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archivegyu · 2 months ago

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masterlist

invisible string

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

There’s a golden softness to late afternoons in Seoul. The kind that melts into the floorboards and sneaks into the corners of rooms. In Seungcheol’s apartment, it spills in through the wide living room windows, lazily painting everything with that hazy warmth only spring can offer. It catches in the ridges of your coffee mug, glimmers against the silver edges of your ruler, and warms the back of your neck as you hunch over the center table.

The apartment is quiet, save for the low hum of your laptop fan and the occasional scribble of your stylus across the screen. Your project , fills the display in layers of blueprints and notes. Post-its clutter the table’s edge, reminders of measurements and deadlines, and in the middle of it all, there’s you; oversized hoodie, glasses slipping down your nose, hair pulled back in a lazy bun.

And next to you, lying belly-up with a kind of careless peace you envy, is Kkuma.

She lets out a little huff, tail twitching as if in a dream. You reach over to scratch behind her ear with your free hand, lips twitching into a tired smile.

This is what most of your evenings look like lately. Half-finished sketches, cold takeout, and a drowsy dog keeping you company while your best friend dances himself to the bone in some faraway practice room.

You hadn’t meant to stay here long. When Seungcheol first offered his spare room, you’d told yourself it was just for a few months — until your life calmed down, until rent became less of a monster, until breathing felt easier.

But the months stretched, and the apartment never stopped feeling safe. He never made you feel like a guest, either. It wasn’t his place. It became yours too. The kind of home that smells like coffee and fabric softener, where the walls are filled with memories neither of you ever had to say out loud.

The front door clicks open a little past eight.

You don’t look up. You don’t need to.

The soft shuffle of sneakers on tile. The familiar thud of a duffle bag hitting the entryway floor. Then the drag of tired footsteps across the wood, slow and heavy, like gravity itself decided to cling to him today.

“I’m home,” he calls, his voice quieter than usual. Rough around the edges.

Still, you smile without looking. “There’s kimchi fried rice on the stove.”

He pauses, then: “Did you cook or order again?”

“Define ‘cook.’”

He laughs under his breath. A real one. Not the polite, camera-ready kind.

You finally glance up and find him standing a few feet away, hoodie soaked through, bangs sticking to his forehead, sweat glistening at his collarbone. Exhaustion clings to him like second skin, but his eyes are gentle, warm when they land on you.

“You’re still working?” he asks, nodding toward the screen.

You shrug. “Final review is next week.”

“You said that last week.”

“I meant it then, too.”

He shakes his head, kneels to pet Kkuma. She perks up, tail wagging in sleepy little thumps against the floor.

“She’s spoiled now,” he mutters. “Doesn’t even greet me at the door anymore.”

You hum without thinking, eyes drifting back to your screen. “She likes people who feed her on time.”

He snorts. “I’m taking a shower. Don’t pass out on the floor again.”

You raise a hand in lazy salute, already tuning back into the chaos of your canvas.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You’re fast asleep by the time he finds you again.

Curled up on the center table, cheek pressed to your folded arms, a pencil still tucked between your fingers. Your laptop screen has dimmed to black, casting the room into a warm hush. Kkuma lies beside you, paw resting near your knee like she’s been guarding you all evening.

Seungcheol exhales quietly from where he stands in the hallway, towel slung around his shoulders. His hair is still damp, shirt clinging slightly to his skin from the shower. His body aches from practice, but his chest aches for something else entirely.

He steps forward, careful not to wake you. There’s something fragile about the scene; the way your face is turned toward the window, the way your brows are relaxed, mouth slightly parted, like the weight you always carry has finally slipped off for just a moment.

And God, you still wear that hoodie he gave you two winters ago— fraying at the sleeves, too big for your frame, swallowed by the fabric.

He kneels beside the table.

“You weren’t supposed to fall asleep like this,” he murmurs softly, reaching to brush a stray hair out of your face.

You don’t stir. You never do, not when you’re this tired. It’s something he’s learned from the years. How you give everything you have until your body stops you. How you always say you’re fine even when you aren’t. How you carry the weight of the world in silence.

He hesitates, then gently scoops you up in his arms. You sink into his chest instinctively, head resting against the hollow of his shoulder. You smell like shampoo and his vanilla lotion you pretend not to like.

Your fingers twitch once in your sleep, curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt.

And that’s what does it; that tiny movement, that subconscious reach for him. Like something inside you knows, even now, even half-asleep, that it’s him.

He carries you to your room, nudging the door open with his foot. Lays you down slowly, carefully, like you’re something precious. Something breakable. His fingers linger on your wrist for a second too long before he pulls the blanket over you.

Then, without thinking, he reaches up and grazes the back of his knuckle along your cheek.

“Night, pretty girl,” he whispers, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Even your dreams deserve rest.”

He closes the door quietly behind him.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Back in the living room, Seungcheol sinks into the couch, rubbing his hands over his face. The quiet presses in; thick and full of everything he’s never said.

Kkuma climbs up beside him, paws light on the cushion. She flops down, tail flicking once, then still.

He chuckles softly, leaning back. “She’s gonna burn herself out before she even graduates.”

Kkuma yawns.

“She doesn’t take care of herself unless someone makes her. It’s annoying,” he says, his voice softer now, gentler. “But… I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the one who reminds her.”

Silence stretches between him and the dog.

“You know, I’ve been trying to ignore it. For years, maybe. Told myself it was just comfort, or familiarity. Like she’s just… always been here.”

He stares up at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded.

“But it’s not that. It’s never been that.”

His voice wavers just a little.

“I’m in love with her.”

There. He says it. Not to you. Not to anyone who can answer. Just to the only soul in the room who might understand.

Kkuma lifts her head slightly, ears twitching.

“I don’t even know when it started,” he continues, his eyes growing distant. “Maybe it was when she stood up to my bully. Maybe when she shared her candy and said I could have the red one.”

A soft laugh escapes him, short and breathless.

“Maybe I’ve always known.”

He reaches down and pets Kkuma’s head again, more to ground himself than anything.

“I don’t know what she’d say if I told her. I don’t know if she’d laugh, or freeze, or leave.” His voice turns quiet. “But I’d rather have her here, like this, than risk losing her at all.”

He looks toward your closed bedroom door.

“So maybe I’ll just wait a little longer.”

The city hums quietly outside the windows. And in this in-between, not quite night, not quite morning; he sits in the golden aftermath of everything unsaid, gently held by the thread that’s tied you to him all this time.

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somewhereincairparavel · 7 months ago

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Annabeth Chase and Jason Grace - two sides of the same coin, an analysis post.

after a long wait, I've finally posted my analysis on jason/annabeth being similar, and mirroring eachother as rivals/potential sibling figures more than percy/jason's 'bro rivalry', based on this post of mine which has crossed over a THOUSAND notes in the last week alone, and I've been getting so many reblogs and comments asking me to expand on my tags in that post and do a full analysis. so here it is. I've been procrastinating this for quite a while now for some reason but I'm glad I'm over my writer's block and I got to articulate my post well enough.

annabeth and jason have had very minor interactions throughout hoo, but the parallels and similarities in their character is jarringly noticeable, which is why I hoped for a jason/annabeth rivalry and not a percy/jason rivalry. they've both been raised at their respective camps since they were literal kids, they were well versed in their respective fields of knowledge, and were well respected/intimidated in their camps.

let's start off with the lost hero

when jason first meets annabeth, he says that her eyes were really intimidating and fierce, so right off the bat, we have jason who's pretty put off by annabeth because she very obviously looked angry, especially since she was frustrated about jason's arrival instead of percy, and looked like she could kill jason to get percy back.

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

this parallels to a lot when hazel kept going on about how difficult it was to warm up to jason because his eyes were always calculating and cold, and he gave off an untrustworthy vibe, that he'd sacrifice anyone for the sake of the mission.

both annabeth and jason have a certain similar ‘look’ in their eyes, which have nothing to do with the color. they both have the tendency to make people nervous simply with their eyes, because they always look like they're thinking of new things every few seconds. Ironically, jason first perceived annabeth, the way everyone else perceived him. scary and intimidating with an icy glare and hardened eyes.

They were both said to be ‘studying’ each other in distrust many times throughout. A part of why they didn't trust each other, was, in my opinion, because they embodied their least favorite shared personality trait of each other, secretiveness and guardedness. which is why annabeth got on so well with percy, and jason with leo/piper.

they didn't admire the closed off-ish vibe that they gave eachother. they both needed people who were open and carefree.annabeth said that jason looked like he knew too much information, but chose to keep it all a secret, very similar to her own guardedness from time to time, keeping it a secret and wanting to deal with it silently.

we also know that annabeth and jason are extremely knowledgeable in greek/roman mythology, they both love debates and were quite passionate about history. they were both assigned architecture projects by the gods themselves as a mark of honor and favour.

moving on to the next most important point, they reminded eachother of the people they missed, causing them to feel resentful.

jason, barely met his sister after they reunited. he was bitter when thalia said he had to go look for percy to help out annabeth with the search. he was aware that thalia and annabeth were childhood friends, getting closer to eachother than jason and thalia ever did. she found a home in luke and annabeth, not even a few months after baby jason was thought to be ‘dead’, that knowledge would've weighed a lot on jason. annabeth became the sibling to thalia grace that jason could never be.

while annabeth? the only thing annabeth thought of, after jason had a face off with his mother's remnant in boo, was the fact that jason, who looks eerily similar to luke, could've experienced the exact same fate as him. luke was jason if he had more wrath and held grudges, jason was luke if he had less anger and resentment. annabeth could connect the dots so easily, and that was truly the moment where she gained immense respect for him.

and, when jason told annabeth that his sister was thalia? she had a very odd sort of expression on her face.

annabeth also quotes that looking at jason made her feel bitter, because he reminded her of heras exchange, and the fact that she lost percy for months. whenever she looked at jason, she would only see her two childhood friends, a found family that was broken, and a love that was challenged.

whenever jason looked at annabeth, he would be reminded that thalia had a closer contact to her than she did jason, and had to accept that he would never know thalia as much as annabeth does.

annabeth and jason also appear very confident and sure of themselves, but have second thoughts all the time. they had to put on a fake facade, to live up to their expectations and lineage.

they were both also sort of people pleasers, annabeth couldn't really say no to anyone who asked her for help with things, like carrying the sky for luke especially, because not only where they giving her a chance to execute her knowledge and skill, the thought of helping someone made her genuinely happy. jason also loved seeing people happy, always wanting to say the right thing to satisfy someone, even if it meant he had to sacrifice his own struggles to help them.

fatal flaws:

annabeth’s fatal flaw, is hubris. when you are confident and sure that you can do something, and have a sense of excessive self pride.

and jason's fatal flaw is the temptation to deliberate. hesitation and second guessing, to put it in simpler words.both fatal flaws are so different, yet so similar, and they have both flaws, just in a different viewpoint.

as a child of athena, annabeth appears super confident and even conceding at times because of her wisdom, but at the same time, annabeth had to make sure she was one step ahead of everyone. she had to rethink everything and had to have a plan in her mind all the time, fearing that things wouldn't go smoothly.

she had to hesitate and second guess herself alot, despite her knowledge, like she did when she knew she had to look for the mark of athena. piper and percy had to boost up her confidence with affirmations, to let her know she's on the right path and to just follow her gut. annabeth feels obligated to have a temptation to deliberate, because, as a child of athena, she has to be all knowing and wise, and most definitely cannot fail her mother.

and jason? despite having a very low sense of self esteem and hesitation, he was so used to leading the people who were considered slightly inferior to him in camp jupiter, and basically getting treated like a celebrity for 12 years of his life in camp jupiter, that often, he thought what he did was right, he had his own perception of what a hero should be, and I quote

[“No, no,” Jason said. “I made my choice. You’re not to blame. You don’t owe me anything except to remember what I said. Remember what’s important.” “You’re important,” I said. “Your life!”Jason tilted his head. “I mean… sure. But if a hero isn’t ready to lose everything for a greater cause, is that person really a hero?”He weighted the word person subtly, as if to stress it could mean a human, a faun, a dryad, a griffin, a pandos… even a god”- Tower of Nero]

which was normal, since he had everyone basically following his lead without question as a kid. he's expanded on this in his conversation with piper in mark of athena, where he said he felt weird to suddenly be around people who were either equal/or superior to him in power, and not being in the ‘lead’ particularly.

jason had hubris, but certainly not in a way that you would call it an ego or excessive pride. he was hardwired and brainwashed into having his own perception of what is right and what is wrong, that he thought he was always making good enough decisions, at least from a roman child soldier’s standpoint. [Like when he was okay with not saving nico because it might sabotage their mission, he genuinely didn't think what he said was insensitive until hazel called him out, because he was brought up that way. he thought he was doing the right thing, by prioritising the mission and the duty, first. Like the dutiful roman he was made to be].

both annabeth and jason, have hubris and a temptation to deliberate.

annabeth and jason, also had an extremely difficult time breaking free from the thoughts that their godly parents were always right. It took on alot of disappointments for both of them to stand up to their parents (and not just godly ones, mind you)

they've both had disappointing absent mortal and godly parents with a hostile stepmother involved and monitored with each and every one of their moves. annabeth has had to deal with her stepmother playing the ‘bad cop’ with her father not even coming to her defence, just the way hera came butting into jason's life and giving him terrible memories, taking him away from thalia, with zeus not even caring.

speaking of which, they are both the only demigods who have harboured the most amount of resentment for hera. just the sight of hera pisses them both off, as it hera, stripped off so much time away from annabeth and percy, and memories from jason, which he never permanently got back.

this is sort of irrelevant but I'll add this anyway, in boo, athena also immediately liked jason for calling out zeus's unfairness to apollo, saying something like 'the boy is right' and she gave him an approving/appreciative look for his wisdom, which is pretty rare for athena to say or do to literally any demigod ever. this makes me wonder if she ever saw jason as someone who had some sort of athena legacy in him, which is why she was so pleasantly surprised with him. ugh we could've so gotten jason and annabeth as potential sibling figures bc of how many parallels they have, too bad that the percy/jason rivalry narrative was pushed too hard.

I hope I've drawn enough parallels with their characters, as a lot of you have been looking forward to this post for a while, hopefully this analysis hasnt been underwhelming for you all to read!

@thevoidcaller @karmaajr @onestorytorulethemall @newlyfoundwren @thesummerstorms

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wilwheaton · 1 year ago

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This is from Star Trek Wholesome Posting on Facebook.

And because it's a FAQ, here's the story of The Infamous Clown Sweater, as I told someone who asked there:

"I did this fundraiser for EFF in San Francisco in ... 2001? 2002? Something like that. It was at DNA Lounge, and after we were done, this person came up to me with this horrific sweater (jumper, for you non-Americans). They told me it was part of The Infamous Clown Sweater Project. What's that, I asked. They told me they are getting as many people as possible to wear it and pose for a photo, which they would then upload to their webpage -- not website, webpage, because it was 2001 or so -- for all to see.

"Of *course* I was down for it, and that face I'm making in the first photo is my very real reaction to the _awful_ stank that was just infused in the acrylic fibers.

"The second picture is from a con about ... 2014? Something like that, based on how I look. Someone actually made their own version of that horrible sweater for me. One arm is too long, on purpose, the neck is all stretched out, on purpose, and it fits poorly, on purpose. It's so damn funny to me, and it came along at a moment when we were doing this "then and now" thing on Twitter (before the fascists took over).

"I still have the second sweater. I have no idea what happened to the original. Last time I checked, the website that hosted all those pictures -- so old it was manually coded in html, predating even Flickr -- was lost to the sands of time.

"But it never fails to make me smile when this picture comes back around. It reminds me of a specific time, when there was just so much hope for the online future we were all building."

And for those of you who are too young to know what Riker giving Wesley his "fondest wish" is, well ...

Wesley wanted to grow up to be a blue-eyed blond who I'm pretty sure the costume designer wanted to fuck?

GEORDI! You're not helping!

Look. I love you, Commander Riker, but ... you're gonna want to try again. Wesley's fondest wish rhymes with "marathon betazoid orgy on risa".

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shhtickerbook · 5 months ago

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Baby Feathers

Merry Christmas!

(Helluva Age regression ficlet that takes place post sinsmas)

I don’t see enough fics that have caregivers who want to try regressing!!! So I decided to fill that void and the soul destroying events of sinsmas gave me lots of agere fodder. have a lovely holiday everybody!!! Fic below!

