#it just fucking sucks. and i wish i could change it.

[lanadelnegan]

Ghost - Part 5 (final)

Negan x Glenn'sSister!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst, angry sex, p in v, anal, sex on Negan's bike, slight daddy kink, situationship

Part 4 here // Part 1 here

“Knew I’d find you here, doll.” Negan got off his bike, sighing before he sat next to me on the steps of the cabin. “Wanna tell me why the hell you just up and left?” His leg pressed against mine as I stared ahead at the ground, unable to look at him. 

“Just needed time to think.”

“Look at me.” His voice was deep, demanding, and I could hear the pain dripping from it. I refused to look at him.. refused to blink. All I could do was stare at a walker pinned to a tree in the distance like it might save me from this moment. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Negan nod disappointedly before looking away and my heart sank.  “We’ve both had enough time to think, y/n.” His voice cracked when he said my name like tears were forming in his throat. “On the drive over here, I had every intention of fighting for you. For us. But then I thought, I don't want to be with someone who isn’t certain they wanna be with me too.”

I nodded acceptingly. “That’s fair.” I refused to cry, not wanting him to see how this was affecting me. I’d be brave now, and feel sorry for myself later like always. “So why are you even here, then?” I asked and the question made Negan scoff. “Because I at least have enough respect for you to tell you goodbye.”

“I guess you don’t remember our first night together.” I scoffed back at him. 

“How can I ever fuckin’ forget? … and that? Is the problem. Buuut…” His voice changed suddenly, like he switched into the asshole character I saw at Alexandria the first time. “...If I can survive losing Lucille, I’ll damn sure be okay losing you, darlin’.” 

His words felt like a punch to my gut, leaving me numb and speechless. Negan stood after a few moments, whistling as he walked back to his bike but I was behind him before he could reach it. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” I whisper-yelled, not wanting to draw the attention of the dead. 

Negan quickly turned to face me, smirking while he towered over me. “It means.. I’ll go back to my wives at the sanctuary. And you? can sit here for the rest of your lonely little life.. wishing you still had me.” 

My only response was my hand colliding with his cheek hard enough to sting my skin and draw blood from his lip. Negan grinned wider, showing his white teeth as he wiped a drop of blood away with his thumb. There was a darkness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before and it made me wonder how I was stupid enough to ever believe there was good in him. 

“Fuck you.” My jaw clenched as I spoke and mindfully held back my fists at my sides, desperately wanting to press one into his arrogant skull. 

“Yeah?” He asked, tilting his head. “Okay.” He breathed before pulling me forward by my wrist and smashing his lips into mine. I tasted the lingering blood on his mouth and sucked harder at his lip like it was some miracle drug that would heal me from his hurtful words. 

He bit me back and I shoved him away, breathing heavily. A low grumble came from his throat before he pulled me back to him and wrapped his fingers around throat. “You want me to stop? Tell me.” His grip tightened around my neck and my lips remained closed. His head fell back as he let out a loud chuckle and returned his heavy gaze to mine. My eyes watered from the pressure building in my neck and his eyes softened along with his grip.

Negan looked away before letting go of my neck completely. For a moment I thought he felt bad about it, until he grabbed my wrist and maneuvered me to bend over his bike. I gasped when my stomach pressed into the seat and knocked the wind out of my lungs. Before I had a chance to stand, Negan yanked my shorts down along with my underwear and lined his already hard and ready cock up to my entrance. 

"You ready to stop with the dramatics, darlin'? We both know we can't stay away from each other." He slid into me with one deep push and kept himself there for a moment. "Feel how perfect that is? We were made for each other, baby." He began thrusting and my moans grew louder as heat flooded my core. 

His hand found my ponytail and he jerked it harshly, making me yelp and my back arched while his dick reached a deeper level inside me.

"Negan, fuuuuck, feels so good."

"I know baby, I know." He breathed heavily, keeping his pace fast and steady. Letting go of my ponytail, his hand dropped to my ass while the other remained squeezing my hip. I exhaled a pained breath when I felt his thumb force its way into my other hole.

"So pretty and tight." He said, looking down to watch his thumb and cock slide in and out of me simultaneously. Then suddenly he removed both and I whined at the empty feeling.

He circled the head of his dick around my asshole and my eyes went wide with the sudden painful stretch of his tip entering.

"Fuck." Negan grunted before pushing the rest of length inside me until his balls were pressed against my pussy lips. We both moaned in unison as his pace sped up. "Shit, baby, look at you. Taking daddy's cock like a fucking pro. So fucking proud of my girl." He yanked my ponytail again, hitting a spot that made me see stars.

"Negan!" I practically screamed.

His other hand reached in front of me, covering my mouth. His fingers gripped painfully around my face, bringing tears to my eyes while he ripped my insides apart.

"Goddamn it, doll. Gonna fill that little ass with my cum and watch it drip outta you. You want that? Huh?" He pulled you back further towards him, biting your neck after whispering the filthy words in your ear.

The heat continued to build in your core and you felt yourself getting close. "Yes, please Negan. I need it, please!" I begged desperately.

Negan chuckled darkly and pulled back, leaving you empty again. He finished himself off with his hand, grunting as he spilled onto the ground.

I turned around, pulling my shorts back up quickly. "What the hell?" I asked, confused at his sudden change of plans.

"Ahhh." He said relieved, buttoning himself back up and adjusting his clothing. "Something wrong, darlin'?"

I scoffed, staring at him in disbelief. "No, not at all."

"Good. Because I'm done pleasing you, sweetheart." Negan smirked at you, throwing a leg over his bike and starting the engine.

"Just like that, huh? You're just.. giving up that easy? Did I mean anything to you?"

"Of course. Always will. And when you work out your own shit and realize you fucked up, I'll be here. I love you, y/n. Nothing will change that."

I watched him disappear in the distance as he drove off, taking my heart with him.

Three weeks later:

I've settled back into Alexandria, slowly making amends with the group. The Saviors had a falling out the day we attacked the Sanctuary and we haven't seen any of them since. Except Negan.

After our escapade at the cabin, Negan had apparently drove to Alexandria and surrendered. He's been a prisoner here since the day he showed up and my heart hurts for him. I haven't been to see him, and by doing so, I'm only hurting myself. I guess its my punishment to myself for letting him go. But its been three weeks now and I can't wait any longer.

Everyone knows about our past situationship after I felt it necessary to come clean. I figured we would never be able to move on unless I told the truth. At first it didn't go well, but time mends everything and I think they're starting to forgive me.

It was getting dark when I knocked on Rick's door, explained the cause of my desperation, and he reluctantly gave me the keys to Negan's cell. Arriving at the door of the basement, I took a deep breath, and walked down the stairs into darkness. The only light in the cold room was the moonlight shining through one small window by his cell and it reminded me of our moment together in the trailer - the day I took a bullet for him. I knew then I was in love him with him and nothing has changed since.

"Negan.." I whispered, walking closer.

He lied on his back on his cot, looking up at the ceiling with a hand behind his head.

Silence.

"Please talk to me."

Nothing. He wouldn't even look at me.

"Ok, I'll talk then." I leaned against his bars. "I'm sorry it's taken me awhile to come see you. I needed some time to work out my shit - as you put it." I paused, giving him a moment to react but he didn't. "Well.. it's worked out. If you care?" I said teasingly.

His head fell to the side as he looked at me, trying not to smile. I took that as a welcome sign and quickly opened his cell door with the key. He barely had time to stand up before I ran to his arms and kissed him like my life depended on it.

He lifted me before laying me down on the cot and climbing over me. His mouth stayed connected to mine and without words, we made a million promises to each other in that moment.

We'd never leave again.

A/n: This final part was slightly difficult for me to finish. I have so many other one-shots in process that I'm ready to focus on, so I'm sorry if this felt rushed. But this entire story was so fun to write. Thanks so much to whoever requested it! <3

Tag list: tag list: @loganlostitall @chaospossum @negansbabydoll66 @redqueenphoenix @n3g5nx @crustyweirdo @youngpersonaathletebear @sadgirlzluvdilfs @ilovebill-and-gustav @neganscumbucket @manipulatorpoem @im-a-goddamn-cat @raininhell @mahogany-cherry-wine @daryldixmedown @munsonslovergirl @sanctuaryforthelost @thelauraborealis @carlgrimesbbg @c3linesworld @blueheisenbergtragedy @startwinklekitty @darlingmadelinee @oceandeepthirst @jschlattsqtip @lavenderchai @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @neganswoman @n7crophiliac @cats-writing @alldevilsarehere90 @natykacenka @queermilfs @stasiaangelsinner @lupa-03 @sadgirlzluvdilfs @pamago-bb @javier-penas-wifexx420 @motelprincess444 @thatonefroggirl @myhappyplaceofstuff @darlingmadelinee @used2beee @easystreet07 @princess-23-xoxo @twdxtrevor @dilfsandmartinis @sarahhxx03 @minaxcarter @kukka-roo @rinsdesires @6kaja9 @sasiiik9174 @fanficwriter5 @theoraekenslover

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[mionemymind]

Can you plsss do an imagine with Wanda (or whoever u feel is right) where reader is a formula 1 driver? It'd be so cool. But you don't hv to ofc. I'm a new follower and i absolutely adore ur works <3

Getaway Driver

Summary: Based off my incorrect quote, Y/n is the getaway driver for Wanda's mission.

Warnings: Shooting, Cursing, Slight Blood, Fluff

A/n: Before y'all comment, I really suck ass at action sequences lmaoo. Please try to imagine something better. But this is for the folks that love F1 and Wanda (@thatdudeusimpfor @canyonyodeler @pikachooo3 @rayisaknight) also gif credits go to Redbull

Word Count: 3.5k

Masterlist

“Lights out and away we go!” The rumble of engines passed by as cars zoomed past the start. The roaring cheers coming from the fans grew louder with each second. 

