#(but it's easier for me to imagine than the reverse)

[ferociouslycreativemystery]

Me: I'm fine about my autism now btw, like I've come to terms with my fixated interests, limited tolerances and social inabilities. The alienation it brings is not ideal but it's just a reality I've gotta deal with now that I know it's just a part of who I am. I mean, it's not like an awkward conversation is gonna ruin anyone's life, is it? We'll both move on from it eventually. This is fine!

Also me: physically unable to watch beyond the first word of the first question of The Assembly because oh my god what if someone says something awkward or controversial or someone can't make themselves understood people are gonna get mad and scream about it online and I will freeze up and be stuck in the backlash forever I don't know how to handle conflict AT ALL let's just hide in the corner behind the sofa instead wait what if I became a hermit actually yeah yeah yeah that sounds good let's do that

[headkiss]

fall right into me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but it’s (say it with me) for the plot!!!

a/n: i know it’s been a LONG time since i’ve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)

𝜗𝜚

Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steve’s.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hi,” you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, “what’s going on?”

You’re not quite sure where to start.

Coming home from work earlier, you’d been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.

The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartment—one in the basement of a sweet, older couple’s house who just never used the space and converted it—the carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.

You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.

You don’t know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. They’d both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasn’t their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle “we’ll take care of it, sweetie.”

You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.

It’s an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasn’t so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?

Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.

Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, you’re on the phone with the one person you’d known would pick up.

You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” you agree. “And now I’m gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I don’t know how I’m gonna go back into that house, Steve.”

If you’re being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose that’s one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.

“Just come live with me, instead,” he offers without hesitation.

Steve says it like it’s obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since you’ve slept over at the Harrington’s house countless times before. Only, this is different because you’d be staying for a while, because you’d be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.

He’s been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and you’re one hundred percent sure you’d offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept, not when you’re already frazzled from the events of the day.

“No, Steve, I’m sorry I’m just being dramatic,” you say, twisting the phone’s cord around your finger. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a month, or so, and I don’t wanna be in your way or-”

“When have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?” The pet name he’s called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. “Besides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents won’t be around to care, either.”

“I can’t ask you to let me move in, Steve.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering. It’ll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. It’s perfect!”

There’s a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory he’s talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.

You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up, like there’s constantly a weight on him.

“Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s really okay if you’re not. I swear I’ll be fine.”

“As if I’m letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parent’s house. You’re staying with me, alright?” His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that he’s being honest, that he means it. “We’ll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, ‘kay?”

“You can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.”

“Don't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,” he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re living with me, yeah?”

You don’t think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.

“Yeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.”

“None of that. I know you’d do the same.”

There’s something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where you’ve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. There’s no questioning whether or not you’d be there for each other if you were in need.

It’s known, felt. Like a fact.

“Now,” he continues, “I’ll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Okay.”

“You need me to bring boxes for your stuff?”

“I’m not sure how much is worth keeping. It’s pretty ugly in there.”

Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. You’ll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t have money for right now.

But, you haven’t let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.

“I’ll bring some anyway, then. We’ll figure it out, angel, don’t worry.”

“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”

“Ten minutes,” he assures you, then the line clicks.

-

True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isn’t surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.

You’re sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steve’s BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.

His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, “You okay?”

The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that you’ve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, “Guess so,” you nod. “Maybe ask me again after all of this?”

Steve’s arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this, angel.”

We’ll, he says. A team.

You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.

“I hope you didn’t wear your good shoes for this,” you say.

Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, “Shoes can be replaced.”

He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though you’d seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think it’ll just make it all more real.

He mouths the word ‘fuck’ while you aren’t looking, then claps his hands once. “Okay, let’s figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?”

You’re grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. “Maybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.”

“‘Kay. I’ll just go grab some boxes from my car,” Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.

You’re opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.

Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that he’s there, you’re glad for it.

Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least it’s only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.

Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that it’d be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save what’s there.

Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroom’s doorway to look at you and make sure you’re doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.

You’re not sure how you’d be managing this if you were alone, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to.

The next time he checks on you, you’re by your nightstand.

Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the picture’s stained with water and the frame you’d decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.

Where yours and Steve’s handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the marker’s colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture that’s sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.

“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.

When all you do is sniffle and mumble an “mhm?” in response, he sets the box he’d been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.

He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.

“It was my favorite one,” you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.

Although it’s soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where you’ve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and you’re both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.

Steve’s clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and you’ve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.

It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.

Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.

“We can fix it,” he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.

“But the frame-”

“We’ll fix it, angel. I’ll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.”

“Steve-”

“Look at me,” he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. “This fucking sucks, I know it does, but you’re strong and I’m here, and we can handle this.”

His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what he’s saying, and he really believes in you.

“Thank you for being here.” You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’s kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, it’s just-”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. “You’re allowed to cry. Hell, I’d probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.”

You laugh wetly into his shirt.

“Now,” he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, “the quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. I’ll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.”

A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”

-

Steve wouldn’t let you do much of the work after that.

Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where you’d been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a ‘yes,’ or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a ‘no.’

Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steve’s car—which wasn’t a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.

You’d refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.

By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like you’d lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.

Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when it’s time to fill the silence and when it isn’t, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.

He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

You were no stranger to the Harrington’s house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing you’ll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.

Steve, however, doesn’t let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. “Honey, we’re home!”

“Dork,” you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.

Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.

The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesn’t even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.

It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide you’ll deal with them later.

Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that you’d left there, and hands them to you. “I figured you’d wanna wash up.”

“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”

“Shut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.”

“Hey!”

“I’m teasing, angel.” He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. “You know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?”

You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.

It’s funny, you’ve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasn’t said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when you’re in it. There’s a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when it’s not around.

You nod, “Thank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I won’t be in the way, promise.”

“I want you in the way. You know you’re always welcome. This is no different.” He shrugs, “Plus, it’ll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when it’s just me.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay forever, then,” you say, tone light and joking.

Steve, completely serious, says, “I’d let you.”

There’s a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something you’ve never felt—or noticed, rather—around him. It throws you off just a little.

“Anyways,” Steve cuts your thoughts short, “I’ll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when you’re done.”

He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.

You’ve been to his house a million times, so you don’t really feel the need to ‘get settled’ but you desperately need a shower so that’s where you go.

You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.

When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steve’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.

It’s the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.

-

You’ve been staying at Steve’s for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when you’re there, especially when you’re around him.

He’s taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. You’ve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where you’d done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.

It’s been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.

This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, he’d even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasn’t out of his way at all.

After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.

Eventually, you’d taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.

You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.

Though you haven’t worked together in years, and he isn’t far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where you’re simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.

If Steve were with you, he’d make stupid jokes that you don’t wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever you’re cleaning.

He’d probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.

You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.

That’s it.

Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isn’t feeling too different from you.

He’s spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever he’d come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robin’s been manning the desk.

Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.

Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (you’d told him he could tell her, because she’s your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how you’d ended up staying with him in his house.

She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isn’t very good at hiding things.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Nothing.” When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, “Well… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Now, Robin is one of Steve’s closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesn’t want to see anyone hurt.

She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, it’s clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesn’t even know it.

When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.

He would say it’s that of ‘best friend’ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks he’s an absolute dingus, she’s trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.

Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.

He looks confused at her question, “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, “You know what they say: become friends with your roommates, don’t become roommates with your friends.”

“Whoever they are, they’re dumb as shit,” Steve says. “She’s been over, slept over, hundreds of times. It’s not any different, just longer.”

“I guess so,” she settles on. “The rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.”

“That’s because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever tried following them.”

“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair he’s sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.

“Don’t think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.”

-

That night, your routine was pretty much the same.

Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.

Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. They’d met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.

Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.

After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldn’t even remember already), they’d assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.

You probably would’ve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, you’d squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.

Steve’s hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.

He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they would’ve found a way to blame you for it.

You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didn’t know exactly what it felt like beforehand.

After giving the couple Steve’s phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.

Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.

Sometimes it feels like it is.

Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, you’re back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie he’s brought back this time.

“Gremlins?” You ask, smiling and shaking your head.

“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”

Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing ‘play’ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.

“So, how was work?” Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. It’s why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.

“Weekdays are so boring, Steve,” you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. “You’re so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.”

“Robin is a pain in my ass.” He says. He doesn’t really mean it, because even when she is, he’s glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. “She kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. There’s probably a dent in the desk.”

“That’s because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.”