Stolas had everything planned. It was new years Eve and both Stolas and Blitz�� had the holiday just to themselves. Millie and Moxxie were spending the holiday with Millie’s family in Wrath, whilst Loona was going to another party at Beelzebub’s. Stolas had spent many a New Year’s Eve at insufferable galas, but there had always been one silver lining. Both himself and Via would slip away from the ball, where the two would sit on the roof of their mansion and watch the first new year’s moon come to rise. He still hadn’t realised that this would be the first year where they wouldn’t be able to share their tradition. He couldn’t stop thinking of Octavia, their last interaction cruelly playing on loop in his mind. His heart was breaking with every second, but at least he had Blitzø. If he hadn’t been grieving so painfully, maybe he’d be able to enjoy himself.

There was one aspect he found great comfort in though, and that was being able to take care of Blitzø. Over the past few months he’d been introduced to the Imp’s smaller side, which had taken a while for Blitzø to open up about it properly. He was a pretty headstrong character, and struggled s lot when it came to expressing any kind of vulnerability.

Stolas had actually found out by accident, with Blitzø regressing involuntarily after a bad night terror. Stolas’s heart had broke when he found his partner looking so afraid and vulnerable. Blitzø wasn’t able to really explain what was happening, but Stolas was already a parent, it was second nature to know how to comfort little ones after a bad dream. The next morning Blitzø had explained what happened, sometimes he found himself slipping younger in age, usually when he was stressed or was reminded of bad things. Especially since he lost his mother, she was the only person who treat him with gentle nurturing care. When he lost her, he never got to feel that again. So when he began to have these episodes, it became a part of himself he had to hide out of shame.

For a long time he continued to suppress this side of himself, pushing away all these childish longings. But he could only hold it back for so long until his body decided for him. When he did find out, Stolas was almost too supportive of it, finding this side of Blitzø absolutely darling. Lavishing him with toys, clothes and all kinds of things he never even considered trying. Stolas even found himself getting a lot out of caring for him too, it made him feel needed.

Blitzø had to admit that it felt great to not hide this side of him anymore. Stolas had officially seen every episode of that pony show, and helped Blitzø brush the manes of every single horse figurine he owned. But ever since the trial, neither Blitzø or Stolas had the time or the mental energy to take come time to relax.

Stolas had felt so guilty that in his current state he hadn’t been able to care for Blitzø, and had even collected a set of gifts for him to open from Sinsmas. On the day itself he’d set aside his little gifts so that he wouldn’t have to open them in front of the others. So he’d made the decision to surprise him with a “little sinsmas” on new years, when they knew they’d have the house all to themselves.

Stolas woke up early to get out the gifts he had stored away. Thankfully he had purchased these before he’d lost all of his money and possessions. But when he did get up, he felt awful. The former prince had slept terribly, tossing and turning as he once again replayed what had happened with Via. He was then cursed with unpleasant dreams that only tortured him further. All he wanted was his daughter, but she wanted nothing to do with him.

Regardless of how he felt, he pushed himself through it, today was for Blitzø. The imp had done so much for him recently, he had to pay it back somehow. He quietly looked through Blitzø’s wardrobe in search of some of his little clothes, choosing an oversized hoodie with some colourful horse motifs. It even had an adorable woollen mane that went down the hood. Last of all he collected a plastic box at the bottom of the wardrobe, stolas recognising it. Inside Blitzø kept all of his baby things, pacifiers, some teethers and other equally adorable equipment. It was adorned with multiple stickers, all in the horse variety.

As he entered back into the main room, stolas began to gather some ingredients for breakfast. The plan was to make Blitzø some oatmeal for breakfast, which was simple enough. Blitzø always liked it drizzled with cherry syrup, and if he was feeling little enough he’d even let Stolas feed him.

Stolas carefully arranged the gifts wrapped in coloured paper by the tree, flicking on the fairy lights for added effect. He loved the small touches of sinsmas, indulging in the little details that made it feel magic. Blitzø had mentioned how sinsmas wasn’t really a special thing when he was a kid, the circus would perform through the whole holiday. Which included an extra special sinsmas day show which was very popular, but it meant he never got to really enjoy the holiday.

He thought of a little blitz crouched by the tree, tearing open coloured parcels in glee. You couldn’t help but smile. As a final touch, he pulled the blinds open to let the light in. Such a simple action turned into a huge mistake. As Stolas glanced outside, his gaze was caught to the horizon. Peeking just through the clouds was the new moon, only barely visible. By tonight it would be hanging at the peak of the sky, even in daylight it was beautiful.

How could something so beautiful destroy him so painfully? Stolas remembered everything, his special tradition with his daughter. He thought of Octavia, sitting alone and watching the moon rise. The way she spat her words towards her father, looking like she genuinely despised him. Who was he kidding? It didn’t look like he hated him, she did hate him. Stolas just sank to the floor, his beak quivering as he felt tears building in his eyes. It was all too much. All he wanted was to hold his daughter in his arms again, but would that ever happen again?

she hated him.

she HATED him.

Blitzø turned over in bed, dozily reaching over into the empty space of his bed. He’d gotten so used to sleeping next to somebody again, so when he didn’t feel any feathers in his grasp, it pulled him out from his snoozing.

“Mmme- Stolas?”

He mumbled, eyes fluttering open. As suspected, Stolas wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Pushing himself up onto his elbow before rubbing his eyes, recently Stolas had been the one who stayed in bed. Blitzø would usually let him sleep in for as long as he needed, sometimes leaving a note if he had to leave for work.

With a yawn Blitzø pulled himself up, before hearing something from outside the room. It took him a second to realise in his sleep addled state, but he could clearly hear a sadly familiar sound of crying. Within a second he’d jumped from the bed and thrown open the door.

“Stolas? are you okay?”

In hindsight it was a pretty stupid question, especially when he found said bird on the floor of his sitting room. He was curled in on himself, sobbing bitterly. It was uncomfortably reminiscent of what he’d been like when Octavia had rejected him.

“Hey hey- what’s going on?”

Blitzø joined him on the floor, resting a hand over Stolas’s shaking back. Stolas flinched at the touch at first, but couldn’t help but fall into Blitzø’s hold. Blitzø could feel Stolas’s feathers quivering as he tried to control his sobbing. The Imp couldn’t help but notice that a lot of his little stuff was scattered across the room.

His box of pacifiers and that one hoodie he liked to wear, there were also some new gifts under the tree.

“I had planned to- I’m sorry, i just wanted to make today special for you.”

Stolas whimpered, feeling like he’d ruined everything. He thought he would feel better today, if he got to care for Blitzø. But right now owl felt as fragile as glass, but Blitzø held onto him tight and securely. It clicked as he realised what Stolas had been trying to do, his expression softening.

“Oh stolas, it’s okay.”

“It’s not! All I’ve done is mope around and you’ve had to do everything for me. Not to mention the money you’ve spent and the time I’ve taken up. I had it all planned, you deserved a break-“

It took him a little time to string together his response, tears continuing to dribble down his feathers. He felt pathetic, how was he going to care for a regressed Blitzø when he was this much of a mess? It furthered his suspicion that was just a complete failure when it came to any kind of caregiving.

“Stolas listen to me, it’s okay. It’s.. really sweet you thought of this.”

Blitzø gently tilted his beak to meet his face, the tearstained bird’s expression tugging something on his heartstrings. He looked around, spotting the half made breakfast and carefully arranged presents. All the effort he’d made, for him no less.

“I don’t deserve you.”

He chuckled, managing to pull the lanky heap of owl closer into his lap the best he could. His statement seemed to reactivate Stolas tears though, who cried intelligibly into his chest. It was the other way around, it was Stolas that didn’t deserve him.

Whilst Blitzø still wasn’t entirely sure on what had triggered this, it didn’t take an idiot to know it was related to Octavia. In the time Blitzø had known Stolas, he’d never seen him like this. The Goetian Prince was so broken, fragile. But thankfully Blitzø had some experience in that feeling already.

He let him cry it out for a few minutes, with the shoulder of his shirt becoming very wet. He ran his fingers up and down Stolas’s feathers, gently preening him as he murmured comfort. The sobs eventually died down into sad sniffling, but the grip around him still hadn’t broken. Although Stolas’s heart was breaking, Blitzø’s grip around him was at least keeping said shards in place.

As Blitzø rubbed his back, he was hit with a sudden idea. He felt a little guilty that Stolas had gone through all this trouble for him, especially as he wasn’t feeling anywhere near small. And as much as he cared for Stolas, he couldn’t fake his regression either. Anyways, he didn’t feel like he was the one need in comfort right now.

“Hey, here’s an idea. I know we’ve never talked about this before, but what if you let me take care of you today?”

Stolas stirred a little with a frown, peeling his crispy feathered face away from Blitzø’s chest.

“What do you mean?”

“You take care of me when I’m feeling low, why not let me baby you for once? You’re lookin’ like you need it.”

The more Blitzø thought about it, the more he wanted to give it a try. There was something about the forlorn bird in his arms that melted his heart a little. Was this how Stolas felt with him? Nah, he couldn’t he this cute.

“No, you’re my baby. I care for you, I care for people- it’s what I like to do.”

Stolas suddenly felt flustered, face lighting up bright red. He’d never even considered the idea of swapping roles before. Blitzø was his baby, never the other way around. He wasn’t sure if it felt right to him, he wanted to be the one caring for Blitzø.

“Yeah, and you do a great fuckin job at it. So why not let me return the favour, you might even like it?”

Blitzø teased as he gently pinched the owls red cheeks, already delighting in the idea. Stolas found himself wavering a little, especially with how shivery and weak he was. He looked over at the gifts guiltily, but Blitzø already had it covered.

“Look we could try it today, if you don’t like it, we’ll stop. We can save the gifts for tomorrow, and then you can have your turn babying me, sound okay?”

Blitzø sounded so sure that Stolas found it hard to disagree. Although it still felt very alien, he definitely appreciated this cuddling part right now. So in the end gave a defeated shrug, Blitzø’s face lighting up.

“You just relax and let me take care of everything, feathers.”

Stolas shook for a second, before burying his beak into Blitzø’s shoulder again. Fresh tears erupted seemingly for no specific reason. But this time there was a sense of catharsis that came with it, to be able to cry in safety. Was this how Blitzø felt when Stolas would comfort him whilst small? He hoped so, as it felt pretty damn good.

Blitzø began to rock him back and forth, kissing the crown of his feathers. He gave him a few more minutes to cry, Stolas had been forcing himself into long periods of numbness recently and clearly needed it. Eventually Blitzø shifted Stolas to the side a little, who whined at the movement.

“Lemme just move ya onto the couch, I can’t feel my fuckin’ legs anymore.”

With quite a bit of effort, Blitzø managed to lift the bird onto the couch. Unfolding the blanket over the armrest and tucking it around his skinny frame. Whilst no longer sobbing, Stolas had been reduced to the awkward hiccupy stage. Blitzø told ahold of his hand, squeezing softly to get his attention.

“Hey try and breathe a little, in and out.”

The imp demonstrated, and Stolas tried his hardest to follow. But he found himself falling back into the unhelpful gulping, even with Blitzø’s help.

“Here’s an idea.”

Blitzø turned and rifled through his little box, finding an unopened package. Blitzø himself still hadn’t used these ones as he didn’t like the colours. Stolas turned to see what Blitzø was doing, with his pupils pin-pricking when he spotted it. In his hands was a package of pacifiers, a pack of three different shades of lilac to dark blue.

“You’re doing a shitty job at breathing right now, try one of these. You’ll have no choice but to breathe a little slower.”

He spoke so casually, holding out a dark blue pacifier. Stolas had seen this kind of item many, many times now. But now when it was being presented to him, rather from him? It felt a little scary. Blitzø watched as stolas internally fought with himself, rolling his eyes.

“Cmon, open that beak for me, feathers.”

He used the pet name for the second time, which made Stolas melt a little. As if beyond his control he held his beak open, Blitzø placing the pacifier there before he could change his mind.

The sensation was certainly strange at first, the bird wasn’t really sure what to do with it. But his body was still hellbent on breathing hard, so he focused on trying to breathe nasally instead. Without realising he began to suck on the bulb, and breathed in and out. If it hadn’t been such sad circumstances, Blitzø would’ve definitely taken a photo. It was just too fucking cute. Instead he joined Stolas on the couch, still demonstrating his breathing in time to Stolas’s.

“Feels good doesn’t it?”

Stolas looked up at him lazily, his was face a little red self consciously. But he couldn’t lie, the rhythmic sensation of the pacifier was incredibly soothing. With each minute he understood just why Blitzø liked them so much. There was a cloudy fuzzy sensation in his head, one that forced him away from all the sad and scary feelings. It was a blissful escape, but it wasn’t numbing him the way his pills used to.

So he nodded at his partner, squeezing his hand back tight. They spent the next twenty minutes just cuddling, and Stolas honestly felt the calmest he had in months. Blitzø eventually had to pry the owl off of him to sort out breakfast, turned on the TV for Stolas. He considered what to put on, before setting on an incredibly corny fairytale movie about a princess. But it was worth it to see the way Stolas’s eyes lit up when it came on.

Blitzø made himself a cup of coffee, and poured one of Stolas’s weird fancy teas into one of his own sippy cups. Choosing the moonlight unicorn design, after forcing stolas to watch every episode of his horse show, Stolas had eventually chosen his favourite character. When he returned to the couch, Stolas shuffled over to curl into his chest again. The pacifier still hasn’t left his beak since placing it there, he looked undeniably adorable. Blitzø was just so happy to see him looking content for the first time in days. The two could just spend their day with each-other’s company, enjoying every moment.

Neither demon even made it to the end of the movie, the two of them passed out in a tangle of limbs. The bird with his head curled underneath Blitzø’s chin, the imp’s hand subconsciously still stroking his feathers. Blitzø had gotten so used to himself being the baby in their relationship, that he’d never considered how much he’d enjoy swapping places. The remainder of their day continued in a similar fashion, Blitzø leading Stolas along in hand. And to his surprise Stolas was a very quiet little, who didn’t speak much for the rest of the day.

It was different than when he was quiet when he was sad though, Stolas would still giggle if Blitzø said something funny and was clearly enjoying himself. Stolas just felt happy that he didn’t have to try and think of words right now, he could just be. He allowed Blitzø to dress him in some loose cuddly clothes, and even hand feed him little squares of pancake when he felt up to eating.

Blitzø loved learning more about this little side of him. And Stolas found himself embracing a part of himself he’d never even uncovered. They spent the day indoors, playing games and watching movies. In the evening when Blitzø was busy running a bath for him, Stolas couldn’t help but glance outside. The moon was beginning to rise in the early evening, himself and Blitzø agreed to head to bed before midnight. The whole new year’s celebration never interested him too much, he really only ever used it as an excuse to get wasted.

Stolas pulled the pacifier from his beak and dropped it to the floor. Feeling the fog of his small space drift away, he took in a deep breath. Slipping outside onto the balcony, he dared himself to look up at the moon. Giving anything just for one more moment with Octavia, wondering what she was doing right now.

“I know you hate me, and that you can’t even hear me- But I love you so very much.”

He spoke to himself quietly, not breaking eye contact with the rising moon. Hoping that just maybe Octavia could somehow get the message. He stayed there for a little while, not even realising the slow tears dripping down his face until he felt a hand on his. Blitzø didn’t say anything, he stood aside the Owl for a while until he stirred from his trance.

“I got your bath ready, even added a bunch of those bath nukes you like.”

“Bath bombs- you mean.”

Stolas couldn’t help but correct, although he still sounded sad. Blitzø held onto his hand and lead him back inside, finding the pacifier abandoned on the floor.

“Hey you still want this buddy?”

He held it up, unsure if Stolas was feeling completely big again. The owl looked at the object, clearly considering it. He watched the Imp as he stared up at him with genuine adoration. Instead of a verbal response, he just took the pacifier back and allowed himself to sink back into that comforting headspace. The Goetian prince stood tall above Blitzø, and to any old person they must’ve looked ridiculous. But Blitzø looked up at the tall owl and only saw a little baby bird, one that was in desperate need of some love and care.

“Cmon then baby feathers, I have a whole collection of rubber duck horses just waiting to play with ya-“

Merry Christmas y’all ❤️❤️❤️

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humblefryingpan · 8 months ago

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The "Amy likes spiders" poem in doki doki literature club (Natsuki's second poem) just makes me think of being closeted with internalized homophobia and I think it works really well for her

There's the poem if you haven't seen it!