Starting in pole position, Y/n gets away unscathed from the mess in the back as well as her current teammate, Max Verstappen. They stay side by side through the chicane, protecting the front positions as many drivers behind them try to slip past. 

In between turns two through five, multiple close calls occur as the the Stake F1 team showcase breaking issues this early on in the race. Y/n hardly got out of the chicane without hearing mishaps from the back. 

“Fucking cunt,” George Russel stated to his race engineer, Marcus Dudley. The fans screamed and laughed as the message was played out loud for the whole broadcast to hear. 

To mediate the tensions, a commentator stated, “For this British Grand Prix, we have a total of 52 laps with a forecast of dry conditions.” 

Coming from the paddock, Will Button announces his guesses for the race today, “It will honestly be a close call for first between the young driver of Redbull, Y/n, and her older teammate, Max. I know a Redbull 1 / 2 position will happen but my money is on Y/n as they’ve been on a winning streak for the past three races. As for third position, Lando Norris in the McClaren would be my final guess.”

Will moved closer to the McClaren garage as multiple shots show off the engineers, mechanics, and leaders. “They’ve recently redesigned their floor as well as the front wing. This big upgrade in the middle of the season might be the break that McClaren has been hoping for since the start of the season.” 

Coming up on their first lap, Y/n still leads the race. “51 more to go,” she thinks to herself. Although her head should be in the race, her heart couldn’t help but wish for this race to be already over. A certain red head was all she could think of. 

Two hours away from Silverstone, Wanda listens closely for enemies. She could sense two of them guarding the very door she needed to be in. “On my signal,” Steve mouthed. 

Just as Steve gave the go ahead, the sound of F1 commentary started to play in Wanda’s ear. “Lights out and away we go!” Wanda walked through the hallway, incapacitating the guards, allowing Natasha and Steve to drag them to an empty room. 

Natasha gave Wanda an ‘are you serious’ look as the commentary also played in her comms. “Why am I hearing about a race right now?” They all stood outside the entrance to the headquarters room. Around five guys and one guard were currently there from the looks of it. 

“Sorry, I had meant to only set it to my comms.” Wanda brought out the hologram and changed the settings before looking at Steve for the next set of instructions. 

“Since when did you care about racing?” Wanda shrugged in response as Steve signaled with his hands on which people to take care of. 

“I’ll tell you later.” 

“Are you fucking blind?” Y/n yelled to her race engineer. Lance Stroll had almost hit her side at turn seven, almost costing her the race had they actually made contact. “If he keeps racing like that, he’s bound to hurt somebody.”

“Copy that. We’re already in contact with the FIA about that.” Y/n’s grip on the steering wheel hardened. It was only lap 19 of 52 and her nerves were getting the best of her. She knew the race was going to be easy but her excitement to see Wanda again was causing her to lose focus. 

“I hope she’s watching me somehow,” Y/n thought. It was stupid to hope though as the driver knew Wanda was currently on a mission. It would be highly unlikely that she would watch her race, there were more important things than watching cars go round and round. 

Regardless though, winning this race was important to Y/n. This was the first race as an official couple. While the media hasn’t found out yet, she certainly didn’t want to give Wanda a bad impression. After all, if your girlfriend was continuously saving lives, the least she could do was win a race. 

“This ones for you Wanda.” 

“That should be the last of them.” Steve tied up the last enemy on base and sent the coordinates to backup for retrieval. “Let’s get to the rendezvous point. It’s around 30 minutes west from here on foot.” 

Wanda pulled out her secured phone as they walked out the secured building. She opened up the F1 app and immediately tuned in for the last couple minutes of the race. 

“We have a battle between the two Red Bulls, Max Verstappen and Y/n Y/l/n, for P1.” Steve gave a disapproving nod as they walked through London, trying their best to blend in with the crowd. Wanda could care less of Steve’s approval for her antics. The mission was nearly over and she wanted to at least support her girlfriend from far away. 

“Oh God! There’s a crash at Luffield! It’s a Mercedes!” Wanda watched in horror as the car flipped through the gravel multiple times before hitting the fence, landing in an awkward position. Had the gravel not been there, the car would have surely gone through the fence. A safety car was brought out, allowing people to pit. 

“I believe that was George Russel’s car that had just crashed.” Wanda flipped through the drivers until she found Y/n. Although she knew that wasn’t her car, seeing her safe and sound brought Wanda relief. 

“Jesus, is George okay?” Y/n asked. Wanda smiled at her girlfriend’s natural concern. Although it was one lap away from finishing, it was nice to know that the safety of others was the first thing that Y/n thought of. 

“Wanda.” Looking up, Natasha gave a silent command to put her phone away. “We have people tailing us. When I say go, run as fast as you can. Make sure to stay close.” 

Slyly looking back, Wanda could point out the people that looked out of place. “Fuck me.” 

“Thank you all for the wonderful race! The car was practically a bullet and everyone did so amazing today.” Y/n slid into first place and did a mini celebration on her car. 

As the camera crew came closer, she jumped in front of them and grabbed the camera. Taking off her helmet and balaclava, Y/n yelled, “This win is for my beautiful girlfriend! Can’t wait to see you babe!” 

Looking at the time on the screen, Y/n rushed past the cameras and went straight into the paddock. She ignored all the weird glances and congratulations she got on the way, the race win still fueling her adrenaline.

“Y/n? What are you doing?” Christian yelled but Y/n ignored it. It wasn’t like Red Bull had the balls to fire her for not celebrating.

Her assistant, Niya, had followed suit as Y/n took off her helmet into her dressing room. “Is my car ready Niya?” She nodded as she typed up a statement on her iPad. The team was going to be unhappy at the lack of answers but she knew they were ultimately happy with the points she scored for the team.

In no time, Y/n was out of her race suit and in an all black attire. She ran out of her room, yelling a thank you to Niya. Up on the screens, it showed Max at P2 while Lando was at P3 just like Will guessed. Several news outlets tried to catch up to Y/n, but she was not having it. 

“For the first time in F1 history, we don’t have the P1 spot filled. It seems our winner of the race had an emergency situation to attend to. Regardless, congratulations to Red Bull for the 1 / 2 positions.” 

Y/n smiled at Will’s comment as she passed the gates. This was going to be all over the news ‘Y/n runs off after P1 victory’. Yet Y/n could care less for all the speculations. She had to see her girl and nothing was stopping her. 

Hopping into her jet black Ferrari, Y/n sped out Silverstone. It was around an hour drive to the rendezvous point, but knowing the country like the back of her hand, she was guaranteed to make it on time.

“Does anyone know who the getaway driver is today? Fury stated that we’ll know the day of the mission, but I was never briefed about it,” Steve inquired as the team finally got away from the enemies. 

Wanda glanced up from her phone, “It’s my new girlfriend.” Not a lot of things shocked the assassin and the super soldier, but that comment did. 

“Is she qualified?” Natasha quipped. She found it strange that Wanda hadn’t mentioned her new partner. In addition, the lack of information on Wanda’s girlfriend was also alarming. What if she was the enemy? What if she was an assassin? So many questions ran through her head, but kept her anxiety at bay. 

“More than qualified,” Wanda stated with a proud smile, “She’s a driver at her day job. Plus Fury gave the approval for it just for this mission only.” 

Natasha and Steve digested Wanda’s words and continued to walk. However, Natasha wanted to know more, even if Fury did approve of it. “How did you two meet?” 

“Funny story, I was actually running away…” 

Wanda was surrounded. At every single avenue and exit was a marked enemy and with no back up, she only had herself to rely on. “Shit.” 

Wanda hurried herself out of the hotel, still noticing all the eyes around her. Thank goodness that it was still broad daylight. The enemies weren’t that careless to attract a crowd. 

As if sending a silent prayer, all attention diverted to the red ferrari that pulled up to the hotel. Before the valet could go up, Wanda rushed to and opened the passenger seat. She hopped in and closed the door.

Turning to the driver’s side, Wanda fully expected some old man to occupy the seat, but when her eyes met comforting brown eyes, a pretty smile, and furrowed eyebrows, she was hooked. The red head was distracted for a couple of seconds, before asking, “Do you know how to drive?”

Wanda knew she looked ridiculous. Any sane person would immediately kick her out, heck even call the police. Furthermore, the chances of a rich stranger even offering help was little to none, but when Wanda reached for Y/n’s emotions, she was even more surprised to see that this stranger didn’t feel any of that. 

“I do.” The accent almost made Wanda forget everything, but the sight of enemies getting closer made her focus. 

“Then drive.” 

“So you hijacked your girlfriend’s car, asked her to get you out of a sticky situation, and then survived?” Steve chuckled at Natasha’s question. The story felt like something out of an action movie, but then again, they were superheroes, so anything could happen. 

“I don’t know how, but she managed to get me out of Spain safely. I even asked her to drop me off at our pickup location. Her car wasn’t bulletproof, but she was so fast, they could hardly get a scratch on her.” Wanda smiled at the memory of their first encounter. 

“At the end, she didn’t even ask why I needed to run away. I think she recognized me from the news and just wanted to help. But before I left, she asked for a date.” How crazy does one need to be to ask the very person that put you in danger on a date? 

“I said yes because why not? I liked her and it was the least I could do after she spent a whole hour driving.” It was Natasha’s turn to laugh at how made up the whole story sounded. But when the assassin could not pick up on a single lie, it made her chuckle more. 

“Well I can’t wait to meet her,” Steve remarked. They were 10 minutes away from the pick up point. 

“And she better knows how to drive,” Natasha added. Wanda nodded quickly, the nerves finally making its way to her head. 

“I promise. She’s good.” 

“Where is she?” Natasha didn’t mean to sound aggressive, but they were still on a mission, something she ran a tight ship on. The crew were a minute early to the pick up point and Wanda had forgotten to ask Y/n to share her location. Right now, the witch paced back and forth with her phone in hand. 

