into his eyes, finding a warmness there that started filling that void inside you. Not thinking, you flung your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, placing your head in the crook of his neck as you inhaled his scent. Maybe he was that missing piece?

"Jay and I are just friends and will always just be friends Hank," you told him, removing an arm from his neck to softly stroke his cheek. He gradually tightened his arms around your waist as you reassured him of the matter.

"So you would mind me doing this?" He asked, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, full of passion, portraying all the things he'd ever want to say to you.

Just as his wish had come true, yours had too, as that missing piece of you started to make its way back to you.

#chicago pd #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd x reader #one chicago #hank voight x reader #hank voight #hank voight imagines

[inorganicone2230]

Would overhaul be fine if the reader was a goth, emo or someone who loves wearing alternative fashion?

This is actually something I’ve thought about a few time before actually, now that you mention it… lol

The way I see it going is Kai taking an interest in them do to their diversion from normal societal standards. He sees a bit of himself in them in the sense that, because he’s so against all the normal things that most people in the world don’t think twice about, he sees this person’s ability to be exactly who they want to be in a society that shuns the abnormal and strange as a similar but still less extreme version of his own beliefs and practices. He’d find it enduring and he’d want to keep them and that feeling all to himself, and if this were anyone else, I’d say that that frame of mind could go a long way towards building a very strong relationship… but… This is still Kai we’re talking about and he’s naturally got to find some way of twisting that feeling and ruining things for the Reader eventually.

Because once Kai has them in his grasp, either by force or gaslighting/manipulation, he’s going to start changing everything about them to suit HIS wants and needs. He’s going to strip them of the very thing that drew him into their orbit in the first place, because even though he admires their ability to confidently dress in whatever makes them happy and go against the grain of normalcy, that doesn’t mean that HE finds the look appealing. He’s going to want to see them dressed and wearing the clothing styles and makeup (usually none if we’re being perfectly honest) that he finds agreeable. And they can rage and holler about it all they want, but I doubt Kai could or would be reasoned with on this matter.

#ask response #anonymous #yandere!overhaul #fem!reader #yandere!overhaul x fem!reader #yandere bnha

[donutloverxo]

Tainted

*gifs not mine*

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - this is inspired by a hc @sweater-daddiesdumbdork once wrote me and gave me a frigging murder kink. Life ruiner😡😡

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - Steve saves you and plans on never letting you go again.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), kidnappings, being held hostage, murder, blood, non descriptive violence, captain kink, slight murder kink.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 6.8k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

One of the most amazing thing about living with you was that Steve never had to come home to an empty house. He was now responsible for you, he’d have to shoot you a text message, he had gotten pretty good at texting, thanks to your guidance, or call you, he definitely liked calling and hearing your voice better. He’ll always be old school.

You’d get that slight waver in your voice as you tried to pretend that you weren’t sad, he could see your cute little pout through the phone. And while he would never want to cause you any sort of pain, knowing that you’d be waiting for him, that you’re missing him when he’s away, made him feel wanted.

That even someone like him deserved love and happiness and a safe, boring life. That may be there was a reason he died only to wake up again in a strange new world.

That wasn’t to say you didn’t come with your own set of challenges. You were messy if anything, leaving clutter everywhere and putting off doing your dishes and laundry for days. Maybe not the most practical but definitely the cutest roommate in the world.

He’d learn to put up with it because it was worth it. Maybe, he could even learn to 'let loose' a little as people always recommended to him.

At first, he couldn’t wait to ask you to marry him. He had even impulsively bought a ring with your birthstone, he knew you were obsessed with them and astrology and maybe even dark magic. But then you surprised him with a date to an old diner and introduced him as your boyfriend to your friends.

He liked your friends quite a lot, he couldn’t really understand what they were talking about half the time. From what he could tell - by their fascination with his muscles and all the touching and squeezing to his biceps, them wanting to hear about his life before the ice - it seemed that they liked him too.

But hearing you call him that, your guy, your boyfriend, your beau, as your friend Stacey had put it, he decided that he wasn’t quite ready to let go of this blissful courting period. He was rushing things.

He needed to live in the moment and just enjoy being your boyfriend for now, he had all the time in the world to wife you up - preferably not to late though.

He was so unbelievably happy, ecstatic to see you, to surprise you, his mission ending a week early he got home as soon as he could. He thought of maybe taking you to Vermont for the weekend, he had never been but Nat told him it’d be a nice little getaway and that you’d love it.

His wide smile slowly fade away as he looked at the state of his door - the latch broken. Forced entry. Somebody broke his door in. He pushed the door wide open and made his way in.

He knew what was to come next but he willed that thought away. Maybe you kicked it in yourself, maybe you forgot your keys. He kept telling himself that because he was terrified of thinking the alternative.

He stepped in as soon as he was able to shake himself out of his haze. Looking at the state of his, and your, apartment. A broken vase, and the coffee table smashed in.

Crouching down to take a closer look he saw some blood on the ceramic. Whoever did this to your home, better hope that it’s wasn’t yours.

He got up, directing his simmering rage towards his new mission. He didn’t panic, not yet, he couldn’t give himself that kind of luxury. His mind coming up with ten different to find you and make the bastards who did this pay.

NOBody can hurt the people he loves, especially his girl, and get away with it.

***

Your eyes fluttered open before scrunching shut to adjust to the harsh fluorescent light. You blinked, looking around you while squinting.

Some sort of empty grey room... a window to the side but it was dark outside. You dress sticking to your skin as your whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat.

Three men in a corner, one for them shouting at the others in a foreign language.

You felt a yip of pain radiating in your arms and then realised they were tied up behind you - strapped to a creaky chair.

You tried to shake free of them, by wiggling your wrists but then winced at the burn it caused, capturing the attention of your kidnappers.

One of them smiled at you, walking towards you.

“Finally awake, are we?” he asked in an abnormally chirpy way. “You were out for quiet some time. Did you sleep well?”

He squatted before you, you could see his face, his cold grey eyes betraying the warm smile that graced his lips. Many white scars littered over his jaw...

And then you remembered.

How you rushed home when you felt someone was following you. Locking the door, you tried to call Steve but couldn’t get through to him.

And then your stalker broke into your home. You tried to smash his head in with a vase but couldn’t really do any real damage. Everything was hazy after that. Maybe he drugged you - you couldn’t recall.

You exhaled shakily when you realised he was watching you both from the corner. You could never forget his dark hoodie and hair. Or fresh cut on his forehead. You had never so much as hurt a fly or even slapped anyone. How you managed to smash his head in you’ll never know.

You looked at the man before you again when you heard him calling out your name, his smile haltered for a moment as he looked back to your stalker.

“I’m sorry about that, he’s a rookie. He’ll be reprimanded soon enough. This wasn’t exactly our plan but we’ve decided to improvise.”

You tried to speak but with your throat and mouth dry and your mind in shock the words wouldn’t come out.

“Oh, that’s alright, don’t struggle. We don’t want anything to do with you, you’re just a normal plain Jane going about your life, aren’t you?”

You could only give him a weak nod, still trying your best to shake yourself free of your bounds without him noticing.

“That’s right. You haven’t done anything wrong, you don’t deserve to have anything bad happen to you, do you?”

You nodded again. Your breath hitched when he got closer to you, in your face, his hands planted on your bare thighs with your skirt pooled just below your hips.

“But we don’t always get what we deserve. You’re close to the Captain, that’s right Michael’s told me all about how taken he is with you. I mean... I never would’ve imagined Captain America would pick someone like you but to each their own,” he cupped your cheek, the cracks in his palm harsh against your soft skin.

“What do you want?” you asked, not looking away from him.

“I want justice. For things to be in the right order. You’ll have to suffer for it, but know that it’s for a good cause.”

“You’re wrong,” you shook your head, “he’ll come for me.”

“We’re counting on that,” he snickered.

You’re not sure what came over you, all you knew was that you wanted his disgusting hands off of you, “He’ll come for me, and then you’ll regret ever touching me.”

“Uh, I don’t know about this,” you pulled on a thread from your skirt with your right hand, your other hand in Steve’s as he held onto your waist, pulling you into his side. “It’ll be inside me?” you shuddered.

“Yes, but,” Bruce scratched his head, he was adorable like that. You never would’ve imagined him to be the hulk, a 'rage monster’. “it’s not as bad as you think. You won’t even feel it. All shield agents and Avengers have one. Except Thor, because that wouldn’t be of any use. The radius is only on earths surface. You would’ve thought that would be enough,” he chuckled.

You pressed your lips in a thin line, looking at the chip, smaller than an acrylic nail, watching Bruce load it up.

“I know it’s not ideal, doll. But I’ll feel much better knowing I can find you, in case something goes wrong.” He kissed your temple, as you braced yourself.

“Will it hurt?” you gulped as Bruce lined the shooter or gun, by the looks of it, to your forearm.

“Just a little. You’ll barely feel it.” He gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Look at me, pup,” Steve gripped your chin, moving your head till you looked into his blue eyes, he pressed his lips to yours, massaging your tongue with his to distract you.

“Mm,” you winced and moaned into his mouth when you felt the piercing pain. It was like getting a flu shot but you had never having been a huge fan of needles either.

He released his hold on you as Bruce worked on cleaning your the blood seeping through your pierced skin. “You did good.” Steve said.

“Do I get a sucker?” You asked Bruce and he chuckled - as if you were joking, you do not joke about candy, “No I really want one.”

“Let’s keep this between us.” Steve told you both.

“Of course,” Bruce nodded, “I can keep tracker dormant till we need it but are you sure?”

“I’m not sure who I can trust.” But he knew he could trust his teammates.

You sniffled, keeping your tears at bay because really something so little shouldn’t make you cry, rubbing your hand over your wounded bicep as Bruce handed you some gummy bears.

“They’re Tony’s. He leaves snacks everywhere, it’s annoying.”

“Thank you.” You blinked up at him and offered some to Steve.

You never thought you’d need it. Until now, you were sure your friends or your mother would notice that you’ve been gone and Steve will find out and track you down. You knew he would. He had to.

He frowned, his nails digging into your cheekbones, pluckering your lips, “Where’s all that confidence coming from?” he quirked a curious brow up, “He’ll walk right in and pay for everything he’s done,” he snorted.

“You’re way underprepared to take someone like him on,” shut up, shut up, shut up, why the fuck are you egging him on? “He’s strong, he’s a survivor.” Even without the serum, he survived an abusive household, being bullied, being sick, and you knew how protective he could be. To the point where it was downright irritating.

“We’ve got all the time in the world to prepare, you should be worrying about yourself,” he spat.

You had always been bold, even in the most inappropriate of situations. Like when you lectured a boy for over an hour on respecting boundaries for throwing spitballs at you, in kindergarten. Steve even said that he fell for that ‘spunk' in you.

‘Well-behaved women rarely make history’ your mother had told you.

And really, you liked that about yourself as well. You liked that you found a man that would encourage that side of you instead of calling you ‘difficult’ or ‘bossy’.

However, you immediately regretted everything you had said. Not because it was untrue, but because your captor took out a sharp pocket knife, a dark glint in his eyes.

“We only need you alive,” he said as you gulped, “I suppose, it wouldn’t matter if you’re missing a finger or two.”

You frantically shook your head, choking on a sob. “No,” you pleaded, “you’ll... he will find me and you will - ”

“Go to prison at best. It’s a risk we’re all willing to take,” he put the blunt end of the knife against your cheek, “We have to do something to kill the time.”

You couldn’t breath, your heart hammering in your chest, what if he doesn’t come for you? You won’t be able to do anything about it. It wasn’t like you could protect yourself, at least in this situation, all you could do was wait for him.

You shut your eyes, and braced yourself for the pain. Except... it never came, you simply heard someone fall down, some sort of clattering sound.

Upon opening your eyes you saw one of his friends face down before your in the corner, the other guy, your lovely stalker, drawing out his gun, looking at the only window to your left. You swore you a saw a glimpse of a flying disk knocking your stalker out.

The man before you cursed under his breath, “Get. Up. Come on!” he ordered.

“Yeah, if I could do that I probably would’ve,” you snarked, still trying to get your aching wrists free.

You barely even registered - who could only be your Captain - sneaking up behind him, snapping his neck with his hands in a matter of seconds. He collapsed on the ground and you could finally see Steve.

His clenched jaw and cold eyes softened up on seeing you, you couldn’t help but let out a sob as you realised you were going to be free.

“You’re okay, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he soothed you, kissing your forehead before swiftly free your hands.

You stood up on wobbly legs, holding onto his arms for support, “Steve,” you breathed out, “you came for me.”

“Of course I did,” he sighed, gently pushing your face against his chest as he hugged you close to him. “As if I’d ever abandon you,” he smoothed a hand over your back and decided to not dwell on your comment. This wasn’t about him, you were in shock.

“I was so scared,” you sniffled, “he said, he - ” you couldn’t even finish your sentence as you broke down in a fit of sobs and hiccups.

“You’re safe now,” he promised.

“You - did you kill him?” you pushed away from him to look up at his face so you could take him in.

You had never seen him in his uniform. Only ever seeing him on the news but he had his cowl on and a suit that was much more on brand for ‘Captain America’ than the darker one he had on now. It made him look bigger - if that was even possible. Bigger than the shield now strapped to his back.

His usually clean shaven face had the faintest shadow to it while his hair was slicked back. He looked beautiful, so soft and innocent, definitely not someone who’s capable of hurting anyone.

“He hurt you,” he replied, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your bruised wrists, “and so many others, he got what was coming to him.”

“You knew him?”