“What the fuck!” Steve’s smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. It’s contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.

Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know, I’d wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.”

“You’d spin me too much. I’d get sick all over you and then nobody’s happy.”

“Don’t talk about barf while I’m eating, Harrington.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesn’t even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.

When the bowl’s empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.

It’s a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes you’re asleep. You’d been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.

That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.

He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldn’t be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.

Steve, though he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.

Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.

“Hey, angel,” he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. “Hmm?”

“You fell asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.

Steve laughs softly. “Don’t be sorry, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.

You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steve’s being. As if you haven’t fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.

Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small “Careful.”

He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to what’s become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.

Tomorrow, you’ll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you don’t feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.

You’re practically asleep again by the time you’re settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.

You’re just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft “Goodnight, angel” against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

-

On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.

“We should go shopping,” he says when you walk into the kitchen. It’s a little later in the morning, having slept in since it’s a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Like, groceries?”

“No, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?”

You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that you’re looking.

You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. “You literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.”

“That’s what they’re there for!” The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. “You need new clothes,” he continues, “and I need to get out of this house.”

“We can do something else, Steve,” you say. “I thought you hated shopping.”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” There’s a pause, Steve’s eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didn’t notice, because even he’s not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. “Plus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really can’t stand for that, can I?”

“Ohhh,” you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, “so you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?”

“Exactly. We’ll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?”

So that’s how you’d ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.

He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.

You’re a couple of stores in, and Steve’s been complaint-free so far—which makes sense, since this was his idea, but you’ve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know he’s got some remarks in his head he just hasn’t said out loud—and follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you can’t imagine that this is any fun for him.

“How about that one?” Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the store’s wall.

He’d seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what you’d lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.

He knows you. He cares enough to know you.

“Yeah, that’s really pretty, actually,” you admit.

At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things he’d already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was ‘too hard to browse with your hands full.’

After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steve’s holding. “You can wait out here, I’ll be quick.”

“Hold on,” he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. “Why do you think I’m here, angel? I wanna help you pick.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.

They’re hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.

“Hi there,” an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know it’s a practiced one. Customer service smile. “How many you got there, darling?”

“Oh, um,” you turn back towards Steve, who’s counting the hangers in his hand. “Five.”

“Perfect!” The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, “Your man can have a seat right here. We call them the ‘boyfriend benches.’”

“He’s not my-”

“Thanks,” Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didn’t want you to correct her.

Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?

Fuck. No. He just didn’t want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. That’s all.

The redhead smiles again, “Holler if you need anything,” she says before walking off.

You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?

“Come on,” Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I can't believe you’re making me do this,” you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.

You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that it’s not scratchy on your skin. Then, there’s just some basic t-shirts that aren’t all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.

Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.

It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You don’t always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you don’t hate what you see.

You actually like it.

“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.

In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.

Steve’s seen you in plenty of dresses—hell, you went to prom together—but for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe it’s simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way you’re smiling shyly as he looks you over.

Or, maybe it’s because he’s the one who picked it.

He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isn’t very big, so with both of you in it, you’re standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steve’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.

As if he can’t help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.

“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadn’t meant it to slip out that way. It sounded… more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. “I have great taste. Clearly.”

You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. “Yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steve’s arm. “Steve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?”

You probably should’ve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, “I didn’t know!”

“Okay, I’m gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.”

“We’re not stealing.”

“I know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and don’t buy something. Trust me.”

You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.

Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.

He’s just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.

“For you,” he says, holding out the bag for you to take.

“Steve…” You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine with something from the Gap.”

“I know that,” he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. “I wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.”

Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.

You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. They’re so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesn’t have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.

He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“Well,” you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. “Thank you, Steve. This is really nice.”

His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. “You’re welcome, angel.”

You don’t buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each other’s baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a while.

-

You don’t think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (“I don’t even pay rent, and I live here all the time.”)

But, this morning, you’ve decided you’re gonna try.

Steve’s favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. He’d told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that he’d have the kitchen table to himself.

Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. They’d ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.

So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.

You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steve’s usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.

Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheeler’s and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. She’d directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.

By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, you’ve already made the batter and set out the toppings—berries, maple syrup, whipped cream—like a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as you’re swearing at the waffle maker.

“Stupid fucking thing,” you mutter, trying to open it.

Steve smiles to himself before saying, “Morning, angel.”

You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.

Steve’s still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And he’s shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. He’s got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.

You’ve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.

The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.

You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. “I’m making breakfast. Coffee’s already in the pot, too.”

He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread you’ve prepared, “Waffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. “To thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?” He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. “I like having you around.”

“So you don’t want the waffles then?”

“Oh, I want the waffles. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s not some debt you’ll owe me, angel.”

“Want you to know I appreciate you is all,” you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.

Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, “I appreciate you, too.”

Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.

And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.

Your cheek still tingles from where he’d kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like he’s still remembering exactly how it felt, too.

You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steve’s got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and you’ve got your berries on the side the way you always do.

Neither of you work until later in the day, and it’s nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be ‘cooler’ in school (he’d told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). You’d told him he was going soft with age.

You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each other’s impressions of him.

What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you have to leave. When you’re living alone again.

Logically, you know you’ll still see Steve frequently, because he’s your favorite person and you can’t remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, it’ll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.

You’ll miss it, you think.

Trying not to dwell on something that’s still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.

He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.

Then, he teases you, “These are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.”

You kick his leg under the table. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’ Harrington.”

He kicks you back, much gentler than you’d been. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

When you look at him, there’s an easy, boyish smile on his face.

A similar one stretches across your own lips.

-

Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he should’ve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.

And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t glad that you’ve ended up sharing his space.

The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.

He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like it’s him. For everything you’ve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever you’d cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.

Even when you’re not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until you’re fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.

He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasn’t seen you cry since, or even bring it up, he’s decided he wants to fix it. He’d told you he would.

Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steve’s room for his copy of that same picture.

When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, he’s glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasn’t always all bad.

Steve probably should’ve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (“Dude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.” “I was four!”)

He hopes it’ll be worth it.

Dustin was the one who found the picture they’d been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steve’s face as if they’d been racing.

Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasn’t too difficult, ‘cause Steve’s writing still isn’t that neat), he’s waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.

He’d picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so he’d taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.

Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows you’re done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later you’re walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.

His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.

He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. “I have something for you.”

“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”

“This thing was free, so you can’t even be mad,” he says, smiling almost sheepishly.

Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks… nervous.

Steve’s never nervous around you.

“Okay,” you say, shuffling on your feet. “What is it?”

“Here,” he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. “Open it.”

You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isn’t your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.

What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.

It’s your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, it’s not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.

When you look back up at him, he’s already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.

Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.

Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.

“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”

“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.

You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.

This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.

When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.

“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”

“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”

Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.

Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.

Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.

He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”

“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.

His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.

-

You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.

You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.

You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.

Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”

You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.

“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”

“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. “My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”

You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”

“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”

He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”

“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”

He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.

Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”

“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”

“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”

Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.

He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.

So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”

“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”

You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”

Steve’s eyes widen like he’s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”

Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.

You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.

He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.

His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.

Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”

And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.

-

You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.

Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.

Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.

Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.

Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.

As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.

His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.

In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.

It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.

“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.

“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.

“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”

Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.

He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.

It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.

You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.

“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.

You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.

It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.

You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.

Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.

Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.

You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.

It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.

You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.

Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.

You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.

What the fuck just happened?

-

It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.

Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.

You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?

You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.

You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.

Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.

He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.

It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.

Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.

Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?

Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.

You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.

He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.

So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”

“No, shut up. I need your help.”

“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”

“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.

“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”

Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.

“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.

Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”

Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”

Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”

Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”

“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.

He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.

“What do you mean?”

“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”

Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.

You are worth the risk to him.

“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”

“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”

Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”

-

With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.

You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.

You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.

The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.

How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.

The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.

Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.

You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.

For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.

So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.

You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.

You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”

You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.

“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”

You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”

“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”

You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.

Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”

“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”

You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”

“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”

“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.

Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”

“What about when my apartment is ready?”

He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”

You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.

You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.

It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”

“You won’t. Not ever.”

You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.

The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”

“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”

He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”

“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”

He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.

𝜗𝜚

thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you thing!! it helps more than you know <3

[solanasreality]

- the key to shifting is just manifestation.