The assassin didn’t want to add to Wanda’s already nervous state but they needed to leave. Before Wanda could send another message, a loud car screeched to a halt in front of them. Once the smoke settled, Wanda smiled at the sight of the getaway car. 

Opening the car door, Y/n got out, wearing a suit similar to her driver attire but in all black. “Am I late?” The wide cocky smile on Y/n’s face was hard to hide. The driver knew she was on time but didn’t dare to comment. 

Immediately noticing her girlfriend, Y/n closed the door and picked Wanda up by the thighs, spinning her around. The giggle that escaped Wanda’s lips almost made Natasha barf at how love sick the two were. 

As Y/n placed Wanda back down, she pulled her in by the waist and gave her a long kiss. The two almost forgot that they were in front of a crowd as Wanda ran her hands through Y/n’s hair. 

Natasha wanted to grumble at the unprofessionality but Steve’s look stopped her. Wanda was in love. This was something Steve had never seen before, and he was not going to dare to ruin it. This wasn’t to say that the assassin wasn’t happy for Wanda. She really was, but the mission was still the priority. 

Breaking the kiss, Y/n mumbled, “I’m not too late am I babe?” Wanda shook her head no as a large smile was plastered on her face. 

While holding Wanda’s hand, Y/n looked at Steve and Natasha, “Hi. I’m Y/n Y/l/n. It’s nice to meet you.” Letting go of Wanda’s hand, Y/n reached out to shake their hands. 

Steve was the first to shake Y/n’s hand and said, “Nice to meet you. My name is Steve.” 

Natasha bumped Steve out the way and shook Y/n’s hand, immediately liking the firm grip Y/n had. “I’m Natasha. It’s nice to meet you, but I think we should get out of here.” 

Stepping back to Wanda’s side, “You’re right, let’s get y’all out of here.” Y/n stepped around to open Wanda’s door, something both Steve and Natasha mentally noted.

Once everyone was buckled in, it was like a switch flipped inside Y/n’s brain as she zoomed from the meetup location. 

“I think someone is following us.” Everyone besides Y/n turned around and noticed the entourage that was trying their best to follow. 

They were barely 10 minutes away from the location before more enemies found them. “Do you think you can lose them?” Steve asked, ready to fight. Two of the five cars started to get closer. Y/n looked at her side mirror, hearing the sound of turbo being applied. 

“Those two will be a problem,” Y/n stated. 

“I’ll handle that.” Natasha rolled down her window and began to shoot the tires of the cars. After a couple tries, the red head got back in the car with a huff. “They’re bullet proof. Wanda can you handle them?” 

Before Wanda could reply, a rocket exploded in front of them. Due to her quick reflexes, Y/n managed to evade the direct blast. The debris got all over the side of their car and to the two cars behind them. Steering the car back onto the road, Y/n noticed Wanda eyes flashed red. 

“I’m getting rid of them.” Wanda rolled down her window, and focused on the closest car. The enemy had switched their turbo on, hitting their car from the back. Y/n grabbed Wanda’s leg, making sure her girlfriend didn’t stumble out. 

Using her magic, she casted the enemy car to a different direction, causing them to hit a nearby tree, exploding on impact. The wind, heat, and debris flew by Wanda as she focused on the last car. 

As she used her focus to misdirect them, the enemy had gotten out and started to shoot. A bullet has grazed Wanda’s shoulder, causing her to go back into the car.

“Fuck-”

“Language-”

“-they got me.” Y/n’s hands turned white as her grip on the wheel tightened. At this speed, the driver knew that Steve’s shield was useless. Not only that, bullets were useless to the enemy car as well. 

“My turn.” Shifting her gears, Y/n whipped the car around as she started to drive backwards. Lining her shot up, Y/n waited till the enemy car was directly in front of her. 

Looking at the rear view, Y/n knew a sharp ledge was coming. “Babe,” Wanda said in an alarmed tone. 

“I got this.” Still driving backwards, the enemy car finally was in line, pressing the grapple button, the car tethered to the enemy car causing them to slightly swerve. 

In a second, Y/n whipped the car using their momentum to drag the enemy car off the ledge. Y/n pressed the release button as the enemy continued to shoot at them. Within the next second, the enemy car was sent off the edge. 

As Y/n straightened the car once more, she noticed the explosion in the rear view. Feeling satisfied, Y/n stepped up and drove even faster to the rendezvous point.

“Are you going to be okay babe?” The crew had made it safely to base. Unfortunately for Wanda, it meant Y/n had no clearance to enter. 

Holding the cloth tighter to her shoulder, Wanda smiled. “I’m going to be okay. Are you sure you don’t need me to ask them to provide you safe passage back home?” 

Y/n shook her head no as she pulled Wanda close. By now, the adrenaline was still in her bones, but the high intense feeling was something she was used to. But what she felt for Wanda was something scarier, something the driver never felt for anyone before. 

“I’ll be safe. Plus, I’m hoping you friends can put in a good word for me. Do you think they were impressed?” Y/n and Wanda looked back, noticing Steve and Natasha were staring at them. Pretending like they weren’t just caught, the pair started to act like they were working ‘working’. 

“I think so. Even if they don’t, I think you were amazing today.” Wanda placed several kisses on Y/n’s cheeks, feeling overwhelmingly happy that everything turned out well. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t attend your race today.” 

Y/n held Wanda’s free hand. “No need to apologize babe. There’s plenty more that you can attend.” 

“I didn’t get to see it, but did you win?” 

“I did. Couldn’t let my girl down now.” Wanda bit her lip as she blushed at Y/n’s words. 

“Your girl?” A cocky smile was on Y/n’s face. She placed a quick kiss on Wanda’s rosey cheeks, causing the red head to blush even more. 

“Yup, my girl.” Unable to take Y/n’s gaze anymore, Wanda pulled Y/n in for another kiss. Although she knew Steve and Natasha were still looking, their gazes didn’t bother her. Especially when Y/n dipped her, deepening the kiss. 

As they slowly broke apart, Wanda couldn’t help but glance at Y/n’s lips, loving the way they looked plumped after kissing them. “As much as I want to continue kissing you, you need to seek medical attention babe.” 

Wanda rolled her eyes, not enjoying the reminder of having to go away. “Are you going to text me?”

“Of course. I’ll try and facetime you as soon as I get back to my hotel.” Wanda pouted, hating the fact they had such busy schedules. “I’ll be back to you before you know it.” 

With a quick peck, Y/n started to walk backwards to her new assigned car. “And watch my celebration! I think you’ll love it.” 

Y/n blew Wanda a kiss as she entered the car. The sound of the roaring engine was heard throughout the base as Y/n sped out.

Natasha walked to Wanda, placing an arm around her back. “Her background check passed.” 

Wanda glanced at Natasha, “Did you seriously just run a background check on my girlfriend?”

Natasha shrugged as she led Wanda into the base. 

“What? I have to know since she’s going to be our getaway driver again.” 

“Again?”

Natasha nodded. “Again.” 

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[7-wonders]

Requiem

Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter XVI)

Summary: It's all led to this, and now, you have to face off against Michael to get your world back.

Word Count: 6.3k

A note from the author: This chapter is so, so dark. Sorry? Also, this chapter relies a lot on the she/her pronouns this story was first started with btw. (more notes at the end)

I noticed when posting this that it looks like the previous chapter didn't load a lot of tags. If you got tagged in this and are like "wait how did we get to the fight already?" you missed the last chapter! Click on the Mad Love Masterlist to read Chapter 35. :)

Content warnings for this chapter include graphic depictions of injury and death. Reader discretion is advised.

Mad Love Masterlist

Mallory warned you prior to leaving your room that the residents of Outpost 3 were all dead, murdered at the hands of Ms. Venable and her poisoned apples (you try not to dwell on your own poisoned apple experience). All the preparation in the world doesn’t prepare you for the shock of seeing two dead bodies, those of Coco and Dinah, in the large foyer of the Outpost. Shock turns to revulsion as one of Mallory’s friends and other witches yanks a knife out of Coco’s skull with little more than a wince. When she stands, she points the knife at you.

“She gonna help us?” she asks warily.

“She is.” Mallory turns to you, pointing first to the woman with the knife and next to another woman standing near the stairs. “This is Queenie and Zoe.”

You wave sheepishly. “It’s nice to meet you two.”

Zoe smiles kindly, but Queenie just appraises you with a look that says she doesn’t trust you. You can’t say that you blame her, though you wish she didn’t have a reason for this reaction. Mallory leaves your side to kneel in between the two dead women, and you watch as she takes a deep breath and breathes out onto Coco’s face before repeating her movements with Dinah.

It takes mere seconds for the two to shoot up, gasping for air and trying to get used to once again inhabiting a body.

“Welcome back,” Mallory says.

“What just happened?” Coco asks, her elaborate hairdo impressively staying put after all of that.

“You died. And now, you’re no longer dead.”

“Oh.” She frowns, rubbing at the spot where a knife sat moments ago. “Fuck, that sucked.”

“Are you going to explain why you tore us from our afterlives?” Dinah snaps, standing up.

“It’s time to fix this entire mess. To defeat Michael, we need all the help we can get.” Mallory eyes Dinah specifically. “From both of you.”

“You’re on your own with that shit,” Dinah declares. “I’m not here to defeat anyone.”

Maybe it’s not your place, but you feel like you can help to convince Dinah. You take a step toward here. “Please, I really think that—”

“How can any of you defeat me, when I’ve already won?” A voice, so familiar to you that it could be your own, comes from the stairs.

You almost don’t want to look at him. If you don’t, maybe you can remain in this stasis where you’re simply preparing to undo the apocalypse, instead of being faced with the reality that you’re about to fight your own husband, the man who, despite all of the horrors he’s committed, remains your love. When you do tear your eyes away from Dinah, you see that he’s not even taking notice of your presence. No, he only has hate-filled eyes for the Supreme.