“Yes. He got away the last time we tried to catch him - but we don’t have to talk about that right now. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You shook your head, “No, I’m just thirsty and I really want to lay down,” you murmured, resting your head on the star in the middle of his chest.

He pressed a hand to his ear, letting his team know that he had found you. You vaguely saw agents clad in black gear storm the room.

“We did a sweep of the place. No one else is here,” Natasha said. “How you doing?” and then frowned when you didn’t respond.

“She’s tired. It’s okay, love,” he kissed your temple, snaking a hand under your knees and picking you up with ease.

You weakly nodded, wrapping your hands around his neck, glad to be babied by him because you didn’t have the strength to stand.

“They didn’t give you anything to eat?” Nat scoffed as you shook your head.

“How long have I been here?” you looked at Steve, struggling to stay awake.

“A day and a half. We’ll get you fixed up,” he swore, carrying you towards the quinget.

“Where are we?” you nuzzled your nose against the rough kevlar of his suit.

“Bermuda,” he said.

“Oo, I’ve always wanted to come here... just maybe not like this,” you chuckled but Steve didn’t find it all that amusing. You cupped his cheek in your palm, hoping to maybe calm him down a bit before falling asleep.

***

You vaguely heard a familiar voice calling out your name, you’d recognise it anywhere, it was one of your favorites, one you’d known your entire life.

“Mom?” you muttered, opening your eyes and looking around the room to look for her. You smiled when you saw her sitting on a chair just beside your bed, the faint, annoying beeping told you that you were probably in a hospital.

“Hey there, honey,” she smiled back at you, her eyes misty as she pressed her lips to your cheek. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me?”

“I’m sorry,” you tried to sit up as she fluffed your pillow up to support you. “I was... um... kidnapped.” Saying it out loud made it feel so ridiculous. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought.

“Yes, Steve filled us in on everything. So, Captain America, huh?” she raised her brows.

“Yeah,” you chuckled nervously. Doing a once over to your large, mostly white room to look for him. He wouldn’t just up and leave you, would he?

“How long has it been going on?” she asked.

“Um, three or four months?” you winced when you realised just how much trouble you were in.

“And, you live with him. Linda filled us in on everything. You’re quitting your job too now.”

“It’s - it’s not as bad as it sounds...”

“Never mind that, you need to rest. Then you won’t have to worry about all this. I’m taking you home with me. And you’re never coming back here again.”

“What? No! I still have over two years of school left.”

“You can do it online! You can find just as a good a job in Queens.”

“No! I’m not coming,” you whined.

“Well, you’re not living with a man you barely know either.”

You were interrupted by a knock on the door. A doctor entering, apologising for disturbing you and Steve right behind her. He still hadn’t changed out of his suit.

He stood at the end of your bed, squeezing your foot to let you know he was there for you as your mother glared daggers at him.

“Looks like you’re doing good. Blood sugars back to normal as well...” the doctor said, “You’re free to go home.”

“Really?” you smiled. So done with everything. Sleeping in your own bed sounded like heaven.

“Yes, let us know if you need anything.” She looked over your chart again and then left.

“Good then, you can come home now.”

“No! I’m going to my apartment in Manhattan, the one I share with Steve.” You rolled your eyes. Pleading Steve to back you up with your eyes.

He cleared his throat, “Um, ma'am, you can come stay with us, if you like.”

He held your mothers gaze, to let her know that he was serious and earnest.

He knew he wasn’t perfect by any means. He had a million flaws and cuts that ran deeper than anybody would ever know but he always thought, or maybe arrogantly assumed, that if nothing else he was someone ‘you take home to mama’ as Clint had once put it. He thought that your parents, like most, would like him. That he’d easily get their blessing to be with their daughter. He was known to be America’s golden boy after all.

But your mother had ripped him a new one as soon as she saw him. Accusing him of abusing his power to woo you. That you were here because of him. That he’s not worthy of you.

And all he could do was stand there and take it because everything she had said was the truth. He didn’t deserve you, you were captured and possibly traumatised because of him.

At the same time, he couldn’t just let you go. Not till he gets to the bottom of who had hurt you and makes sure that you’re safe from now on.

“No, thank you.” She scoffed, looking back at you and shaking her head. “What are you doing with your life?”

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes but being with Steve definitely isn’t one,” you looked over to him, he looked just as tired as you, “I just want to go home. My home with Steve.”

“Fine, I’ve always let you make your own decisions.” she sighed, finally giving in.

“And I’ve never disappointed you.”

“That’s debatable,” she snorted, “I’ll come check on you tomorrow then. Maybe send me your address. You know? Something you should’ve done months ago.” She returned to glaring at Steve.

“I’ve only been living with him for a month!” you tried to defend yourself.

***

“I can take off my own clothes, Stevie,” you giggled, him kneeling before you to help you out of the sweets the med bay gave you. Your dress was dirty and ragged now. “I really liked that dress though. I don’t have many like it. You think we can get it back?”

“Maybe, I’ll see what I can do, doll,” he kissed your bare thigh before rolling your panties down your legs.

“You’re kinda dirty too,” you remarked, sniffing him. He didn’t smell bad, as if Steve would ever smell bad to you. Just a bit of gunpowder, like that of firecrackers, a bit pungent instead of his normal piney and woodsy scent.

“Thank you,” he deadpanned before cracking a smile, “I was just excited to see you. Or I would’ve showered before coming home and then I didn’t get a chance to.”

He worked on unbuttoning your shirt He insisted on you getting a button up instead of a t-shirt considering how sore your arms were from being toed up for so long. Tied up... like an animal.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, caressing his cheek, “come back to me.”

“Sorry, I’m just... I don’t know,” he shook his head. He couldn’t let you know the guilt and despair he felt, you’d end up comforting him instead of the other way around. “It’s just been a long day.”

“Yeah. Still can’t believe any of this was real.” Running your hands up and down his suit, the feel of the material almost soothing to touch. “You wanna shower with me?”

“Don’t know, doll. That showers pretty small.”

He did have a pretty generous salary but opted to live in a more modest apartment, he never took more than he needed anyway, with a small shower. Not too small, but definitely not big enough for you both.

“We’ll make do, come on. I’ll make you squeaky clean.”

He took over ten minutes to get rid of the suit. You watched intently as he removed more latches than you could count.

“Is it bulletproof?” you wanted to know.

“Yes. But probably not as good as a vest. I’ve never been shot so I wouldn’t know.” He answered, taking off his undershirt.

“It’s funny because I always thought y’all were naked under there,” you chuckled, and then your jaw dropped as he took off his briefs.

You had never seen his cock while it was soft before. He was always more than excited when you got to him. It was amazing how pretty he looked either way.

“You and so many other people,” he almost shuddered at the thought of having been asked the same question so many times.

After making sure the water was hot enough, you both stood under it.

You took some of the lavender wash you had bought from lush, squeezing it on your sponge. Steve, bless him, was amazing at so many things. Shopping - it seemed was not one of them. All he had in his bathroom was a bar of soap, one toothbrush and a vintage straight razor.

Which just won’t do for you, so you took it upon yourself to stock the whole place up with your favorite stuff. The lavender being Steve’s favorite, you remembered how flustered you got when he told you that you smelled good. And then tried to explain that you always smell good while turning redder than a tomato.

You did his front, asking him to bent his neck a bit so you could wash his hair because he was almost a foot taller than you. You were about to do his legs, you’d take any excuse to feel up his thick thighs but he told you he’d do the rest himself.

Taking the sponge from you, he ran it under some water, working on cleaning you thoroughly. Under your arms, your breasts, your stomach, between your legs and then your legs.

You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen - he knew that since the moment he had met you. But something about washing you up like that felt so intimate even though there was nothing erotic about it.

After washing you thoroughly he wrapped you up in a towel, “My cute lil' burrito,” he booped your nose.

You puffed your cheeks out, you weren’t sure if you liked that nickname. Observing just how gentle he was with you, helping you into a cotton nightie, as opposed to drying himself off hastily and carelessly before pulling some sweats and briefs on.

“Don’t wear a shirt,” you pleaded, he looked amazing shirtless, but that wasn’t the only reason, you really liked feeling his skin on hours, pressing kissing on his perfect, smooth, golden skin, ”pretty please.” Right now, he’d give you anything you wanted and you intended on milking that as much as you can.

“Alright, doll,” he replied, pulling you up in his arms again as if you were his bride, as you giggled so sweetly, “now, what would you like to eat? No take out, it has to be healthy. And remember my culinary skills are limited,” he said, carrying you to the living room and putting you on the couch as he started working in the kitchen.

“Stevie, I’m not hungry. Well, that’s not true, I’d like some ice cream,” fluttering your lashes at him, “Mint chocolate chip? I’m pretty sure we have some.”

“Of course, puppy,” you smiled, at the prospect of getting a sweet treat and the nickname, “as soon as you eat something.” He added and you huffed in annoyance.

He whipped up a sandwich for you, two for him because he was starving, some peach iced tea so you wouldn’t eat his ear off while complaining.

You only picked at your food, giving more than half of it to him. You truly didn’t feel like eating, instead craving some cuddles with him.

You tried striking up a conversation with him multiple times. Not because you didn’t like silence. You did when it came to him, you could go hours without talking and it would feel so serene and perfect. You never had to talk just for the sake of it when you were with him.

But you had come to read Steve pretty well. He seemed distant and closed off. The air around you both thick with tension. You tried to ease it while telling him about how brave you were while quitting and didn’t cry at all, how Tony dropped by and was apparently stalking you - which was a bad idea because it seemed to make him angry, clench his jaw tight, his brows furrowed as he placed your plates in the sink.

Unsure if you had done something wrong or were mean to Tony, who was technically his boss, you twiddled with your fingers, “Um... I - I’m sorry,” you stuttered, trying to hold back tears. Spending the night at your mom’s house sounded like the better choice now.

“Hm?” he looked back at you, he could do the dishes tomorrow, “what for?”

“I shouldn’t have been snarky with Tony. I know he’s your boss and all that but he’s kinda cocky... And I got really mad when I found out he did like a ‘background check' on me. I mean I get why he would but still. I can apologize to him.”

“No no,” he shook his head, kneeling before you, taking your hands in his, “you misunderstood, love. I’m not mad at you, I could never REALLY be mad at you. It’s Tony I’m angry with, he went behind my back, ambushed you at work.”

“To be fair, you did the same when you asked me out,” you snickered as a blush crept up his neck.

“Right.” He finally cracked a genuine smile placing feather light kisses on your knuckles and the to the bandages on your hands.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” you asked, running your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails.

“It’s probably better if we don’t talk about it,” he said, laying his head on your lap. Your slight scratching massaging his never-resting head.

“I think we should. My mom said I don’t know you. And to some extent, she is right. I don’t. Maybe I’m just imagining things but... sometimes it feels like you’re holding back.”

He gathered enough courage to look up at you, your almond shaped eyes looking down at his and he knew that he could talk to you about anything. He did. But there will always be that little voice that tells him that he shouldn’t. He would only trouble you.

“Don’t you pride yourself on being honest?” you caressed his scratchy cheek.

He snorted. He really was dense enough to think he was the perfect son-in-law package.

“I just, the way you looked at me, when I killed that man, I’m afraid that you’re scared of me now. That’s the last thing I want. It’s my worst nightmare really.” He leant into your touch.

“Steve, that wasn’t because I’m scare of you. It was because I’m fond of you. You were so strong and brave and you saved me. I liked being the damsel in distress more than I thought,” He chuckled at that, his doubts a bit relieved, “that’s... not all though.” You murmured.

“What is it?” he wanted to know.

“You, um, the fact that you would do that for me... it’s just. I never thought anyone would love me that much.”

“I only regret doing it in front of you. I’m sorry you had to see that or go through any of that.”

“I’m not a child, Steve,” you rolled your eyes.

“Of course not, but you’re you. You’re pure and an angel. I - I’m tainted - tainted by blood, tainted by war - ”

“Steve, that’s not true. You’re not, you’re the pure-est person I know. War and - that doesn’t define you.”

“You wouldn’t feel that way if you knew about all the things I have done, sweetheart.” The sweet nickname he had for you, which now he used in a patronising tone, “I let my best friend die. And I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“What’re you talking about?” you frowned. You heard about Bucky from him and your history textbooks but you don’t remember reading anything like that.

“It’s... something I’m not ready to get into.” He put his forehead on your knee. He knew you loved him but there was only so much baggage you would be willing to accept.

“Okay. You can take your time and tell me if and when you’re ready, baby.” You went back to idly playing with his, “But I need you to know that I love you. Nothing you could ever say will change that. To think that... for a second I thought that you wouldn’t come for me.”

He snapped his head back up, “What?”

“I thought, that you’d be busy with your mission. You wouldn’t even find out I was missing or... you just wouldn’t care enough to come yourself. I mean, I knew you would come, obviously. But you have other more important work...”

“No,” he shook his head, “How could you ever think anything's more important to me than you and your life?”

“Yeah, I was being stupid.”

“You can be a bit silly sometimes, doll.” He nuzzled your tummy, making you giggle. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again. I was so scared I’d never see you again,” he confessed against your nightgown.

“That’d be a bit hard to do. Keeping an eye on me like that. But if it means I get to spend more time with you then I’m down.”

You convinced Steve to let you have some ice cream. He only let you have half a scope, telling you that you’d have trouble sleeping otherwise.

“I’ve been sleeping for most of the last two days.” You tried to argue but it was hard to change his mind once he had it set on something.

You both brushed your teeth together and he stared at you as you went about your night-time skincare routine.

Cleanse, serum, moisturize, sleep mask.

All he did was wash his face and he still looked fucking perfect.