(This is just me analyzing the poem and it's probably my longest post yet. I've been overanalyzing all the poems but this is the only one I've typed out atm lol)

It specifically makes me think of four things - Yuri liking different things and her disliking her for it, Natsuki being so far in the closet that she'll take any excuse to avoid the pretty girl™, Natsuki's self projection onto "Amy" and most importantly internalized homophobia, like I said earlier

It generally makes me think natsuri but I'll get to that later. So if we go from the internalized homophobia + closeted perspective (more like raised homophobic and doesn't know she's gay but ykwim), it reads as "a girl I know is a lesbian and Im meant to hate her for it. She's pretty and she makes me feel things but I can't be friends with her because she's a lesbian"

'The narrator' (Natsuki) heard a rumor that a girl, "Amy" (the lesbian), apparently likes 'spiders' (girls) and is repulsed. And that's why she isn't friends with her.

"Amy" sings the narrator's favorite love song, her voice is cute and it's making her heart pound. But she still likes 'spiders', so she can't be her friend.

She hurts her leg and "Amy" helped her get to the nurse. She tried to avoid touching her because her hands might be gross due to touching 'spiders', so she still can't be her friend.

"Amy" is very popular, but "she probably talks about spiders" (being gay). "What if her friends start to like spiders too?" (This entire verse rlly speaks for itself)

The next verse is shortest and even more repetitive than the rest of the poem (to emphasize her point) "it doesn't matter if she has other hobbies, it doesn't matter is she keeps it private, it doesn't matter if it doesn't hurt anyone" because to the narrator - she can't be "Amy's" friend, no matter how bad she wants to, because she's always going to be a 'spider lover' (lesbian) and she won't be able to ignore that.

And then the final nail to seal shut the door to the closet - "it's gross, she's gross, the world is better off without spider lovers. And I'm gonna tell everyone" because she needs everyone to know she hates 'spider lovers' to make sure no one knows she is also one. It's so gross because she was taught it was and now she can't stop thinking it's gross, no matter how nice/pretty/kind "Amy" is.

Onto the natsuri part so if you don't like that ship feel free to skip the rest of this (if you're still here lol)

Yuri and Natsuki like such different things (creepy and complex vs cute and simple) and they reach the point where they've argued so much that Natsuki doesn't want to admit she doesn't dislike Yuri. Even if she likes her poems, she'd never tell her because she feels like she can't at this point.

Natsuki couldn't see past their differences for a while, when she finally does, she's too embarrassed to apologize and too uncomfortable to befriend her without apologizing.

Nearly every verse of the poem will talk about how great the girl is. How she has a cute voice, she helped her, she has lots of friends, she makes her heart pound. But every verse she will still come back to "but she likes spiders. That's why I'm not friends with her". It feels like her gradually warming up to Yuri but still reminding herself that she can't be her friend, they're too different, Yuri likes creepy things (Yuri probably does like spiders so that's a bit more literal but it's also that spiders seem to symbolise everything she likes that Natsuki doesn't) and she couldn't be friends with someone so different.

And lastly, Natsuki's self projection (this is what the meaning is said to be in-game), meaning "Amy" is Natsuki herself. Natsuki likes manga and her friends won't believe it counts as literature. Her manga is the spider in this interpretation, she doesn't want people to judge her based on what she likes. She's had to be so defensive about what she likes, she may even judge herself for liking it at this point. She doesn't want people to judge people by their interests.

I keep seeing people say that Amy is a real person but that's one of the only interpretations that makes no sense to me. Because Natsuki may be a bit judgemental but even she wouldn't make an entire poem about disliking her classmate's love of spiders. She said herself that anyone that agrees with the narrator in the poem is a bad person. It's far more likely that "Amy" is a made up idea, she's barely even shown as a person. She's seemingly meant to be symbolic of Natsuki's flaws and insecurities, whatever you perceive those insecurities to be.

Portraying Amy as an actual person kinda cheapens the poem, at least in my opinion, because she was talking about how people should be given a chance no matter what (or who) they like and if Amy was a person it wouldn't make sense

#its just my opinion btw im not saying all this is 100% factual #this is how i personally interpret the poem and her character :)#doki doki literature club #ddlc #ddlc natsuki #doki doki natsuki #game analysis #poem analysis #character analysis #natsuri #yuri ddlc #natsuki x yuri

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magniloquent-raven · 9 months ago

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I'm getting distracted from my current projects by someone else's post again someone tell me to stop going on tumblr while I have WIPs lmfao

@rosetterer this isn't EXACTLY what you posted about but it does get there in the end

Twenty-four hours has never seemed like such an insurmountably long time.

Buck's had long shifts before, the boring ones when he'd stare at the alarms on the wall, willing them to go off—he can picture Maddie's disappointed scowl if she ever found out about that, but he swears he was only hoping for something small and harmless to break up the monotony—and the busy ones. Ones that leave his ears ringing with phantom sirens by the end. Those days only ever seem long in retrospect, when he's bone-tired and trying to remember all the names he asked for.

But now every shift seems to find new and shittier ways to be gruelling. Eddie's miserable and trying to act like he isn't. There's this weird, uncomfortable tension brewing between Hen and Chim. Ravi got himself transferred to B shift—probably to get away from Gerrard, and Buck can't exactly blame him, but he sort of does anyway and their new probie is terrible, and... then there's Gerrard.

Like, Buck already knew he was a piece of work, but. Knowing and experiencing are two very different things. He could barely stand keeping his mouth shut at the medal ceremony when he met the man for five seconds, and now he has to put up with him making smug, belittling comments towards all his friends, all the time. Constantly needing to remind himself he doesn't want to get fired is actually killing him.

It doesn't help that every so often he'll remember Tommy's offhand Captain Gerrard was like having the dad I already had, with a pang as he wonders what exactly Tommy grew up with. What parts of Gerrard's condescending tyranny were familiar to him. Phillip Buckley may not have been father of the year, but maybe never being looked directly at was better than being raised neck deep in toxic waste.

Every time he remembers he gets the urge to pull out his phone and call Tommy up just to... he doesn't even know. Just to hear his voice, maybe. Know if he's doing okay.

Another reason work days seem so long now, if he's being honest. He's always counting down the hours until he can see Tommy again. Like a kid on the last day of school, watching the clock tick closer and closer to summer vacation.

So, of course, right near the end of a particularly busy shift, Gerrard gets them all lined up for a lecture about how sloppy that last save was. Everyone did something wrong, and everyone needs to hear about all the ways they could have gotten someone killed, like they don't all know how risky the job is already.

By the time he's finished telling Chim it's a miracle he managed to convince anyone to let him out on calls, Buck is clenching his jaw hard enough to make his teeth ache.

"I'm sure Captain Soft-Touch loved telling you all it was okay to be mediocre, and that you were trying your best," Gerrard sneers at them all, waving a dismissive hand at very idea of Bobby's captaincy. "But the coddling ended when he retired. Sparing your feelings is going to get people killed. Diaz!" He shouts, abrupt, turning on his heel towards Eddie. Eddie doesn't flinch, but Buck does.

"Yes, sir?" He's coolly polite, and his face is carefully blank, but his posture is tense.

"If I ever catch you checking your phone at a scene again, I'll make sure you're mopping floors for the rest of your life."

Eddie's expression hardens. It was a fender-bender and Eddie didn't even touch his phone until everyone was accounted for and packed into the ambulance. "It was a text from my son. Sir." His tone veers a little to the left of polite.

"I don't care if it was from the goddamn Pope, when you're in the field your focus stays on scene. Next time your brat needs something tell him to go cry to his mother about it."

This time when Buck flinches, everyone else in line does too. Hen bites down on a grimace. Chim hisses quietly through his teeth.

"I can't do that," Eddie says flatly. "What with her being dead and all."

The firehouse is silent for a long, horrible moment. That might've taken the wind out of any decent person's sails, Buck thinks. At the very least most people would've retreated into awkwardness and ended the lecture entirely.

Gerrard's brow pinches angrily. "Don't get smart with me, Diaz."

Buck's not sure it's possible to hate someone more than he hates their new captain right now.

"I don't care about your little sob story excuses, I care that you're sloppy and distracted. If you can't handle the job and the kid, drop one of them."

Oh, he was wrong.

He hates this man so much he's choking on it, it's clogging his throat like bile and he's running out of strength to care that he shouldn't spit it out, spew it everywhere and ruin everything just for the chance of hurting this man in the process. He feels like his skin is bursting at the seams.

Eddie's biting the inside of his cheek, rage and sorrow warring silently on his face.

And Buck breaks. Bursts. "Hey, Captain, that's—"

"Can it, Buckley," Gerrard cuts him off before he can even start. It's not angry, it's not anything, he brushes Buck off like he's an annoying fly buzzing in his ear, barely worth glancing at for the two seconds it takes to tell him he doesn't care. "You're all dismissed. Get out of my sight."

Some of them flee, scurrying to their lockers, the kitchen, anywhere but here. A couple of people throw backwards glances before they walk away. Hen and Chim exchange grim looks. Eddie disappears out the back door in an angry haze. And Buck...

Buck feels. Empty. Small. Like he cut himself open trying to relieve the pressure and now there's just nothing left. No one to patch up the wound, and no reason for any of it, he didn't make an impact, he didn't help anyone, he stood there listening to his friends get degraded, and now—now he's feeling sorry for himself?

It's stupid. He's stupid. He feels like shit because, what, because he didn't get yelled at? Because his piece of shit captain took a break from implying he's a disgusting pervert?

He thinks himself in circles about it his whole way home, the pit in his stomach getting a little deeper every time he tries to will it away.

He's wallowed himself halfway through a six-pack, staring sightlessly at his TV, by the time his front door opens.

"Evan?"

One of the knots in his chest loosens. "Yeah," he calls out, not bothering to sound less pathetic than he is. "In here."

"Hey." Tommy's stopped next to the stairs, eyeing him. His gaze is assessing, but his tone is soft. He's always so careful with Buck. "Bad day?"

Buck takes another sip of his beer. Shrugs.

"Ah, one of those."

The couch cushions dip as Tommy takes a seat next to him. He's close enough that Buck doesn't have to look at him to know he's there. There's warmth radiating off him. The woodsy scent of his aftershave. Buck presses their knees together, and exhales properly for the first time in hours.

He knows he could talk about whatever he wants and Tommy would let him. He's waiting for Buck to take the lead here. Buck could avoid the issue entirely and decide to talk about anything. The fact that he can't really tell the difference between the fancy beer Tommy insists is better than the crap Buck's drinking right now. The documentary about bees he's pretending to watch. The goddamn weather.

What comes out of his mouth is a quiet, "I feel like an idiot."

Tommy pulls the beer bottle out of Buck's loose grip, puts it down next to the couch, and then takes Buck's hand in both of his. "Why?"

Buck scrubs at his eyes. "I..." He catalogues the tiny scars on Tommy's knuckles. Two, three, little dots on his index finger. A lopsided vee on his thumb. "Something happened at work."

"Did Gerrard say something to you?" There's an edge to Tommy's question, something sharp and flinty. It makes Buck's heart do dumb little somersaults.

"No." He stops, shame burning his cheeks. "Not. Not to me. That's... He was lecturing everybody, and I..."

"Evan." Tommy grips his chin, firmly, gently, guiding Buck's face until he looks him in the eye. There's a sympathetic twist to his mouth. "Tell me."

He does. As best he can when it feels like what's didn't happen is more important, and he can barely put into words why that is. But trying helps, a little. Trying to whittle it down into an explanation forces him to look at the whole of it, and realize it's not looming over him anymore.

Maybe it's just Tommy's hands on him, soothing the hurt away.

"I dunno. Feels like I could have done something differently, maybe"

Tommy hums, tilting his head in acknowledgement. "You could've."

Buck winces.

"But it wouldn't have turned out any better."

Oh.

A flower blooms on the TV, purple and white petals reaching for the sun. Buck toys with Tommy's fingers, and shifts his leg closer, hooking their ankles together.

"It felt so shitty," he mutters.

"I know."

He would, wouldn't he. Buck gets that pang in his chest again, and he pushes the rest of the way into Tommy's space. Tommy wraps his arms around him, and drops a kiss into his curls, seemingly content to let Buck situate himself however he wants.

He kind of wishes Tommy wasn't still wearing jeans, but asking him to take his pants off might send the wrong message.

"You don't think I'm, like...a bad friend, right?" He cringes his way through the question.

"No." Tommy responds matter-of-factly and without hesitation. Then the corner of his mouth twitches. "I think you're a very good boy."

Buck's entire head feels like it's on fire. A grin starts to creep across his face. It might be the first time he's smiled all day. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm."

Maybe he should ask Tommy to take his jeans off after all.

#911 abc #911 show #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #dailykinley #evan buckley #a raven's writing desk #this got away from me a little bit

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phantomwithbreakfast · 5 months ago

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༺ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 ༻

×͜×

One-shot.

⟢ Danny Phantom Phan Fic • Genre: Angst / No Comfort / Horror • AU • TW: Strong Language — Emotional Distress — Dissociation — Identity Conflict — Self-destructive Tendencies? — Violence — Harassment? • T+ rate

Summary: Danny couldn’t take the burden anymore.

Post Scriptum: this is @ghostlyglimmer her Phantom design appearance. (I made some kind of fan art hehe)

♫ ▸ Fear, hear. Close, stars. Dream. Tell me what you want, I know the truth. Tryin’ my best to get approve. It hurts so bad, so why I still. You think I’m not right for you. — Akiaura, Olya Holiday

Danny could still feel it.

The icy, metallic bite of the scalpel, the sharp sting as it tore him open—body and soul—while he lay there, restrained, helpless, watching her face. That expression she had… it had been so calm—so determined, as though he wasn’t her son anymore.

Just another specimen, another project, another ghost to vivisect. Something that she thought was broken and needed to be fixed.

The memory had burned itself into Danny’s consciousness, a nightmare that replayed every time he closed his eyes, a memory refusing to fade.

Because you are broken. You always have been. She knew it. That’s why she cut so deep.

But the worst part wasn’t the memory of her hands or the instruments.

No, it was that feeling.

She didn’t just cut flesh. She took what was left of your whole being. You felt it, didn’t you? How empty you are now?

And the nightmares—God, those fxcking nightmares—they never stopped. They twisted and writhed in his sleep, warping the familiar into something monstrous. He would wake up gasping, his heart pounding in his chest, drenched in sweat. But lately, the nightmares weren’t just confined to the hours of darkness. They bled into his waking moments, seeping into reality like poison. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure if he was awake or still trapped in the dream—no, the nightmare where his mother’s hands cut him apart, piece by agonizing piece.

Because you’re not her son. You never were. You were always just… a thing, a specimen, a ghost to rip apart molecule by molecule, something to be dissected, to take out the part of your whole existence, something to be controlled.

Some part of him wished he hadn’t retained the memories. That they had been lost with the ectoplasm and blood that pooled beneath the table that day. It would’ve been easier that way.

Forgetting would mean freedom.

But no.

He remembered every god damn thing. Every fxcking second of pain, every scream that got stuck in his throat, every look of indifference on her face as she cut deeper and deeper and deeper… reaching for something inside him that she could or would never understand.

You’ll never be free. These memories are a part of you now, carved into you. You can’t escape what you’ve become.

He had tried to forget. Tried to drown out the voice that whispered relentlessly in the back of his mind, reminding him of that moment. But it clung to him like a shadow.

It was always there, always lurking.

It followed him in every quiet of every fxcking moment, in every breath he took.

You’re not her son anymore. She made sure of that, didn’t she?

The voice wasn’t wrong.

He wasn’t sure if he was even Danny anymore. That boy, the one who laughed with his friends, who dreamed of going to space, who loved his family—he had died on that table, didn’t he?

He had been replaced with something hollow, something that didn’t belong anywhere, not in this world or the next.

A ghost.

A freak.

Something no one will ever understand. They’ll never see you as anything else but the monster you are now.

Danny had felt it—his essence, his very being—pulled apart.

And for what? To save him?

No.

To rip him from himself. To tear Phantom from Danny.

She didn’t want her Danny back. She wanted the ghost that lives in you. The weapon. She wanted Phantom—ME. Not you. You’re nothing without my power, and you know it.

The boy she had wanted to save was gone.

And now, what was left?

A hollow shell. A creature caught between two worlds, not welcome in either. She’ll never love you again. No one ever will.

A monster. A freak. A ghost masquerading as a human being, torn between worlds, torn apart by the hands that were supposed to love him.

Nobody understands you—us. They never will. You’re not just Danny anymore. We are something else entirely.

“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UUUUPPPP!”

Danny’s voice cracked, trembling with desperation as he yanked at his pitch black hair. But the pain barely registered. His hands clutched his head, trying to suffocate the voice, trying to tear it out of his mind.

But it wouldn’t stop—it never fxcking stopped.

He had enough of it.

The whispering—the venomous, incessant voice crawling through his skull—it was driving him mad.

He wanted silence. No, he needed silence.