Michael’s changed into a blood-red jacket, which makes it obvious that he was expecting this showdown to happen. Ms. Mead stands off to his left side, ever the small, imposing bodyguard. Mallory steps forward, along with most of the group. You can’t bring your feet to move, so you remain back with Dinah.

“You haven’t won,” Mallory says. 

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed the state of the world.”

Queenie scoffs. “At least the world can be saved. Unlike your bitch ass.”

Michael smirks proudly. “The seventh seal has been broken. Wormwood has fallen from the sky and turned the rivers to blood and fire. The bottomless pit has been opened and my swarms of locusts and scorpions have ravaged humanity. The world has been remade in my father’s image.”

When he speaks like this, of biblical imagery and prophecy, he turns into a person you don’t care to know. He turns into the Antichrist.

“Almost.” Mallory smiles. “Pretty sure he didn’t imagine a world where there were still witches, so you failed there.”

Michael finally takes in the full group, and his haughty demeanor falters when he sees you. Softly, he utters your name. “What are you doing?”

You swallow thickly, willing your voice not to shake. “I think you know.”

“I do. You’re going to betray me?

Mallory tries to grab your arm as you move in front of her, but you can’t be stopped now. “This is not betrayal. I’m doing this because I love you, and I can’t bear to be faced with the monster that you’ve become any longer. Now, we have a chance to save the world, Michael. Help me undo this mess.”

“Michael,” Mallory gets his attention once more. “Your father never commanded you to end the world in this way. Jeff and Mutt, the two that ran Kineros, were the ones who thought a nuclear apocalypse was the solution. They controlled Ms. Mead and gave her the commands to tell you that this was Satan’s plan. Satan was just happy to take credit when he realized that you were going to cause anarchy.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Michael says.

“Is it? They told me so themselves, when I went to Kineros to ensure that Coco would be in this Outpost.”

He rolls his eyes. “This is such an obvious lie, I’m a little offended that you would think I’d fall for it. Right, Ms. Mead?”

Michael looks to his left, expecting to be backed up, only to see Ms. Mead with a look of bewildered shame on her face.

“Ms. Mead?”

“They—I do as I’m programmed,” she stutters. 

You gasp at the revelation. Satan didn’t come up with the plan to end the world like this? All of this could have been avoided?

Instead of being faced with the same reckoning, a look of absolute murder appears on his face. “I’m going to do what I should have done that day in the Murder House and kill you all personally.”

“Mallory,” Dinah calls, walking towards the Supreme. “You raised me from the dead so that you would have the power of voodoo on your side. But if you know anything about who I am, you know that the only choice I’d pick would be the winner.”

She comes to a stop just before the stairs, bowing her head respectfully. Michael raises a hand out to her, ready to welcome another acolyte. You throw Mallory a panicked look, but she’s barely holding back glee.

“You’re half-right, Dinah,” she admits.

“She needed the help of a powerful voodoo queen,” a deep Southern voice says. You turn and watch as a tall woman with long braids struts up to Dinah. “But that ain’t you, sis .”

“The former Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau,” Mallory whispers into your ear.

“To release me from hell, Mallory promised Papa Legba the darkest and most corrupt voodoo queen’s soul for mine. You’ll serve him well in my place.”

“You’re a fool, Marie Laveau,” Dinah spits. “You would have done no different if you were queen.”

“No!” Marie says, before disappearing in a puff. 

Not even a second later, she reappears behind Dinah wielding a machete. When Dinah turns to face her, Marie brings the machete down in one swing on her throat. Dinah gasps and screams as blood begins to gush out of her neck, falling to the floor and bleeding out in a matter of seconds. Nobody else seems to be affected by this, but you feel a little faint, and you hold onto Mallory’s arm to keep from collapsing.

“Out with the trash!” Marie declares. “Give Papa my regards.”

Michael, apparently having enough of this, nods to Ms. Mead. The android removes her hand to reveal a machine gun hidden underneath it. Though you want to say something along the lines of, “What the actual fuck?” Zoe says a word in what you assume to be Latin before you can.

Instead of shooting, Ms. Mead begins to shake and whir mechanically. Mallory uses Michael’s confusion to usher everybody back towards the open fire, where you watch as Ms. Mead explodes and sends Michael flying over the railing. He lands harshly on the floor below, staring in horror at Ms. Mead’s head next to him.

It’s only a matter of time until his horror turns to rage, and Queenie scrambles forward to grab Ms. Mead’s machine gun hand. When Michael rises, she rises with him, gun trained on his chest.

“Sorry about your little toy,” Queenie says before placing her finger on the trigger.

Michael turns to be met with a firestorm of bullets, more than enough to kill even the Antichrist. You scream in horror at the sight, his blood spattering against the wall as he falls and comes to rest against it, very obviously dead.

“Michael!” You try to stand, wanting to save him even though he probably (definitely) deserves what’s just happened to him. Before you can, Mallory pulls you to her.

“This won’t keep him down,” she assures you. “He’s too powerful to be truly killed. But this will buy us time.”

Though you don’t know if you believe her, you need to in order to keep from emotionally collapsing, so you nod. 

Queenie walks to Michael’s body, kicking his foot as she checks to make sure he’s dead…for now, at least. “Do we need his hair or something for this? Because I’m more than happy to rip off a chunk of it.”

“No. The spell only requires that we have something personal of his.” Mallory smiles at you. “And we have the most important person in his life here with us. As long as you’re still in?”

You force yourself to look away from Michael, closing your eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths to recenter yourself. Finally, you look at her again. “Of course, I’m still in.”

“Good. Have you picked a time that will work to stop him?”

“I think so,” you confirm. After some internal deliberation, you think that the best way to get through to him is going to be when you had the big fight about the poisoned apple, before you stormed out and got yourself kidnapped by the witches. He wasn’t too powerful or too far gone with his father’s plan yet, but you were both in love with each other—albeit, you hadn’t actually realized it at that point.

“Alright. I’ll need you to focus on that, okay? Then I’ll say the spell, and we’ll be able to go back in time. We just need somewhere safe to cast the spell, somewhere with a large tub we can fill with water.”

You definitely found a room like that when you were exploring the Outpost your first couple of days here. “Okay. Follow me.”

Everybody stands, but hesitates when they remember the issue of Michael. If he’s going to come back to life like Mallory says, shouldn’t there be some safety measure in place to buy you more time?

Queenie sighs and rolls her eyes, realizing that she should probably be that safety measure. “Go,” she urges, readjusting her grip on the gun to ensure she’ll be quick to the trigger when Michael rises again.

Mallory darts forward to hug her quickly. “Thank you.”

“Enough with the sappy shit.” Even as she says that, you can see the affection in her eyes when she looks at Mallory. “Go!”

You do as she says and hurry up the stairs. Before you turn the corner, you allow yourself a moment to meet Michael’s open, lifeless gaze.

The hallways are much less of a maze than they were when you first arrived here, but the layout is still unfamiliar to you. After leading your group down what you thought was going to lead to the door you were sure contained the room with the tub, you’re met with a dead end. 

Sheepishly, you look over your shoulder at Coco. “I think I’m a little lost. Isn’t there a room with a really large washtub for laundry around here?”

Her eyes light up, and she lightly pushes you to keep you moving.  “Yes! We’re super close.” It’s going to take a bit to get used to her actually being helpful, you think as you follow her directions. “We’re going to go down this hallway here. Now, the weird little junction up ahead? Take a left and then it’s the third door on the right.”

Now you know where you are. “Thank you! I found it my first time going through the Outpost, but I haven’t lived here for eighteen months like you.”

You’re just about to turn left at the junction when a man appears from the other side of the hallway, jabbing a knife into your abdomen before you can even be surprised at the sight. You cry out, the pain sharp and sudden as he pulls the knife out of you with nothing but malice on his face. When he looks up at you, his scowl is replaced by a horrified shock.

“Oh my god, I thought you were—” He sees Coco, standing just behind you. “She was supposed to be you !”

Your shaking hands try to press down on the wound, but blood rushes out through your fingers, and your knees go weak as you crash into the wall. Down the hall, you can hear Mallory scream your name. She runs for you with Zoe hot on her heels.

“What the fuck did you do?” Mallory yells to the man, landing next to you on the floor and gently pulling your hands away so that she can assess the damage. By the way her lips start to tremble, you assume it’s not good.

The man that stabbed you ignores her, instead focusing on Coco. “You ruin everything!” he yells at her, lifting the knife once more.

Coco pushes him over the railing before he can do any more damage. He screams the whole way down, and Coco peers after him. “Sorry?” she calls with a grimace, no love apparently lost.

“This is…a lot of blood,” you note, watching your black dress becoming even darker from the rapidly expanding bloodstain. You’re also in a lot of pain. Fuck, you didn’t think being stabbed would hurt so much.

“It’s okay! It’s alright!” Mallory soothes; you can’t tell who she’s reassuring, herself or you. “I’m going to fix this. I’m going to—I’ll heal you, and then you’ll be fine.”

Your heart is pounding from a mixture of fear and adrenaline. For the first time since your arrival to this Outpost, you’re truly scared. This is a different fear from when you were worried about Emily and Timothy being executed, or when you realized that Michael wanted to have a child with you. It’s even different from the fear of knowing that you and Michael would be on opposing sides now. This is primal—this is terror.

Mallory’s hands hover over your abdomen as she begins to chant in Latin, eyes screwed shut in concentration. Nothing happens, and as the seconds tick by, your entire body starts to go cold. It’s like somebody’s taken a syringe of ice water and injected it right into your veins. You become more faint than before, and decide that laying flat will probably be the best way to rid yourself of this feeling.