He stayed true to his word, sticking by your side to the point where you had to kick him outside to have some privacy to pee in peace. He was right there waiting for you when you opened the door.

Finally, you were in your cosy bed. Light’s off and cuddled tight with your boyfriend. Your stuffed unicorn and your Captain America plushie to your other side.

With your legs tangled together, you rubbed your feet up and down his legs. Which were unfortunately covered with his sweats.

“Steve,” you whined.

“Yes?”

“Take off these damn pants. They’re hurting my skin. So friggin' prickly.”

“Sorry, doll. I know how precious your skin is.” He sounded like he was mocking you but he followed, pushing his pants away.

“Good?” he asked holding you close to him again.

“Mm-hm,” you hummed against his naked chest. “Let’s sleep like this everyday, please.”

“Sure.” He replied. He liked being a ‘human furnace' for you.

He wasn’t going to fall asleep. Not after everything that happened. He hadn’t slept well in the past week but he was afraid that if he’d shut his eyes for a single moment and you’d be gone. This time, he wouldn’t be lucky enough to find you.

He hadn’t been to crunch or even prayed in a while. Losing his faith a long time ago after all the terrible things he had seen. But he had prayed when he came back found his home to be wreck. He prayed that you’d come back to him because there were some things he just could not control. Nobody could.

After a while he lowly whispered your name. “Are you awake?” he asked.

It was silly but he missed you. Even though you were laying right next to him in his arms - the safest place you could be.

“Yeah. I can’t sleep. Even though I’m so tired.” You yawned. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?” You snorted. “You’re not a good liar, Steven.”

“Can I ask you something? And you can say no if you want I won’t mind.”

“Sure, shoot.”

“Can I, um, have you? I just need to feel you, sweetheart. After everything – I need to know you’re really here.” he was cut off by your lips crashing on his.

You winced when your teeth clamped together but he soothed your upper lip by nipping at it with his tongue.

“Steve,” you panted as he broke awake, shifting under the sheets and pushing the helm of your gown up.

He placed quick open mouthed kisses all over your thighs, over your stretch marks, spreading your thighs further to accommodate his broad shoulders, he made sure to check in with you again.

All you did was push his head towards your heat, begging him to eat your pussy - as if he needed to be told twice.

Swirling and spreading your glistening juices of arousal around your weeping lips, he dove in for his prize. Drawing patterns on your bundle of nerves before sucking at it harshly, he plunged his tongue inside. Lacing his fingers with yours and pinning your hands down by your hips.

You kept desperately pushing your hips up, wanting more. Arching your back up and holding onto his hands tightly as he lightly grazed his teeth over your clit.

“Say my name, sweetheart,” he demanded against your heat, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

Your orgasm washing over you in waves, electrifying every nerve in your body as you clamped your legs around his head, holding onto him.

He kept lapping you up through it, taking everything you’d give him.

He loved worshipping you - spending as much time as he could between your legs - because you were his goddess but right now, he just needed to feel you.

He climbed up the bed, hovering over you, he pushed two thick fingers inside you mouth till the second knuckle.

“Get them nice and wet, doll.” He instructed.

You moaned around him, making loud suckling noises, “Yesh, Captain,” it came out muffled, what with your mouth full.

“Captain?” he smirked. You had only ever called him that as a joke, he never knew being called that in a salacious way could stroke a fire inside him. Making him them painfully hard in the confines of his tight briefs. He pulled his fingers out of you, pushing his hand down till it was between your legs. Nudging your entrance with them.

“Sorry, it slipped out.” You were too unabashed to feel guilty. 

He scoffed, “Say it again.” 

Pushing his fingers inside you. Pumping them at a fast pace before you even had a second to think. It was desperate and fast so unlike how it is usually between you both. He needed to be inside you but your needs would always come before his. 

“Captain,” you mewled, chewing on your lower lip and holding onto his face. You couldn’t see him clearly in the dark but you still need to look at him. “I told them my Captain would come for me. And you did...” he swallowed your screams with his mouth as you clenched around his fingers. 

“That’s right,” he groaned, sucking your slick off of his fingers, “I’ll always protect you. I’ll do anything for you.” 

Shaky fingers working on taking his cock out of the hard confines of his uncomfortable underwear. He didn’t waste a single second before sinking inside you, as deep as he could. He moaned into your neck, “So fucking tight, doll. Like you were made for me,” he bit your neck. 

Drawing his hips back he thrusted inside you, brushing against your g-spot, making you keen. 

He stopped immediately, propping himself up on his elbows he looked down at your hooded eyes. “You alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded, “Yes, it’s just so good,” as if to prove it you clenched around his length, to make him feel all of you just as he was doing to you. 

He groaned at that, his balls already tightening, aching for release, “What’s the safe word?” 

“Mm... buttercream.”

“That’s right, good girl,” he cooed as you whimpered at his praise as he withdrew his hips again, loving you in a slow soft way. 

Pushing your gown up till it was above your breasts - he didn’t really have the patience to properly take it off. He sucked a spot just above your breast, so you’d remember his love every time you looked at it. Your nipples pebbled and goose bumps painted your skin, with your cunt tight around him he knew you were close. 

Wrapping his mouth around one bud, He pulled and pinched at the other. He stopped his ministrations, he needed to look at you as you climaxed. To know that you needed him at least half as much as he needed you. 

Your face scrunched up as you met your bliss, your nails drawing blood from shoulders - not that he cared in the slightest. 

His hips retracting and thrusting as he lost all sense of rhythm and finesse chasing his end as you laid boneless beneath him. He kept fucking into you, filling you to the brim. 

He heaved above you, making sure not to collapse on top of you. Reluctantly he pulled himself out of you. 

Pulling you close to him, his lips pressed up against the crown of your head, he whispered sweet nothings to you. “My brave girl.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “You’re so strong, sweetheart.”

“Stronger than the hulk?”

“Yes, definitely,” he replied, tracing the bandages wrapped around your wrists. “Now try to get some sleep.”

“Oh, I’ll sleep alright. Thanks to you.” You giggled. 

***

tags will be in the reblog.

this was my longest fic!i know it wasnt the best conclusion to something i drew outover 4 chapters but its the best i could do. sorry for weird format tumblrs mad i had too much fun lol. comments and reblogs are really appreciated!!

#the donut series #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #berry writes

[starshipsofstarlord]

First things First | Jack Kline & Peter Parker

Summary; Peter sees his ex back in town. Last time she was with her brothers, but this time, she has another companion. His name is Jack Kline, and he is her current boyfriend.

Warnings; some angst, jealousy, a bit of trash talk, smidge of violence, one swear word

“You’re back then.” Peter noticed, following you as you walked through the school halls, your head down as you attempted to ignore him. But however, you knew that you couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there forever, and so you softly sighed.

Last time, you hadn’t been in town too long, only a few weeks, cases were sprouting up left right and centre in Queens, and that was enough time for a relationship to briefly brew between the pair of you.

However, when the entourage of hunts came to an end, it had only been fair to cut sweet Peter loose, you hadn’t planned to return in any soon time. And here you were, a year in a half later, back in his hometown.

“You’re eyes are quite inquisitive, Parker, or do you need to ask me to put rock salt on my skin to prove that I’m not a ghost?” You barked back, which earnt yourself a confused frown.

“What?” He asked in reply, confused by your wording.

“Never mind, you wouldn’t get it.” You dismissed, having already had the intel and advice from your brothers that two different worlds didn’t mix.

Peter was but a boy, a smart one, but for all that you were aware, he lived a mundane life. He was bullied at school, but he had a couple of friends, Ned and MJ.

MJ. She had liked Peter before you had disappeared in the impala, it wouldn’t be a surprise if the pair were together now. He had wanted to forget you, for causing him so much pain, he deserved to move on, as you had.

“What I got was that you told me you loved me, and then you went with the wind, and didn’t look back, not once.” He bit back, his statement making your body feel heavy.

It was guilt, a familiar feeling for a hunter. It often came when a life was lost by the life of a monster, and this time, it had been the same. You had taken away the happiness from your own life, you were the beast that ripped out someone’s heart.

“I did, but that doesn’t matter anymore Pete, I’m in love with somebody else. There’s nothing that I am entailed from hiding from him, no secrets, I can be myself with him.” You pursed your lips, relieved that you had got that off your chest.

“You never had to have secrets! Your family business is what dragged us down in the first place, you feel the need to follow your brothers around the world, and for what? To end up alone and unloved?”

“I love her.” Jack entered the hallway, he had been at the front office, asking about the plumbing, he said he heard a noise. It was what the victim had said before he died, and so the spawn of Lucifer was now questioning it.

Sam and Dean were downtown, at some bar, it had been where the victim had been, with a fake id, before his body had been found in the school bathroom. This left the group of you spread out, and operating around the city, wanting to find the creature that had ended the boy’s life.

Jack’s voice had been friendly, as though he were informing Peter of your relationship status. Neither of them knew each other, so he found no harm in letting the public know of your intimate bond.

The nephilim was most often than not a free speaker, he found no foul in letting his mouth run. He was so innocent, so pure, and perfect, you were pleased that you hadn’t tainted him nor gained his spite like you had with Peter.

“Jack, this is Peter. I met him last time I was around here. Peter, this is Jack, my boyfriend.” It was an awkward introduction, you held your hands together, watching as Jack held out his hand for your ex to shake.

Peter hesitantly shook Jack’s hand, lightly glaring at the boy. “It’s nice to meet a friend of y/n’s, not many that she has are her age.”

“Thanks for that Jack.” You laughed lightly, holding sweetly onto his arm, as to ensure him that he had done nothing wrong.

“We’re not friends.” Peter corrected him, squinting at you. “She doesn’t like the idea of any relationship with me, so she can pass on friendship.” He gave you one last look, before he walked away.

“Hi.” Jack saw your ‘friend’ in the hall, whilst you were questioning some other students. Peter reluctantly turned, going face to face with your boyfriend and partner in justifying crime.

“Hey.” His head briefly leant back, curious as to why the new boy was speaking to him. “Jack, right?”

“Yes, that is my name.” Jack nodded with a smile, the adorable gap in his teeth presenting itself clearly. “Have you felt any cold spots here recently, or smelt sulphur by any change?”

His question made Peter frown, he gulped and thought before he decided to answer. “I don’t know why your going around asking questions, but I also do not know why you’re dating y/n. She’ll break your heart, it’s what she does.”

“The two of you don’t sound like very good friends.” He speculated, tilting his head like a puppy dog, his bright eyes filled with curiosity.

“We weren’t just friends Jack, I’m surprised she didn’t tell you about me. Maybe there was a reason for that, you should ask her.” Peter crossed his arms, taking note of how he seemed to have angered the other boy.

The son of Lucifer was inhaling and exhaling through his nostrils, he was attempting to remain calm. But he couldn’t, his eyes seared with their golden pigment, and upon witnessing, Peter’s eyes widened and he was fast to sling webbing towards the mutant.

But it had no affect, not as Jack’s mouth opened, and a scream on another wavelength , which happened to throw the spider man backwards into the row of lockers. This was not normal, and Peter worried for the reason that you had the company of such a creature.

“What the hell are you?” Peter asked, wanting an answer so he could figure out a way to defeat him.

“I’m someone that loves y/n very much. Don’t worry, we won’t be in town much longer.” And with that, the strange and peculiar being walked away, leaving Peter stunned. For once, he wasn’t sure how he would improvise.

“You know the boy’s toilets are for guys, right?” Peter asked later in the day, as he watched you, whom was drenched in water, leave said restroom.

“I am more than aware, thankyou for that reminder Peter.” Each footstep dripped water upon the floor. That ghost had been a bitch to send off, but to your relief, you had done so.

“What are you doing here, really?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m going to be leaving tonight, I’ll be all out of your hair.” You spoke, trying to remain calm with your previous partner. “Have you seen Jack?”

“About that...” he noticed how you furrowed your brow with his words, and realised it would be better to get straight to the point. “He’s not normal, there’s something different about him. He’s dangerous.”

“I guess you witnessed something... supernatural?” He slowly nodded his head, thinking about how it could be considered as such. “Jack, he’s a nephilim, half angel, half human. That’s why I can’t stick around, my life is messy, and I have a duty to save people, you understand that, right?”

“Why would I understand that?” He hesitated, his voice stepping over his words in a worried stutter. “Angels?!” He repeated.

“Yeah, not every takes lightly to the news, and a bit of information; the majority are dicks.” You laughed, shoving your hands in your soggy pockets. “You really think I didn’t have a clue that I was dating a spiderman? I investigate abnormal occurrences for a living, it was quite easy to notice something was different about you.”

“So you look into things like cold spots and sulphur smells?” He remembered that was what Jack had mentioned earlier. Perhaps the possibility of angels wasn’t half crazy, the universe was expanding. It was certainly out there, but so was a talking, moving tree that enjoyed digital games and was experiencing puberty.

“Exactly.” You smiled, looking into his deep brown eyes, and finding some kind of peace between the pair of you.

“I think I saw Jack in the library.” He scratched the back of his neck, deciding to be a bigger person and give into the planet’s order.

“Thanks, see ya around Parker.” That expression you gave him shouldn’t have made him feel so giddy, he knew that this was another goodbye you were sending him. But the relief on your faces was beautiful.

You walked momentarily backwards, and he raised his hand in a signalled send off. He hoped that one day, he would see you again, maybe even with Blade as he killed vampires. Who knew?

One thing he was aware of was that you were happy with Jack, and that the two of you shared a life. You had an even amount of knowledge between you, and as much as Peter hated to admit it, you weren’t bound to leave the nephilim any time soon.