Ⅰ ⦂ the law of assumption.

the law of assumption by definition is simply coming up with an assumption and persisting no matter what the 3D tells you. it’s a state of being. despite what the 3D shows you, you are confident in yourself and your beliefs because that’s law and that is what will show up at the end of the day.

when you close your eyes at night, it’s the 4D that you fall back into, is it not?

how to apply this to shifting, you may ask?

your assumptions create your reality, so, why not assume that you’re in your desired reality?

“oh! solana! i’m clearly not there! i’m going to do my 5000000th method and hope for the best-”

the law of assumption ensures the most success, why assume that a certain method works over and over, or assume that you’re in the void (some of you guys really forget that there’s so much more than the void), than assume that you’re already there?

there is nothing to be done, just let it materialize right in front of your eyes.

Ⅱ ⦂ how the state of being helps rather than desire.

when you assume that you‘ve already shifted, it will seep into your subconscious and harden as fact. that’s the law. i understand that for some, it may just be easier to assume yourself into the void, and that’s fine, but to shift, all you need to do is shift your perspective and awareness.

you do not wait for the 3D to change just because you did a method, you wait for the 3D to catch up to the fact that you had a successful attempt.

and this means that no matter what, you will saturate your brain into believing that you’ve shifted regardless of circumstances. don’t chase anything else, don’t look for another method, just change self.

you are your DR self, your DR is your current reality and that’s final, but the change can only come to fruition if you find the courage to change your beliefs.

how do to do that?

robotic affirming : robotic affirming is simply affirming over and over again, similar to how a robotic repeats coded phrases. you don’t have to believe in them (although i do suggest fixing your self concept so you have lesser doubts), all you have to do is affirm constantly until your subcon picks up on it. it’s very easy to convince, i promise.

affirmation tapes : affirmation tapes are similar to robotic affirming, they’re affirmations that are repeated. the more specific, the better, in my opinion. they can help tackle fears, doubts and “blockages” in shifting that you wouldn’t have noticed otherwise because they send affirmations directly to the subconscious.

daydreaming : now, if you’re like me, you rely on daydreaming a ton. you know about the imagination (4D) and you use it to your advantage. all you do is imagine yourself having your desires, apply emotion to it and live by it.

law of assumption : assume that any doubt, any worry or anxiety concerning shifting just. doesn’t exist. don’t ignore it, but let the emotions come and allow them to past before returning to the state of fulfillment. that’s law and that’s final. walk around like you are a master shifter because you are. gaslight your subconscious into believing that you are whoever you want to be, because you are.

p.s. don’t believe that intrusive thoughts can hinder your journey, as long as you remember to reverse them and to return to that state of fulfillment, everything is still going according to plan.

all love, solana <3

(i’m actually sticking to this theme promise)

[moonsaver]

Do you have any thoughts about the opposite of the "Im afraid to confess because our friendship could get ruined"? As in, "I'm afraid to reject you because I don't want to lose this friendship so I accept your confession even though I don't feel that way for you and never will".

Like the protagonist tries to convince themselves that this is just like being friends only that we now kiss (and more). I feel like it would fit with a yandere that is a bit delusional or desperate, eveb insecure so whenever the protagonist doesnt seem as into this relationship as them, they just try to convince themselves otherwise, or love bomb the protagonist.

Idk lately Ive been into reversing the tropes and I found this one particularly interesting to me when it comes to a yandere. In HSR i was thinking of Argenti as he seems like the delusional type. Or even Aventurine who would have had to put down a lot of walls to be friends with you and then even more walls just to confess, so rejecting him doesnt seem like an option to the protag (out of pity and care).

THIS THIS THIS!!!! qnon ur brain is so wrinkly and soggy with brain juice..... this used to be my favorite trope at some point idk why i forgot about it i remember eating up any fanfics out there based on this

Tw: yandere (obv), manipulation, intimacy (mainly romantic, only hints of sexual), emotional blackmailing, whatever yadda yadda

But anyways, under the cut!

Okay, so, I imagine this is possible with literally... almost all of hsr's cast. Mainly because most of them have such tragic backstories, and most of them out of that have a really shrewd and cunning mind, so they'll exploit this to hell and back.

I also imagine this is with a people pleasing reader, so lets go with a bit of implication of that.

Anyways, since Aventurine and Argenti are the ones mentioned specifically, I'll probably dive in on them first.

Aventurine is so hard to not feel pity for. Every stolen glance at the marking on his neck makes you feel worse and worse for "rejecting him", knowing he's been throwing signs of wanting more than a friendship quite possibly everywhere and you're most likely ignoring them in hopes of keeping your friendship. It's not like he hasn't quite caught on, either. He knows people's hearts quite well. And where there's opportunity, he seizes it.

It's a bit frustrating for him – just why can't you see he wants more? Or rather, just why aren't you accepting him? You're the first thing on his mind when he wakes up, when he clutches his chip and bets on his life, the last thing on his mind when he goes to sleep. Hell, he's even tried to dream of you, forcefully. But then he realizes.. how easy you are to just push around. He goes ahead with the confession, and it's almost a sadistic kind of pleasure when he sees you even try and stutter out any kind of a rejection when he's leaning in a perfect angle that shows off his little marking (out of all the times he curses it, it seems like this time it's worked in his favor). He watches carefully as your eyes nervously flit to his neck and you shut up immediately for a second, before accepting. And when you do.. he's over the moon! Coddles you, kisses your cheeks, becomes so much more grabby, as his keen eyes watch your discomfort. Well.. you didn't reject him, so this is what you should expect.

Again, the frustration doesn't wear off easily, but just seeing you writhe and try to create distance while he suffocates you in affection far from platonic nature, is so sadistically pleasuring to him. He loves watching you in that state, bending to his will so easily, as he waits for you to snap. But he'll probably find it easier to squeeze water out of a rock than to squeeze a rejection out of you – which is precisely what he exploits. You're not going anywhere, are you? He puts on his best, pleading little eyes that he used to have to put on, shaking, trembling voice, desperate hands that cling to you; all the things he acts out like his life depends on it when he senses even a waver of your hesitation.

Oh, fine.. he hates seeing you so queasy almost all the time, so he'll give you a reprieve from time to time. Plans and schedules things you used to do "back when you were friends" (he emphasizes this – you don't think you can just ignore everything, right?), and makes sure to at least crack a few smiles and giggles from you. Of course.. his hand is still loosely hanging around your waist, pecks you on the lips from time to time, just as a small reminder of what you guys really are now.

Argenti on the other hand, has no awareness of your discomfort at all.

He's like a huge dog, the way he's so happy about you accepting his confession and doesn't even stop to think afterwards just why you were so hesitant during it.

Constantly praises you, and it's not soon before it gets to a more intimate nature. He wants to do all the romantic things – kissing under the rain, protecting you from something, twirling you in the air and then kissing you again after putting you down, telling everyone proudly that you two are a couple, buying more and more "romantic" gifts that turn more intimate sooner or later. You have no way out of this without completely ruining everything.

It's.. almost painful the way he doesn't realise. At some point your discomfort probably gets so.. obvious, but he just shrugs it off; perhaps he hasn't been paying you enough attention? Or you're just too shy to ask something of him? Oh, how sweet! How adorable! He thinks. He simply falls deeper and deeper into this delusion, stringing you along and stretching your patience thin. Unfortunately, unlike Aventurine, you can't find most, if any bits of the things you both used to do as platonic companions in the relationship you have with Argenti. He's just a full-blown romantic who wants to do only that. It makes you even more queasy when people look at you in pity, if they realize just what happened between you two.

You can't back out, even if you tried. If you somehow manage to find a way to squeeze out a rejection, or have any kind of a reservation about things getting more intimate/romantic stuff, he's so devastated. Did he do something wrong? Perhaps he's not as experienced as you wanted him to be? Or you're not satisfied with some of the things he's said? Don't fret, he's right on it! Constantly holding you so close you're afraid your bones will break, whispering incessant praises into your ear that slowly spiral into affirmations that you belong to him, spoiled rotten with everything you want; yet, even then.. you can't shake off the intention they were given in. Not when you're suffocated by it.

[misctf]

Reversal Agents II: Going Back

Hey! I felt like making a sequel to the The Reversal Agents. Similar concept, similar characters, but instead with an inanimate tf focus. Hope you enjoy and please dm with any story requests!

“Wh-where am I?”

It was so bright. He could make out blurry shadows- people shuffling around him. He could hear voices.

“He’s awake!”

“Sir, can you tell us your name?”