“Why isn’t this working?” Mallory cries in frustration, catching your head and placing it in her lap. Tears begin to build in her eyes as she tries the same breathing technique on you as she did Coco and Dinah to bring them back to life, to no avail. You cough wetly, and when you wipe your mouth, your hand comes away red.

The realization hits you then: you’re dying. The overpowering cold, being unable to sit up anymore, the faintness—your body is beginning to shut down against your will.

“Mallory, I’m scared,” you admit.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise I’m trying.”

“I know.” You smile at the repetition even as you begin to feel so, so tired. Maybe if you close your eyes and rest for a moment, you’ll be able to get enough strength back to help you fight to stay alive.

Your eyes barely close before Mallory starts shaking you. “No, no, please don’t close your eyes!”

Marie Laveau appears at the far end of the hallway you first ran down and yells something to Mallory, but you can’t quite make out what she says over the rushing in your ears. Mallory takes one of your arms and Zoe takes the other, both working together to pull you down the hallway. You watch dizzily as Coco runs to Marie, your vision warping as the two disappear around the corner.

Mallory continues trying to heal you once they have you in the room where you’re meant to go back in time. Her hand, soaked in your blood, runs over your forehead comfortingly as she becomes more frantic in her chanting. Even Zoe tries to help, pressing down on your abdomen in the hopes of slowing the bleeding as she joins Mallory in spellwork. It’s becoming more difficult to hold on as you become weaker, the two taking turns making you open your eyes again.

“Please, please, please,” Mallory begs any and all forces beyond her power that might be listening.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, the effort to produce sounds near herculean.

“Don’t apologize,” she says sternly through tears, earning the smallest of laughs from you.

“Yes, ma’am.” Your hands shake as you feel around for Mallory’s, and you weakly squeeze when you find them. “I love you, Mal. I’m so happy I got to see you again.”

“Stop saying goodbye. I’m going to bring you back, this isn’t goodbye.”

For now, though, it is, and you both know it. When your eyes close this time, they don’t open again, and you feel yourself being dragged down, down, down, away from consciousness and life itself.

With your last remaining strength, you become introspective. You have so many regrets, so many words that you’re going to leave unsaid. You wish you had gotten the chance to actually complete the spell and go back in time, sure that you would have been able to change Michael’s mind. You want to thank Queenie and Zoe and Coco and Marie for their help, for believing that you can help fix the mess the world has become. You wish you could—

•••

Michael has had enough of witches on this Earth, he thinks as he blows Queenie’s head clean off her shoulders after coming back to life. She had been distracted by a body falling from two floors up—whose body it was remained a mystery that Michael didn’t care to solve—providing Michael the element of surprise. Even if she were still prepared, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’s too powerful for anything to stop him now.

Maybe he was naive to believe that a simple nuclear bomb or two could kill them. No, he was definitely naive. After all, Mallory knew that the world would be ending, and soon. That was more than enough time for her to gather her chosen forces and figure out a way to survive. He knows now that his path, the one that Satan had created before he had even created Michael, was always meant to lead to this. In order to truly inherit this new world and rule Hell on Earth, he must eradicate the remaining witches with his own hands.

But what to do with you? You’ve chosen your side for this battle, and it’s not his. He nervously hopes that you’re simply mad at him after how your last conversation devolved into a fight, that Mallory reached you at a vulnerable time and used that to her advantage to recruit you. Once he defeats the witches, you’ll come back to him and he’ll concede that he was perhaps wrong to bring up the idea of having a child at such an intimate moment. Still, seeing you standing in solidarity with the witches hurt, which is likely what the Supreme was planning.

When Michael makes it up the stairs, the reanimated voodoo queen blocks the hallway that he knows you and the witches have gone down. Grabbing a pouch off of her belt, she pours a powder into her hand and spreads it in a line in front of her with a chant.

“You shall not pass,” Marie declares with a smirk, wiping her hands of the powder. Michael juts his hand forward, prepared to rip her heart out of her chest, but an invisible barrier stops him. “You’re dealing with the HBIC now.”

He smiles ruefully. “Clever,” he admits. “Normally, that would work.”

He’s about to show that voodoo magic is no match for him anymore when his blood runs cold and his heart drops. At that same moment, he becomes aware of sobbing coming from far behind Marie. Though Michael’s never felt anything like this before, he can feel the certainty of what it means down to his very core: something’s happened. Specifically, something’s happened to you.

“Let me through,” he demands. Marie falters, taken aback at the fear in his eyes. “Marie Laveau, if you value your second chance at life you’ll let me through.”

She recovers from her hesitation with a haughty laugh. “Nice try.” 

Michael makes quick work of her with a simple snap of his fingers, snapping her neck and sending her right back to the Underworld. He’s just about to clear the barrier and figure out just what is going on when he feels a presence behind him. Rolling his eyes, he turns around to face this distraction as well and comes face to face with Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt, who was with you when he was shot. Surely she must know something about what’s going on.

“What’s happened?” Michael asks. The knife that Coco was prepared to stab him with goes limp in her wrist, and she gapes at him. “Where’s Y/n?”

“She was…Brock…” She weakly mimes a stabbing motion.

“No.” He feels sick at the mere implication. “No!”

Coco now the least of his worries, he runs down the hallway, the whole time hoping that it’s a mistake, that Coco misinterpreted what she saw, that the cold emptiness now residing in his chest is simply a fluke. The sobs that become more clear as he nears the entryway, however, don’t do much to reassure him.

“Mallory!” Michael gasps. 

The Supreme is on the floor with you in her lap, and for a moment, Michael can delude himself into thinking that you’re okay. The excessive amount of blood on the floor—your blood—and the unnaturally limp way that your hand is lying force him to face the obvious. Michael’s knees give out, and he falls to the floor harshly.

Mallory looks up at him, forgetting that they’re meant to be enemies right now. “She got stabbed, and—” a sob rips from her chest, “my healing spells aren’t working. And neither is Vitalum Vitalis. It should be working, Michael, I’m the fucking Supreme.”

“Okay. Um, let me…” Michael’s brain is fighting a war between shutting down from the agony of this situation and kicking into overdrive to figure out how to get you back. After a moment, he thinks he might have an idea. He tries to pull you out of Mallory’s arms and into his own, but she refuses to loosen her hold on you. “Mallory, I need to hold her.”

While he does need to be able to touch you for the spell, he’s not really asking for that purpose. He feels that he might soon lose his grasp on sanity if he can’t hold your body. No, he needs you as close to him as possible, to try and capture the warmth of your body so that he might remind himself that you’ve only just left, that he can still get you back. Begrudgingly, Mallory allows him to hold you, but she still keeps one of your hands in hers.

He’d like to say that it looks like you’re sleeping, comforting himself with the platitude most mourners claim upon seeing a body. He’d be lying, though, because he knows what you look like when you’re sleeping. The way that your face scrunches at the smallest sensation, how your eyes move under their lids and your mouth forms silent words when you’re dreaming particularly deeply, the intermittent light snoring that you swear you don’t do. If you were simply sleeping, he’d play the prince to your Sleeping Beauty and wake you with a kiss, revealing your amused smile and your fond gaze.

Now, there’s none of that. You’ve been dead for mere minutes, but already the signs of death are here. Your face is as slack as all of your muscles now are, making your cheekbones more prominent and your mouth hinge slightly open. A sallowness has started to take over your skin, and he finds himself tracing the apples of your cheeks in a futile attempt to coax blood back to the surface. He even swears that he can feel your body growing colder, just like he feared.

It takes Michael some time to remember what he’s meant to be doing. All of this grief and pain will hopefully be for nothing, so long as he can hold himself together for a little bit longer. He takes a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before dropping his forehead against yours. Tears are threatening to fall, and when he closes his eyes to try and hold them back, it only hastens their arrival. They roll, hot and thick, off of his face and onto yours, and he wipes them off with a silent apology.

Finally, Michael slips into a dissociation as he begins to walk between the realms of living and dead. He’s done this more than a few times now for varying reasons, becoming pretty adept at finding a soul and bringing it back to the living plane. The hardest part by far is always calming his mind enough to be able to attempt this in the first place; the fact that he’s been able to achieve it in this circumstance is a small miracle. 

Now that he’s in the so-called in-between, he begins his search. Every single soul has a signature to it, so as long as he knows who he’s looking for, he usually finds the rest of this process to be pretty straightforward. Since your soul is so near and dear to him, he’s expecting this to take a couple of minutes at most.

A minute passes, then another, as he tries to track your soul down. Michael begins to grow concerned; considering you just died, he shouldn’t be having to search this hard. There’s a complete lack of you anywhere, and he begins to shake as he’s faced with the increasingly likely potential that your soul is gone. But how? Why? With a chilling clarity, he knows exactly what’s happened.

His father has become displeased. Whether he’s had enough of your and Michael’s collective disobedience over the years—Satan holds a grudge like no other, after all—or your declaration that you would never bear Michael’s child or be the perfect wife that Satan had planned for you to be. He’s had enough, and now, he’s taken this opportunity to make good on the threats he first warned Michael about during the poison apple saga. He’s made sure that you’re out of the picture for good. If Michael knows Satan, he’s probably already picked out some girl back at the Sanctuary to be wife number two, and this time, she would be the most devout, demure Satanist who would never even think of going against Satan’s will.

But Michael doesn’t want another wife. No, what he wants is to lay here on the floor and die right along with you, following you into whatever afterlife you’ve found yourself in in the hopes that he can continue to love you there. How can he ever be expected to love another person that’s not you? What kind of a life is there for him to live if you’re not here to share in it?

“Is everything okay?” Mallory asks, reminding him that there’s another person in this room, one who’s going to feel her own devastation at this news.

“I can’t find her. My father…” He chokes on his own words, unable to actually say the fate that’s befallen you. Instead, he can only cry.

Mallory picks up on the context clues, and her face drops. “So that’s it? She’s gone?”