#peter parker x reader #jack kline x reader #spn x reader #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #supernatural x you #supernatural crossover #jack x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x you #jack kline x y/n #jack kline x you #jack kline x winchester!reader #supernatural x winchester reader #marvel x you #tom holland x reader #alexander calvert x reader #imagines #imagine #xreader #marvel crossover #spn x you #spn x y/n #spn fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

[shotofire]

A Life Saver

•LEVI ACKERMAN x READER

•Overview: Levi saves you, someone he barely knew, from certain death

•Warnings: mentions of death, gore description, cursing, near death experience, bit of angst, very brief mention of sex

•Season: season one range with a few altercations

-

At first, you didn’t want to become a scout. The thought of putting your life on the line wasn’t appealing, and it really just scared the hell out of you. Serving in the military police was a path you chose to go down. It was what you wanted for awhile then things started to not feel right.

The scouts were putting other lives before their own and you began to admire their bravery. Even when things looked like there was no light on the other side they pushed through. They proved that even mass death can result in a small victory that gave the people hope, something to help the nation push forward.

After serving in the military police for many years you decided it was time to step down. You wanted to become a scout, you wanted to help make a change. Your comrades thought you were absolutely insane, and they begged you to not make the choice. You refused, and soon you joined the scouts.

Mission after mission you survived and killed titans. You lost friends way too often, and the hurt and loneliness that came with the job would make anyone break. You’d been broken from the inside out in ways you’d never imagined. At the end of the day, you knew it was for the greater good.

The hope for a change only became greater when a boy showed up with the abilities of a titan. You knew to have such strength on your side was promising, and you saw light at the end of the extremely dark tunnel.

You’d served many long heart wrenching years by the time hope like that had shown up, and it only pushed you to keep going. You longed to live in a world without titans. All you wanted was to run free in field and see new things.

Today was a normal day, but that’s how any bad day starts. You’d woke up early to watch the sunrise with your close, and pretty much last friend, Molly. She was the best person you’d ever met and had been by your side for years. You had never admired anyone more than her.

“You know that titan kid is only fifteen, isn’t that insane?” She says before taking a sip of the coffee you had made her.

Your eyebrows raise at her words, “Wait really?”

The women laughs a bit at your shocked reaction then nods her head. She sets her coffee on the blanket you two are sitting on then leans back onto her hands, staring up at the sky that swirls with colors of orange and pink.

“To have this kind of hope is the best feeling i’ve had in years,” she says, “this is going to unlock so many closed doors we don’t know about. I think that finally we’re going to get some answers about how the hell the world turned into this mess.”

The smile on her face was full of such joy. She truly was excited for the future, you’d never seen someone actually look forward to what is lying ahead. A few days ago everyone thought titans would rein for hundreds of more years. Then all of the sudden that perspective has changed and no one knows what is going to come next.

“Yeah, I hope the future is bright,” you whispered.

You lay down to stare up at the sky, and Molly follows your movements. The two of you lay there in silence, thinking of a peaceful world where so much fear and death does not exist. You turn your head to look at your bestfriend to find her eyes are already on you.

“Our futures are bright, (y/n),” she says with a smile, “We’re going to live in cute little houses by the ocean!”

You can’t help but smile and roll your eyes at her. She always brought up this big body of water she’d read about in an illegal book when she was a teenager. The women could go on an on about it, as if she’d seen it before herself.

“If the ocean is even real,” you say with a smirk.

She scoffs at you before rolling her eyes harder than you just had, “Of course it’s real!”

You two spend the next hour talking about what you’d do or who you’d be doing if life were different. Molly wished for a family, to fall in love. She’d talked about it many times before but she refused to bring children into a world like this. You felt similar, expect children weren’t really on your radar. You longed to fall in love and grow old with someone.

But everyday brought death and destruction. You didn’t want to fall madly in love and then watch your whole world crumble as a titan took them away from you. The pain you had from your friends screaming your name as monsters had them in their grip was already too much to bare.

Heavy footsteps came in your direction at high speed, and soon you could hear heavy breathing along with it. You and Molly sat up quickly and saw one of your comrades running at you with pure fear in their eyes.

“Wall rose has been compromised!” They scream, voice laced with panic.

Molly’s eyes widen right as yours do. The feeling of uncertainty course through your veins almost instantly. You’ll never get used to the way your stomach drops when you hear things like that. Who could ever get used to that? Knowing you’re about to watch more people die would make anyone feel this way.

Before you know it you’re running to get your uniform on and strap on your gear. No one saw this coming. Then again, how the hell would they see this coming? You scramble to find you gear and you panic as it’s no where to be found.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You yell as the panic begins to set in.

Hands grab each of your shoulders to hold you still, and that’s when you see Molly’s worried eyes. She looks at you with concern. The last mission had both of you on edge more than ever before. Both of you lost someone dear, someone who was close to you as you were to each other. Knowing that today you could lose Molly was making your mind and body think like a mad man.

“You gear is with my stuff, remember? You didn’t want to lose it so you asked me to hold onto it,” she reminds you.

The sweet women pulls you into a tight hug, and you can feel her body trembling. The two of you had no time for this, people were probably already being slaughtered. Right as you begin to think this a scream rips through the air, one that makes you two grip one another tighter.

“We’re going to fight and we’re going to survive,” she says sternly, “do you hear me? Don’t you dare die on me (y/n).”

You nod into her chest as tears begin to form in your eyes. So much could change in an instant and you wished time could freeze so you could hug your bestfriend forever. But reality was sinking in and you knew you had titans to kill and lives to save.

The hug was short lived, and soon you were faced with the destruction held within wall rose. Titans stomped around mindlessly, some with those creepy smiles that you absolutely hated.

Your blades cut through nape after nape and your head was starting to spin. Somewhere along the way you lost Molly, which had never happened before. You hated not having her around. The constant fear of not knowing what position she could possibly be in made you sick to your stomach.

You flew through the air at a high speed, trying to get leverage on the abnormal that was chasing after you. It’s mouth hung open as it’s disgusting blood drenched touched dripped into the buildings below. You’d never faced an abnormal and didn’t expect it to dodge your attack minutes ago.

Sure you were extremely skilled but it’s hard to work your way around a fast moving titan. It’s arms flew in the air behind it, the beast was an odd sight. You’d never witnessed a titan act so strangely before.

You’d been observing the monster too closely, but only for a few seconds. But as any soldier knows, a few moments can cost you your entire life. You turned your attention back infront of you but you didn’t have time to react before you slammed into a chimney. Out of all things that could’ve contributed to your death it just had to be a damn chimney.

The impact made your vision blur and you couldn’t even really feel the pain. The sun beamed down on you as your body layed limp on the rooftop. The sky was a beautiful shade of blue, and you wished you could fly up there with the birds and be free.

The abnormals hand picked you off the home as if you were nothing, only a small ant compared to it. It’s eyes were completely lifeless as it stared at you with hunger.

“Don’t you dare die on me (y/n)!”

Molly’s words rang through your mind but you couldn’t move. The injury to your head made you feel as if you were in a dream. There was no sense of reality right now, you couldn’t even comprehend that you were about to reach your end.

In a way you knew, reality wasn’t too far off. But you couldn’t find the energy to fight back. It had all been drained from you as the battle continued, and the final blow left you motionless.

You closed your eyes hoping somehow that’d stop you from feeling the coming pain. Every part of you didn’t want to die. Molly’s dreams about living by the ocean had become yours as well even if you wouldn’t admit it. The thought of leaving her with no body brought tears to your eyes.

That’s when you tried to move with the little energy left in your body, but it was no use. The tears began to stream down your face and the fear began to set in. Fear like this had never been within you, it was a brand new feeling. You guess certain death does that to you.

“No!” You say as loud as you can, “Someone please help me!”

Knowing this is what so many of the people you loved had to experience broke your heart. It was already bad enough to know they were gone and you couldn’t have saved them. But this was so much worse, they died with such fear. Fear that almost paralyzed you.

The sound of blades ripping through skin filled your ears. The titans grip on you loosened, then let go completely. You felt yourself falling, but you kept your eyes closed. Fear had already made its way to every inch of your body and you couldn’t move even more than before.

Right before you slammed to the ground below strong arms caught you. A grunt slipped past the unknown persons lips at the impact of your body. They carried you into a near by tavern that was deserted of people, then set you on one of the tables.

“Hey,” the deep voice said, “c’mon now I know you aren’t dead, don’t go out like this.”

Your eyes fluttered open to see the dangerously handsome man in your face. He was awfully close, you could feel his breath on your nose. His eyes were wide with concern.

“Captain Levi?” You asked followed by a gut wrenching cough. Blood splattered onto your lips and you groaned.

He couldn’t have been the one who saved you, right? You’d only talked to Levi a handful of times, and all were him giving you orders. You’d never had a desire to talk to him even if you found him incredibly attractive.

You’d admired the man for years as well. He has lost as many people as you, maybe more. He had already been on the scouts for many years before you joined. The man had watched the passion you held as you killed titans at alarming speed. He knew exactly who you were and what you had to offer, that’s why he saved you.

He smiled softly at you, not even enough for you to notice. For a second he thought you wouldn’t wake up and he’d be carrying a lifeless body back to medical. You cough a bit more before sitting up. A gasp slips past your lips and pain shoots through your body.

“Holy shit that fucking hurts,” you curse.

You see the fresh blood on your hands and wonder if it’s yours. The pounding in your head only increases as you move. The room felt like it was spinning and you may vomit any second.

“Do I need to take you to medical?” He asks with concern in his voice.

Your vision looks at the raven haired man and your memory starts to come back. One second you were flying through the air and then stupidly slammed into a chimney. And that damned titan was about to feast on you, what a bitch. Then you realized Levi was the one who stopped you from your near death.

“Why did you save me?” You ask without answering him first.

He sighs at your question. He had only moved that fast to save someone a handful of times. It just felt right to save you. He was there, you were there, he couldn’t just let you die. It wasn’t too far out of reach, he had already been headed in your direction.

“Because you’re strong and the scouts need you,” he answers, “now tell me if I need to take you to medical.”

His features were stern and it made your stomach flip a bit. If there weren’t titans outside and pain wasn’t consuming your body you may have thrown out a stupid flirtatious remark due to your bubbly personality. But this wasn’t the time and place no matter how good the captain looked right now.

“I just need a minute,” you said softly as you pushed your weight off the table.

You hissed in pain before stretching your body. The bones in your body crack loudly and you let out a low grunt at the feeling. The pounding in your head began to simmer and you took deep breaths.

“Thank you captain Levi,” you said, “my friend would’ve personally brought me back to just kill me herself.”

He chuckled a bit at your remark and you couldn’t even recall captain Levi smiling let alone chuckling. This whole situation was weird and unrealistic to you. Maybe you were already dead and this was your afterlife. A hot guy saves you and later you two will go to bone town, sounds pretty fun.

“I literally ran into a chimney,” you grumbled.

Levi’s eyes squinted at your words in confusion, “You what?”

“I didn’t get caught by a titan while trying to kill it heroically. I wasn’t paying attention for like three seconds and slammed into a damn chimney, not too sure the scouts really need me,” you say.

He shakes his head at your words and was becoming annoyed by your self doubt.

“I know, I saw,” he says and your cheek almost immediately turn red, “and I still saved you cause I thought you were worth it.”

You couldn’t get words out after what he said. You only stared at him in shock. He saw you make a foul out of yourself but yet still risked his life to save you. Levi truly was an interesting man.

“Well then, thank you again,” you say, “maybe I should thank you in a different way.” You wiggle your eyebrows then let out a laugh into your palm as his face falls at your words.

“Holy shit i’m kidding, please don’t make me do laps for that. Jokes make me feel better,” you still were holding back laughter at the face Levi made. You never thought you’d make the captain flustered like that.

“Uh,” his cheeks redden, “We need to get back out there. It’s starting to get worse, are you sure you’re okay (y/n).”

You take a deep breath before nodding your head. The two of you immediately begin to speed walk towards the open door of the tavern.

“I’m going to need you to follow me. The titans are huddled in the west and help is needed there,” he orders you and you respond with a yes captain, which always makes you cringe.

“Oh and by the way,” he says with a smirk, “that other way of thanking me is always welcome.”

This time he leaves you flustered. He heads west and you stand there for a few seconds before you remember you’re supposed to be following him. His remark might have you slamming into another chimney.

After fighting for hours many people had been successfully moved to wall sina. Some titans still mindlessly walked around within the walls of rose, but atleast many people were saved. There was still a great heartfelt loss that day.

When you got back to base your heart was pounding in your ears. All you could think about was Molly and if she was okay. You hadn’t seen her since you two got separated during the hell bent events. Your eyes scanned frantically through the base, searching for her everywhere.

Your mind went to the worst place possible and you begin to panic. She had to be okay, she was all you had. You needed her more than anyone else. If she’s gone you might as well let a titan eat you during your next mission. Molly kept you alive, and kept you fighting.

“(y/n)?” You hear a familiar deep voice ask.

You spin on your heals and are met with the same deep brown eyes that saved you earlier today. Levi looked upset, face a bit fallen. That’s when your heart sank to your stomach. Did he know where Molly was? Or if she had even made it back?

“Follow me,” he says without any other detail.

He starts walking and you immediately follow as your heart races. At this point you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. Your eyes scan to a sign that says medical as Levi opens the door below it.

You’re led to a the back of the room and you gasp at the sight. On the bed layed Molly with bandages covering many parts of her body. Your eyes fill with tears at the safe shes in, this was too much.

“She’s going to be okay, and the nurse told me she should be up soon,” he says.

You nod your head at his words before reaching to hold Molly’s hand, it was cold as ice.