Danny clenched his fists, his nails stinging into the flesh of his palms as a raw scream tore through him. A flash of light enveloped his body, blinding and electric, as he transformed into his ghost form.

He phased through his bedroom floor, his movements frantic and unsteady, like a man running from his own shadow, heading for the basement lab. It loomed cold and dark, but his eyes zeroed in on the Ghost Catcher, sitting untouched like a forgotten object, coated with dust and neglect.

Danny grabbed it, his hands trembling.

He didn’t stop to think.

He couldn’t think.

Flying back into his room, his chest heaved with shallow, ragged breaths.

Without hesitation, he hurled himself through the glowing green wires of the device.

The pain hit like a lightning strike. Danny collapsed onto the wooden floor with a loud thud, face down, his limbs heavy as if weighted with lead. Every nerve in his body screamed as he rolled over, gasping for air, his vision swimming with dark spots.

And then… he saw it.

Illuminated in an unnatural white glow, was Phantom, floating above him.

But…

It was not the Phantom he knew, not… him.

This was pure. Unrestrained. Horrific.

Its glowing green eyes were sunken deep into hollow sockets, smoldering like toxic embers. Its snow-white hair hung loose, disheveled, and eerily bright. Its ashen, deathly skin stretched taut over black bones that jutted sharply beneath. A jagged, Y-shaped scar tore across its chest, oozing faint streaks of ectoplasm. Its left arm was marred with a lightning-bolt pattern that seemed alive, sparking faintly with energy. Shark-like teeth protruded from its grotesque grin, glistening with green slime that dripped to the floor in viscous splatters.

Danny’s heart pounded violently against his ribs, his breath came in shallow gasps as he scrambled backward on trembling arms, his back slamming into a corner of his room.

“What the fxck?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “What the fxck? What the fxck?”

“Don’t you worry, my human being,” Phantom drawled, its low voice a chilling echo, soft yet venomous, curling around the dim room like a noose. “I’m not going to kill you.”

It floated closer, its eerie glow casting fractured shadows over Danny’s trembling body.

A cruel smirk tugged at Phantom’s lips as it stared into Danny’s eyes.

“I am—you, after all. And… oh, well,” it leaned in, its voice dropping to a hushed, sinister whisper, “you are MINE.”

Danny shuddered, his knees drawn tight to his chest, his body trembling as Phantom’s icy presence seeped into the air.

There was no escape.

Nowhere to run.

Nowhere to hide.

Danny sat motionless, paralyzed. His body trembled, his mind spiraling as the cold realization clawed its way through him.

“What… what the fxck have I done?” Danny croaked, barely audible, like a broken suffocating whisper.

Phantom chuckled, low and guttural, echoing through the quiet air.

In an instant, its cold, clawed hand shot forward, seizing Danny by his throat.

The icy grip tightened, cutting off his breath, crushing him beneath its suffocating strength.

Shadows crept in, stealing the edges of Danny’s light, until all blurred into a boundless black void.

There were no screams, no sounds anymore.

Only the silence Danny longed for.

⟢ Inspiration sources: S01 • EP06 — What You Want + S02 • EP08/09 — The Ultimate Enemy.

⟢ I can’t see my Phantom as some kind of monster—a creepy little fella. So instead, I drew someone else’s, which gave me an idea to write another one-shot. Which! Has nothing to do with the original backstory of this Phantom.

⟢ Eventually, while I was drawing this, I learned about the human skeleton, lol.

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chubbypie · 2 months ago

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The Play

Teachers pet. Kinda enemy to lovers. Part 2.

Sumarry: Ivan is sick, and guess who is going to be the new Romeo? That's right, the insuferable Professor Hiddleston, the one who hates you. When an accident happens, you discover some interesting things about him and his thoughts.

Warings: I wish i could put something in here, but it got bigger then i expected and i'll have to put on part three. Yes, sorry, but there will be part three. Maybe some angst in this part? Dunno for sure.

Ps: Soooo sorryyy for the delay to post this, but i got myself lost on my other accont, MattMurdock42 (it's my Henry Cavill acount), and, moreover, i had no idea how to finish this. But, better late then never, here is the second part. When i created part one, i had in mind to only be a two parts project, but it got bigger then i expected. The part three, i believe, will be the last part, and will finally have the smut you all so much want. Hope you enjoy this and have a blast of good time while reading it. Any comments about it, good or bad, are really appreciated. (Honestly, there is only a part two because of some good soul who said in the first part that it was good, that motivated me for part two.)

Wc: 5k

Here is the link to part one:

https://www.tumblr.com/chubbypie/742077573821005825/the-play

The next day, you really didn´t want to go to the theater to rehearse. Not after what happened last night. But you couldn´t miss it, the due date was getting close. At least, Ivan would be back, you thought.

You put a shirt under your hoodie and above your thermal blouse, taking the professor's recomendation to wear something warmer. You knew it wasn´t the weather who made your hands cold, and yes a certain someone, but maybe it could help, it´s worth a try.

On your way to the theather, you bought an espresso and a salty croassaint. Arriving there, already have eaten, you put your bag on the backstage's dresser and go on stage. Everyone was on their possitions, however, someone was missing.

"Huh, excuse me, but where is Ivan?" You asked.

"Oh, thanks for the reminder. Everyone, get togheter here." Everyone went to your side to hear one of the professors who were working on the play. "I unfortunately have bad knews, Ivan was hospitalized last night, the doctors are trying to figure what he has, but we are in contact with his family all the time to know the news. Since he can´t make to the rehearses, we will have a new Romeo: Professor Hiddleston. As he already knows the lines and is working on the play from the begining, we believe he will make a fine substitute."

Everyone seemed to agree and got back on possition.

You were shocked. You wanted to look down, run back and hide in your room. You were trying to avoid the guy, not co-act with him! You didn´t want to give up the play, so you´d have to suck down your feelings about his persona and be professional. You could do that, right?

The morning went by. Your hands as cold as ever, even with the extra clothing. Lunch break came and went. You explained your situation to Amy and she said: "Girl, enjoy your opportunity, half the university is drooling over the guy, so take his hands as he is your most desired dream, kiss him with desperation, make everyone jealous, make a spectacle!"

"You are not exactly helping my situation here. If I do it, he will be more pissed with me than he already is, maybe even kick me out of his classes. Besides, i can´t even control my breath near him, moreover, my hands grow cold and sweaty and my face red." She just laughed at your statement.

The afternoon came. Inside the theater was becoming hot, so you took of your hoodie. The rehearsal had started again. The second of the day. You were backstage, breathing deeply, trying to get used to your situation when, in the corner of your eyes, you see someone stand by your side, watching the stage with you.

"Hope you don´t mind your new Romeo." Said a bass voice.

Your breath caught in your troath. "No, sir. You are a good actor."

He looked at you, his gaze going to your shirt. "Loki?"

"Yes. I-I kinda like norse mithology."

"May I assume Loki is your favourite norse god? I´m not so much into him, thought."

"Who do you like, then? Loki is the most interesting one. He is witty, playful, can be caring when needed, and kinda cute."

"Well, he is, almost, all that. But i prefer Mimir."

"The one who gives advices to Odin. The so called most inteligent of the gods?"

"That´s the one. I like his characteristics as a being."

'It really is a nice one, sir."

Before the conversation could go on further, it was your time to get on stage.

At the end of the play, while people were leaving, you and Mr. Hiddleston were getting up when he said: "You should have kept your hoodie, your hands were cold again."

"S-sorry sir, but the hoodie won´t help it, they are naturally cold. It´s normal, actually."

He nodded. "Okay, then. See you tomorrow."

He starts to turn away when you say, without thinking much. "Wait." He turns to you. "I´m sorry for ruining your night, last night."

He looked confused for a few seconds, then, remembered the encounter. "Oh, it´s okay. May advices seemed to help, you were more relaxed today. I´m glad I could help." He gives you a slight smile and goes a way.

Rehearsals come and go. Your conversations always kept to a minimal, greetings or some aspect of the play.

It´s finally the first day. You didn't remember beign this nervous before. You were already dressed, having gotten ready earlier to get used to the costume and try to be more at ease. Other actors were starting to gather now, helping one another dress. You were sat on a chair, doing breathing exercises, when you noticed someone approaching you. It's Professor Hiddleston, already in his costume too.

"Hey, just wanted to make sure you were here already." He said.

This didn't help you in your state. Did he think you were going to ruin this? That you were that kind of person? Jesus, from everyone you could be paired with, it had to be with him! You decided to let his comment go. "Yes, i'm here." You say low.

"You doing okay? You are incredibly pale." He noticed.

"i'm fine. Just nervous, maybe that's the reason."

"Oh, I see." as he said that, he just turns and leave, no more word spoken. Gosh, did he really need to be this rude? You weren´t in the mood for this, so you got up and started pacing fast, trying to clear your mind. Suddenly, someone touched your shoulder from behind. You glanced back and saw Mr. Hiddleston again.

"Here, have this, it will help, i'm certain." When you looked down, you saw a small chocolate bar in his hands. "I know how you feel. In my first play i was exactly the same, and this helped me a lot, it kept my sugar in a good level and gave me some welcomed energy."

You exitated before taking it from him. First, he was rude and made mean coments, now, he is helping you? He must want something, right? You took the chocolate and thanked him.

You sat to eat and he sat by your side, you both staying in silence. After having finished the bar, he looked at you and comented. "There, your color is back on your face. Feeling better there, Juliet?" He asked. Was that nervousnes in his voice? No, it can't be.

"Yes, thank you, Romeo. I think i'm in a better state of mind too now."

He gave you a smile and you both just stood there, in silence. "If you feel nervous again, on stage, just remember you are doing great." He gave you a soft smile with that.

Okay, they say woman are hard to uderstand, but his man beats them all.

The palay happened. When you finally left the stage you were sick, bille creeping up your throat. You ran to the bathroom and leaned on the toilet, you were feeling it almost in your mouth, but it did't rise any further. You sat on the floor and took deep breaths. You heard a knock on the door. Who could be at this unfortunate hour?

"I'm almost done here." You said loudly.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything?" You knew that voice, it was Mr. Hiddleston.

"I'm just a little nauseated, but i'm fine."

"If you are nauseated you are obviously not fine. How can i help?"

"It´s really okay." As you said that, you feelt the bille getting higher in your larings. You tried to puke in the toilet, but nothing comeed out again.

"Darling, are you puking? I'm worried with you. On the last act you looked like you were going to faint. Please open the door so i can see you."

Was he crazy? Obviously you were not going to open that door. But you were done with him bothering you, talking was making you worse. "You know, if you really wanna help, get me an Eno." As you said that, you heard him go away.

After some minutes he got back and you forced yourself to your feet to open the door. He was standing there, with the Eno inside a glass and a watter bottle. "Here." He handed you and you drank it. "Thank you, i'll be fine now." You said gesturing to the door. "I think i should stay in case you get worse." He sugested.

"Look, i do apreciate your kindness to get me the medicine, but now, you really can't stay. You are not going to see me puke." As you said that you feelt your bille rising, so, you put your hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him out. You barely had time to lock the door when you ran to the toilet, thowing up your guts. After you finished, you washed your mouth and your hands. When you opened the door, you saw Mr. Hiddleston sitting on a chair, his right leg shaking up and down, he looked at you and stood. "Here, i believe this will help with the nausea. Are you better?" He said and handed you a Sports drink.

"Yes, much better now." You looked to the gatorate and said. "You really shouldn't have. But i'm thankfull for your kindness, sir. You helped me a lot. If you ever need anything, i own you. You helped me a lot with my anxiety pre, and post, show."

"Nonsense. You don't own me anything. i am glad to be able to help."

You gave him a soft smile and went to the dressing room to change your clothes (since you still wore your costume).

After this night, every other one you noticed him eyeing you more and asking how you were everyday.

Now, it was the last week of the play. People from other universities had came to see it, meaning you were crouded, so, you'd have to present every night.

This monday, you didn't know why, Professor Hiddleston gripped you quite tightly. You brushed of as he being nervous. However, this kept happening, and, unfortunately, left your wrists a bit bruised. How it was winter, you could cover it with layers of sleeves. You really didn't understand the guy. In the beggining, he hates you more than anything, then he starts to talk normally to you, when you get anxious he is there, being all sweet by your side and helping you go through it; but then? He was bruising you? What's with this man?

Thursday, when you were changing, before you could tie the end of the sleeves of your shirt (meaning they were loose, exposing your forearms), Mr. Hiddleston entered the room to change himself. He looked at you and said 'hi', as always, but today, he added a frown to his face. He got closer to you while you were tying the second layer of your skirt and said. "Darling, let me see your arms, please."

"Sorry, sir, but, why?" You asked starting to panick, he couldn't see that! No way.

"Come on" He said with a seriousness in his voice, not really leaving place for argument, his hands already streched.

You finished to tie and lifted your arms a little. He took them and stretched them to see it better. You could notice the engines on his head were turning.

"Who did this to you?"

"No one, they just apeared. i think i hited them at the gym."

"Darling, this doesn't seem like a hit. it looks like hands did this." He soothed his thumbs over the inside of your wrists. Did he really not know he was the one to blame? Was he feaking it?

"Don't worry, sir, they will fade away in no time, nothing serious."

He letted go of your arms and you resumed to get ready. He went away, but not entirelly convinced, sooner or later he would discover the truth.

That day, his gripped you as harshly as the other ones, but it was only on the fifth day that he noticed. During a scene, you were together on a corner of the stage, while some other characters were talking on the front, he took your wrist to prepare to assume your part, but when he did so, you letted out a small, pained gasp. If it wasn't for your body going stiff alltogether, he wouldn't have detected it. When looked at you from the corner of his eye to see what was the problem, he noticed you looking down to where he was gripping you. He felt his stomach turn. Why didn't you say anything? He loosened his hand automatically. The rest of the play continued normally. In the end, he glanced at you putting your coat to go away from the theater with your friend, when saw you massaging your wrists. You were with your head down while you walked, your friend talking something with you. Did she know about your bruises? That night, all he could do was blame himself. He even had taken your wrists to see it and asked what happened, saying it was a hand mark. Gosh, you must have been so confused and embarassed!

Saturday, when you arrived to get dressed (earlier than others, of course, since you were more of an introvert), Professor Hiddleston was already there, sitting in a chair, backstage, his cellphone in hand. When you passed him, you gave him a polite smile, but he didn't return. "Wait" he said. You turned and went to face him, who was standing now. "Let me see your arms again."

You looked down and extend it to him. "it´s already much better, sir". You lied.

He folded your sleeves up and saw the angry marks. Yesterday he had grabbed you more rough then the other days, so it was more red. He closed his hands around the marks, seeing how the bruises perfectly matched his fingers. "Why didn't you say anything?" He spoke as he holded you.

"Sorry, sir?"

"About your bruises, I caused them, didn't I? I heard your pained squirm last night. Why, for gods sake, didn't you alert me? And even when I asked, you lied. Why?" He was looking at you then, his bright blue/green almost looking to your soul.

"I didn't want to upset you, sir."

"I am the one who hurts you, you are the one who should be upset. How could i be upset about this?" He asked confussed, tilting his head to the side, worry on his features.

You sighed, taking your forearms from his hands and unfolding the sleeves. Maybe this is the time to tell him that you know about his loath for you, you thought. If he knew, he couldn't exactly coment back. There was no problem, right? Today was the second to last day of the play, so you wouldn't have to face him anymore, and you only had this semester more with him, you could assign yourself for another subject on the next one, in case he became mad at you for recognising his feelings towards you.

"Because i would give you another reason to not be fond of me. If i made you feel bad, i would be making things worse."

He froze. What? W-What? Since when did he hate you? He was in shock, deadpaned. He didn't expect that.

"Why would you think I hate you?"

"Well, you don't hide it as well as you think." You scoffed.

"I'm sorry, but, again, what makes you think i hate you?"

"A lot of things, i guess."

"Ok. Lets set things clear. First, I dont hate you. Second, pray tell me one action i did to make you think that."

"It is a lot of combined actions, actually, but, well, you are not actually polite with me. I mean, you are, generally. But, to other students, you give nice complements and extensive explanations on their essays. On my ones, it's always been some short 'good job', 'well done', 'just use a better word for...' . Short and dry. No praises. No complains. Nothing."

He stayed silent for a moment. "I thought you didn't need anything else. Your assignments were always good, there was nothing much more for me to say."

"No matter how hard i tryed, i could never get the higher grade. I studied and studied, always practicing my writting, but the result was always the same, both in grade and comeback note." You said low, toying with the hem of your sweater, embarassed for telling him this.