The nod Michael gives her is the most painful movement of his life. When Mallory collapses, he also forgets the pretense of enemies and allows her to fall against him. It’s mainly for his own benefit—were he not using Mallory for support, he would be in a heap on top of you.

They remain without words for a while. Distantly, he’s aware of Zoe talking to Coco down that damned hall, the two wondering what to do now. He hopes that they come up with an answer, because he has no clue. In his opinion, there’s nowhere else to go from here. Though he may not have physically died, his life has ended along with yours in this room.

“Were you telling the truth?” Michael asks finally, making Mallory look up. “About Jeff and Mutt?”

He almost doesn’t want to know, but before he can change his mind, she nods. “All they cared about were themselves. They were fed up with minor inconveniences—having to wait for coffee, traffic woes—and wanted to ‘wipe the slate clean.’ They thought that they could reshape the world to how they wanted, and they used a vulnerable Antichrist to do so. Ms. Mead changed her tune from magic to fire and blood because Jeff and Mutt were feeding her the commands.”

He so badly wants her to be lying, but even if he couldn’t sense her truthfulness, he has his own memories to rely on. How suddenly Ms. Mead suggested that world destruction was preferred to world domination (and that the two cokehead idiots would be the guys to talk to about that) had always seemed a little odd to him, but he simply went along with it, believing Ms. Mead to still be his trusted advisor. This revelation simply makes Michael cry harder until he’s almost matching Mallory’s earlier sobs. She puts her free hand on his shoulder in comfort. Though he appreciates the gesture, nothing can bring him comfort.

All of this pain and death and destruction has been for naught. Michael spent years chasing his father’s approval and doing terrible things, things that made him so sick to think about that he forced himself to compartmentalize them in order to not drown in his shame. He’s shirked friends, love, and basic morals, only to find out that his father didn’t even care if the world ended this way. No, all Satan wanted was power and sin, which he got in spades these past eighteen months. 

“How were you going to stop me?” he asks.

Mallory hesitates. “We…we were going to go back in time. There’s a spell that I found when searching through the coven’s grimoires to help with your Cordelia issue. I practiced it a few times before the bombs dropped, trying to figure out the right way to do it. Y/n was going to be both your personal tie and the one convincing you to stop the apocalypse. She had a time in place where she thought that you would be most willing to listen, to change your mind.”

It’s a smart plan, and it probably would have worked. After all, you likely know (knew, he’s reminded harshly) him better than he knows himself. As he thinks about the what-ifs, Michael realizes that this doesn’t have to be something that never happens.

“So, if you and I were to go back in time together, then we could change all of this?” Michael asks.

Mallory gapes at him. “You’re willing to give all this up?”

“What, this empty, decimated kingdom that I don’t even want?” 

In the eighteen months since the apocalypse, Michael had found that he was not suited for being a ruler—he didn’t like the pomp and circumstance, nor did he like people fawning over him. Still, he pretended to be the cold, uncaring king of this “New World,” because he thought that was what Satan wanted, that he was fulfilling the destiny that he was born to.

Now, there’s nothing left to fight for. The world didn’t even need to be ended, let alone in this way. He’s been nothing but a pawn to people his whole life—the Satanists, the warlocks, the stupid fucks that ran Kineros, even Satan himself. He’s done. Done with this stupid, useless path he’s taken, done with hurting everything and everyone, and done with bowing to the whims of anybody.

After all, what has he got to show for any of this? He’s been a good little soldier, doing unspeakably horrific acts and acting like he wasn’t affected, like he wasn’t the Michael that he was before the apocalypse. How did Satan reward him? By ensuring that he would never get back the one person in his life that he has ever truly loved, and who had ever truly loved him. 

“I can’t—I can’t live a life without Y/n. There is nothing without her. What do I need to do to help you?”

“Promise me,” she says. “Promise me that you will not use this second chance to end the world once again.”

“I just found out I ended the world for no reason, Mallory. A world that I was slowly coming to love, before Cordelia informed me that I needed to speed up the apocalypse plans I had been led to believe were created by my father. Before I was upset by people trying to convince me that blowing everything up was a bad idea.” Because of course, Satan would take credit for those plans if it meant that he would be closer to getting the complete chaos it would create. “Why would I try to end it again?”

Mallory searches his face for a moment before nodding. “I believe you.” 

She’s known him for long enough now to know his tells, and she sees none of them. Right now, he’s too much of a wreck to even consider trying to lie, not that he was planning on it.

Mallory slowly stands, but not before kissing the back of your hand and laying it gently on your chest. “Come on.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispers to you, kissing your forehead. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m going to make this right.”

It takes strength he didn’t know he possessed to lay you down and let go of your body. Even as he walks away, going against every instinct and leaving you on the floor, he can’t take his eyes off of you.

Mallory climbs into the large washtub in the corner of the room, flicking her wrist and filling it with water. Michael follows her in, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of sitting in wet clothes.

“Think of a time that you believe it will be easiest to completely stop the apocalypse before it goes too far,” she instructs.

There are many times in the past two years that Michael can see as a good time to stop the apocalypse. First, he’s tempted to go back to the beginning of this mess, when the witches killed Ms. Mead. Plans for the end of the world hadn’t even been drawn up yet, and he would have the added benefit of having Ms. Mead back. Plus, you wouldn’t have gone through the trauma of being kidnapped and forced to be the Antichrist’s bride.

It’s incredibly selfish, but the more Michael thinks about that avenue, the less he wants to take it. While it’s unfortunate how you came to know each other, he wouldn’t trade the way that you and he fell in love with each other for anything. But on the practical side, he wouldn’t have the influence that he has over important people and organizations were he to go back that far, and he needs that if he’s going to have enough power to keep the world from ending altogether. That’s off the table, then.

He wishes that you had told Mallory of your idea before being fatally wounded, because he probably would have agreed with your assessment. If it was any time after you moved in with him, he was already so in love with you that he could easily be swayed. What makes the most sense?

Finally, Michael has it. The time where he can be most effective at changing the fate of the world and ensuring there will not be an apocalypse by his hand, can remain powerful enough to not be usurped as Antichrist (for he’s sure that Satan will be very displeased by the change of plans if he finds out about Michael changing fate), and can still have you.

He opens his eyes and nods. “I have it.”

“Okay,” Mallory says with a hopeful smile. “Focus on that as hard as you can, place us both there.”

It’s all he can think about now, but he does as she says and recreates that time in his head. The sights, the sounds, the smells. How your hand felt in his, and the brightness of your smile. The possibilities that, at that time, seemed endless. Mallory holds her hands out and Michael takes them, feeling their magic bouncing off of each other like sparks from two exposed wires.

“Balneum infinitum. Dona salui conductus.” Mallory repeats the chant two more times, the water bubbling around them furiously and turning darker with each word.

Michael knows even without Mallory’s instruction that he’s needed to say the last part of the spell, and what that last part is. Just before they submerge themselves under the water, their voices join together to cast the most important spell of their lives.

“Tempus Infinituum.”

•••

Endnotes: Wow. I thought this would be a particularly tough chapter to write, but as I got going, the story flowed easily. I think because I've had this scene stuck in my head for so long! My FBI agent is definitely concerned by how thoroughly I read those "what happens to a body after a person dies" articles.

ALSO the Jeff and Mutt thing is canon!

Anyways, I'm gonna go watch some cute animal videos to feel better. Take care of yourselves, alright?

@ajokeformur-ray @iamavailablesstuff @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @nsainmoonchild @redroses07

@xo-angel-ox @littleangel4996 @iamlivingforturner @thatonehumanbeing05

@codycrazy @love-on-the-murder-scene

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #american horror story #ahs imagine #american horror story imagine #michael langdon imagines #mad love musings

[waterberry-strawmelon]

i know a thousand other people have said this already, but im so tired of the fact that people just dont write good fanfiction about female characters or female relationships. all the 100k-word epics on ao3 are about m/m or m/f pairings, and i just mourn for all the life-changing stories we could have about female characters, the ones that fundamentally re-frame your way of thinking, the ones where the romance is slow burn that's hot and heavy and so, so achingly intimate that the page is bleeding with it.

where are those stories?

#and it's not just because there are more male characters in fictional media #it's mostly because we all care about men more #because a m/m pairing between two male background or side characters from a popular show will have AT LEAST QUADRUPLE the amount of content #than the content for a f/f ship between MAIN CAST members from that same show. #it just fucking sucks. and i wish i could change it. #it's not always enough to just write it yourself yknow? #thats not really the solution here #it would require a massive restructuring in how we prioritize female characters #especially in order to prioritize them separate from male characters. #the majority of shows or fandoms where a female main cast member is popular? their number one ship in fandom is with a male character. #can't escape it man :( #mine #fandom #i feel like we just dont like dedicating that much time to thinking about women—even fictional women. #it's not as fun or as interesting as thinking about men. and why is that hm? #i cant change what people like to write #but its always so devastating when i see an author who writes really really well #just stick to m/m stories. and theyre fantastic!! but id love to see what those writers could do with female characters too. #an account with like 8 different 50k fics about the same m/m pairing. AND while often writing a f/f pairing as a background pairing #(which is a whole other annoying issue that deserves its own post) #it just makes it even sadder that they dont dedicate that same energy toward imagining what it might look like for that background f/f #pairing to have a story of their own with just as much love and care. #(AND LIKE. YOU CANT EVEN TELL ME ITS JUST CUZ THE CHARACTERS ARE CHARACTERIZED DIFFERENTLY #LIKE TO SAY THAT THE F/F PAIRING JUST WOULDNT BE AS INTERESTING BECAUSE THEYRE MORE STABLE OR NORMAL OR NOT AS CODEPENDENT OR SOME SHIT #LIKE NOT ONLY IS THAT JUST SEXIST. IT'S ALSO HYPOCRITICAL #'CAUSE YOU'RE OUT HERE GIVING WHOLE NEW FANON PERSONALITIES TO THESE MALE CHARACTERS #FUCKING. STEVE HARRINGOTN AND EDDIE MUNSON FROM STRANGER THINGS WOULD NOT IN A MILLION YEARS DATE IN THE SHOW. #SO TO WRITE SOLID FANFICTION WITH GOOD CHEMISTRY YOURE GONNA HAVE TO CHANGE THEIR PERSONALITIES A BIT. #AND THAT'S NOT A BAD THING!!! BUT IT MAKES IT ALL THE MORE FRUSTRATING WHEN YOU JUST...DON'T PUT AS MUCH EFFORT #INTO THE FEMALE CHARACTERS. JUST CUZ YOU DON'T LIKE THEM AS MUCH.