“Can you please get her a blanket,” you state, it wasn’t even a question. It was more like you weren’t letting go of her hand, more like you couldn’t.

Levi nods and fetches her a couple blankets. He covers her for you and you thank him. The tears still run down your face, but you had already stopped wiping them away. It was no use because they just kept coming harder and harder as you looked at your bestfriend.

“Thank you Levi, I would’ve gone crazy looking for her back there,” you smile through the hurt.

He only hums in response to your words, letting silence fill the air. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder and his fingers move slightly to give you some comfort. It truly was a nice feeling to have someone with you right now, you might think too hard if he wasn’t here.

“I’ll give you some space-“ “no,” You cut him off, “please don’t go.”

Levi sees the hurt in your eyes. He could tell you needed someone right now even if he wasn’t much of a comforting person.

“okay,” he whispers.

He then pulls up a chair next to yours and sits with you for the next few hours in silence. It was somewhat nice, for both of you. Molly begins to stir in her sleep and your perk up. Her eyes flutter open and the first thing she sees is you and she smiles.

“We’ll look at that,” she smiles, “you’re just obsessed with me aren’t you (y/n).”

You laugh through happy tears forming in your eyes. She takes a deep breath and tries to stretch her body but the pain to still too much. She feels your grip on her hand and she squeezes at yours.

“You didn’t think i’d go out that easily did you,” she asks with a smirk on her chapped lips.

“Not for a second,” you said back almost immediately.

She lets out a small laugh at your words. For a second she did think she was going to die as a titan smacked her body mid-air, but that’s all she can remember. It was that, and then she wakes up in medical confused as hell. But seeing you made her know she definitely was okay. Her eyes scan to the figure next to you to see captain Levi. You’d told her before that you’d totally jump his bones if he let you.

“Did you screw the captain while I was out?” she asks playfully.

You and Levi’s breath hitch at her words and she can’t help but let out a laugh. It hurt her chest to laugh that hard but it also in a way made her feel better.

“Really Molly? You were just half dead a few minutes ago and that’s what you wanted to say?” You couldn’t help but laugh along with her. You’d rather her make you and the captain flustered than her be dead.

Levi couldn’t help but smile widely, but he put his head down to hide it. That day you and Levi developed a liking for each other, and both of you couldn’t remember the last time you felt this way.

The lives you each led was going to make it hard, but feelings are strong.

After an hour or so of talking to Molly she fell back asleep for some well needed rest. Levi walked with you down the hall back to your room, making small talk that was hard to even keep going.

“Thank you again Levi,” you look at him with sparkling eyes, “I’m pretty sure anyone else besides Molly would’ve let me be titan desert.”

“Of course, I would never let you be titan desert,” he mumbles the last part. He’d never heard someone refer to themselves as titan desert before, it almost made him laugh.

You stop at your door and look at his with an adoring gaze. He truly was nice looking, and incredibly brave. You wanted to be just like him, you wanted to be even stronger than him one day.

Before you could think you were leaning in to kiss his cheek. His eyes widen and his face heats up. The action rendered him speechess and he watched as your reached for the handle and opened the door before slipping in your room without another word.

He stayed in the hallway for a few seconds staring at where you just stood.

“Shit,” he whispered.

That only sparked his feelings for you further, and he knew this was the beginning of something he’d been avoiding his whole life.

Love.

#attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman #levi #ackerman #anime #aot anime #aot #aot x reader #aot season 4 #levi x reader #levi imagine #levi fanfic #levi imagines #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman fanfic #levi headcanons #levi ackerman headcanons #love #romance #imagine #fanfic #smut #Levi smut #levi ackerman smut

[airplanned]

Trill AU part 4

Sad times on the bridge, and I get to write technobabble

***

Part 1

They hurried down three corridors before Zelda said, "Does it seem strangely quiet to you?"

It did.  In the dim light, Link was trying not to ask himself the obvious question of where everyone was.  He made a sorry attempt to explain it.  "It's late and this deck is all personal quarters."

"But no one's reporting to emergency stations but us?"

So of course they turned the last corner to find a body on the floor. 

Ensign Bogts.  Zelda checked his pulse and rolled him over while Link popped open a nearby locker and pulled out a tricorder.  She took it out of his hands before he could start taking readings.  Lifting an eyebrow, he let her rudeness pass. 

"He's...fine?  His vitals are all normal."

His body did look relaxed, his face at ease and his chest softly rising and falling.

"He just passed out here?"

Her eyebrows pinched together as she continued to scan.  "He has an abnormal delta wave pattern.  It looks like a kind of artificial sleep."

"Is everyone on the ship like this?"

She looked up at him in concern.

He swallowed, looking down at Ensign Bogts as all the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. 

"So why not us?"

*

The bridge crew was passed out at their stations, and Link went straight to check the commander's pulse where he was slumped back in his chair.  Ensign Xik had fallen out of his seat at ops, and Zelda stepped over him neatly to take his seat.  "I should be able to get main power up," she said.  Link headed for the con, removing Lt Tate from his chair as gently as possible and laying him out on the floor.

A low hum built under their feet and the lights blinked back on.  Link took a relieved breath and pulled up a status report.  

"I have thrusters," he said.

"Bringing the main engine back online."

"We need shields and sensors."

"Give me one...you've got sensors."

He immediately ran a sweep.   "Sensor report coming in."

"On screen."

It was as if a sheen of oil was draped over the ship, a shimmer of green and pink dancing like the northern lights.  Zelda pulled up an image on her console and turned the whole thing so he could see.  It was as if the ship had run into a flat sheet, dragging it with them until it wrapped around the ship's nose and trailed behind them.  "It's giving off delta wave pulses.  That's what's putting everyone to sleep.  At a higher amplitude it could have knocked out main power.  Probably when we first hit it."

"We're caught in a net," he said.

She nodded.  "It doesn't look natural."

He turned back to the con.  "Let's not stick around and find out who caught us.  Can we get the shields back up?"

"Raising shields."

The lights went out.  The gentle, omnipresent rumble of the floor stilled as the engine shut down again.

Link tried to bring up a status report.  "Well, that didn't work.  Main power's back out."

She sighed.  "Bringing it back online."

Lights turned back on and they both held their breath, waiting for power to fail once more.

"No sudden moves," he said.

He checked the sensor's image of the phenomena.  "If we use minimal thrusters, it looks like we can back out of it."

"Decrease thrusters to quarter power."

That made it slow going, but there wasn't really a rush.  He eased the ship back, back, watching the power read outs and the sensor image on the side of his console.

"Down two degrees," she said, and he adjusted course, hissing as the edge of the net caught around the port nacell, sending a tremor through the ship.

They froze.  He let the net settle, then tried again, pulling up and forward, only to strain against part of the net draped over the saucer section.

"It's tightening," she said.  And sure enough where before it looked like they were dragging an inanimate sheet behind them, that sheet was now tangled, adhering to the hull.

He lifted his hands from the console in surrender.

Zelda had out her tricorder again, this time running it over herself.  "I think it's the symbionts."

"Their brains aren't affected by delta waves."

"They must be keeping us conscious."

Link looked down at his terminal, running through his options.  Then he narrowed his eyes at her. 

She straightened.  "What?"

"You come aboard and the ship gets attacked by something that doesn't affect bonded Trills."

Her brief anxiety melted into annoyance.  "You think I did this."

He gave her a blank stare.

"Why would I do this?"

"Handing over a Federation vessel could be profitable.  Risky.  But you've gotten away with worse."

She folded her arms over her chest, giving him a scathing look.  "Everyone on board is asleep and you're still going to pretend that it was me that gave away the defense codes."

"Only two people knew those codes."

"That's right.  And of those two people, one of us vanished in the night.  The other stuck around and cleaned up your mess."

"The mess of my dead body?  That mess?  Tell me, how much blood was there?  Did you cut Fi out yourself or did you get someone like Groose to do it for you?"

Her change in expression was subtle--a barely noticeable stiffening, a faint drain of the color in her cheeks. She looked horrified. Haunted. She turned away, and tapped out some new controls on the console.

"What are you doing?"

"There's no point explaining myself to you."  Her voice shook.  "You're..."  Her fingers faltered.  She covered her mouth with a hand and took a shaking breath.  "You're just going to torment me until whoever comes to collect us shows up.  You're just going to blame me for everything you've done until I feel like I'm going crazy."

Link frowned.  When a tear skipped down her cheek he started to panic.

"Wait."

She shook her head, her trembling hands back at work.

"Zelda."  He reached for her, and she jerked away, spinning to glare at him, her arms gripping the console as if ready to run, her jaw set in a way that looked so much like Sheik--Sheik when she tried to look threatening to hide her fear.

He lifted his hands in surrender, searching her face.  

He couldn't see the lie.  He'd never been able to see the lie.  

But it must be there.  Right?

"What...what do you think happened?"

He didn’t have to specify when, which of the many incidents in their shared past was at the forefront of both their minds.

She stared at him for a long moment, gathering all her righteous indignation to power herself through her speech.  "Ravio vanished.  Everyone searched for days.  We didn't know what had happened.  And then suddenly...Suddenly the defense grid just dropped.  And one little shuttlecraft flew past.  Up and away toward the warship.  What I think happened was that Ravio sold us out so Fi could return to Trill."

Return to Trill.

He stared at her, shaking his head over and over as if that would make it stop.  

He had to fight to find his voice.  "Tetra sent Ravio a message to meet at tower 2.  She said she had good news, and he thought...  He was looking out the window, and the door opened behind me and I saw your shape in the reflection of the glass.  And then you shot me in the back. I woke up four months later in an asteroid mining facility in a different host. It took me days to get news and by then it was too late."

"Tetra never sent you any message."

"Ravio didn’t cut a deal to go back to Trill."

Her eyebrows pinched together.  "Fi wouldn't have survived for four months without a host."

"Yeah, but Pipit was a hot mess of a host.  It was an unstable bond.  He started off in a comma and then he was confused and panicky for more than a year before he calmed down.  He'd think it was the wrong year, that he was the wrong host.  He had disordered episodes for the rest of his life.  He lost time so often that four months is nothing."  Link caught himself.  "I say all that with love.  He went through a lot."

It startled a croak of a laugh from her.

And then they were staring at each other again.  

"I would never have killed you," she said.  “Please don’t make me think about his body.”

He quirked a sad smile.  "I want to believe that."

"I want to believe you, but...that might be me who wants that. It might be someone else.  Someone younger. Less wise. Someone who still looks at you and feels..." 

Warmth lit in his chest, and he hated it and loved it, and maybe it wasn't so messed up after all that he wanted so badly to trust someone who had hurt him so thoroughly.

"Yeah," he said.  "That about sums it up."

They stared at their consoles.  She wiped her eye with her wrist in a way she thought was discreet and he thought was endearing.

Carefully, he asked, "What's your next plan?" and gestured at the tricorder.

She cleared her throat.  "The EM pulses from the symbionts neutralize the delta waves, so if I can adjust the deflector beam to the same frequency modulation--"

"--With a wide enough confinement beam, we can neutralize the delta wave net."  He was already on it, his fingers flying over the console.

"We need to lower the power so we don't cause another blackout."

"It we adjust the--" 

Something dinged on his console.  Proximity alert.

He shared a look with her, trying to tell if this was the moment she'd shoot him again.  It was that same fierce look to protect herself, and who knew what that meant.

Another ding, and her voice turned tight as she said, "They're hailing us."

"Putting them on screen," he said.

A pair of Trils stared back at them.  "Oh," one of them said.  "We were wondering how you had power, but this makes sense."

Link tried to sound calm as he said, "This is the Federation Starship Naboris.  How can we help you?"

The Trills scoffed.  "I don't think you're in any position to help anyone."

Part 5

#Zelda #my fic #Trill AU

[mamahersh]

The Road to Hell (is Paved with Good Intentions)

“Season 8 was well underway, and the server’s first conflict is bubbling just under the surface. But BDoubleO can’t worry about that right now because he has an Etho to find so they can work on the Horse Course together. However when Xisuma calls a surprise server meeting on behalf of EvilXisuma, BDubs gets his answers about where Etho’s been in the worst way possible.”

(CW: angst, blood, gore) <--- later chapters, this one’s clean.

Welcome to my first attempt at Ethoslab angst! I wanted an nHo-centric fic with a heavy dose of Etho angst. I have nowhere else to post this, and fair warning I am terrible at characterizations, so everyone will probably be a bit OOC to some extent; but for sure EvilX will be very OOC in how evil he is in this one. The Rating for the later chapters is a solid M, so be warned about that. If y’all have suggestions or feedback, feel free to come and say hi! P.S. I got my inspiration for this fic from this fic over here! Give them some love too.

Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

Chapter 1 (below the cut)

BDoubleO was worried. 

Now, it wasn’t often he worried, particularly about Etho. Especially after the shenanigans from Season 5 with the nHo, and their many years of collaboration after that, he was well aware that Etho had a habit of disappearing for weeks on end. Even when he was supposed to be helping with a bit of collaboration work like the Horse Course, he was infamous for suddenly disappearing for a week, and coming back acting like nothing had happened. But even still, Etho usually left a note, or told someone about where he was going so they at least knew when to approximately expect him to show back up. This time though, Etho hadn’t even left Iskall a note, and so far this season he had made sure to at least leave a note for Iskall since they were sharing a base. (BDoubleO had asked Iskall 3 days after the last time he had seen Etho to ask if he knew where Etho was. Iskall didn’t know, though he had seen him 2 days previously puttering around their shared base as normal.) He had asked around the other Hermits, seeing if anyone had heard anything. The only one that had seen anything was Beef, who had said he had seen Etho lurking on the edges of his territory heading toward the top of BDubs’ mountain with a spyglass about a day and a half ago. Doc had mentioned that while he hadn’t seen Etho recently, he had heard that Etho had been busy in talks with Xisuma and Evil Xisuma over something. However, when BDubs questioned Xisuma, he said he hadn’t seen Etho since the last major server meeting. (It was always disconcerting when Hermits’ stories didn’t match up, as that usually meant there were shenanigans afoot. But BDubs couldn’t figure out why there would be shenanigans afoot, because this was just Etho.)