Okay, now he felt guilty. He never gave you the higher score in an essay because he thought you could do better, so he tried to encourage you by doing this, always ninety nine porcent of the score. However, he never realised you could take it personally. God, he was feeling like a terrible person. If there was someone who deserved a full grade, it was you. You always attended all his requests on all the projects, but he recognized a talent when he saw one, and that's your case. He always expected more, scrutnizing every aspect of your writting, every combination of words in a sentence and the feelings behind it. Unconsciously, he was training you to excellence, to something more, althought, now he realised, that you never asked for it, you just wanted your grades, not a perfection prize. And this attitude of him made you feel less, or worse, like he hated you.

"I never noticed i made you feel bad. Darling, i am so sorry. It's just that- well- I-. Okay." He sighed deeply. "Your work is good. Too good, actually. So I, unconsciously, expected more from you, always, being to demanding. After seeing some of your texts, i started to expect perfection from you, even knowing that is impossible. The scores were to motivate you, so you'd always work hard to get better. But, now i realise, i was unfair to you. You never asked to be trained to perfection. You don't want that, i was forcing it in you and I made you feel bad. Know that i don't hate you. Your essays, i have had few students in the same level as you in all my years lecturing, and they all became huge, with phd's leading them to greate work. So, when i recognized this potential in you, something awakened inside me and i acted in instinct. However, now i realise, that they all asked for my help in their own times, and if they wanted."

You were deadpanaed. You certainly weren't expecting this.

"So, are we better now? You know, this is not exactly a reason to not tell me about being rough with you."

"What about the stares? And the unreadable faces? Almost cold shoulders." You asked bluntly, wihout thinking, since you were still in some sort of shock.

"What stares?"

"Sometimes you look at me with a poker face and don't say anything. I try to shrug it like being your personality, but you don't do this to anyone else, it seems."

"Well..." He blushed. Then he sighed. "I'm gonna tell you the truth." He looked down, as he said low.

You raised your brows expectantly. Finally an explanation!

After some seconds with him cogitating and putting togheter his thoughts, he spoke. "I-I have feelings for you." He whispered, fidgeting with his hands. "If you know what i mean. They are wrong, so they haunt me."

You were more shocked then before.

"Are you mocking me?" You simply couldn't believe it!

He scrunched his nose. "What? No, of course not." As he responded he looked at you.

My eyes were wide now, as i stared at him. "So... you like me and act like that towards me?"

"I wanted this feelings to go away, so i shut myself, to not give me tentations." He looked embarassed now. "About the stares. I looked at you with longing, but a battle inside me occured, so i ended up staring without realising. I am so, so sorry. You don't deserve this." He exhales loud. "I will start to give you fair grades from now on. I hope you feel better now. I ask you to please, not hate me, for my feelings ad my behavior. I'm concious this is out of line and i punish myself mentally everyday for it."

You were speechless. You didn't expect your day to turn out like that.

"After the play i will distance myself, do not feel threatened, darling, please."

"Y- you don't need to distanciate, just don't treat me like shit again. And if you think i could do better, talk to me."

You both stayed still, just looking at each other.

"I won't go tonight. So, Happy birthday in advance." He said low.

"Why wont you go?"

"I think you will enjoy more if i'm not there."

"No, you should go." You looked at him and got a little closer. "About your feelings. I'm not a little girl anymore, i won't feel threatened if you talk to me. I know there are some age gap, but it's not ilegal our ages, i won't think bad of you. We can work this out if you don't keep staring at me from afar or ignore me or be rude."

"Thank you, darling, for not judging me." He gives you a soft smile.

"We are not scholars in the matters of the heart. I understand this inapropriate feelings. It's okay. But, now, will you go?"

"If you don't mind."

"Of course I dont!"

The play happened, and he was more gentle, being aware to not cause you pain. Your mind couldn't decide itself between if he told the truth or was joking.

After the play, you went to a pub and, during dinner, the crew handed you a present, saying that it was from everyone. You thanked them, saing they didnt have to bother. You opened. It was a Norse Mithology book.

"Oh my god, i love it! How did you know i liked it?."

"Professor Hiddleston gave the idea. Then, we needed to know which book to give you. Again, Mr. Hiddleston, always the saviour, said that you were always with a girl named Amy, a friend of yours, so the professors who were directing explained our situation to her and asked if she had any idea of books. She complemented us for the thoughtfull idea and passed us the names of the mithology books you already have. Then, Professor Hiddleston and the others went to search for it." One of your collegues explained.

"Well, thank you all, so much. And thank you, Mr. Hiddleston." I said looking at him. Was what i saw on his face, shyness?

"You're welcome, darling." It was my turn to get flustered.

The night went on and you drank with your collegues, dancing, singing and joking around, acting scenes from the play, even. After a while, you saw the professor sitting alone on a stool by the bar, seemingly deep in thought. You walked slowly to him, trying to stay steady in your stated of drunkenness.

"Hello, there"

"Hi." He said looking at me, trying to sit on the stool, aparently a dificult job.

"You okay?" You asked.

"Yes. You? Enjoying your party?"

"Pretty much. You know, I hate birthdays, so i like to drink a little in them." You said as you took a deep breath, the alcohool making itself noticeable. "Oh no, i shouldnt have told you that." You said as your eyes went wide and you covered your mouth.

"Why not, darling?"

"Because you are Professor Hiddleston. You don't wanna know that, now i've bothered you." You said with a sigh, laying your head on your arms folded on the table.

"It's okay, you didnt bother me. We are having a conversation, after all."

You lifted your head. "If you say so. Why aren't you drinking?"

"I will, tomorrow. I dont think it's a good idea for me to do so today."

Youu hummed. "Well, you should, tomorrow, to celebrate that the play went entirelly well!" You said cheerfully, raising your head higher with a smile.

"Not entirelly." He said looking at your wrists.

You noticed his gaze and bluntly asked, your rationality not working well. "This?" You lifted your pulses. "It's fine." You said with a smile.

"It is not."

"You didn't mean to."

"Its not an excuse."

"Look, it hapened, you can't undo it. And i forgive you, so don't judge yourself."

"But it shouldn't have happened."

"Forget about it. Please."

He sighed.

"Thank you for the book, by the way. This edition is really pretty. And i've been needing a new one for quite some time. You have good taste."

"You're welcome, darling. Glad you like it. I remebered our breive conversation one day and thought that, if you even had a Loki's shirt, you should really like him and norse mitoloogy."

"Yess, i do love it." You said and your head falled back. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay, sir, i think I'll be heading home. If the alcohol gets me sick, at least i'm home."

He looked at you with concern in his eyes, seeing your state as you got up in shaky legs. "Hummm, do you think it's a good idea to go alone? You can barely stand."

"Dont worry, i can handle myself." You said with a wave, your other hand clutching tightly the chair so you could stay up.

"No, you can't right now." He said gently. " Besides, its almost one and a half am, it1s dangerous for you to walk alone in this condition, i will walk you to your dorms."

You looked at him with wide eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Of course, now come on, off we go." He offered you his arm for support and you stared at it in fear. "You okay?"

"I can't touch your arm, you are Professor Hidddleston. Professor Hiddleston hates me. If i touch his arm, i will be expeled from his course." You said quickly in a breath.

His heart ached by hearing that. His guilt consuming him. "Darling, i don't hate you. Now, come on, i won't expell you if you touch me."

You gently took his arm, but after some steps towards the exit, your grip tightened a little for you to better steady yourself. You lead him to your little apartament, which is not far. "This building, sir. Thank you for your help." You said, leaning against the wall and starting to walk to the door.

"You can't go upstairs draging your feet, i'll help you."

"You already did to much, sir."

"Nonsense, take my arm again." You did and you started to go upstairs, slowly, of course. He was surprisingly strong. Sometimes you would stumble on your own feet and he would catch you with both hands under your armpits before your knees could touch the ground.

When on your floor, you went to your door. You got the keys but couldn't unlock with such unsteady hands. "Let me." He said, taking the keys from your hands, gently, brushing his fingers against your cold ones. He opened the door and helped you in.

Once inside, you kicked your shoes off and hanged your coat. "Please, sir, make yourself home. I can't do it right now, but if you want, you can make coffee or tea, or serve yourself anything else i have, as a thank you so, so much for your help." You said taking deep breaths, the alcohol always leaving you on this state. "I'll go brush my teeth now, if you need anything, call me."

As you disapeared to the bathroom, he went to your kitchen to take a glass of water. With it in hands, he looked his suroundings. There were books everywhere in the liviing room (you didn't seem to have a bookshelf, so it was all over the place), tea and coffe mugs also everywhere. Oil paintings of various subjects on the walls (he saw the little canvas and paints near the balcony, so he got to the conclusion you made them). On the fridge, behind little black magnets, poems that you wrote while experiencing different kinds of feelings being secured by the magnets. On the other wall near the balcony, there was a piano with a Shostakovitch sheet's book. The little couch was full of blankets, a big, flat stuffed bear resting on one end. He peeked your room. More books on your bedside table, a huge, black dragon stuffie, lots of conforters, two pillows. Your tablet on the bedside table by the other side of my bed. A small but tall wardrobe. You get out of the bathroom in your pajamas already, ready to sleep

"You okay?" He asked.

"Yes. Thought i was going to puke, but it seems i'm not. Just really tired."

"You need anything?"

"No, thank you." You said as you laid on the bed with a yawn, closing your eyes.

"I'll be going then, but you need to go lock your door when i leave."

"Dont want to." You mumble low.

"Darling, you have to."

"Can you lock, please?"

"I can't, you know that." He said gently.

"I have three keys." You whispered. "One is with Amy, one with me. I have another in my purse, take it and lock, some other day you can give me back." You mumbled almost incoherently, your eyes already closed, your mind already shutting off.

He sighed, but he knew that, if he didn't lock, you certainly wouldn't. He went to your backpack and took the key from a pocket. He wrote you a note explaining the key situation and leaved on your kitchen table. Then, he leaved.

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oneglass-zinfandel · 4 months ago

Note

What’s your Ben’s personality like? I feel like everyone makes him the same asshole

Note: thank you for asking! A few requests got sent in like the second I posted my Masterlist so thanks for that!

Tw: mentions of Death, killing, sadism, drowning

The thing I love about Creepypasta is how Little information we have on the cannon personality of them so it's up to you to imagine their personalities and it's so fun seeing people make headcannons!

Personally I keep switching between all kinds of personalities for Ben but here's what I usually stick with<3

★ I don't think he's a asshole but he's definitely childish so it comes off as him being a jerk

★ He died around the age of 12 but I see him as more of a 17-19yo

★ Due to dying so young he definitely has some mental and emotional intelligence issues, and as far as I remember he's a only child so it adds onto it

★ i wouldn't call him a asshole like everyone makes him out to be but perhaps a little sadistic as a coping mechanism almost?

★ He either laughs in his victims face, or hes very serious and quiet the whole time, if he's in a bad mood or maybe the victim reminds him to much of himself?

★ I don't like the idea of him being a completely useless guy? Like I'd imagine he can cook for himself just fine, probably follows YouTube Tutorials for it and says how it looks great when it's just mediocre

★ But at least he doesn't get food poisoning!

★ His room isn't very clean, i think he'd be able to float being a ghost and all so his rooms floor is rather messy

★ He will clean it up eventually once he loses something he cares about, like maybe he can't find some game cartridge and just starts cleaning up to find it, and then finishes cleaning cuz he got to into it

★ Definitely on the spectrum but I'm unsure where exactly

★ Sentimental guy fr

★ 100% Traumatized from being Drowned but it only really triggers when showering.

★ He can't use the Big shower head cuz the water just pouring on him like he can't freely look around or open his mouth and reminds him of drowning

★ Hypnotically if a kid gets their hands on Majora's Mask, the haunted one, he is NOT killing that poor guy. Although the next morning suddenly their save is deleted

★ He will keep deleting it near that one part where Link can die, till the kid eventually gives up playing it

★ Now romantically speaking i have to join the obnoxious people and say he's a flirt

★ Although I never said he was a good one, definitely having some childish humor

★ Now if you're a woman he's a bit misogynistic, and I'd you're a guy bro is projecting onto you and whinning about you being gay

★ Hes not that bad but I'd seen him being either or both

★ Although I think it's just him not being educated and refusing to, but if you become his partner, you're taking care of that internalized Misogyny/Homophobia

★ But when you start dating he's a real nice guy, he won't bat one eye at anyone else

★ Finds you weird and calls you weird for dating a ghost and might even call you a nerd and saying stuff like "You only like me cuz I look like your dear Link"

★ Which is half true but again he's just projecting

★ He appreciates you for being loyal to him so as I said, he won't look at anyone else

★ I like to think sense he's so computer oriented he has a built in thing in his mind where he just KNOWS the time and date 24/7 subconsciously

★ So he's not forgetting any important dates!

★ Although he's shit at gifts and will probably just look at videos like ""what to get your partner for Valentine's day!" And gives you some lame gift..

★ Don't think he doesn't pay attention however! He just doesn't remember the details, if you like some game or anime you best believe he's getting you merch but ONLY for your birthday

★ Any other holiday or special date? Nah it's just generic basic gifts

★ And don't expect anything if youve only been dating a month and a holiday is coming up, give him a month and a half at least to trust you before he gives a big enough shit to get you something.

★ He's definitely touchy with you, being possessive about you

★ But if he's gaming you better not disturb him unless it's something more layed back

★ He will put a arm around you locking you in by his side, controller still in hand not looking at you

★ During checkpoints or loading screens he will respond to anything you have to say but don't blab while he plays cuz he's probably not listening unless he hears a word he likes (like a dog)

★ For more intimate cases, I'll just say he doesn't like Hickeys, sometimes about you touching his neck and being close to it bothers him a lot

★ Although he's biting your neck 100%, not cuz he loves it or anything, it makes him a bit uncomfortable doing it too, but it's to show ownership in a bit of a toxic way, in his eyes at least

★ I don't think he's a huge manipulator but he's a serial killer so I won't deny the possibility

★ He just needs some love and care, someone to put up with his mood swings and bare his immature attitude when it comes out

★ If you survive a year with him just know you're NOT allowed to break up with him. I'm sorry but he would kill you :(

★ No cuz i genuinely think he would, in a fit of rage and betrayal, although he regrets it forever he still will never recover from it so...

★ Just be nice and patient with him<3

Thank you for the request!

I hope you liked it, i tried to keep my train of thought sorry if it's maybe a bit off, I'm still new to writing and putting my thoughts on paper especially having so many different idea of how Ben would act, but I hope itd not to bad!

† Be nice in the comments plzz 😭🙏

Oh and give me tips on how to tag! I have no clue I hope I did okay..★

#ben drowned #creepypasta #headcannons #headcanon #creepypasta ben drowned #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned x you #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x you #fluff #creepypasta fluff #suggestive #tw bl0od #tw death

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saltnsugarbear · 6 months ago

Text

we've been breathing the same air for too long

summary: you invite Lip to one of your games!

title from: "Brando" by Lucy Dacus

word count: 1.5k

content warnings: fade to black smut moment, lots of volleyball babble, nothing crazy!

side note: today's is for my Sonia!! I know youre not a sports girlie but I love nerd bf/sports partner with Lip, you are my beloved! you're so darling! I'm so glad I met you <3

It started out purely neighborly.

You lived on the same street, it was easier for Lip to catch a ride with you. He didn't know you guys lived on the same street until you had a English project together. Lip thought he'd do most of the heavy lifting, mostly because you were, well.... you were a jock. And he kind of assumed you were.... Well not dumb, but certainly not as into the curriculum as you were.

So when you contribute just as much to the project as he does, Lip is surprised and... Endeared to you. You're much more opinionated on the romantic era than he gave you credit for.

What he liked less was having to wait after your practice. Traditionally, Lip would have set up in the library to wait for you, but of course they were using it this year to help try and get their passing grade percentage up. So he has no choice but to make his way down to the gym. The net is already set up and the ball cart next to one of the posts.

Lip doesn't miss the double takes that some of the team does, looking back at where he's set up on the bleachers. He doesn't bother looking back at them, he's got work to do. What does get his attention is the ball that hits the bleachers below him. Lip furrows his brow before he looks up from his worksheet. What he doesn't expect is to see you standing at the foot of the bleachers with your hands on your hips.

"What are you doing down here? I thought I was collecting you from the library?" Your voice echoes slightly, raising it to be heard over your team talking.

"They're using it," Lip shrugs. His response makes you grin, leaning so you're resting your elbows against the second or third bleacher and place your head in your hands.

"You just wanted to see me practice," You tease, crossing one ankle over the other despite your knee pads. Lip rolling his eyes makes you smile wider, pushing yourself up to rest on your hands.