It was all so much. The hard floor on his back. The blinding lights shining in his face. He moved his arm and looked at his hand. His hand? He stared at it, slowly moving his fingers. It felt foreign to him. The sensation was strange and unfamiliar, so he lowered his arm and continued to look around.

“Sir, can you tell us your name?” The voice was more forceful now.

“Tim Hoffer.” He whispered. It was hard to talk. His mouth was dry, “Where... where...” It was getting hard to talk again. And he couldn’t feel his fingers.

“His form isn’t stable!” Someone shouted.

“Stabilizers! Stat!”

Tim could feel someone press something onto his chest and he felt dizzy. The world around him spun and he fell unconscious. From the viewing room, Detective Hart and Detective Philips watched the scene unfold. Hart frowned and turned to the senior detective.

“Stabilizers?” He asked, “Why...”

“Some transformations linger.” Philips interjected, “Especially these inanimate ones for whatever reason. We often use these to prevent reversions.” They watched Tim closely, “Usually the stabilizers come off sooner rather than later. We just follow-up with them closely.”

“Poor kid.” Hart commented.

Philips chuckled, “Could you imagine? Six months as a pair of underwear?”

“Show some sympathy. It’s not funny.” Hart replied, earning him a curious look from his superior.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Philips replied. He took a deep breath, “Come on, we’ll let the professionals handle this. I want to go home and that paperwork won’t finish itself.”

_____________________

It still felt strange. The warmth of his own skin. Moving his arms and legs. Talking. He shuddered. The memories were still somewhat hazy. There was a baseball game. Against their university’s main rival. Big game, huge crowd. His girlfriend cheering him on. He stepped up to bat. Hit the game winning homerun. It was incredible- the memory caused him to smile. But afterwards, it got hazy. He stayed behind to talk to coach- everyone else left. After their talk, he started heading back to his dorm to meet his girlfriend. There was a huge party planned. But he was jumped by Tyler, the rival team’s catcher. He pulled out what looked like a gun... and then...

“Tim?”  

Tim looked away from the window and in the direction of Detective Hart. He sighed. It had been a few weeks since his reversal. And the Department of Affairs Related to Transformation set up several follow-up sessions for him to talk things through. Hart, for his part, enjoyed this part of the job. He could do more to help the victims of forced transformations.

“Sorry, just a bit distracted.” Tim replied.

Hart raised an eyebrow, “I know it’s been a tough few weeks. Getting back into your normal routine...”

“It’s not just that.” He sighed, “I... Sometimes...” He looked away, “It’s nothing.”

Hart looked at him quizzically. But Tim maintained his poker face. How could he tell Hart that he sometimes missed his time as a pair of underwear? Yeah, it was terrifying at first. He hated it. He hated how his face was pressed against his tormentor’s cock. How his body was stretched across his massive muscular ass. The protein farts, the sweat, the days his captor jerked off into him. But as he lost track of the days, it became easier to accept that he was just underwear. No worries, no thoughts, just unwashed and used.

“It’s okay.” Hart replied, “We’ll continue to work through this. And remember, if you ever need me, you can call.”

_____________________

If there was anything Tim continued to enjoy, it was going to the gym. And with college starting again soon and the baseball season, he wanted to stay in shape. Today was leg day and he was trying his best to focus on his squats. As he looked up after finishing a set though, he couldn’t help but stare at the man bench pressing in the corner. Or more specifically, the bulge in his tight gym shorts. The man was around his age and built. His shirt drenched in sweat. When he saw Tim looking at him, he flashed him a smile. Tim blushed and went back to his squats.

‘God damn it.’ He thought, ‘Why does this keep happening?’

Following his transformation, it seemed that he developed a sexual preference for men. A week after his transformation was reversed, he attempted to reconnect with his girlfriend. But when their date night got to the bedroom, it was less than enjoyable for both of them. He couldn’t get hard. Despite years of being together and never having an issue, he just couldn’t. They broke up soon after. But maybe it was a one off thing. He desperately watched the porn vids that always worked for him, and similarly had no such luck. But when he thought about men... particularly, their muscular thighs and their sweaty cocks, he had no issue getting off. Tim jumped when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“I’ll be in the last shower stall.” The man said.

Tim nodded and watched as the hunk walked towards the locker room. He felt his heart pound in his chest. It had been so long since he did anything with anyone. And he resisted his urge to actually do anything with a guy. But... it had been so long. Tim entered the locker room and did just what the guy had told him too. He stripped down to nothing and entered the shower stall, finding the other man there, naked.

“I saw you checking me out.” The guy said with a grin.

But Tim didn’t really hear anything. He was focused more on the man’s erect cock. Tim was soon on his knees, his hands feeling the man’s thighs and ass. All the while, the man was rubbing his cock against Tim’s face.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” The man said, “Come on, you fucking slut.”

A part of Tim felt horrified. He felt dirty and wrong. A few months ago, he would’ve never done something like this. Never. But as he licked along the man’s shaft, tasting the glistening sweat, he shuddered with pleasure. It was so familiar, so right. He slowly swallowed the man’s cock, wrapping his arms around the man’s muscular ass. This felt right. This was right. He bobbed up and down on the man’s cock, causing him to moan. Yeah, just an object. Just to be used. He felt the man’s cock start to throb and he knew what was coming. And as the man came down his throat, Tim was filled with pleasure- it was so familiar. It reminded him of all the days his captor would cum on his fabric face. But that feeling soon dissipated and the weight of what he just did hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Fuck...” The man sighed, “You wanna exchange...”

But Tim had fled. He quickly got back into his clothes and headed towards the locker room exit. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes- this wasn’t right, this was wrong. He wasn’t...

“Tim?” Tim’s eyes widened when he heard a familiar voice. Detective Hart was looking at him, dressed in nothing but a pair of tight underwear, “Hey, are you...?”

But again, Tim didn’t really hear anything he was saying. Instead, he was focused on the bulge in Hart’s underwear. He knew Hart was on the younger side, maybe a few years out of college, but he never saw him nearly naked. His muscles were lean. His ass firm. His underwear... Tim felt jealous of it... And he felt a strange affection for the detective.

“Tim?”

“I-I’ll see you later!” Tim said, fleeing from the locker room.

_____________________

Tim was lying in his bed, his hand wrapped around his cock. Ever since returning from the gym, he couldn’t get the image of Hart out of his head. But even more, he couldn’t help but feel jealous of the underwear tightly wrapped around his cock. Tim cursed and ran a hand through his hair. Why did it have to be like this? Why did he miss being used underwear? He moaned when he thought about the first night Tyler jerked off into him. Tyler had pawed at his cock through Tim’s fabric face. At first he hated it, but night after night, multiple times per day, he anticipated it. Felt excited. It was his purpose.

“Fucking hell.” He whispered. He stared at the stabilizer on his chest and sighed, “No.” He whispered. He grabbed his phone and called Detective Hart. He needed to talk with him, “Hey, can I come talk to you? I know it’s real late, but I really need to... Yes... thank you so much, I’ll be right over.”

When Tim arrived at Hart’s apartment, he was sweating and his heart was pounding. Hart greeted him and the two men were sitting on the sectional in the living room. Hart was looking at him, worry in his eyes.

“So you wanted to talk?” Hart asked.

“I... I’m having a hard time.” Tim whispered, “I sometimes miss it. I miss being underwear.” Tim felt a weight leave him as he admitted his truth, “Ever since the transformation reversed, I just...”

“This isn’t uncommon.” Hart replied, “And I want you to know its normal.” He reassured, “I’ve been learning a lot about inanimate transformations, especially cases similar to yours. It usually takes a bit, but things will start to normalize more as time goes on.”

Tim nodded, feeling comforted by Hart’s words, “I... that does make me feel better.” He whispered. He sighed, “I need to splash some water on my face.”

Tim stared at himself in the bathroom mirror and took a deep breath. Maybe... maybe everything would be okay. He just needed to stay strong. He could go back to his life... maybe rekindle with his girlfriend. Life would be okay.

But then he saw it. Thrown and discarded in the corner of the bathroom was a pair of Hart’s underwear. Tim felt his heart pounding as he bent over and picked it up. The smell was intoxicating. Sweaty, manly musk filled his nostrils. The fabric in his hand was so soft. He shuddered and looked at himself in the mirror. There he was. Tim Hoffer. College baseball jock. Business Administration major. Good grades, attractive, smart. There he was- ravenously rubbing his face in another man’s underwear. He frowned as he removed his shirt and stared at the stabilizer on his chest. And without another thought, he pulled it off.