A whinny from Lulu beneath him startled BDubs out of his worries. Looking around he realized that they were already staring up at Xisuma’s lighthouse and general base area. Why were they there you might ask? (A theoretical from a theoretical, truly meta of him, aha) WELL, Xisuma had sent out a message to the server that everyone should come and gather at his base for an important something. BDubs was confused, and very concerned, that Xisuma was insisting on the meeting being in person. After all, any news could be dispensed through the Server messages, and all their bases were known, so boards could be placed at bases for Hermits to see as they came in and out. Meeting in person was never technically necessary, though it made it generally easier to talk with each other since they didn’t have to type everything out. The point stood however, that unless it was an emergency, Xisuma never called a general Hermit assembly outside of their regularly scheduled monthly meetings. 

Looking around, BDubs was able to see that Beef was already there, along with most of the Boatem Crew, and surprisingly enough, the Horsehead Farms guys were there as well. Of course, Doc was on his way, and last he heard, the Big Eye crew was following up behind him since they both had been busy when the announcement had gone out. The rest of the server would be on their way because of how far out they were. (Part of BDubs wondered if those who were coming in later were the lucky ones. The rest of him wondered why he was so filled with anxiety and so certain this meeting was only going to be terrible.) Deciding nothing good would come of dwelling on the negatives, he made his way over to where Beef (who was looking more unrecognizable by the day as the alien contamination overtook him) was standing alone, seemingly keeping his eye out for someone or something.

“Hey Beef!” BDubs called out, smiling and waving as he approached. Beef looked over at the sudden shouting of his name, and instantly relaxed as he saw BDubs approaching. “Hey BDubs!” he called back, something alien layered under his normal voice. (It spoke of void and distant stars, though Tango had recently been saying it reminded him more of sulfur and brimstone). “You know anything about why Xisuma’s called this meetup?” asked Beef before BDubs could ask the question himself.

“Not a clue,” BDubs replied, allowing his concern to show through as he stood ill-at-ease beside his friend. “He just announced he had something he wanted to show or talk to us about I guess, though I can’t imagine what it could be about.” Well, BDubs had a guess or two, but none of them were generally pleasant topics of conversation, outside of some surprise announcement for the next server update to 1.18.

“Darn, I was hoping you would have heard something…” said Beef, his own unease easy to read. BDubs shrugged, looking around at the other groups of players standing outside the Lighthouse. It looked like even in the short time they had been greeting each other, the other Big Eyed Crew had arrived on his tailwind. An awkward pause settled between the two of them, both having been so tied up in their own shenanigans to really know what the other had been up to. BDubs debated bringing up the obvious, but it seemed like one of those things you don’t necessarily bring up. But then again… 

“Yo Beef,” said BDubs, turning to look at Beef again. Beef startled out of his momentary reverie. “You’ve been looking pretty, uh… green recently. How’s that been treating you?”

For a moment Beef looked almost confused, before he seemed to connect the dots and snorted. “Oh yeah, it’s been treating me great, as you can see.” They both chuckled a bit at his sarcasm before he continued. “But in all seriousness, I hadn’t really been noticing it. I mean, I definitely notice that people have been giving me a wider berth this season, which hasn’t been great for business since I have a great idea for selling specialty cat food I can make on my alien ship. I haven’t personally noticed too many changes outside my appearance thus far however.” After a moment Beef said, “So how about you? How have Keralis and Tango been treating you this season?”

BDubs chuckled. “Would you believe it if I told you it’s been going great? I have a mountain already, and we have a small bay town we’re building up to serve as a shopping district for our Big Eye Crew. Plus, we got Tango to actually make his eyes big, so it’s a win all around! Though I’ve been noticing more Derpcoin sneaking into our shops…” 

“Hey now, what’s wrong with Derpcoin?!” exclaimed Beef, looking vaguely offended. BDubs was startled by this, completely not expecting such an outburst from Beef of all people.

“I mean, there’s nothing necessarily wrong with it, it’s just I have no idea what the conversion rate is on the stuff, so I don’t know what people are paying in my shop for the items they’re buying,” replied BDubs. “Plus, there’s nowhere to use it.”

“But there is a place to use it! You could use it at EX’s Evil Emporium. Plus, with more people signing up for Derpcoin, it seems like a lucrative market to sell in,” countered Beef, a strange gleam in his eyes. “EX was nice enough to give me an in into his Derpcoin shopping district, so I’ll have a storefront through the Evil Emporium.” 

"Evil Emporium huh?" BDubs made a considering noise. "Heard a little bit about it back when EX was doing a little sales pitch in our neck of the woods. Seems pretty fishy to me, but if you think it's a trustworthy establishment, I'll definitely give it a second look."

"Attention everyone!" called out Xisuma, suddenly standing in the center of the gathered Hermits. "Your attention please!" BDubs looked over to where X was waving everyone over. He noticed that X seemed abnormally forward, though that could be attributed to his paranoia. Afterall, X wasn’t one to cause problems! Sure he had been trying to get people on board with this Evil Emporium thing pretty hard, but X couldn’t hurt a fly even on a good day, so BDubs wondered if this wasn’t about Derpcoin.

He had been hearing from the other Big-Eyed crew that tensions between Boatem and the Derpcoin empire had been slowly escalating over the last week or so. Plus he had been hearing about more of the unaffiliated Hermits beginning to create close ties with EX’s brand, embracing Derpcoin as their main currency even! On the other hand, he’d been hearing from some of the Boatem people about how they were getting sick and tired of finding Derpcoin in their shops, and seemingly some people were beginning to refuse to pay for items with diamonds… There was a mess brewing for sure in the background this season, it just seemed like an issue that could wait till the next monthly meeting is all.

With a jolt, BDubs was brought back to the present as Doc bumped him in the shoulder. “How are you doing BDubs? Looking pretty lost in thought there, big guy.” 

“Well, doing pretty good if you must ask!” BDubs puffed up with the compliment on his height, despite knowing it was more than likely meant in a sarcastic manner. Between Doc and Etho, BDubs never really could catch a break. “You just get here then?”

Doc let out a rumbly hum in agreement. “Yesss, though I have no idea why Xisuma called the meeting. Know anything?”

BDubs and Beef both shook their heads. “We’re in the dark as much as you are, it seems,” replied Beef, moving towards the other Hermits to try and get their little group to walk and talk.

“I have a theory though!” continued BDubs, leaning in to act somewhat more conspiratorially. Doc leaned in a bit more than he needed to, getting a friendly bump on the head from Beef. “See, I’m sure you’ve both heard a bit more than I have about Boatem vs the Evil Emporium. I think things might be heating up enough between the two that X might be forced to intervene soon.” BDubs rubbed the back of his neck. “Admittedly, it still seems like the kind of thing that he would bring up in the monthly meeting instead of an impromptu meeting like this.”

“Looks like we don’t have to wait long to find out in any case.” Beef gestured at the surrounding Hermits and Xisuma himself still standing at the center looking official as usual. (Though BDubs thought he looked a little dazed, but he shoved the thought aside.)

“Thank you everyone for taking time out for this meeting!” called out Xisuma, his face still disconcertingly empty. “I’ve called you together today because EX had a stream he wanted us all to watch, and I agree it is most imperative we all watch it together.”

BDubs did not like the sound of this one bit. “What’s the stream about?” called Joe from the opposite side of the crowd.

“Yeah, why’s it so important we all have to watch it?” asked Cleo from beside him. BDubs realized that those two had had to travel across the entire continent to come to the meeting, and Joe was still renouncing wings, so taking long trips was a distinct hassle. At the very least, it was far more time consuming than everyone else’s trips had been, minus potentially XB and Hypno’s trip.

Xisuma seemed to stand there taking it silently, which was not necessarily outside of the usual, but his response certainly was. “With that out of the way, I’ll get the screen set up, and then we can watch EX’s stream!” ‘That was strange,’ thought BDubs as he looked around the circle of bewildered Hermits. Normally X would try to answer questions, or at least let them know things precisely before he did them. It was incredibly out of character that he would just ignore Joe and Cleo like that… Particularly Joe and Cleo if BDubs was to be brutally honest. Those three had been closer than three peas in a pod since Season 2, and Joe and X had known each other pretty well since almost the start of Season 1. To have those two brushed off by Xisuma struck a wrong chord.

BDubs was pulled back to the present as Xisuma rapidly typed into his communicator, and a holographic screen projected just beyond the circle of Hermits behind where Cub was standing. Almost as one, the Hermits turned to look at it, curiosity overpowering any potential feelings of lingering confusion and discomfort.

Xisuma’s expression was blank as the large screen buzzed to life in front of them. However, BDubs’ watched as he seemed to come back to himself just as the static on the screen cleared and the assembled hermits gasped in disbelief and horror.

‘Well,’ thought BDubs to himself, dread rising like a wave about to swallow him whole. ‘Now we know where Etho went.’ For there on the screen, looking the worst BDubs had ever seen him, was a restrained Etho beside a seemingly gleeful EvilXisuma.

#ethoslab #etho #nho #bdouble0 #docm77 #vintagebeef #bdubs #beef #doc #hc fanfiction #hc fanfic #xisuma #evil xisuma #the hermits #hermitcraft

[parvuls]

fic: kintsugi

summary: The day after brunch at Jerry's, Jack and Shitty have a raw, much-needed conversation over the phone. Some issues need to be addressed before they can head down the road to patching things up.

word count: 6k

tags: year 3, post-comic 3.12, phone calls, friendship, canon compliant, apologies, introspection

notes: based on the prompt ‘providence + family’ by @atlasthemayor.

read on ao3

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Jack’s stomach churns strangely when he sees Shitty’s name flash on his caller ID.

It’s a disconcerting feeling, a slight jolt and twinge in his gut, both reminiscent of when anxiety coils low inside him and distinctive in some way. It makes Jack frown and set his heated dinner aside on the coffee table with the hand not holding the buzzing phone. He’s not sure he ever had this foreign reaction to Shitty calling him before, so after a brief moment of puzzlement he decides to write it off as a side effect of the exhaustion weighing him down.

The phone vibrates once more in his palm before Jack slides his thumb across the screen to accept the call. “Hey, man,” he greets, balancing the phone between his cheek and shoulder so he can pick his food up again. Shitty won’t mind the sound of his chewing, probably. “Staying up late to study?”

It’s coming up to half past eleven on Saturday night. Jack dragged himself through the front door and into the dark apartment at around ten forty-five, his muscles sore and his body beat from over twenty minutes of ice time. He dumped his gear bag in the entryway next to his shoes and headed straight into the kitchen without flicking any of the lights on, shoved one of his frozen meal plan boxes of grilled chicken and brown rice into the microwave without pausing.

The yellow glow of the microwave was the sole source of light in the room as Jack strapped an ice pack to his shoulder, still aching from Ericsson’s high-stick, stuck Bitty’s handwritten PB&J note on the fridge, and waited. The only thing he really wanted to do was fall face-first into his bed, text Bitty that he was home, maybe break down the game over the phone if Bitty wasn’t too busy -- but his regimen had taken precedence. He knew he needed to put in some calories and take care of his pain if he wanted to get up for his six a.m. run. By the time his phone started ringing, Jack was mechanically chewing on his food in the living room. His couch was more comfortable than a dining chair, plush upholstery engulfing his tired limbs, and it only distantly occurred to him that there was something sad about eating dinner alone in the dark.

Shitty’s call, when it came, was unexpected.

“Hate to tell you this, but eleven thirty is not late," Shitty replies, the familiar timbre of his voice tinny due to cell reception. It's an effect Jack is closely acquainted with after months of daily phone calls with Bitty, so he knows that's not all there is to it when he notices something else amiss about Shitty’s voice; like the rhythm of his speech is slightly off. He registers it as abnormal, but before he can figure out if he wants to ask about it Shitty carries on talking. “How’s everything going for ya?”

“Okay,” Jack answers plainly, piling rice onto his fork. He doesn't have the energy to think of anything more gripping than the truth. “Eating post-game dinner.”

Shitty pauses on the other side of the line, makes the creases in Jack’s forehead deepen. Something feels weird, but Jack doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it if nothing is really wrong. Sometimes people act in ways that confuse him for any number of reasons, and he’s not always good at telling them apart.

“Yeah, yeah, I saw,” Shitty says, clearing his throat quietly. “The Red Wings. Great game, brah. Your shoulder doin’ okay?”

Jack’s mouth slows down his chewing on instinct, and he swallows the rice with difficulty. Shitty never just tells Jack great game. Shitty talks about hockey like he’s the narrator in a porn film, with an enthusiasm unmatched by anyone Jack has ever met. Shitty once sang Jack’s praises for half an hour after a game against UND in which Samwell lost 2-0. That, combined with his tone -- something isn’t quite right, Jack thinks. He's more confident in that observation now, but his brain feels slower than usual and he’s too tired to connect any dots.

“Euh, yeah. I’ll be alright. Really have to shake it off and make sure I’m all there on Monday night, eh? We’ve had a good streak, but it’s always about how we play the next game. We’re getting better as a group.”