"Just don't stare at my ass the whole time," You tease him further, not missing the way the tips of his ears tinge just the smallest bit pink.

And he doesn't, for the most part. Keeping his eyes and his mind on his homework. The rest of the week follows much of the same, save for when he catches a few glances of you, hands on your knees while you wait for serve. After practice you change and Lip collects his things, and then you lead him to your car and drive to your house to work on your project.

And your interactions stay strictly focused on the project. Keeping space between you both on your mattress or on the couch. Keeping conversation light or on the section of Self Reliance you had both picked.

That's until the day you have to turn in the project. To say you're going to miss seeing Lip in the bleachers is.... Pathetic. He only ever sat there because he had to, not because he wanted to be there for you. So, you bring it up after you pick him up from his house, waving his siblings goodbye as they mope their way to the bus stop.

"So, I was thinking-" You start.

"That's never good," Lip says after blowing smoke out the window, glancing over at you when he ashes his cigarette out the window.

"Shut up, free loader." You scoff, lightly reminding him you're the one driving.

"You were thinking?" Lip coaxes, motioning with his hand to encourage you.

"I was thinking," You continue. "That... I don't know, that you could come to my game today. I mean, since you were at all the practices. Why not see it pay off?"

You shrug before glancing at him. Lip is watching the road, humming in thought.

"Fuck it, why not?" Lip huffs, like it's something out of his way to stay after school. His response makes you scoff and roll your eyes, trying to suppress the smile toying at your lips.

Lip agreeing to watch your game puts you in a good mood for the rest of the day. Makes you noticeably more cheery at your lunch table and brush off the poor grade you got on your history quiz. However, you don't see Lip after you guys walk into the school. So you just have to trust he doesn't change his mind at some point during the day and just hop on the bus home.

The crowd inside the gym is loud, and they only get louder when your team walks in. There's too many people to try and pick out Lip's face in the crowd and you feel your stomach twist. Maybe you were stupid to think he would actually show up.

Your warm-ups and game go off without a hitch. Except that your nerves nearly cause you to start a fight with one of the rival girls, faces up in the net and calling each other names. The timeout you receive quickly reminds you that there's more than just your feelings at hand.

Your bench time is when you spot Lip. He's managed to wiggle is way to the front bleachers opposite of you. He knows when you see him by how you perk up, eyes wide when you sit up. The only thing he gives you is a two finger salute and nod towards your coach. Who is telling you to get back on the court and hopefully help bag the game point for this set.

The rest of the game is a blur, one that results in your team winning. The celebration with your team is short as you try and hunt down Lip. He's easy to find along the edges of the gym, pushing through families and friends to get to him.

"You made it," You sigh, bringing him into a quick hug. You don't miss how Lip pauses before wrapping his arms around you, holding you close before you slip out. "Ready to go?"

"Ready to get away from these freaks.." Lip huffs, shouldering his bag. His response makes you roll your eyes before you drag him out to the hall.

"Two seconds." You tell him before slipping into your locker room to collect your bag. You text one of your teammates to fill you in on the after match huddle, they're usually the same but just in case.

Once you're ready, you taking Lip by the hand and lead him out of the building.

Your car is the only one in this corner of the student parking lot and no one across the lot will see you down there. You take advantage of that and press Lip up against the side of the door. He makes a noise of surprise that you cut off with your own mouth, not missing the way he drops his bag on the asphalt to get hands on you.

"Thought you weren't gonna come," You say between kisses, placing stray ones along his jaw before going back to his mouth.

"And miss you nearly fighting that girl? Not a chance.." Lip sighs, fumbling for the door handle behind him. You hum, opening the front passenger door to throw both your backpacks in there while he finally opens the door. He waits for you to slip onto the seat before following you in.

You practically jump on him after he closes the door behind him. You hold his face between both your hands as you kiss him, keeping him as close to you as you can.

"Fuck-" Lip mutters against your mouth, panting heavily as you make your way to pressing kisses along his jaw. "Let me- shit- Let me show you how proud I am of you.."

His words make your eyes widen, pulling away to look at him.

"What?" You ask breathlessly.

"Let me," Lip quickly loops his fingers into your spandex shorts. "Show you. How proud I am.."

"Lip, you don't have to-" You start.

"Want to," Lip smirks, tugging gently at your waistband until you get the hint to lift your hips up for him.

"Are you sure?" You ask, helping him push them off your ankles.

"Why wouldn't I be sure?" Lip asks, leaning forward to start pressing kisses along your neck.

"Just that," You sigh softly when Lip places a soft nip at your jaw. "Most guys don't like... Y'know.."

"Most guys are idiots," Lip mutters into your skin, slipping one hand under the hem of your jersey to grope at your chest.

"Wait," You huff, slipping out of his touch to lean up against your center console. You manage to grab at the bar that allows you to push the passenger seat up so Lip has more room in foot well. The pinch Lip gives your ass makes you squeal, nudging him gently with your leg.

Lip gets the hint and slips into the foot well when you slide back into your seat.

"Lean back," Lip urges you, hooking his fingers in your underwear.

"Gonna show you how proud I am.."

#saltnsugarbear #not enough sugar #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher fanfic #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher fanfiction #lip gallagher x you #shameless imagines #shameless fanfiction

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ssapphosviolets · 9 days ago

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what cars i think the women of arcane drive

a thread nobody asked for or wanted, but idc let me indulge in mixing my niche interests with my fixations (not that cars are a niche interest but i feel like tumblr fangirls aren't really the target audience for this LOL)

also ironically posting this as i'm currently waiting for a tow for my car 😭. surprisingly it's not even the project car this time, it's the shitbox daily (i say shitbox with love)

SEVIKA

1996 Volvo 850R Wagon

inline-5 turbo, def has the 5-spd manual

she's always loved volvo's. they're tough cars, not to mention pretty reliable.

she definitely drives manual. every car she's ever had has been manual, she loves the control it gives her over the car she hunted to find the manual version of this car, as they're pretty rare.

sure, there's other volvo wagons. hell most of their well-known older cars are wagons. but a muscular woman loves a good sleeper build (the opposite of her). so the inline-5 turbo engine had her sold.

though, in my heart i wanted to say a 90s subaru outback, that's a little too predictable. so my head cannon is that her first car ever was a 1998 Subaru Legacy Outback

JINX

1985 Subaru XT AND a 1990 Honda CRX

1.8L turbo boxer-4 engine, part-time 4wd train, and 5-spd manual transmission

i think jinx would love the uniqueness of the XT. the exterior is odd and wedge-shaped, and she loves the pop ups. if the movie back to the future existed in the arcane universe, she definitely got it because it reminds her of a better Delorean

the interior is an entirely different story too. she LOVES the interior design. it feels exactly like something she had designed in her dreams, with the quirky steering wheel, button panels, and a digital gauge cluster that makes it feel like she's in a video game.

although she loves the XT6 and she knows the XT's turbos are a little weaker than the XT6, the interior and part-time 4wd sold the XT for her.

and also they're both slow subaru's anyways

not to mention, she got it partly because of her resentment towards Caitlyn and the Pilties. the second she read that magazine cover that said, "The kind of car Mercedes might have built if they were a little more frugal and a lot more inventive" - she was hooked. if Caitlyn and her Pilties drove Mercedes and Cadillacs, then Jinx loved the idea of driving the antithesis of that.

JINX'S DAILY

1990 HONDA CRX

def has the 1.6L si, 5-spd manual transmission

as much as she loved her XT, it is an old subaru. so her daily is of course, the Honda CRX

she decided to keep it stock for that Honda reliability™️, though she almost impulsively bought a gt35 turbo, and she almost straight piped it, but decided on an aftermarket exhaust instead. that 30mpg was too valuable to give up

of course she'd get the factory teal color

VIOLET

4th gen (2003-2004) SVT Cobra Mustang

supercharged 4.6L V8, 6-spd manual transmission

i think vi would be drawn to the body style of the 3rd gen fox body mustangs, but would prefer something a little newer and thought the 4th gen SVT was a good in between.

if the looks didn't sell her, the 32-valve V8 definitely did. the 6-spd manual transmission was an added bonus too.

as much as she liked the idea of the convertible.. she knew it wouldn't have been practical. she knew she had enemies, and she knew driving into dangerous territory with a soft top wasn't the safest idea

of course she'd get a dark blue one. even though she's known for hot pink, that dark blue color reminded her of Caitlyn

i can definitely imagine her teaching Caitlyn how to drive manual in this car

(in my head bc this is my universe, i like to think she vowed to never succumb to the mustang stereotypes... until she ran over a goon supplying shimmer. she couldn't beat the allegations after that.)

CAITLYN

1997 Mercedes r129

5.0L V8, 5-spd automatic

i like to think that this was always one of her dream cars. her family was a mercedes family growing up, so obviously she would want a mercedes coupe when she was old enough to drive

her father didn't particularly approve of Caitlyn getting the V12, as cool as it might be, so he settled on the middle option of the V8.

while getting the paint touched up, Caitlyn found out that the color was called 'grey-violet', and she thought it was fate.

.oOo.

pls keep in mind that i'm a japanese car girly, most cars i've worked on have been jdm's. i've only helped out a couple friends with their american brand cars, and ive never touched a german car with a 10ft pole. so if my knowledge isn't up to par for all of the cars... my b

#arcane #arcane hcs #arcane headcanon #sevika #jinx #vi arcane #caitlyn arcane #sevika hc #jinx hc #vi headcanons #caitlyn hcs #arcane imagine #women of arcane #jinx arcane #headcanon #hcs #arcane league of legends

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intuitive-revelations · 2 months ago

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Semi-live/retrospective analysis of Lux!

Again, some of my scattered thoughts watching the episode! Not nearly as long this time, with quite a bit less character analysis. I managed to finish my analysis before the episode's live airing was complete this time (I watched on iPlayer), so am posting right as it finishes!

The newsreel is interesting - very Oppenheimer. Is this story going to link to nuclear bombs? Between this, 73 Yards, and Years and Years, I'm getting the feeling that RTD is really tense about our "New Cold War" era.

Love the old cinema technology being applied.

So it's connected to the moonlight? I assume this is some sort of special radiation hitting the moon or something, and not coming from the Moon itself, otherwise we're going to have to somehow weld this into Kill the Moon.

Man, Gallifrey really is the elephant in the room this era, huh.

"Who have you got? Girlfriend, boyfriend, otherfriend?" Bi / enby rights! Also, interesting using the term "other" for non-binary genders again - we got that before with Sutekh as "Father and mother and other of them all [the Pantheon]". Particularly considering the notability of that word in DW lore. Maybe the Nechronomancers' worship of a genderless "Seventh Founder" was right on the money?

Why the fuck did they just play a bit of Amy's theme when Belinda talked about her parents?! Hello?

Wait a sec, is the "v-indicator" doing exactly what I theorised the TARDIS was doing last week?! Trying to pull its way back to Earth only to end up pulling these historical nodes/landmarks to it?

Continuing to love the historical costumes. Glad Fifteen is clearly particularly into this part too, no "changing jumpers" here.

The direct parallel with The Devil's Chord in getting dressed is an interesting choice.

*looks at his hand* "1952... that might be wise..." 😬 Also explicitly discussing segregation with the diner and cinema later is good. I was wondering for a sec when they were at the bar what the laws regarding that would be at this time/place.

"Now you've got your own soundtrack." Oh, more non-diegetic music then huh...?

"Don't make me laugh... because it sounds like this!" AHHHH! So the theories that Mr Ring-a-Ding / Lux was a "God of Light" are true?

"The Harvest Bringer" -> "Harbinger" Goddammit not again! So who's the Harbinger in this case, Rock Hudson? The cinema itself?

Man, the bit with Mr Pie and his wife, with that transition out of the screen and into colour.

The Doctor's description of the Pantheon really highlights the Lovecraftian side of the Whoniverse, huh.

The way being turned 2D gives the Doctor and Belinda 2D personalities too! The dialogue feels so stilted here, but at least it's clearly deliberate, just by sheer contrast with everything else.

The change in audio quality going into the cartoon kinda took me out for a second.

Never mind, forget what I said about Gallifrey earlier. Also emphasis on "Last of the Time Lords"... 🤨

I feel like the cartoon segment could have been a little bit longer, but eh...

The Doctor being able to point out the animation frame (thanks to his fourth wall vision)! I wonder if there's anything to be said about the fact that Belinda was able to interact with it too.

"We've been framed." No kidding. Of course, the nice moment in the diner would get subverted like this, even if the mother's suspicion is kinda understandable, it's hard not to see a racial element in all this.

Belinda being assumed to be Caribbean reminds me a lot of Yaz being called Mexican back in Rosa.

Oh nevermind! "Your continuity is terrible" lol

Oh, the fourth wall! Literally!

WAIT LITERALLY?! Damn, ok, TV theory truthers... I was wondering why there was glass in front of a movie projection.

This is such a stupid turn, I love it, even if I know some people are going to see this as jumping the shark. The stereotypical Whovians, while clearly an affectionate thing, is a little rough feeling though.

"Blink" lol.

I['d love to see all the merch they put on set here. I clearly see a bunch of the DVDs (New Who and Classic) plus the collections. I've love to know if there's any EU stuff included. I think I see some NSAs?

Oh and the Mad Man with a Box too? Why so much Series 5 soundtrack?

Damn, the inversion with the in-universe fans not being real in the Whoniverse! "We're the sort of characters that don't have surnames" I wonder if RTD saw the TV Theory and stuff, and, while not planning on going anywhere with it, appreciated it enough to incorporate his own version of it. Centreing it around DW fans feels like it only adds to this interpretation, as a response back to the fandom and celebration of fan theories and meta.

Even though we obviously knew the Doctor and the Belinda would get back to their universe, I 100% feel doing it this way is what saves this scene from the "jumping-the-shark" thing I said earlier, and immediately sways my own doubts about it. Knowing the fans are another creation of Lux also weirdly brings us back to the Pantheon vs Fourth Wall thing again.

Oh it's not just Mad Man with a Box... it's straight Words Win Wars being recycled. A bit bombastic for this scene but I'll never say no to it popping up.

This is still a crazy thing for the Doctor and Belinda to go through, especially the latter. How does it change their dynamic? I guess it doesn't need to too much, since she knows it was a fiction, but still, seeing herself as part of a long-running adventure series must be pretty notable nonetheless.

"Bigeneration, it left me with a little pocket of energy I've been saving just for this." OH? I was worried we were going straight up unlimited healing with regeneration energy for a second, but that's actually a fair explanation. A nice fix also for any concerns with the butterfly last series. Again an interesting writing inclusion - I wonder if it's specifically to patch that up, or important exposition on regeneration for later this series [edit: or this episode I guess!]?

"But you're the most amazing creation, my Doctor, sir. You have light within you that builds a body." Uhhh... maybe Timeless Child lore hints? Or less a Timeless Child-specific thing (given Lux still refers to it as the "light of a Time Lord") and more acknowledging the artificiality of Time Lord regeneration?

"Let the light of a Time Lord build me a body!" Yep saw that coming after that line above.

Oh, so it IS about the nuke?!

Lux becoming 3D - transitioning from 2D to an untextured 3D model to cartoon-y 3D animation to creepy "realistic" 3D! Why does this start to feel like a commentary on modern 3D and live-action remakes of 2D cartoons?

The Doctor's heartbeat again?! Why on Earth could we have two episodes where we can hear a Time Lord's heartbeat in a row, if not for you-know-who?

(Also again, the beat phase sounds slightly off, which feels very validating for my Time Lord biology idea that it's not always a perfect four-beat between the two hearts.)

The early line of Lux being interested in moonlight, not sunlight feels like it maybe should have been cut, considering sunlight ends up being exactly what he's seeking by the end? I guess he wasn't corporeal yet, but still.

In some way, Lux ascending into nothing could feel a little cheap, but him actually "winning" and becoming a legitimate God of Light is fascinating. Kinda leaves the door open for him to return too.

I thought the 15 were all going to be killed by the explosion for a moment as part of the sacrifice, thank goodless it freed them safely.

Belinda's change of heart, while I kinda predicted it earlier, is a little bit of a shame. I'm sure she's still intent on going home, but would have been interesting to see that stronger tension last a little longer than the one episode.

Mrs Flood?! It was kinda obvious, but that's her confirmed to be a time-traveller now, huh.

"Limited run only. Show ends the 24th." Like... the "show" ends, or the series ends...? I know there's plenty of rumours and speculation about future series, or the possible lack thereof, but...

Also clearly linking back in-universe with 24th May as well...