_____________________

“Hey Tim, are you okay?” Hart knocked on the bathroom door. It had been a little bit of time, and he grew concerned. He looked at his phone and sighed. He quickly messaged the guy he was planning to hook-up with that he needed to cancel, “Tim, can I...”

But the door opened and Tim was standing there, completely undressed. Hart’s eyes widened at the sight and he quickly took a step back. And that’s when he noticed it. There was no stabilizer on his chest.

“Tim...?”

He hadn’t expected Tim to close the distance between them so fast. Nor did he expect the passionate kiss that followed. Hart broke away and looked at Tim, who smiled at him. His hand was resting against Hart’s slowly growing erection.

“Tim, you... I...”

Tim smiled and again kissed Hart passionately. And this time, the detective reciprocated. The two continued to make-out passionately, with Hart leading him back to the bedroom. Tim’s eyes were wild as he stripped away Hart’s clothes, revealing the toned muscle he had seen earlier. His tongue quickly roamed along the detective’s abs and he shuddered at the sound of Hart’s moans. And when Tim finally made his way down to Hart’s stiff cock, he licked along the length of the shaft, savoring every moment. He looked up at Hart, who’s eyes were shut tight from the pleasure, his mouth open in a silent moan. Tim sighed. He didn’t have much time left. He could feel it in his body. And so, he quickly took the length of Hart’s cock into his eager mouth.

‘Here it goes...’ He thought, a sense of relief filling him.

And just like that first night, he could feel it. He felt his arms move on their own, wrapping around the back of Hart’s waist. And when his hands came together, they began to fuse. At the same time, he could feel his pecs and abs start to vanish, the air in his lungs being forced out as his body flattened. But all the while, he kept Hart’s cock in his mouth, doing his best to provide pleasure even as his body changed. He grunted as his legs fused together and lose their features. His skin was taking on a white hue. And slowly, his body started to shrink. As it did, he felt what had been his abdomen and legs curve upwards along Hart’s taint and fuse with his clasped hands.

‘I feel... it feels...’ Tim’s mind was filling with pleasure. With anticipation. He could feel Hart’s firm ass fill the tight fabric of his new body, ‘Just underwear... underwear...’

And slowly, he felt his face start to flatten out against the detective’s throbbing cock. His handsome features vanishing and shifting into white fabric. And a few moments later, Hart was alone in the room. His throbbing erection tenting in his new underwear. And the horny detective couldn’t help but wrap his hand around his throbbing member- pressing Tim’s face firmly against his cock. And after a few strokes, he came, filling his new underwear with his seed.

_____________________

When Detective Hart woke up the next morning, he yawned and rubbed his cock through his underwear. But the events of the previous night quickly returned to him. He looked down at his cum stained underwear- Tim- and felt his heart pounding. How could he do this? He was supposed to reverse transformations, not engage in them. He quickly threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. It was the weekend, so the office shouldn’t be too busy. He could reverse this again. It would be okay. He ran to the office, working up a musky sweat that seeped into Tim’s new form. He tried to ignore how good the soft fabric of Tim’s new body felt against his semi-hard member.

“Come on... come on...” He whispered as he entered his office. He was desperately looking for the key to the reversal chamber.

“Oh Detective Hart, you look a little stressed today.” Hart looked up to see Detective Philips standing at the door to his office, “Tough night?” He gave the detective a knowing look.

“Look, something happened and...”

Philips smiled, “Don’t worry, I won’t say a thing.” He walked over to Hart, “Inanimate transformations... difficult to come back from.” He chuckled, “Sometimes, it awakens their true purpose. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“What are you saying?”

“You wouldn’t be a reversal agent if you didn’t, well...” He smirked and rubbed his growing bulge, “It’s hard to come by good quality underwear. We’ll leave it at that.”

Hart watched as Philips left his office, the smirk never leaving his face. The younger detective sighed and stared at the key to the reversal chamber in his hand. And with another sigh, he put it away.

[wixenburr]

Saw some ppl talking about Reverse Robins and i had thoughts

Talking abt u guys @eldritchdreamss @brucewaynehater101

Why kill Tim when you could kill baby Jason? What I want is for all of them to keep their own backstories and personalities (Developed in line with the story of course) So ofc i had to write a 1,000 word brainrot abt it.

(Also i'll only be going over the main 4 batbros for now i will add more later but these guys are the ones im most passionate about so here we go)

Damian

Let Damian come in, desperate to be of use and be worthy of his father, only for a softer, less jaded bruce (since jason hasnt died yet) to help him open up his heart and let him act as a kid. With no competition for so long, I imagine he and Bruce get along very well while he works with him. Yeah, they need to work on the no killing deal and Damian's... i guess impulse control? But i think it would be easier with very intensely focused reparenting; no distractions of other kids you know? No favoring or anything.

I see Damian growing up as a stoic, jaded adult. He's had a rough life. Maybe he sticks with the vigilante business. but I really love headcanons where he gets out of it, and focuses on something calmer, like his art. (I do appreciate and love the veterinarian Damian AUs, but im going for FULL calmness, you know? And doctor/vet work is Not calm lol)

So yeah, maybe he grows a real passion for heroism, maybe he doesn't? Maybe he goes on to be an artist and that's just what he does. Bro is ready to settle down as a scarred, veteran trophy husband and i adore him for that.

(Sorry lol i just love Damian and i love the idea of him growing out of both of his parent's legacies. Let him live his own life!!! He fights so so hard for at least 15 years. ALL 15 years of his life. He deserves to have some peace.)

Tim

Tim i think would need a much different story to join the Batfam. He still starts out as a stalker who follows batman and. . . . . . . Redimar (meaning Redemption iykyk (I just spend 17min researching names rip)) at night, takes photos, etc... Since Damian doesn't die, maybe he finds Tim? and like, tim is like 11 and Damian is 17 or 18. He's started going out as Redimar less and less, not that B really minds? In fact hes probably happy for his son so...

But then Damian finds Tim, and now he has to keep going out because he can't let this kid get himself killed like this. He would hold himself accountable since hes the only reason Tim keeps going out so much- also i imagine Tim follows Redimar more than Batman.

Cue a classic Tim Joining The Batfam plotline. They get to know each other better, get a grasp on Tim's situation, Damian finally introduces Tim to Bruce... (Probably something like Dami: "Father, this is my new brother. Timothy, say hello to Father," Tim: "Hello, Father," Dami: "Perfect." Bruce: "*falls off the batchair*)

Anyway, so, Tim ends up kinda just merging with the Waynes. They start training him, its all good and nice, and Tim makes his own little hero team unlike Damian, which is actually pretty interesting here; its Tim who made the first young hero team. Damian only ever had Jon (Superboy 1 in this!!) and he finds Young Just Us and becomes a great leader and its all fine and dandy.

Tim and Damian get along well. Damian is the sage older brother whos kinda distant, but only because he has such high emotional walls (but secretly a softy). He is very much like Bruce- nope, nevermind, hes definitely worse than Bruce in this AU, since Bruce is depicted as being much more agreeable before Jason's death, you know? So yeah, Damian is the emotionally constipated bitch in the fam and we love him for that. But hey!! Tim does manage to get through his walls! And Bruce does sometimes too!! (Tho i imagine Bruce and Damian's relationship to be very.. idk let me try to expalain. Dami: "Father." Bruce: "Son :)" Dami: "Tt." Bruce: *nods* "Hrn." Dami: "Hmph." Bruce: "Hm.") DO U PICK UP WHAT IM PUTTING DOWN--- lmfao. They hardly need words.

Tim ends up growing up very very capable. Once his parents die, he gets a little jaded, but hes still Tim. He and Damian become kind of an... ice prince duo? If you get what I mean. But Tim is the one whos actually the ice prince, Damian is secretly a HUGE softie. He is Delicate and Tim protects him lmfao.

Jason

Jason comes along like he does in canon. Has the same backstory. Tries to steal the Batmobile's wheels. Tim is sleeping over at Damian's flat for the night, so its just Bruce. They bond. Shit happens. Jason joins the fam.