Jack’s tongue slips into hockey speak naturally before he can do anything to stop it, but instead of chirp him, Shitty makes a vague, throaty noise and doesn’t comment. “Yeah, I get what you mean. You and Mashkov really seem to hit it off out there, heh. Uh, listen -- I know you had to drive back for your practice, but. We didn’t really get the chance to talk much yesterday, and I guess…” Shitty pauses again, and Jack lowers the box to rest against his knee, apprehensive. “Well. D’ya have a moment? Because I’d really fuckin’ like to apologize for some shit.”

Jack’s hand clenches convulsively around his fork, a piece of chicken breast sliding off the tines and falling back into the box with a dull noise.

The early morning and then noon hours of Friday were an emotional blur. From the anxiety spike when Jack stepped off the plane to the car ride on the flooded highway; from the sleep-deprived, tearful conversation in Bitty's narrow bed to the cathartic brunch at Jerry’s with their friends. Jack drove straight home after his nap and stepped out of the car back in Providence to find his phone overflowing with chirping text messages. The chirps haven’t really died down over the weekend, but Jack doesn’t mind them, and he doesn’t think Bitty does either; it feels good to have a subject that’s been burdening them both treated lightheartedly. Trusting their friends with this secret isn't as heavy on Jack's shoulder as he feared it might be.

Shitty is the only one who hasn’t written much in the group chat. He and Jack talked briefly on the lawn outside the Haus after the six of them had returned from brunch, and then they resorted to roughhousing when the mood got too somber. Jack hoped that it’d be enough to put everything behind them, but if he pushes himself to think it through, a part of him has known that this conversation was coming. It wasn’t like Shitty to let things go so easily.

Jack's glad that Shitty can't see his face right now, because he can feel himself grimacing. He hopes his brief silence hasn’t been too revealing. “Shits -- it’s cool, yeah? We’re cool.”

“I don’t think we are, actually,” Shitty argues. His voice is growing strained. “You don’t have to talk, even --”

“C’mon, man, there’s really not much to say. Everything is good now --”

“Jack,” Shitty cuts him off, and the tone of his voice shuts Jack right up. Shitty can get wrapped up in things, can lose himself in long tirades about rights and wrongs and justice, but this tone sounds different than it has through the hundreds of rants Jack has been witness to. Shitty sounds dead serious. Jack blinks, and realizes: this isn’t Shitty being his normal self. He’s genuinely torn up about this. “Just -- will ya let me…? Please.”

“I…” Jack starts, but he doesn’t really know what he wants to say. He’s never been skilled at these kinds of conversations, and the odd feeling he got when he saw Shitty’s name on his screen squeezes even tighter than before, making him feel slightly nauseated.

“It’s -- I --. Jack, what I said in front of everyone during the home opening kegster… and all the other times I... That was some fucked up shit. I fucked up real bad, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jack tries again, but this time the words feel so wrong in his mouth that he has difficulty shaping his tongue around them. It tastes like an outright lie, although he wasn’t aware he was even lying at all.

Jack hadn’t recognized the churning in his gut until now, but Shitty’s steadfast apology intensifies the feeling and dredges up what Jack has clearly failed to notice. He wants to tell Shitty that there’s no need to apologize, but apparently that’s just not true; it’s only now that he realizes the sharp response he had to Shitty’s call is bitterness. Jack’s feelings actually were hurt by Shitty. Maybe he should be startled by discovering wounded feelings he wasn’t cognizant of for over a month, but if this past summer has taught Jack anything, it’s that sometimes he manages to overlook the most substantial of things.

“-- and it’s not enough to be chill about it now,” Jack blinks out of his thoughts and tunes back into Shitty’s distressed train of words, coming chopped and fast through the ear speaker. “I should’ve -- before, too, I should’ve created a safe enough fuckin’ environment --”

“You were always talking to us about creating safe environments, Shitty,” Jack interrupts him. His voice sounds hollow to his own ears, and he puts his fork in the box and the box back on the coffee table to free his hands. He’s still making sense of his own mental state, and he knows that whatever is going to come stumbling out of his mouth will be barely coherent at best. “It’s not -- it was just that -- you’re always saying it’s important, and then, câlice… It was hard enough, hiding, and then with you as well --.”

Everyone was allowed to be queer, for Shitty. Jack remembers how in sophomore year Shitty marched into the Haus, ecstatic about the five different people who had come out to him that same week, babbling about how great it was and how different Samwell was to Andover. He mentioned sexuality labels Jack had never even heard of, had accepted so effortlessly those borderline strangers who had trusted him with their identities. Shitty has always been the most open-minded person Jack knows, the one to talk endlessly about the inherent toxicity of heteronormativity and to lecture the team about never labeling others without their consent.

Jack’s not always good at pinpointing the root of his own feelings, but the moment he thinks of that thrilled look on Shitty’s face almost three years before, he knows, like a lightbulb going off, why he was hurt. Because it seemed like everyone was allowed to be queer, for Shitty -- except Jack. Like Jack wasn’t queer enough to warrant the same respectful treatment. Like he wasn’t really allowed to be queer at all. Jack had never felt particularly close to his sexuality, but when even Shitty assumed so assuredly that he couldn’t be anything but straight, it stung. He just hasn’t registered it until now.

There’s a split second of tense silence, and then Shitty says, “I didn’t even know you were having a hard time, brah,” the pace of his speech slowed down.

Jack’s eyebrows draw together. His right hand, absentmindedly, pinches the fabric of his suit pants and rubs the smooth texture between his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t -- what does that mean? It’s not like you asked.”

Shitty’s breath comes out in a harsh exhale, crackles in Jack’s ears. Jack can hear springs squeaking and sheets ruffling, the sounds of Shitty dropping heavily onto his bed. “Brah. How was I supposed to ask? You never pick up the damn phone anymore. Shit, man, I know fuck all about your life lately."

The fabric of Jack’s pants stretches in the tight grip of his fingers as he blinks, takes in Shitty’s accusation, and realizes he’s right all in the space of two and a half seconds. He can recall a few missed calls that he never got around to returning, but it didn’t seem so important at the time. He was, and still is, in the midst of his first NHL season, trying so hard not to get so lost in hockey and his own worries that he drowns in it and forgets to be a good boyfriend to Bitty.

It never occurred to him that he was investing so much effort into being a good boyfriend to Bitty that he wound up forgetting to be a good friend to everyone else. He knew Shitty and he weren’t talking as often, that things between them haven’t been great lately, but the truth is he had so many other things to worry about that he let it drift to the margins of his mind.

Jack lets go of his pants, rubs his palm down his thigh to smooth the creases away. His momentary bout of anger deserts him with the release of a slow, purposeful exhale. "You’re right. I’m sorry."

"No, no, shit,” Shitty says immediately, switching back from resigned to guilt-ridden in the matter of nanoseconds. “Don’t -- damn it, don’t apologize, oh shit, I’m victim blaming aren’t I, I totally didn’t mean to put this on you --"

"Shitty --"

There’s the sound of bed springs creaking again and then loud footsteps hitting a floor, which Jack assumes are the background sounds of Shitty rushing up from his bed to pace the length of his room. He’s seen Shitty do it across his small room in the Haus countless times, and it feels strange now, having it happen forty miles away. "It’s just, you know, I tried and you didn’t pick up and I get it, fuck do I get it, remember how in freshman year you forgot to talk to anyone for like a week during the preseason stress?"

Jack cracks a tiny, shaky smile that he knows won’t make it into his voice. His first few months at Samwell were a horrible time, fraught with loneliness and frequent panic attacks, too absorbed in thoughts of the path he was supposed to take to function in the path he ended up taking. His therapist helped with that, later, but before that there was Shitty. Determined to be Jack’s friend for no good reason at all. "Yeah. And you broke into my dorm room to make sure I wasn’t dead."

"So it wasn’t like I was offended you didn’t pick up or some bull,” Shitty hurries to finish, “I know you, I get it --"

But that’s wrong, Jack thinks, frowning deeply. Surely, Shitty must know that. "Shitty."

"What? No, seriously. It’s not the first time it happened, and with the pressure of playing in the league and all, I totally get it -- it’s just --"

"You’re allowed to be offended, Shits." Jack says quietly. His hand reaches up to curl around the phone and tug it away from the crook of his shoulder, but his muscles remain tense even when his shoulder drops down. His other hand is still fisted on top of his thigh and the purple shadows cast by the faint stars outside the windows heighten the grooves of his veins. "I know I -- I know it can get difficult -- with me --"

"No," Shitty interrupts, sounding even more emotional than before, a penitent snowball that keeps on rolling down the hill. Shitty’s capable of rolling on forever, if he thinks something is truly wrong. "No no no, Jack, I didn’t mean --"

"Shut up, Shitty." Jack says firmly. He preserves, reminding himself forcefully that the sentiment he wants to establish is too important to be derailed by Shitty’s atonement. His hands have begun to shake slightly, but he needs to get it out. "I know I’m worthy of love and friendship and all the crap you were about to say. I’m just saying --. You’re allowed to be hurt even if it isn’t new behavior. Just because I -- my anxiety -- y’know. If it hurts you, you’re allowed to be hurt."

The other side of the line goes quiet for a long moment, not even the sound of breathing coming through. Jack closes his eyes, counts to ten, tells himself that it’s Shitty and that the two of them are going to figure it out. Fighting with Shitty has always been mentally hard on Jack, has always felt like shaking the only foundation Jack had to stand on. It didn’t happen often, but Jack tries to remind himself that whenever it did they always came out intact on the other side. Arguing was a healthy way to understand your needs and the needs of the other person, his therapist told him.

When Shitty speaks, he sounds awed. "Christ on a cracker, man. That was fuckin’ wise. That Bits’ influence on you?"

Jack pauses to consider it seriously, taking time to recompose his brain. Being with Bitty -- it has taught him so much, about his own feelings and others' and how to put them into words, the importance of open communication. He told Shitty that the previous day after Jerry's -- feelings could easily not occur to him, even if he felt them very strongly. He coexisted with them without acknowledging their existence a lot of the time, and this phone call is only one example of it. Being with Bitty, having to be aware and give name and give value to his own feelings to make things work between them, has changed the way he interacted with his emotions. Made him understand himself better. He’s not at all sure he would’ve been capable of articulating himself in a conversation like this if not for the progress Bitty and he have made together.

But being aware of his worth as a person, and learning that his disorder didn’t define him but shouldn’t be brushed aside either, that wasn’t Bitty. “No, Shits. That’s your influence on me.”

This silence is even longer than the one before it, and then it’s broken by muffled sniffles on the other side. Jack's heart leaps, panic building in his chest -- but then Shitty says, throat choked up, “I thought -- fuck, Jack, this is gonna sound so motherfucking stupid. But I thought you didn’t, y’know. Need me anymore. I know this is on me too, I’m barely keeping my head above water here and the whole -- fuckin’ Harvard situation, it’s not… but each day we didn't talk and I saw your game scores, or I would see those Falcs vids… it looks like you have this spankin’ fuckin’ brand new life that I know shit about. And you’ve got Mashkov, and St. Martin, and…”

Jack can’t find adequate words for a long moment, and once he opens his mouth he’s surprised to hear his voice is thick, surprised to feel hot tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. “Shitty. Tater is great. And Marty is great, and -- Thirdy, and all of them. But.”

None of them are you, he wants to say, but that sounds too dumb to utter out loud. That’s not how Shitty and he talk to each other, or at least, it’s not how Jack talks to Shitty. Shitty is good at phrasing his feelings in ways Jack can handle, but Jack can’t ever make the right words come out of his mouth.

There’s another pause, his mind blanking, and then he says, “Tater didn’t make me sign a friendship contract.”

Shitty snorts, but it isn’t a happy sound. “Jacko --”

“No. Shits --. Tater didn’t make the effort to be my friend even when I was doing everything I could to push him away. He didn’t drag my ass to the Haus my freshman year after I hadn't talked to anyone but faculty in two weeks. He didn’t argue with Bergey until we were banked together on every roadie and was heartbroken when no one spread rumors about us hooking up.”

That shot goes wide. “Oh fuckity fuck, Jack, I’m a fucking dickhead --”

“Bordel de merde, Shitty, will you fucking listen?” Jack rubs his fingers over the bridge of his nose, feels his skin crease between his brows. “Tater didn’t make me go to Gender in Warfare in Early 20th Century America because he knew it’d end up one of my favorite classes, or learnt my story about the fire extinguisher and the football team by heart, or -- or have been defending me behind my back since the first week he knew me. Tater’s great. I’m -- you know, uh, thankful, for having people on the Falcs. I didn’t think it could be -- after the guys at Samwell, no team would ever be the same.”

“Yeah,” Shitty says, sadly, in the tone of someone who knows exactly what Jack means.

Jack’s throat bobs when he swallows, chest aching. “And they’re great. But Tater -- or Marty, or any of them -- they’re not...”

None of them are you, Jack wants Shitty to hear, gripping his pants in his hand again to balance himself. He doesn’t know how to say it in a way that would make Shitty hear him. None of them could ever be you.

There’s once again silence between them, only interrupted by Shitty’s quiet sniffles and the erratic beating of Jack’s heart. His phone is too warm on his ear, clammy from sweat smearing over the screen, but he can’t bring himself to put Shitty on speaker. It feels like they’re too far apart to have this conversation already, like Shitty should be sitting here on the couch next to Jack in flimsy underwear like he was every time they needed to talk like this over the past four years.

After a long moment, Shitty makes an ambiguous rasping noise and admits, “I was jealous.”

Jack winces. “I’m sorry.”

“No. Yeah, I mean, apology accepted, whatever, just. I was jealous they got to be there for you every day, really be there in the moments I used to live through with you that I now know zilch about. I was used to that being me.” He then adds, much more grimly, “Except apparently I sucked ass at being there for you at all when it counted.”