Overall thoughts

I loved this one! There were a lot of shaky bits - the fourth wall sequence standing out the most - but I felt it stuck the landing in each case, often suprising me doing so. Again I do feel there was a bit of a missed opportunity, mind you, in regards to the limited animated sequence in this case. The ending was a little simple too, but perfectly servicable for a DW episode and a bit intriguing in its own right. (Personally, if I was writing this though, I also would have had Lux's defeat link back to the idea that becoming more 3D means your personality does too, resulting in him becoming less of a 2D unrepentant villain. Would have been a nice meta twist, and the Doctor and Belinda's personality changes as cartoons would have been good foreshadowing. I guess you could argue that happened anyway, given Lux's change of heart in the sunlight.)

I didn't talk about him much, but Lux is a great villain - Alan Cumming was great in this. Mr Ring-a-Ding's animation is so fluid and delightful, makes me wonder if the whole animation budget was used on him, and that's what led to the cut down animation sequence.

The nice resolution(?) of the TV show theory/meta was a surprise, but honestly worked in exactly the way I thought it couldn't! As I said above, I wonder if it was at all inspired in reaction to the fandom theorising itself? The only real evidence against this imho is that the fans didn't explicitly mention the theory itself.

I'm curious how Belinda and the Doctor's relationship will look going forward. She's clearly not as worried about trusting him, but I hope there's still some tension in her wanting to get home.

The implied lore stuff with the Timeless Child / Time Lords' regenerative ability was a nice surprise, as small as it was. Plus the extra bit of explanation on the Doctor's recent regenerative healing. It feels a little ominous we've ruled that out as something that can be used in the future. I wonder if Lux taking that energy will have any effect on the Doctor going forwards? Davros taking it in The Witch's Familiar didn't though, unless you count Thirteen being small compared to other incarnations, so who knows. At least there isn't an explicit cycle to worry about now, though there's no guarantee the Doctor's regenerations are unlimited (in fact, Rassilon in Hell Bent implied exactly the opposite, though who knows how that plays with the Timeless Child stuff).

A little concerned about Mrs Flood's line about the show, as I said above. Not to be a doomer, but I hope we're not about to get an announced hiatus / break for the show... At least Fifteen still having some regenerative energy from the bigeneration gives me hope Ncuti isn't leaving soon, since it would be odd for him to regenerate so soon after still feeling the effects of the previous regeneration (then again, look how long Fourteen lasted!).

More arc plot points hinted at this episode, between Mrs Flood and yet more drumbeating. I guess we need to keep an eye out for more this series? I'm kinda stunned by the whole vindicator thing, since it feels like my theory the TARDIS is / will end up accidentally pulling bits of Earth's history to that barrier might be right on the money? Is this my Apollo's dodgeball moment?

#Doctor Who #Lux #Fifteenth Doctor #Belinda Chandra #Mr Ring-a-Ding #DW Spoilers #Doctor Who Spoilers #DW Meta #DW Theory #(?)

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lottielovelace · 6 months ago

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die prinzessin

(PLATONIC könig & sister!reader)

summary: So... turns out your mystery half-brother is a giant Austrian special forces operator. What now? (Catching up on two decades of sibling bonding, that's what)

originally posted on ao3 (wordcount: main version 3.1k)

Rating: T

Relationships: Platonic König & Reader, König/Horangi

Ao3 Tags: Brother-Sister Relationships / Sibling Bonding / Long Lost/Secret Relatives / reader is konig's half sister / Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (reader has scars implied to be from SH but it's ultimately left up to interpretation) / Deutsch | German / Author speaks German (as a second language) / Historical References / reading the prior installment is recommended but not required

this is a part of a series

Notes:

Possible triggers: - König teaches MC to shoot. No violence, but he gives her semi-detailed instructions on how to handle a sniper rifle. - MC talks about past mental health struggles, and König notices old scars of her. These are implied to be from SH, but I tried to leave it open-ended for anyone who doesn't want that in their reading. - König implied to have previously experienced homophobia.

Prior context: I recommend reading the previous installment in the series, but if you really don't wanna here are the truly crucial parts: Your name is Elisabeth "Elise" Linh Veidt, a medical student. You were kidnapped to serve as hostage for a half-brother (König) you've never met before, who ended up rescuing you. There's more, but it's not directly tied to this fic so I'll leave it unspoiled in case you do become interested in reading the first work in the series. I do not use Y/N. I sometimes do use "Elise" & other specific details (you'll see why it's unavoidable in this fic) but I try to—when possible—keep things vague so you can freely project onto her (ex: using "your hair" instead of "your dark hair").

About the German: I speak German as a second language. I like to assess my skill level as "I know what Genitive is, but I don't always remember to use it." As Hochdeutsch-speaking foreign civilian, my speech patterns/vocabulary are going to be pretty similar to Elise's but very different to König, a native Austrian and a hardened soldier. I tried translate as accurately as possible (lots of LEO usage), but besides maybe a "servus" or two, I made and will make no attempt to mimic the Austrian dialect because it's frankly a lost cause for me. That being said, if you are a native speaker and notice any grammatical/syntactical mistakes (or even any sentences where you go "he would not fucking say that" [ex: a term being super formal or old fashioned] please let me know!

About the legibility: This is the primary iteration of the fic. If the German really does make it impossible to read, here's a version devoid of foreign language, but if possible, I highly recommend reading this version for the fullest experience. This version is the most proofread edition and even if you don't speak the language there was linguistic nuances you can still pick up on. If there are any cultural references you don't get, I have an explanation post linked at the bottom. (also available here)

"Können wir jetzt sprechen?” [ Can we speak now? ]

“Fast,” [ Almost ], your brother answered as he continued to guide you through the complex’s winding halls. His refusal to answer questions until your surroundings were secure made the flight over to the KorTac base feel endless.

Finally he stopped at a door-lined hallway. Approaching the second on the left, he punched a combination into its keypad. It swung open, revealing a modest bedroom.

“Großes Bett” [ Big bed ], you noted. His cot was large, even for someone of his rank.

“Ich habe ein Verzicht erhalten” [ I got a waiver ], he lazily indicated at his height. You were once again reminded of your stark height difference.

You looked at him—or at least what you could see of him with the mask—again. Drawing from your bio classes, you knew you shared 25% of your DNA. Clearly none of it manifested in height. Your father had been tall, but even at his peak he was nowhere near as lofty as your brother.

“Deine Mutter muss riesig sein.” [ Your mother must be giant .]

“Sie war.” [ She was. ]

You mentally winced. Way to get off on the wrong foot.

“Meine Mutter ist auch verstorben. Früher dieses Jahres.” [ My mother also passed. Earlier this year. ]

“Entschuldigung.” [ My condolences ].

“Du weißt, dass unser Vater schon ein paar Jahren gestorben ist.” [ You know that our father died a few years ago. ]

You really hoped you weren’t the one to break the news to him.

“Ja, ich weiß. Wir haben einen Brief bekommen.” [ Yes, I know. We received a letter .]

“Gut.” [ Good .]

“Dein Name ist Elisabeth, ja?” [ Your name is Elisabeth, correct? ]

“Ja.” [ Yes. ]

You’re not surprised he knows. There’s gotta be a file on you somewhere packed with everything you’ve ever even sniffed at.

“Magst du deinen Namen?” [ Do you like your name? ]

“Wie bitte?” [ Pardon? ]

“Benutzen Sie Elisabeth oder etwas anderes?" [ Do you go by Elisabeth or something else? ]

“Elise. Und du musst nicht ‘Sie’ benutzen. Wir sind Blut.” [ Elise. And you don’t need to be so formal. We’re blood .] A beat passed. “Wie heißt du?” [ And you? What is your name? ]

“Jeder nennt mich König.” [ Everyone calls me König. ]

“König? Ist das nicht ein wenig dramatisch?” [ King? Isn’t that a bit dramatic? ]

“Wenn du so groß wie ich bin, gibt es keinen Raum für Subtilität. Auch mag ich Geburtsnamens nicht.” [ When you’re as big as me, there is no room for subtlety. Plus I’m not the biggest fan of my birth name. ]

“Darf ich fragen?” [ May I ask? ]

“Ludwig.”

“Ludwig? Wie der König? Der Verrückte?” [ Ludwig? Like the king? The mad one? ]

“Genau. Ich mag es nicht, aber möchte es noch würdigen.” [ Exactly. I don’t like it, but I do enjoy paying tribute to it in my own way.]

“Elisabeth und Ludwig. Unser Vater mochte die Wittelsbacher, ja?” [ Elisabeth and Ludwig. Our father had a fondness for the Wittelsbachers. ]

“Wenn ich der Märchenkönig bin und du die Sisi bist, bist du Kaiserin?” [ If I’m the Fairy Tale King, and you’re Sisi… wouldn’t that make you the Empress? ]

“Dann wäre ich dir überlegen.” [ I would outrank you then. ]

“Gefällt dir das als mögliches Rufzeichen?” [ Would you like that as a callsign? ]

“Was? Kaiserin? Muss ich wirklich einen?” [ What, Empress? Do I even need one? ]

“Ja. Es würde mir ein Stein vom Herzen fallen. Dein Name ist kostbar. Verrate es nicht. Zumindest nicht hier.” [ I think so. It would ease my mind. Your name is a precious thing, I don’t want you to give it away. At least not while you’re on base. ]

Your stomach twisted.

“Du hast mir gesagt, dass dieser Ort sicher sei.” [ I thought you said this place was safe. ]

“Ja voll. Aber jeder kann mithören und hacken.” [ It is. But anyone can tap into radio comms or steal files .]

“Was meinst du damit?” [ What are you implying? ]

“Es ist zusätzlicher Schutz. Bitte. Es könnte irgendetwas. Ich brauche nur, dass du eines hast.” [ It’s an extra barrier of protection. Please. You can pick whatever it is, I just want you to have one. ]

You thought about it for a moment.

“Ich möchte nicht ‘Kaiserin’ sein. Das ist zu viel Macht und Anstrengung. Die Kaiserkrone hat die echte Sisi erwürgen.” [ I don’t want to be ‘Empress’. That’s too much power and pressure. The imperial crown strangled the original Sisi, after all. ]

A smile bloomed on your face.

“Vielleicht zulasse ich ‘Prinzessin’.” [ I might be amenable to ‘Princess’ though. ]

“Prinzessin? Ich kann damit leben. Sinn für kurz?” [ Princess? I can work with that. Sinn (meaning sense/reason/mind) for short? ]

You nodded with deep gravitas, “Einer von uns muss die Intelligenz sein.” [ Someone needs to be the brains around here. ]

Something about the faux-seriousness in your tone made the two of you burst into uncontrollable laughter.

The moment is so beautiful, you almost don’t want to ruin it with the question you know you have to ask. Something ancient, the spirit of Orpheus or Pandora perhaps, urges you to look.

“Darf ich über der Maske fragen?” [ Can I ask about the mask? ]

He paused for a moment, hesitant. Then quietly he spoke:

“Ich kann es ausziehen. Du bist Familie.” [ I can take it off. For you. You’re family, after all. ]

There’s a reluctance in his voice that made your heart twinge.

“Du musst nicht wenn du nicht willst.” [ You don’t have to if you don’t want to. ]

“Nein.” [ No. ] This time his voice seems more resolved, “Ich möchte.” [ I want to. ]

He pulled off his hood. His face was ruddy, but it worked well with his light hair and eyes. You two both looked so similar yet so different.

“Du hast alle guten Gene geerbt,” [ You clearly got all the good genes, ] you joked.

He turned his head bashfully, accidentally revealing his battered side profile.

“Deine arme Nase! Was passiert?” [ Your poor nose! What happened to it? ]

“Zebrochen. Ein paarmal. Bisschen verwickelt medizinische Hilfe zu erkriegen wenn du deinem Gesicht verheimlichst.” [ Broke it. A few times. Bit hard to get medical attention when you refuse to show your face. ]

“Nächste Mal einfach ruf mich. Ich habe dein Gesicht schön gesehen.” [ Next time just come to me. I’ve already seen your face. ]

“Mit Verlaub zu sagen, wie viel kannst du hilf mit helfen?” [ No offense, but how much can you help? ]

“Ja leider. Was weiß ich?” [ You’re right. What do I know? ] you bit back. “Ich habe nur noch ein Viertel vom Medschule übrig.” [ I’m only a quarter out from graduating med school. ]

“Soll das ein Scherz sein?” [ You’re joking. ]

“Das war nicht im Bericht?” [ That didn’t make it into the file? ]

“Nein. Wann ist der Abschluss?” [ No. When’s graduation? ]

You tensed. He was beaming with pride. You hated to ruin it with the ugly truth.

“Ich weiß nicht ob ich graduiere.” [ I don’t know if I will graduate. ]

“Warum? Hast du schulische Probleme?” [ Why? Are you having troubles at school? ]

“Sozusagen. Meine Noten sind gut, aber heuer versuchte ich zu ausscheiden. Sie ließen mich nicht, so nahm ich Gewaltkur.” [ Sort of? My grades are fine but… I tried to drop out earlier this year. They wouldn’t let me so I took more… drastic measures. ]

König’s eyes drifted to your scars.

“Sie sind alt.” [ They’re old, ] you reassured. “Und danach dem ganze Entführungquatch, ich bin entschlossen zu überleben. Vetrau mir. Deshalb möchte ich nicht zurückkehren. Ich möchte leben, nicht in Schule sorgen.” [ Plus after the whole kidnapping ordeal, I’m more determined to live than ever. Trust me. That’s why I don’t want to go back. I want to live, not suffer more in school. ]

Your brother looked at you disapprovingly, “Du musst zurückgehen.” [ You need to go back. ]

“Kann ich einfach hier bleiben? Bei dir? Ich könnte Medizinerin sein.” [ Can’t I just stay here with you? I could be a medic. ]

"Medizinische Arbeit ist nicht leicht.” [ Being a medic is hard work. ]

“Fleiß ist kein fremd.” [ I’m no stranger to hard work.]

“Du wärst ein bessere Medizinerin, wenn du Schule fertigbringst.” [ You’d be a better medic if you finished school. ]

You stared at him with arms crossed, unyielding.

He tried again, “Wenn du dein Medizinstudium abschließt kannst du hier arbeiten. Und du erhältst eine besondere Belohnung von mir.” [ Look, if you graduate you can work here full time—and I’ll ensure you get a special reward. ]

“Was?” [ What? ]

“Eine Überraschung. Du wirst es schön wissen.” [ It’s a surprise. I won’t tell you. Yet. ]

You pursed your lips. Clearly this wasn’t an argument you were going to win.

“In Ordnung. Aber lass mich länger bleiben. Ich möchte dich kennenlernen.” [ Fine. But let me stay a little longer. I want to get to know you.]

“Natürlich.” [ Of course. ]

The tension dissipated.

“Du hast gesagt das du lasst Medical dein Gesicht nicht sehen. Erlaubst du irgendjemand?” [ You said you don’t let medical see your face. Do you let anyone else? ]

Your brother flushed. He really was quite pink under the hood.

“Einer.” [ One person .]

You mentally rolled up your sleeves. You had over two decades of little sister pestering to make up for.

“Echt?” [ Oh really? ]

“Ein Freund.” [ A friend. ]

“Ein Freund oder dein Freund?” [ A friend or your boyfriend? ]

“Ich liebe ihn.” [ I love him. ]

“Gefühl er gleichartig?” [ And does he feel the same?]

“Ja.” [ Yes. ]

“Na ja, ich muss sehen, ob er gut genug für dich ist.” [ Hmm. I’ll have to see if he’s good enough for you. ]

He slumped in relief. With a jolt you realized he was afraid of you… rejecting him. For what? Being in a relationship with another man? No, you of all people would never do that. You silently resolved to make sure he would never have to fear that ever again.

“Du kannst ihn heute Abend in der Kantine begegen.” [ You can meet him in the mess hall tonight. ]

----------

The mess hall is awash with activity. Even here amongst allies and coworkers, people gave König a wide berth.

“Welcher ist er?” [ Which one is he? ]

König pointed to a man sitting alone at a table.

“Dieser.” [ That one. ]

“Noch ein Maskenträger? Bisschen narzisstisch, ja?” [ Another mask? Bit narcissistic of you, isn’t it?]

You felt your brother roll his eyes under his hood. The sitting man’s head jerked up at the sound of his heavy footsteps. His mask already pulled up over his mouth to eat, the man broke out into a brilliant smile.