I don't imagine them not getting along, but they don't immediately hit it off either. Jason is wary of all of them for a time, but he ends up warming up to Damian pretty fast after realizing what a softie he is. He pokes fun at Damian and Damian just freaking takes it lmao. Hes an adult he cannot be disturbed. Bro has seen too much and he finds Jason adorable. (Dami: "You were never this cute, Timothy." <- he is lying. Tim: *offended* "What the fu- flip!?" Jason: "Lmao Tim just say fuck." Dami: *deadpan stare* Tim: "JASON NO DONT SAY THE FUCK WORD-") ahem.

anywho and then Jason dies rip skill issue ratio.

The whole batfam is heartbroken. Genuinely shattered. Jason was a light in their lives. Not that they were WITHOUT any light, but Jason was the epitome of a sunshine child.

It's been too long since Damian has killed someone. Bro's god oodles and oodles of trauma. He can't bring himself to kill the Joker.

but Tim can.

It's a whole dramatic thing; Damian feels awful that he made his- now only- little brother kill. Bruce is hella upset but feels responsible for not seeing how badly both of his kids were handling the death of their brother. Tim goes a little off the deep end.

Things turn out.... okay. sort of. but not really. Tim changes his hero name to Red Cardinal. He feels pretty lost. Maybe he stumbles into Ra's al Ghul or smthn idk maybe smthn happens there perhaps. Maybe Damian has to put on Redimar again and rescue him? But its less of a rescue and more of a "Stop joining the dark side Tim jesus christ-" (and it does work).

They go home. Tim gets a boyfriend or two. Damian falls into his art. Bruce is throwing himself into work. They're all kind of a mess, but they keep moving.

and then

Dick

(lmao that sounded wrong)

ahem; and then the circus comes to town. The batfam- well, Tim, Damian, and Bruce- all decide to get together to do something fun. Take the opportunities given, yk? So they go to the circus together.

Wham bam rip the falling Flying Graysons.

They see Dick, breaking apart, and they know they have to do something. Bruce is the first to move. Then Tim. Damian is the last.

It's pretty quick getting Dick home, since Bruce is already a foster parent cuz of Tim yk. So Dick doesn't have to suffer in Juvie at all really. But that doesn't change the fact that he is ANGRY.

Dick is SO angry. he wants to kill the person who murdered his parents. He knows what he saw.

The fam of course do their best to investigate. Mostly Tim, who feels unworthy of being around an innocent little kid after his whole.... villain era, i suppose lol. (ofc Dick thinks Tim doesnt like him lol misunderstanding arc GO)

The whole "Dick accepts that justice is better than murder kinda maybe FOR NOW" storyline happens, and Dick becomes the conniving, bright, little Robin we all know and love. (Thinking of the Young Justice Cartoon Robin (but not the characters- just Dick's character) aaaand

Womp womp GUESS WHOS BACK

Jason's Back

but i'll leave that for later.

[heeliopheelia]

CARLY WHAT ARE HYUNG LINE'S FAV POSITIONS IN BED?? 👁️👄👁️

hiii!! okay i actually had to do some thinking in here but there it is:

HEESEUNG

look i don't make rules but cowgirl with hee just sounds right yk? he just loves when you ride him!! it's perfect bcs he lets you control the pace at the beginning then finishes fucking you however he wants to when your legs finally give out from all the hassle 💯 and when you start clinging to him and press your tits to his chest - consider my man gone

prone bone okay i put this one in here bcs i can SO see him going absolutely feral at the feeling of how tight you are in this position, all sprawled out beneath him and completely left to his mercy 🫠 it's also a lot easier to hit your g-spot this way so you can't complain either ☝️

JAY

he's a giver alright, so even if technically it's not a position, he looooves face sitting a lot!! he just wants you to nearly suffocate him, so even if you try to not put all of your weight on him in concern for his health, he will literally grab your thighs and force you onto his face whether you want it or not... just take what he gives you, silly!! 😠 he's only fully satisfied when his face is completely burried in your pussy and he's DRENCHED in your juices 😽

look he's a simple man so - missionary. it gives him the best view at your face scrunching up or eyes rolling back as he fucks into you so well 🧎 it's also so intimate and jay is a very loving guy so he thrives off of miantaining eye contact with you, always looking for some subtle changes in your expression if you ever feel uncomfortable (mom i love him) 🫶

JAKE

i've already said it once but i'll say it again: jake is an avid doggy enthusiast 🗣️my man can't help it okay? he just loves your ass a little too much to pass the opportunity to get to look at it from a front row seat 😩 also likes to push down on your spine to make you arch more or pull your hair if you're into this kinda stuff 🥴

and another one i've mentioned before - reverse cowgirl!! also has a lot to do with the fact that it gets him the best access to your behind, sorry🤷but what really makes him love this position is how easily he can watch his dick slide in and out of you + he gets to grope your ass as much as he wants to so it's a win win for him really 👀

SUNGHOON

spooning which is often a result of cockwarming. whenever he has a tiring day at work, there's nothing more he loves than chilling with you on a couch and holding your body extremely close to his. it's so relaxing too!! he can go slower and deeper in this position than usually and more times than not it ends up with you milking him dry from all he has 🙆

full nelson - gosh i feel so hot all of sudden 💃 there goes me with my hard dom hoon agenda AND IT'S A PERFECT POSITION TO GO ALONG WITH IT 🗣️ like just imagine those big hands of his holding up your thighs as he bullies his cock into you from under you 🧍 he can also force the filthiest sounds out of you so easily like that!! WILL also choke you if you wanna, i-... i'll stop right here in consideration of my own mental health but you got the picture, right?

[restinslices]

.

Can I request a scenario where the lin kuei brothers, after rescuing the reader from an enemy who was torturing the reader, react to the hijacked!reader(idk, if you read/watched the hunger games especially mockingjay, if you didn't then hijacking in hunger games is a form brainwashing involving the venom of tracker-jackers(mutated wasps whose venom can cause hallucinations and can painfully kill a person) to alter the memories of a person in a negative manner), who reacts violently towards them and bring afraid of them, calling them a monster and verbally berating them.

I haven’t seen those movies in years but I watched some videos and looked at the wiki so I hope I got it right! I also added a Drabble for everyone as a “my bad” cause I took so long.

Also it is 5:09pm. The danger time (look at previous post. Weather shit) is until 7pm. I’m hoping we stay fine but bitch it’s raining and I hear thunder and saw lightning. Send help😭

Bitch I’m proof reading and my lights flickered-

Anger is much easier and better to feel than sadness or grief, so he forces himself to feel that instead 

The second he realizes that you've been taken by enemies, he's in a rage 

He's visibly more angry and harsh towards everyone 

He hardly sleeps or lets himself relax because that means he's not looking for you 

Someone could take a break to sit and he's asking why they aren't doing anything to help 

Once you're found he's relieved and wants to see you immediately 

All that stress slips from his shoulders when he sees that you're alive and safe 

That stress is immediately dumped back on his shoulders when instead of pulling him into a hug, you run at him and wrap your hands around his throat 

As you can imagine, he has no problem pushing you off, but he's thrown so off guard because why would he ever expect you to attack him?

You don't come to your senses and his confusion rises when you attack him again by jumping on him and trying to strangle him again 

If you weren't trying to murder him, he'd be impressed with how you hang on despite how many times he's hit you 

Having to knock you out takes a lot out of him mentally. I mean, come on y'all. You were missing for so long and instead of hugging and loving each other when you finally saw each other, you attacked him like a wild animal and he actually had to defend himself 

When he's told what Hijacking is, all that anger comes back 

Some sick fuck took you from him, tortured you in various ways and managed to change your memories to something negative. How could he not be angry? They destroyed you with such precision. It was sick. 

Bi-Han is advised not to see you again. Anyone could guess that he wouldn't listen 

He had hope that maybe you just needed rest, but that didn't seem to work 

You forgot you were strapped down and tried to run at him again. You fussed with your straps in an attempt to get free and yelled in frustration 

Bi-Han doesn't know what to say. In an attempt to comfort you, he says “we'll fix you”

“There's always something wrong with me, isn't there?” You sneered with resentment. 

He kept talking to you and it seemed like no memory was left safe. Every single memory was tainted. The image of him was tainted. Why? Why did this have to happen to someone as kind as you? Why not to him? Or, as dick head-ish it sounded, a random Lin Kuei member?

All his efforts go to finding a way to reverse it. And I can see him being angry at Liu Kang because he can't reverse it. It fuels a resentment he already holds for him

“Grandmaster, I have been instructed to not let you in this room” a Lin Kuei member said in his best stern voice. Bi-Han didn't have time for this. He had just been informed that somehow Liu Kang couldn't save you, which made absolutely no sense to him. Liu Kang, this powerful god that created the universe itself couldn't fix this one person in the universe? Someone who deserved to be saved the most out of everyone?