[dailypokemoncrochet]

There's just something so ?¿? about how I'm only able to actively work on this project when I'm at objectively the lowest points of my life (deepest depression, lonely, unemployed, no income, lot of time) and only because I have family that I can be wholly financially dependent on. All of the work I've done is cool and an accomplishment but also nearly the entire time spent on it I've felt like a failure because I can't do anything else.

But when I'm working full time and even when I love my job and coworkers, I am so tired I can't do any art or anything after work, and then I seemingly out of nowhere have a meltdown and quit. Idk. Something here about needing art to live but not being able to live off making art and the disparate ways art is tied to survival

#text #depression has been here the whole time but making itself Known atm #im so tired and sad and wish i didnt have to be this way #i wish i could separate the guilt of everything else from making my crochets #but the circumstances that let me crochet to this extent. come with massive amounts of guilt. and its just all bad. #society wasnt made for people like me. and that sucks. #i quit my last job because they changed my seat. thats the stupidest fucking thing. but my brain could not get over it and #also i never wanted to work for [company] and management wouldnt accommodate me without medical documentation and so i just quit #and im back making my art. (positive) (negative) (?¿¿)

[biteapple]

Had a bad day at work today ... x__x...

#Atleast I'm home now but ........ ×_× ... #Back at it again tomorrow ... and don't have a day off until next Friday... ughhhh #The long long hours are what's grinding the shit out of my psyche #I think I've worked about 90 hours without a break day insofar. My heads so fucked #I'm set to work like another 60 hours until I get a day off so like.. almost 150hrs without a day off. #It hurts a lot. I wish I could confidently get another job that doesn't suck shit like these hours do #I don't even know what that'd look like without being underpaid. My job is technically easy #It just hurts my head to have to do it for so long #It feels like either 'get paid a lot to do stupid bullshit for a lot of hours' or 'get underpaid to do less stupid bullshit for less time' #And sometimes the less stupid bullshit is harder work. Yknow what I mean #Like I'd care about it more depending on what it is. But sometimes it's even harder than what I'm doing now #I don't know though. But if I never try ill never know #But it's also like. That's a big leap to take for someone who doesn't have a safety net out here #And my problem is... I don't even know where I'd go to have that safety net. #I don't think it exists for me anymore. When I went homeless it got better and I wouldn't change it #But it also means building back everything I lost. It sometimes feels impossible even though it isnt #But .... God. I wish I just had a place I could trust fall like I want to and feel OK with if it falls through #Like I'm not going to go homeless again sorta way. Like my cats have a place to live. #I don't know what I'd do if I lost the ability to house my animals. I'd be so fucked

[pegasusdrawnchariots]

the eternal question: is scheduling w friends as an adult That Hard or am I just bad at it

#4 different people have left me on read today; 1 cancelled our plans 4 hours before we were due to meet #I've been sitting home alone for 2 days going insane. looking forward to One (1) coffee date & that fell through #idk why I'm taking it so hard this time I'm usually fine!! but I find myself wishing I didn't have the day off I wish I did have work :( #like it's tiring yeah but it beats sitting here not knowing what to do w myself #& I'm working all weekend & only leaving the house to see the doctor. oh joy #I've been productive ironing writing fixing the car. that's not the problem #I had 4 social plans this month. that's it #that's like seeing each friend once a month!! I can't keep this up!! #is this the norm for adulthood? :( #& on one level I don't want to bother people or be clingy #but on another level I'm baffled that they don't get lonely too #the news has not shut up abt the Loneliness Epidemic since 2021 #but if it's true why do so many people take so long to reply when I reach out? if they reply at all #I'm not going anywhere w this. idk #just one of those days #everything so fuck everybody suck :( #boomers got it right w the whole showing up unannounced at people's houses for a social call with a pound cake #now I have to go through 5 layers of bureaucratic bullshit to see a friend #assuming they don't cancel the day of ofc (((((: #I just wanna be like hello knock knock I am here. tell me abt yr life today & listen to mine & eat this cake #& the worst is when people are like 'I'm cancelling bc I'm tired xx' #OK A) u knew we had these plans for two weeks #but B) I'm tired too! I still love u ur still my friend! let us be tired together! #'I won't be social today I'm tired' my love we could watch movies in silence we could knit we could ball yr socks. idc #'I have to do the big shop today sorry' so do I!!! let us do the groceries together!!! #every time I've pushed someone to come out when they felt depressed or to let me accompany them when they were doing chores #they were like u know what I'm so glad u did this. thank u. this is way better than how I had planned this night to go #& I'm like any time!! I love u!! #& then it just happens all over again next time oh sorry I'm cancelling I'm busy I'm tired #like did u forget what a nice time we had last time? what changed? :(

[im2tired4usernames]

My parents should be fuckin ashamed

#you borrow 80 bucks then can only find me 21 back then i put that 21 into good for your kids then spend the rest of my paycheck getting #diapers pull ups medicine more food for kids and then i fill up the 15 passenger van and then when dad asks why i don't have money to eat #on my lunchbreaks at work like I'm some over spending wild irresponsible bitch when he's the one going to concerts and paying for fancy dat #s and jewelry for his gf and buying groceries for her but you know it's fine #take all my time and energy #so that i literally am a zombie and fall asleep on the very very very limited free time i get #(after doin extra chores to earn said free time) #wo that i fall asleep half way in which isn't fair to my partner and isn't fair to me #take all my income so i cant afford anything #take all my time #take all my energy #YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED YOU GROOMED ME AND MESHED THE FAMILY'S ENTIRE LIFE STYLE FOR ME TO BE LIKE THIS #I CANT MAKE HEALTHY FRIENDSHIPS BECAUSE I JUST CAN NOT FUNCTION IF I'M NOT GIVING EVERYTHING TO SOMEONE #IT SUCKS I HATE IT #THEY'LL NEVER ADMIT THEY FUCKED ME OVER #EVER #THEY'LL NEVER DO ANYTHING TO FIX IT OR CHANGE #AND I HAVE NO HOPE FOR ANY CHANGES #MY LITTLE SIBLINGS SEE WHAT I DO FOR THEM AND THEY HUG ME AND TELL ME HOW MUCH THEY LIVE ME #'thank you so much for taking care of us' that tell me all the time 'you do so much for us' #it breaks my heart i wish i could give them the world i love them so much they deserve so much better #my mom lost her chance to be decent my dad better learn soon otherwise all his kids minus his favorite will hate him #i love ny parents #and i know they live me and my siblings #but they groomed me into the most miserable personification of elder daughter syndrome and they should be ashamed for what they've done #and be ashamed that they sucked so bad that they're own child had to step up

[from-beyond]

btw i had my advising appointment and she said if i wanted to double major with video production i would have to take an extra semester and that’s not an option for me :( so much for that dream </3

#ej.txt #it sucks that i found out how much i fucking love this stuff too late #like im already over half way to an interpersonal comm degree i cant change it now #and i DO like comm. and im good at comm. #and i still want to be a comm professor and do research and shit #but i just feel so happy when im making shit in my production class #and my professor has been so encouraging #like it makes it feel like an attainable thing for me to make creative stuff #i guess i can still do it as a hobby. i dont need to degree in it #i wish u could take college classes but free and not for credit #beause if so i would never leave college #i love learning bro

[nomaishuttle]

btw controversial but fuckk ptsd dude yohre telling me judt bc my parents shouldnt ever have been parents now i have to be fucked up for the rest of my life .

#i know like..coping mechanisms and ris8ng above and learning to live with it but like its fucking stupid and unfair bc im never gonna stop #having ptsd yk. my episodes might get less frequent i might build happier memories but jm always gonna have these memory blocks and trigger #s and nightmares like. forever. im never gonna get to have had a normal childhood thats the most fuckedbup thing ever #like ik this is whiny but like. why. why me what did i do to deserve that childhood. not that any kid deserves abusive childhoods obviously #it sounds like im like ermmm there r wayyy worse kids who shouldve been the ones to go to the zoo 💀 but like ykwim. why does #thus have to happen to so many ppl i hate it i hate it. i wish i could just Actually forget everything instead of just like. not rly #remembering it but Knowing it..yk. i know everything that happened to me even if its all blocked out #and i still feel like. the effects of it even the stuff thats jncredibly hazy to me. and jm never not gojng to feel that. my personality hs #literally been fucking shaped by the childhood i have and like. yes you can 'change' your personality a bit and your choices blah blah blah #but like. even with that. im still always gonna be like. my first impulse will always be distrust and doubt and fear. even if i train #myself not to Act on those emotions i still will always feel them. im always going to expect people to leave even if they dont even if i #dont let myself push them away its something im always going to be terrified of in the back of my mind. im never gojng to have #proper social skills bc i fully missed out on that stage of development im never going to be like. at the same level as my peers bc i #missed out on those skills. sigh. ik ik ik feeljng inhuman and feeljng different from everybody else is a jniversal thing but i truly think #im like. im missing something that everybody else seems to have and i dont even know what it is but i know i dont have it and everyone #can tell j dont have it and it fucking. sucks . basically