“Das ist der Horangi.” [ This is Horangi. ] König introduced. “Klarname Kim Hong-jin.” [ Real name Kim Hong-jin. ]

“Sprecht er Deutsch?” [ Does he speak German? ]

“Ja.” [ Yes. ] Horangi responded. “Er war mein Lehrer. So wurden wir unzertrennlich. Du bist seine Schwester, ja?” [ He has been my tutor. It’s actually how we got close. You’re his sister, right? ]

“Richtig.” [ Yes. ]

“Does she speak English?” Horangi asked your brother, switching languages. You knew it was just a way to test your skills, but it irked you.

“I’m American.”

“Just because you’re American doesn’t mean you speak English. I don’t even know if half the stuff that comes out of Graves’ mouth even qualifies as human speech.”

“Graves?” you looked to your brother for explanation.

“Er ist—wie sagt man das? Yee-haw?” [ He is… how do you say it? Yee-haw? ]

“Südstaatler?” [ Southern? ]

“Geneau.” [ Exactly. ]

You crossed your arms and gave Horangi a final thorough look-over.

“I approve under one condition.”

“Yes?”

“Teach me how to fight. It’s great that I was able to meet my brother but I do not want a repeat of the kidnapping.”

Horangi cocked his head, “Wouldn’t you want to learn from your brother?”

“There are plenty of things I want to learn from him. This is not one of them. Based on size alone, we’re going to have very different strategies. I’m sure he’s a great fighter, but I have a feeling that using his technique with my frame would be… lackluster. No offense.”

“Kein Problem.” [ None taken. ]

“Very well,” Horangi relented. If this was all it took to be on the good side of his in-laws, it was a small price to pay. “I expect to see you at 7 sharp. I won’t go easy on you.”

“Perfect.”

----------

Horangi’s right. It’s not easy, but slowly and steadily—and with no small amount of tears and blood—you managed to win Horangi’s respect (and a nice set of abs).

About a week in, he makes a suggestion. You two were on a water break, your brother was sitting nearby. König had taken to watching your sparring, occasionally commentating or tagging in.

“Du verbesserst!” [ You’re improving! ] the Austrian complimented brightly.

“Und ich habe gar nichts mit es zu tun.” [ And I had absolutely nothing to do with the matter, ] Horangi muttered with mock resentment.

“Unsinn, du bist immer ein prima Lehrer.” [Nonsense, you are an excellent teacher.] König apologized with a kiss.

“Wirklich! Vielen Dank.” [ Definitely, thank you so much! ] you corroborated.

Horangi shifted. Even in training, he still wore the mask—at least while in the base’s general gym. He was more lackadaisical about it in private. Your “family dinners” with him and König had given you a good look at both of their faces.

You’d become well versed in his facial reactions. Even with his face covered you could feel his devilish smile.

“자기야, du solltest ihr deine erste Liebe vorstellen.” [You know babe, you should introduce her to your first love.]

Your head snapped to your brother. Sans Horangi, you were probably the person on base who he felt most comfortable talking about his past with, but even then it sometimes felt like pulling teeth. You quickly learned to treasure any lore you gleaned.

“Was? Warum habe ich noch nie von das gehört?” [ What? How have I not heard of this before? ]

König raised his hands in defense.

“Das stimmt nicht. Er verhohnepipelt mich.” [ It’s not like that. He’s making fun of me. ]

“Wer ist diese erste Liebe dann?” [ Who is this first love then? ]

“Scharfschützen.” [ Sniping, ] he replied bashfully.

----------

After much cajoling, you finally got König to teach you to snipe. You had a good feeling about it. You always had a steady hand and good hand-eye coordination. Before the kidnapping, you’d even been looking into specializing in surgery (though now—whenever you’d return—you’d be taking a hard turn into emergency medicine and the other subjects required for a combat medic). Plus maybe it ran in the family.

You met at the shooting range one early morning. Horangi had recently been deployed and your brother needed to stop stressing about it.

“Ich wollte ein Heckenschütze sein.” [ I wanted to be a sniper, ] he explained as he showed you the mechanics. The assembly of the gun soundtracked his words with rhythmic clicking.

“Du bist ein Insertionsspezialist, ja? Was passiert?” [ You’re an insertion specialist, right? What happened? ]

“Zu groß. Das wird kein Problem für dich.” [ Too tall. That won’t be an issue for you. ]

You crossed your arms. Cheap shot. König didn’t notice your disapproval, eyes now trained on the target.

“Auch ich zappele.” [ And I fidget .]

“Ich habe dein Scharfschießen gesehen. Du hast eine feste Hand.” [ I’ve seen you shoot. You have a steady hand. ]

“Hände kann ich ruhen. Alles anderes, nicht so viel. Problematisch, wenn man unauffindbar sein muss. Erinnern: Drück, nicht zieh.” [ I can keep my hands steady. The rest of me, not so much. A slight issue when trying to be undetectable. Remember, squeeze don’t pull. ]

BANG

Bullseye.

“Du bist dran.” [ Your turn. ]

You approached the marked spot. This seemed so much easier before you felt the gun in your hands and witnessed your brother’s expertise first hand.

“Hol drei tief Atemzüge. Großer letzter Ausatmen. Das ist der Moment. Beacht Folgemaßnahmen, Rückstoß ist eine knifflige, besonders bei deiner Größe.” [ Take three deep breaths. Big exhale on the last. That’s when you want to shoot. And remember to follow through, recoil can be a bitch, especially at your size. ]

Even with your nervousness, you still found it in yourself to retort.

“Nennst du mich kurz?” [ Are you calling me short? ]

“Für mich seid ihr alle kurz. Das ist nichts speziell. Schussbereit!” [ You’re all short to me. There’s nothing special about that. Position! ]

The gun was heavy, but thanks to your work with Horangi not unbearable.

One.

Two.

Three.

Even watching your brother’s demonstration hadn’t prepared you for just how loud the gunshot was.

You flinched. Hard.

The bullet went left, landing in the dirt with a small puff.

“Scheiße.” [ Shit. ]

“Gute Form. Ohne dein Zucken, wurdest du ins Schwarze treffen. Du musst nur an dem Krach passen. Probier es noch mal.” [ Good form. If it wasn’t for the flinch you would’ve got it dead on. You just need to get used to the noise. Try again. ]

You were still rattled, but your brother’s confidence in you steadied your hands.

You knew you could do it, you just had to…

Eins.

Zwei.

Drei.

There was no dust cloud this time. Only the noise of the round hitting something solid and your brother’s exhilarated whoop as he took you in his arms.

----------

Saying goodbye was rough. Both König and Horangi joined you on the ride to the airport, wanting to prolong goodbyes for as long as possible.

“Bis bald.” [ See you soon. ]

When your flight finally touched down and you returned to finish med school, it was with a few training bruises, an even steadier finger, and a determination to help your new family the only way you knew how.

An explanation of König & Reader's full names and the historical references behind them

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jasclearwaters · 3 months ago

Text

Learn to Fly

Part Four

We spend the morning at the docks, meeting with marine biologists working on tracking dugong populations. Robert is completely in his element—confident, knowledgeable, passionate. It’s hard not to get caught up in his energy.

I film snippets for my TikTok as we go:

Clip One: Me, pretending to wipe sweat dramatically from my forehead. Text overlay: POV: You came to Australia for a conservation trip and immediately got humbled by the heat.

Clip Two: A quick pan of Robert explaining the tracking process, his hands animated as he talks. Text overlay: This man really has Steve Irwin’s energy and I am STRESSED.

Clip Three: Me holding up a dugong plushie I picked up from the zoo gift shop, giving it a serious look. “This is the only one I trust.”

The rest of the day is a blur of data collection, recording GPS points, and taking notes while Robert and the team discuss patterns. I do my best to keep up, but I’m mostly just in awe. This isn’t just a passion project for him—it’s his life.

As we pack up, another boat pulls into the dock, and a woman with long, sun-streaked hair jumps out. She’s effortlessly gorgeous in that way outdoorsy girls tend to be—tan, lean, a little windblown but in a cool way.

“Rob!” she calls, walking over with a bright smile.

“Sophie!” He grins back, pulling her into a quick hug. “Didn’t know you were back in town.”

She laughs, swatting his arm. “You never check your messages. Just got back yesterday.” Then, her gaze slides to me, curiosity flickering in her blue eyes. “And you must be Kendra.”

I nod, keeping my expression neutral. “That’s me.”

“Sophie’s an old friend,” Robert explains. “She used to work on the reef conservation project with us.”

“Oh, cool,” I say lightly, but something inside me pulls back a little.

Sophie is… comfortable with him. The way she stands close, the casual touches—it all speaks to a history I don’t know about. And I’m not the kind of girl who jumps to conclusions, but I also know when I don’t have all the facts.

So I do what I do best—I shift gears. Film another TikTok, focus on the project, and remind myself why I came here in the first place.

Because whatever this thing is between me and Robert, if there even is a thing, it’s not something I’m going to push for. Not when I don’t have the full picture yet.

---

That evening, I edit some of the day’s TikToks while sitting on the edge of my bed, the quiet hum of nocturnal wildlife filtering in through the open window. My phone buzzes—comments are rolling in fast.

"The chemistry between you two is crazyyy"

"Girl, blink twice if you’re catching feelings for the Wildlife Prince."

"Sophie who??? We only acknowledge Kendra in this house."

I snort at that last one, but my stomach twists just a little. It’s not like Robert and I are a thing. Hell, we haven’t even crossed that line. But still, something about Sophie lingers in my head longer than I’d like to admit.

A knock at my door startles me.

"Hey," Robert says when I open it. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, hair still damp from a post-boat shower. He smells like salt and eucalyptus. "Just wanted to check in. Big day today."

"Yeah, it was," I say, keeping my voice easy. "Pretty amazing, actually."

He grins, and I hate that it does things to me. "Glad you think so. You really held your own out there."

"Well, I had a good teacher," I quip, tucking my phone under my thigh before he can catch a glimpse of my TikTok feed.

For a second, there’s something unspoken between us. It hums beneath the surface, much like the dugong we spotted earlier—just out of sight, but undeniably there.

Then he clears his throat. "We’re heading out early again tomorrow. More data collection. And, uh… Sophie’s joining us. She’s back for a bit, wants to help out."

I nod, keeping my expression neutral. "Cool. The more the merrier, right?"

Robert studies me for half a beat longer than necessary, like he’s trying to read something in my face. But then he just nods. "Right. See you in the morning, Kendra."

When he’s gone, I flop back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. The logical part of me knows there’s nothing to worry about. But the other part—the one that’s spent the last week laughing at Robert’s bad jokes and getting butterflies whenever he flashes that grin—is a little less sure.

And that’s dangerous. Because I didn’t come here for this.

I came for the work.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

---

The next day, we’re back on the water.

Sophie fits into the team seamlessly, and it’s clear she knows her stuff. She and Robert have this easy rapport, finishing each other’s thoughts when they talk about conservation efforts, bouncing ideas back and forth.

I stay focused on my tasks—filming updates for my audience, making sure I don’t fall overboard, the usual.

Clip One: Me holding up the tracking device, looking skeptical. "Me pretending I understand the science behind this when really I’m just here for the vibes."

Clip Two: A slow zoom-in on Sophie and Robert laughing over something while I sip from my water bottle. Text overlay: Me realizing I’m the side character in my own storyline.

I tell myself I’m not bitter. And honestly, I’m not. I barely know Robert, and it’s not like I expected anything.

But as the boat bobs along the waves, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve just stepped into a scene that’s already been written. And I’m not sure where I fit into it yet.

---

We’re back on the water early, scanning for dugongs when a distress call crackles through the radio. A juvenile dugong has been spotted tangled in a discarded fishing net, struggling near the mangroves.

Robert exchanges a quick look with me. “We’re the closest boat. Let’s go.”

I nod, ignoring the way my stomach clenches. Getting in the water still brings a rush of memories I’d rather not deal with, but this isn’t about me.

By the time we reach the location, the dugong is barely moving, its large, dark eyes blinking sluggishly. The net has wrapped around its body, restricting its movement. Robert and another researcher slide into the water first. When Robert looks back at me expectantly, I take a steadying breath before following.

The second I’m in, my heartbeat skyrockets. The water is murky here, the shadows shifting. I force myself to focus.

“You okay?” Robert’s voice is calm, but his eyes search mine.

I nod. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Carefully, we work together, cutting the net free. The moment it loosens, the dugong stirs, flapping its tail weakly. I place a hand on its side, feeling the rough, scarred skin beneath my fingers. It’s okay. It’s alive. And I’m still here, still breathing.

When it finally swims away, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Robert’s hand brushes my shoulder. “You did good, Shark Girl.”

I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah.” But I feel lighter as I climb back into the boat.

---

After I’ve showered off the salt and exhaustion, I find myself in the kitchen with Terri. She’s been back from Oregon for a couple of days now, and we haven’t really had a moment to talk.

“I saw the video Robert took of you helping that dugong,” she says as she stirs something on the stove. “You looked strong out there.”

I lean against the counter. “Felt more like ‘barely keeping it together.’”

Terri smiles knowingly. “That’s how growth feels sometimes.” She gives me a considering look. “You remind me a little of Steve, you know.”

I blink. “What?”

“He never let fear stop him. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t scared. He just didn’t let it win.” She sets a plate in front of me. “You’re doing more than just surviving, Kendra. You’re still fighting for what matters to you. That’s bravery.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I just nod, tucking her words away somewhere deep.

---

The next morning, my phone is still blowing up. I groan, rolling over to check TikTok, and immediately regret it.

A clip of Robert helping me onto the boat has gone viral—someone slowed it down, added soft music, and captioned it: “He’s so in love, it hurts.”

Oh no.

The comments are a mess:

“The way he looks at her?? I CAN’T.”

“They’re actually soulmates, right?”

“Someone check on Sophie.”

I roll my eyes and text Robert.

Me: The internet is unhinged.

Robert: You’re telling me? I just got asked about it. In an interview.

My stomach drops. Me: Oh god. What did you say?

Robert: I panicked.

Before I can respond, he sends a link. I click it, and sure enough, it’s a clip from his interview this morning.

Interviewer: There’s a lot of buzz online about you and Kendra. Any truth to it?

Robert laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Kendra’s incredible. I mean, have you seen her in action? Total legend.”

The interviewer smirks. “So that’s not a no?”

Robert stares for a second too long, then says, “We’re just—uh—saving dugongs.”

The comments under the video are even worse than TikTok.

“HE DIDN’T DENY IT.”

“Bro is blushing. Case closed.”

“What does ‘just saving dugongs’ mean??? Is that code??”

I groan, flopping back onto the bed. Me: Thanks for making it worse.

Robert: I panicked, okay??

Me: We’re never hearing the end of this.

Robert: Probably not. Wanna go save some dugongs and pretend the internet doesn’t exist?

I sigh. Me: Yeah. Let’s go.

---

Out on the water, the morning is smooth—until it’s not.

I’m climbing over the side of the boat when I feel it—something shifting, a faint click where there shouldn’t be one.

Then my prosthetic gives out.

I barely have time to react before I lose my footing, slipping sideways. Robert moves fast, grabbing me before I can hit the deck.

“Whoa, you good?” His grip is steady, his voice calm, but my face burns.

“I’m fine,” I say quickly, trying to push away. But my prosthetic is jammed, the knee joint locked in an awkward angle.

Robert kneels beside me. “Let me help.”

“I’ve got it.” I fiddle with the latch, but my fingers are shaking. The stupid thing won’t move.

Robert waits a second, then—gently—rests a hand on mine. “Kendra. It’s okay.”

I exhale sharply. I hate this. Hate feeling vulnerable. But I swallow my pride and let him help.

Together, we get it unstuck. As I readjust, Robert gives me a look—soft, but serious. “You don’t have to do everything alone, you know.”

I force a smirk. “That’s rich, coming from Mr. ‘I Wrestle Crocs By Myself.’”

He grins. “Fair point.”

We don’t say anything else. But as we get back to work, I feel a little less alone.

That night, the team invites us to a beach bonfire. The air is warm, the fire crackles, and for the first time in days, I let myself relax.

I’m mid-sip of my drink when Sophie plops down next to me. “So,” she says, nudging me. “You and Robert, huh?”

I choke. “What? No.”

She laughs. “Tell that to the internet.”

I groan. “It’s just people reading into things.”

Sophie hums, swirling her drink. “Yeah, people love a good story.” She glances at the firelight reflecting off the small ring on her left hand, then smiles to herself. “Liam—my boyfriend—proposed last month. I should probably start planning a wedding at some point.”

I pause. “Wait—what?”

She grins, holding up her hand. “I thought Robert would’ve mentioned it.”

I glance across the fire at Robert, who’s busy making someone laugh.

Huh.

That weird, unsettled feeling I’ve been carrying? It disappears.

Maybe I don’t know what’s happening between me and Robert.

But for the first time, I want to find out.

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