“Your Grandmaster didn't give you this order, did I?”. The Lin Kuei swallowed hard and tried to stammer something out, but Bi-Han pushed him out the way and went inside the formally blocked room. 

You looked over at him, still with hate in your eyes. Your brows were low, your mouth in a deep frown, your arms and legs strapped to the bed. Your face was less bruised than it was when you first arrived, so he guessed he was thankful for that. 

“You look like shit” you said. 

“I've been worried about you” he answered honestly.

“Bullshit. You lie. You always lie”

“Who told you that?” he stepped closer to you although he knew he shouldn't. “Our enemies made you think this. They lied to you. They tortured you because they knew it'd hurt me. Because I love you”. He wasn't sure he's loved anyone as much as he loves you. But you wouldn't believe him. You kept saying he was lying and you had no idea how much it killed him to see you, but not have you. 

You stared at him blankly while thinking. You smirked at him and motioned for him to come even closer. He didn't though. The various wounds he had kept him from keeping hope of you changing. 

“Do you think your father let out a sigh of relief when he realized he was dying and getting away from you? Your mother as well? Being around you is the worst torture imaginable and I can't wait until I'm set free too”. 

Kuai Liang vows that he'll find and bring you back home no matter what 

He's also uneasy and on edge the entire time 

No stone is left unturned. He's checking every possible area and is suspicious of everyone 

He knows you'll have some sort of trauma, so when you're found, he tries to give you space 

Just enough time for doctors to look you over 

When he visits you the last thing he expects is for you to do is scream and try to get away from him 

He tries to get closer to you and comfort you but you keep screaming and accusing him of trying to hurt you 

He's confused. He would never do such a thing to you. He hardly even play fought with you because he was so worried about him accidentally hurting you 

You keep clinging to the doctors and yelling at him to stay away 

He just doesn't understand how something like this can happen. He keeps trying to comfort you but you're terrified of him

He has to be dragged out because he doesn't wanna leave at all 

When he's told what's happened to you he's confused how this is even possible and he wonders if he can ever get you back 

It's not necessarily just “I want my partner back”. It's also “they didn't deserve to have their light taken away”

You stay terrified of him so he tries to stay away from you 

He checks in when you're sleep and he peeks at you when you're not paying attention 

A two way mirror is a way to watch you as well 

Honestly he'd rather have you angry at him than afraid of him

You look so broken and shaken and it's killing him 

The same way he vowed to find you is the same way he vows to save you 

Meanwhile he has other people talk to you for him. He's trying to see if maybe someone else can make you realize that he's not some monster that you've been brainwashed to believe 

It doesn't seem to work, but he keeps trying. He refuses to give up on you. 

Kuai Liang was warned that this could possibly be a bad idea, but he didn't care. What was he supposed to do? Not try? Just let you sit and rot? No. Maybe he didn't have any magical abilities that could cure you, but he could still try. 

He watched through the 2 way mirror as Tomas approached you. You were a lot nicer to him and more comfortable around him. As bad as it sounded, it made him feel awful that Tomas was your comfort instead of him. 

Tomas tried to ease you into a conversation about Kuai Liang and he watched you tense and sit up. Did you think he was going to rush in and attack you? No. There had to be some parts of you still in there. 

“Kuai Liang isn't a bad person. You've been lied to-”

“He killed your family”. 

Tomas cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “Kuai Liang was too young to-”

“They’re all killers!” You snapped. “They'll kill me! He'll kill me! Did he send you in here to weaken me?!” You looked around the room in fear and Kuai Liang stupidly ran in there to comfort you as a reflex.. He realized his mistake when he caught your eye and you fell out of your bed trying to get away. 

“HE'S HERE!” You screeched like a banshee and crawled to the farthest wall. “HE'S HERE! HE'S HERE!”. Tomas gripped Kuai Liang’s shoulders and pushed him away. He knew he shouldn't have been in there, but a part of him still fought back against the younger man. 

“GET AWAY! GET AWAY FAST! HE'S HERE! HE'S HERE! HE'LL HURT ME!” You kept screaming and clawed at your face. 

Tomas closed the door in Kuai Liang’s face with a remorseful look. The man stayed there and listened to you scream and destroy things around you. He didn't move or cover his ears. He deserved to listen. It was his punishment for not finding you in time. 

This is gonna sound bad, but when you go missing, he already assumes you're dead 

Hope for the best but prepare for the worst type shit 

He's no stranger to death and obviously he doesn't WANT you to be dead, but he prepares himself for if that's the case 

Don't think he's not searching tho. He’s always looking for you. He's not even eating 

When they find you he's so relieved 

He has the doctors tell him how you are because as much as he wants to see you, he knows he gotta let them do their job 

He feels so bad because all the reports he's getting are terrible. Each bruise he's told about shatters him 

He brings flowers when he's finally allowed to visit you 

When you attack him he's thrown completely off guard 

He doesn't even really defend himself at first because he's never had to defend himself from you 

At first he thinks you're angry with him because he failed to protect you. When he's told what really happened, he wished it was the first one instead 

He blames himself for not protecting you, so he'd understand that 

You being tortured and your memories being toyed with? It was terrible. He'd say he wished the tables were turned and he was tortured, but he'd never want you to feel how he feels 

He keeps trying to communicate with you but you keep screaming and trying to kill him 

Honestly he'd deal with all of that without any complaints. He just keeps being told it's not a good idea and not good for your recovery 

The insults, the foul language, the physical attacks, none of it hurts as much as the knowledge that there's a possibility he won't get you back 

He has gifts sent to you but never says it's from him 

He has old pictures sent to you too hoping that it'll spark something 

He'll keep trying to save you even if it kills him 

Tomas’ heart thumped hard and rapidly in his chest as he walked to your room, bouquet in hand. He knew flowers wouldn't solve whatever happened to you, but he hoped it'd cheer you up somewhat. He had finally been allowed to visit you after what felt like forever and while he wasn't happy to see how bad you looked, he was happy to see you alive. 

He pushed the door open and your frame came into view. Bandages covered the bruises on your face and body, but thankfully you had showered since you arrived. He hoped feeling clean gave you a sense of relief or peace. He just hoped you felt better. 

You saw Tomas and your brows furrowed- no. That couldn't be. You wouldn't look at him like… nah. 

“Tomas?” You said. 

“It's me”. He turned to set the flowers down and immediately heard people yelling your name. He turned, scared he'd see you having some sort of medical complication. What he didn't expect was to feel you shove him against the wall then onto the ground. 

“MUTT! POISONOUS MUTT!”. He screamed as he felt something pierce his shoulder. It was a scissor. He hadn't even seen you grab it. How were you that fast and why were you doing this?

“Stop!” he shouted. You stared at him with loathing and hatred, which was something he couldn't wrap his head around. He winced when you pulled the scissor out. 

He blocked you from stabbing him in the chest. You looked angered and pushed on your hand to try and stab him. “What's wrong with you?” he whispered, his eyes wide in fright. 

The scissor was ripped from your hand and you were pulled off him by multiple doctors and others who heard the commotion. He got to his feet and watched as you kept trying to break free from their grip. 

“MUTT! POISONOUS MUTT!” You repeated. “HE KILLED HIS FAMILY! HE'LL LEAD US TO OUR DEMISE! POISON! TOXIC!I HAVE TO KILL HIM!” You screeched and kept struggling. He held his bloodied shoulder in disbelief. 

What had happened to you?

Once again, apologies it took so long. My writing break was timed POORLY

[x1yun4]

Here's a message from your inner child.

Book a personal reading with me through carrd!

Disclaimer.

Readings are to help you gain clarity and insight on your current situation and what you can do for your own benefit. Take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

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Pile 01.

Eight of Wands in reversed.

What does your inner child want to tell you?