[elytrafemme]

long theoretical post about my friend hugging me

like. to dissect a matter that none of you are involved in and then i'll delete in the morning: my friend in college hugged me about ten minutes ago and i don't understand why. he's a physically affectionate person so we knew it was bound to happen, it was a running joke between us that we'd like schedule our hug to happen. nothing extraordinary happened tonight. in the second half -- which is when i spent the most time with him -- i was so fucked up that i barely processed what was going on? i was listening to what he was telling me, he just rambled about stuff, and it's interesting and i could recite all of it if asked and the expression he made at each part, but there was absolutely nothing in my head. and he never asked if i was okay which i think he would have if he thought something was wrong, because he's done that before. and we were alone so he could have and there would have been zero consequences. but he didn't ask me what was wrong, so it's hard to assume that the hug was for emotional consolation reasons. he wouldn't have noticed me on the brink of tears, either, he's not that observant. i would have known if he had. and i didn't do anything truly kind to him today, i listened to him talk about his interests and we hung out for a while, but that's what we do all the time. nothing happened. there was the chair thing but i thought i played that off well, i tried to have a coherent narrative about it an hour later too so he would guess what i had hoped, and i think i was successful. he wasn't distressed, i would have known. and he was tired but he's been tired a lot before and he's never acted like this. so he had zero reason to hug me unless he maybe sensed that this entire time i just really fucking wanted him to hug me, but he wouldn't have, and i would never have voiced that, because i don't want him to see me at that level. but i needed that hug badly. and i don't understand why i received it.

#nightmare.personal #neg #he's the easiest person to be around i think. because there are a lot of conversation topics to have #and i understand the way his mind ticks pretty well at this point #that's going to change in spring semester. maybe. which is going to really suck. but it'll be okay. #nothing i offered him would differ from what anyone could give him is the issue #i'm really good at that. you don't really need to have a ton of anything to listen to people #it's just listening. and yeah i guess people are bad at that? but like. #i don't know. he could talk to literally anyone else. all of them could talk to literally anyone else and they actively do #part of my brain is trying to rationalize myself into calming down but the other half is the one i want to indulge because #fuck. fuck. i can't do this forever. #like someday i have to snap right. i can't keep doing this. it's like a time loop. #this always happens and i only vaguely remember tomorrow but it'll happen two days after and it'll be bad #and i will always want to crack under pressure but never do #and if nothing's wrong with me why the hell am i like this? #i wish he didn't hug me. i should have got my book and fucking left. #i only waited because i was getting the book back from his roommate who was off calling his girlfriend #but honestly. that guy even though he's my friend. if he saw me crying he'd do nothing #because i don't think he would care even slightly. we're good friends now i'd say. he would not care. #at least this happened in a pretty way. that's something huh.

[water-in-the-wind]

The way my dad and I can calmly debate whether anal sex is not okay for gay men but okay for straight people or not (I obviously don’t think there’s anything wrong with anyone having anal, he’s just a fucking homophobe) but then he gets triggered by the word “person” and starts yelling and then storms off telling me he loves me but I need to “wake up” is so ridiculous like I wasn’t even using “person” to specify a non-binary or non-gendered person, I just meant person in general because I was giving an unspecified example without any kind of person in mind. It’s a fucking noun that everyone uses, he’s just a dumbfuck.

So yeah, the one person who I thought might stick by me if I came out turns out to be just as bad as the rest of them.

Maybe before trump’s administration he would have, but now he’s been brainwashed by the conservatives and watches The Five every night like it’s fucking mandated.

#i’m fucking 27 i shouldn’t have to deal with this #i want my post-trump and post-alcoholism dad back please #he just ends up yelling at me and i won’t get into it but there’s so many reasons he shouldn’t yell at me #like he managed to stay calm and respectful when i said the the bible has been mistranslated in the newer versions that are homophobic and #but somehow the word person tipped him over the edge wtf #neither of us went into the conversation expecting to change anyone’s views #and he said himself that we could calmly talk about this #and he did not stay calm #homophobia #tw homophobia #homophobic parents #it fucking sucks #and i wish i could afford to move out but this is the fucking bay area and even having a good job isn’t good enough

[delta8vape]

when u call ur psychiatrist and they don't answer

#up my meds pls please please PLS up my meds i cannot take living like this #i have been crying for three days i can't dude this shit sucks #and it's too early to take another buspar i wish i'd gotten some xanax from my friend i could use one bc weed isn't helping and one of my #meds needs to be upped or multiple i don't know but what the fuck #i think it's my abilify bc i feel like i've been flipping between manic and depressed and now i'm just stuck in depressed #mania was around my bday also i can become bipolar and my shit gets worse with age so i'm like uhhhhhh #my cycles used to change daily now they're lasting for days to a week #which again makes me think my abilify needs to be upped and probably my buspar my strattera is still awesome #ugh

[voidimp]

sometimes things that are more accessible... are less accessible (just to different people) (i am mostly thinking about the push for websites & apps to be High Contrast without consideration that some people actually need the opposite) (me) (whether its dark on light or light on dark if the contrast is too high it feels like its screaming at me to the point where on bad days i literally cannot get my brain to focus on whatever im supposed to be looking at) (migraines especially but sometimes it just happens on its own) (there is no one Good And Correct way to make something accessible to everyone you have to make it customizable you need to provide options)

#my phone has an option to throw a color filter over the screen but it kinda sucks bc i cant change the saturation of it just the opacity #so putting it on a higher opacity lowers the contrast but it also makes it. so fucking sepia #i wish i could JUST lower the contrast. it has a toggle to INCREASE screen contrast but nothing to DECREASE it #but this also doesnt help me like. at work. doing data entry. which is all pure black & white scans..... #theres only so much monitor adjustments can do (the contrast option doesnt even Work That Way) #& were not allowed to change the computer display settings (even the blue light filter is disabled. lmao.) #& we cant download anything so if theres something out there that would wash out my screen i still wouldnt be able to use it... #like dgmw im glad they ARE implementing these things to try to make things more accessible #but it would be nice if they could understand that its not one size fits all.....

[fakeoutbf]

.

#okay so i’m gonna throw myself a little pity party so skip these post if you don’t wanna know #first off: i should’ve moved for college #like i really fucking should’ve #like i know why i didn’t and i’m sure if i had make a decision again it would make sense to pick the same #but idk if i’d known that i could’ve gotten into a foreign university and somehow impressed them enough to get a scholarship then i would’ve #gone no question asked no second guessing literally nothing #and i’m not saying i didn’t like my college experience or whatever but fuck i’m so tired of living so far away from everything in a place #where i know i’ll never make a lot of money doing what i studied to do #and i know that i can change careers and i’m not forced to follow one path or whatever but fuck it’s so scary to think of the possibilities #i get so anxious just considering picking something else now bc i already wasted 6 ish years of my life in this and i’d have to start again #idk whatever point is i wish i lived somewhere else so i’d hopefully have better living conditions and so that i could go to more concerts #y’all music is such a big part of my life and it doesn’t look like it but it is and i’ll explain more in post 2 but #i missed so many concerts this summer bc i live in bum fuck nowhere and no one comes here (and the artists i like don’t even come to the big #city near me rip) and i’m just forced to see them announce tour dates to places close ish by but that i could never afford and i just #i wish i could go and i wish i had friends to go with and i wish i’d moved and i wish my life wasn’t so lonely and pathetic and sucked

[spoonsforminutes]

Heyo, I wanted to do a summary post of this blog and what my goals are because I take my last final this Wednesday, and then I'm finally done with school until I decide how I'm going to approach med school. I started this blog when I was 16, and through life being busy, I never really structured this blog well. I'm going to try and change that especially because this is my one space where I do feel connected to the disabled community.

I need to update the post about the IOP therapist who mistreated me because I have decided to seek legal action with the help of my queer therapist. Especially because the ADA protects against discrimination based on sex (including gender identity), religion, race, etc. for disabled individuals, I want to write a post that can help guide this process, and then I also want to see if I can somehow create comprehensive guides for different aspects of disability. I definitely want people to add to this conversation, especially since everyone's needs are different, and I've been wanting to discuss ableism and its effect on disability both within structured systems like healthcare and in social interactions. Even though I quite literally have a lifetime's experience with my disability and a formal education on the neuroscientific mechanisms that cause chronic headache pain, able-bodied people still talk to me like they somehow know more than me? Because migraine is so common and known despite so few actually understanding how migraine headaches can be incredibly debilitating, I want to continue putting my thoughts on it, so that hopefully someone won't have to repeat the same trauma. I've written my personal story down for so many essays and personal statements, but I don't mind writing it again. I want to focus on the ableism and trauma I faced as a kid and how it's affecting me as an adult, especially as an adult that didn't have any support as a kid.

I still won't be around too often, but I at least hope for a little more consistency. I definitely have a problem with overworking myself and not being able to relax, but because I'm essentially on my own, I need to figure myself out. My family was very unintentionally cruel to me, so a lot of my energy was focused on survival. Moving is a new start for me to figure out more of my gender and more of myself. I keep myself very closed off because my family would constantly berate and degrade me for the things I liked (why? because sexism), so it's hard to really be myself when I wasn't allowed to be and when I have such a confusing relationship with my body and sensations.

#disabled #disability #spoonie #chronic illness #chronic pain #mental health #mental illness #wedding speaks #i know ive literally just mentioned this not that long ago #but ive had a lot going on and i like to put my full effort into things #also yeahhh having your therapist call you pathetic for wasting your life kind of fucked with me #like wow i really wish i could be more of a person but trauma #if people want me to do something then pay me #idk guys i try to stay positive but my life really sucks #im just trying to focus on making it suck as little as possible #but that requires people deciding that i currently deserve to live so #also i might change the appearance of this blog but we will see