Jack sighs. They veered off topic to talk about something Jack considers more important, but now they were back to that and he knows in the pit of his stomach that they, both of them, won’t be able to move on until they talk this through. This is a conversation they need to have, even if it would be easier for Jack to not have it at all. “Shitty. I need to tell you something.”

The thing about Shitty is that he has faults like the rest of them, but Jack has always known that he’d drop anything if Jack needed him. He knows because it goes unconditionally both ways. Shitty’s voice goes immediately even and he wastes no time before saying, “I'm listening.”

Jack swallows. It feels -- heavy, on his breastbones. It didn’t before, it didn’t at Jerry's. He doesn’t remember this weight from years ago, when he first talked about it with his parents, and then -- later, too much later -- with his therapist. His chest was so laden with other concerns then that there was no room for anything more, and this burden was only ever an afterthought. At Jerry's he was thinking of Bitty, of Bitty’s happiness and Jack's own happiness with him, and the necessity of the action for their joint happiness. It didn’t leave any space for this weight.

Now he can feel the weight. It’s stupid. Shitty already knows, and besides, it’s Shitty. Jack knows Shitty so well that he can practically predict the exact words he will use, and even if he couldn’t, he knows Shitty would never turn him away. Yet his chest feels tight, like he’s holding in all of his air, and his fingers are again shaking against his thigh. “Shitty, I'm dating Bittle.”

Shitty makes a baffled sound, clearly not expecting this choice of confession. “I -- yeah, dude, I know.”

“I’m dating Bittle,” Jack reiterates determinedly, eager to get it over with. “He’s a guy.”

Shitty goes quiet for a moment, and then he says, voice low, “Okay.”

Jack wasn’t sure he was going to say it, but now that they’re here, this is something he wants Shitty to know. “He’s not the first guy I’ve been with.”

Shitty’s sharp intake of breath at this is audible even over the phone, but other than that he doesn’t react outwardly. Jack's shaking hand lifts up to rub over his chest while he waits for Shitty to say something, and Shitty doesn’t keep him waiting long. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

That’s almost exactly the reaction Jack expected to hear, but for some reason he doesn’t feel settled. “It never came up before.”

“That’s okay, buddy,” Shitty reassures him. Jack’s not sure what Shitty is thinking, if he’s thinking anything at all. This probably isn’t as big a deal to him as it feels like to Jack.

Jack frowns down at the shadows of his socked feet in the dark, thinks it over, and then corrects, “No, actually -- no. It never came up with anyone else. But I did think of telling you. More than once. You were the only one… but I had reasons not to. Or, I thought I did.”

“That’s still cool, brah,” Shitty hurries to interrupt. “You don’t have to --”

“No, because,” Jack sighs, trails off midsentence. He doesn’t want Shitty to make this easy for him, to allow Jack to take the exit he’s being offered. He knows they could stop the discussion right there and Shitty would never say a thing, but he doesn’t want this to hang over their friendship for the rest of time, and he knows that it could if he doesn’t force himself to dig deeper. “Because when you assumed that if I had someone it must’ve been a girlfriend, it hurt. I didn’t realize before -- I thought I was upset because Bitty was hurt, and I hurt him even more with my reaction, and it mattered more at the time. But it hurt. And that’s not entirely fair to you, because you had no reason to think otherwise. Because I didn’t tell you.”

There’s more rustling in the background, and Shitty talks over him before the last word is out of his mouth. “Jack, no, you’re under no obligation to disclose your identity to anyone and it doesn’t give them any right to assume -- I assumed and it was so fucking wrong --”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, because it was. He’s not trying to argue that it wasn’t. Shitty was wrong, but that’s not the point Jack is trying to make.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Shitty sounds contrite, and Jack can almost imagine the look on his face now. The small wrinkle in his forehead, the downward slope of his mustache, the sharp angle of his jaw. Shitty always looks older when he feels guilty about something. “So fuckin’ sorry.”

“That’s okay, man. Eh. Well, it's not, but it's forgiven.” And it is, Jack knows. He’s already forgiven Shitty, would have to try so hard not to forgive Shitty. They’ve hurt each other in the past and they’ll most likely hurt each other again in the future, but it’s never done intentionally. Shitty’s friendship is worth all of this crap and always has.

“I guess I just... “ Shitty lowers his voice, and Jack has to press the phone harder into his ear to hear him. “Fuck, I don’t want to excuse my actions, this does not in any way justify the shit I said. But I guess, in my mind, even though I know you should never assume about anyone, I did think that because it’s you… that you’d tell me. If there was ever anything to tell.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack says this time. He’s not sure Shitty knows this, but this is what he was trying to get to before. What Shitty is saying is reasonable even if it isn’t ideal.

“Fuck no. What the fucking fuck are you apologizing for, you idiot --”

“I’m not apologizing for not telling you, Shits,” Jack stops him before it becomes another rant. He’s growing tired of using so many words at once, feeling the toll of the unexpected emotional turmoil he’s dragging his overworked body through. “I know what you said was wrong, and I know I didn’t have to tell you. I’m saying I’m sorry if you were hurt by it. And I'm apologizing if it made you feel like I didn't trust you, or. Or some shit.”

Another pause follows Jack’s words, and he has to stifle the urge to collapse sideways into the couch and shove his face into a cushion until everything goes away. This conversation, as necessary as it is, doesn’t come naturally to either of them. They’ve been talking about their feelings for too long now and it’s starting to get awkward and overwhelming.

“I’m not saying I wasn’t super touched by your previous comment,” Shitty says, suddenly. “Because stereotypical masculinity is complete bullshit and I’m not ashamed to admit I teared the fuck up. But Jack -- Bitty has done some serious work on you. Or, like, you know, healthy relationships and all, you two worked on yourselves with each other to be better and all that, but. Man, I don’t think that’s a distinction you would’ve made six months ago.”

Jack considers it. The idea of someone’s hurt being valid even if the reason for it didn’t make sense probably isn’t a concept he would’ve been able to grasp, or at least would not have paid much thought to. Looking back, he was probably hurt dozens of times by little comments in the Haus, or things he heard around campus, or moments of feeling left out by his team; but when the reason for his hurt wasn’t completely logical it was harder for him to allow himself that pain. He would usually distract himself from it, instead. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“But can I just say again -- I'm so fucking sorry for being a heteronormative jackass. I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry for hurting Bits, I’m sorry for --”

Esti de câlice de tabarnak. Jack drops his face into his palm and sighs over the string of Shitty’s rapidly escalating apologies. Jack is fully aware that Shitty is just going to apologize until they’re both old and gray if Jack doesn’t stop him. “Shitty, can you knock it?”

Shitty hesitates, but the flood of his words stops. “I miss you,” is what he says eventually.

Jack drops his hand down, leans his weight on his elbows and blinks at the dark room. Shitty used to tell him that all of the time. When they were apart on school breaks; when they were separated on roadies; when Jack had two lectures and a senior workshop on Wednesday nights and Shitty wouldn’t see him for several consecutive hours. Shitty’s affection was always abundant and inescapable, and Jack didn't know it was something he was lacking until he finally hears it. “I miss you, too, man.”

Shitty lets the gravity of it, the seriousness in Jack's voice settle between them, the earnestness he wouldn’t usually hand over easily when they were back at school. And then he says, “It’s hard as fuck, man. It’s hard to admit that it’s hard, too. It’s hard to see Lards’ pics from kegsters I can’t attend anymore, and it’s hard to find friends in this pretentious shithole full of pretensions dicks, and -- Harvard is fucking hard, Jack. And I hate being away from you guys, but I don’t wanna bring you down with my sad. You assholes are my goddamn family, there’s nothing that’s ever gonna replace that. It sucks knowing that I'm stuck here. I miss you so much it drives me fuckin’ insane.”

Jack knows, instantly and wholeheartedly, what Shitty is talking about. He’s living his dream and he loves the Falcs and he’s sincerely grateful for all of it even on his worst days. But sometimes stepping off the ice after a grueling practice and getting pictures of Bitty, laughing with Holster and Ransom on the ice at Faber -- it aches somewhere deep inside him. Sometimes he lies awake in foreign hotel rooms in foreign cities, and while most nights he longs for nothing more than Bitty’s presence, others he closes his eyes and wishes Shitty was there to crawl into his bed again. Sometimes he puts on his jersey before games and imagines the blue and yellow are red and white. His team from Samwell is his family, too, and sometimes missing them feels like missing an amputated limb.

“I wish we got to see each other more,” Jack squeezes out. His windpipe feels strangled, and for a moment he thinks that if he blinks too hard tears might well up again. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s so tired his body is shutting down, or because he’s been holding on to more emotions than he previously thought. “I didn’t know --. I feel the same way, Shitty, but I didn’t know you felt like that. I’m sorry we didn’t really talk much lately.”

It wasn’t something Jack was consciously aware of, but he more or less assumed that if Shitty was ever struggling he would just reach out for help. Shitty was always the better one of the two of them at communicating his feelings, at saying when he needed something or was going through a rough time. It never occurred to Jack to reach out and ask because he always figured that Shitty would come to him first. It's a startling realization. He really isn’t as good a friend as Shitty deserves.

“‘S not your fault,” Shitty objects, even though in some ways it really is. But Shitty means it, Jack knows, despite the lingering hints of anxiety. Shitty wouldn’t say it if he didn’t honestly believe it wasn’t Jack’s fault.

“Maybe, but you should make time for the things that matter to you, right? I’ll try to be better about that. I wanna be there for you, too.”

Shitty sighs, and the tails of it turn into a breathy, weary laugh. “Fuck, Jacko, this is a fuckin’ sobfest. Shit, man. Yeah. I’ll try, too. We could Skype, even. You know I miss that mug of yours.”

Jack finally pulls the phone away from his ear, wipes the sweat tracks away and switches the call to speakerphone. His calendar app is full of cute little reminders Bitty leaves anonymously, like 06:30 work hard and have fun! or 11:11 someone is thinking of you. He’s developed a habit of checking his calendar often these past six months, counting down the days until he gets to see Bitty next. He’s sure it won’t be easy, especially with the progression of the Falconers’ season, but from now on he’ll have to make every effort to fit more people into his schedule. Bitty makes him happy, but he’s not the only one who does.

Jack scrolls through the events logged into his upcoming week. He’s got a game on Monday and one at home on Wednesday, and then Thursday is American Thanksgiving. Bitty is throwing together a whole meal for the Samwell team. He told Jack that he’s under no obligation to come if practice time doesn’t allow it, but... “Are you going to Hausgiving on Thursday?”

Shitty curses loudly. “Fuck, I fuckin’ wish, but I don’t know if that’s smart. I’ve got this fuckin’ test coming up. But I promised Lar-- uh --”

Jack smirks, even if it’s only to himself in an empty apartment. Lardo texted him after Jerry’s to let him know that the two of them will exchange deets privately like civilized bros, but Shitty still seems to be under the illusion that he’s fooling someone. Like his heart-eyes haven��t been obvious from space -- and Jack is painfully aware that if he noticed, that really says something. “Lardo, eh? Not getting out of that one.”

He can almost see Shitty’s answering furious blush from all those miles away. “Fuck you, Zimmermann, don’t make this about me. What I was sayin’ is, I wanna be there super freakin’ bad -- we all know I will gladly sell my right leg for Bitty’s cooking --”

“And for Lardo’s company,” Jack chirps, incredibly satisfied with this turn of conversation.

“I will fuck you right up, don’t you think I won’t!” Shitty threatens emptily, even though Jack takes him down every single time. “Seriously. Your bro becomes a pro athlete and suddenly he thinks he’s a goddamn comedian. Anyway. For Bitty’s cooking, I will make an effort. You got team stuff?”

“No,” Jack says with finality, swiping his calendar closed. He always feels better when things are put into action. “I think I’m going.”

“For Bitty?” Shitty asks, most likely trying to chirp Jack back.

“Well. Yes,” Jack says, perfectly honest. He’s not in any way ashamed of how much he wants to be near Bitty all of the time. He doesn’t think he can remember ever being less ashamed of anything in his life. “But also for you. Think you can meet me there?”

Shitty’s quiet. And then he says, “For my best friend? I’ll meet you halfway across the universe, Jackabelle.”

After the two of them hang up the call, Jack doesn’t move, his eyes fixed blindly in the direction of the windows across the room. His food is growing cold on the coffee table, but Jack thinks that at this point he might genuinely be too tired to eat. Whatever little energy he had left after the game was spent on this conversation with Shitty. He doesn’t regret it; they needed to say all of those things. Jack needed to hear all of those things, both so he could forgive Shitty for something he didn’t know he was holding onto, and so he could work on being a more considerate friend.

The game plan is solid, though, Jack decides. Thanksgiving dinner at the Haus will bring the opportunity to be completely honest with his friends after months of hiding a big aspect of his life from them. And it’d be fun, too. Ransom would put together actual charts for the seating arrangement, and Holster would draw everyone into a betting pool on the football game results, and Bitty would inevitably prepare insane amounts of food using the frogs as his sous chefs. He would probably insist that they’d hold hands around the table and say one thing each of them wants to give thanks for, as well.

Jack doesn’t mind American Thanksgiving, but he’s never really seen the point of that ritual. He’s known for a long time now what he's truly grateful for.

#omgcp #jackshitty #jackshitty fic #omgcheckplease #pavfics #i decided not to wait for friendship day because i'm not sure i'll be around to post then #but i hope you'll enjoy this anyway? #i wanted to write something about their friendship in early y3 in forever