Are you feeling helpless? Do you feel as if there's no hope left, no light shining upon you? Like a once-flourishing flower now wilting in the shadows, yearning for the sun? Life may not seem to be falling into place the way you'd hoped, but deep within, your inner child is whispering for you to let go of these worries. That child, full of innocence and wonder, is reminding you that you're not meant to be weighed down by life's burdens. You're meant to thrive, to experience joy, to have fun. It's easy to become consumed by outcomes, to be so hyper-focused on achieving results that you lose sight of the present. But it's in this very moment that life truly unfolds. The magic lies not in reaching the finish line, although you might believe it does, but in living each step of the journey. You've spent too much time lingering in past memories or future anxieties, neglecting the beauty of the here and now. Your life is not in those distant places. It is in the present moment, where your power lies. Movement is always present, even if it doesn't seem obvious to you. Though you may feel stuck, as though nothing is changing, the world around you is constantly shifting, evolving, and progressing. You may I not perceive it with your senses, but transformation is always occurring. Trust in this unseen movement, and understand that life is happening for you, not to you. Embrace the moment, release your worries, and allow yourself to flow with the currents of now. You are not meant to fade into the shadows, but to bloom in the light.

Pile 02.

Four of Wands.

What does your inner child want to tell you?

Your inner child sees and appreciates all the hard work you put in, but sometimes you just need to step back, unwind, and trust the process. Why? Because success is already within you, and it doesn't require you to exhaust yourself. Trust yourself more instead of believing you need to push yourself to the breaking point, work tirelessly, or endure pain to achieve your goals. These are myths spread by society, suggesting that endless sacrifice is the only way to success. But the truth is, you don't need to suffer to succeed. Let go of the pressure to constantly perform, and instead, allow yourself to be open to help from others. The world is filled with love, even when it doesn't always seem that way. You don't have to bear every burden alone. Reach out, accept support, and recognize that you are not alone on this journey. When you close yourself off, you limit your ability to connect with the abundance of love and assistance that surrounds you. Also, remember that your imagination is the only true reality. The 3D physical world, on the other hand, is always neutral. It only reflects back what you project onto it. By shifting your inner world-nurturing thoughts of self-belief, relaxation, and trust-you can create the reality you desire. Stop letting the external world define your worth or dictate how hard you need to work. Trust that you are enough as you are, and that success is inevitable when you align with your true self, rather than force it from a place of fear or pressure.

Pile 03.

Knight of Pentacles.

What does your inner child want to tell you?

Your inner child is urging you to take responsibility and save yourself from your current state. It's time to stop waiting for someone else to do the work for you, and instead, take action toward your goals. Manifest your desires, shift your mindset, and believe that things can be easier than you think. Set a routine, make changes-anything to get the momentum going that works for you. The worst thing you can do to yourself is to remain stagnant, stuck in the same cycle of inaction (stagnation ≠ taking a break for your own sake). Working hard doesn't mean burning yourself out by working nonstop. Don't fall into the trap of thinking that because you're not "working as hard" as others, your efforts are meaningless, and that you shouldn't even bother trying. Perhaps you're scared of failure, but by not doing anything at all, that is true failure. Stop comparing yourself to others. This journey is yours alone, and it's never been about anyone else. The only person you need to be better than is who you were yesterday. Even taking a single step forward is progress. Even a thought of improvement, a spark of hope, is better than staying in a state of despair without trying to lift yourself out of it. You must avoid developing a victim mindset, where you feel powerless and stuck, but at the same time, don't adopt a mindset that invalidates your pain or struggles. It's crucial to show yourself empathy and compassion, to acknowledge that your feelings are real and valid. But alongside that compassion, you need to start actively working toward what you want. Your inner child is telling you it's time to stop ignoring your own needs and desires. You're sabotaging yourself by remaining passive, and deep down, you know it. Now is the time to start taking the steps, even small ones, to improve your life.

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[smrtnik07]

librarians redesigned!!! by me!!! :)

the designs are free to use, i used this as a character design exercise for myself while recovering from carpal tunnel issues! read more for all the individual designs + me ranting :*

first off roland!! i included an angelica in here, i designed her before him, shes very triangular to me.. maybe a bit more messed up than roland tells us about, he is a biased narrator afterall. anyways i wanted his design to match hers nicely, so hes like a rounded square type of guy... i think projmoon designed him to be Just A Guy intentionally, so i played into it. overall the least interesting design of the bunch imo. its on purpose :)

angela !!! my baby :) an important thing here is her bangs. i dont want her hair to be able to recover from however many years she spent with the hard middle part in lobcorp, i think its cute to incorporate it still. swoopy, fluffy hair for her! and the clothes are just a bit more casual idk the librarian uniforms were kinda boring and stiff to me, as much as it does go with her character.. if u wanna be human u gotta experience the joy of sweatpants or whatever. also i didnt add color but i dont want her to be fully white<3 or fully clear skinned.. give her sunspots on her face. she finally gets to experience sun. :)

guess ill go in order of appearance lol. malkuth! whats the headband for if it doesnt keep anything out of her face!! since shes a bit more active than some of her colleagues, i also gave her a ponytail(its also for the silhouette...) also gave her some chubbier thighs.. also maybe a butler-esque coat, at least to me; i just made it a bit more form fitting than the original. playing into her personality or whatever. shes cute.. remember to take deep breaths!!

yesod!! i want to play into the skin issues a bit more, i still removed his gloves but i gave him a poncho, not just for the square silhouette im trying to build but for more coverage. also emo hair over eyes was funny. also wide flare pants for you, boy. just very square and put together in general

hod! this ones my favorite (i even cared enough to give her a pattern on that skirt!!) it was kinda bugging me how in the artbook i couldnt tell who was writing because hod's, malkuth's, and tiphereth's colors are so similar. so hod is pink now, and malkuth a bit more orange. i kinda went for a romantic poet thing here, dunno how much that worked out, but i think out of everyone you can tell shes the literature girl. gave her pigtails !! theyre cute :> also since i removed the coat decoration off of angela, i gave part of it to hod in the bottom of her coat :). cute and round!

netzach is a very strange man to me.. ellipse shape and loose fitting clothes for u. if i saw him irl i wouldnt approach him. not to say i dont like him as a character, i love him, but i want him to look like a depressed guy who would pick up art as a hobby to distract himself and it works. bro is just surviving out there. also gave him comfy clothes to make the surviving easier, down to the shoes and wide, id assume non-denim pants - maybe cotton? maybe sweatpants that dont fit around the ankle? who knows.

tiphereth!! since she's like the teen girl of the group i gave her a skater dress, converse, and a tied coat around her waist.. like how i used to wear as a teen when i was being a hater and recovering from a death in the family that changed my entire life (im still a teen ... 9 more days till im 20 as of posting this). also gave her fishnets i think she would like that. i imagine she would get headaches bc of those dumb braids on her head<3 or maybe bc her coworkers are kinda dumb<3

gebura :) round face, reverse triangle shaped body.. like a true butch lesbian stereotype.. i decided a leather jacket, docs and pants i see metalheads wear would fit her! red leather jacket, of course. also gave her spiky hair just like projmoon did<3 my favorite detail here are the eyebrows, i think their shape is rlly neat! nvm i think its just that gebura is rlly neat. anyways the eyebrows fit her

chesed my boy.. idk i just saw him and hit him with the transmasc beam and gave him , as the kids say, wh0re eyes. i wanted him to have rounder hips and just be round in general. turtleneck and cardigan combo also, i think he would like wearing that. also somewhat curlier hair, or at least wavy would do him well! and a tote bag, i dont doubt that he would go out to read in coffee shops if he could - so he gets a tote bag to carry his sociology books. i want him to look like he would give the warmest, comfiest hugs and be friend shaped

binah!! this one was the most challenging, trying to find the right place for the colors - to not use too little or too much yellow. i still dont think i got it right but this is as close as im getting. long face, long nose, siren-ish eyes.. messed up in the head bird lady that speaks like hannibal! i also dont think a dress really suits her so i opted for wide pants and a fancy black button up .. maybe angela styled her, who knows. also black fingertips which is a trait i like to give the arbiters (including an oc).. just my own little consistency thing i like to do :)

hi grandpa! ok for hokma i dont think the changes are that big? i gave him O shaped legs and his sword thing i turned into a walking cane, gave him a vest (didnt want to opt for a corset but i think he would enjoy the back support for proper posture) . also gave him a mild gradient from darker gray to lighter gray, since he IS the gray part of the ABC trio. gave him salt and pepper hair and an older face. forgot to draw it, but i wanted to give him a silicone tip for the sword so it doesnt dull out, which he can take off when recieving guests

honorary mention to go along with the angelica i mentioned with roland, i mildly changed up her twin(k) brother. i gave argalia and angie the same hair but mirrored, his a bit more curly and hers a bit more spikey, his face a bit more edgy, hers a bit rounder and kinder. not much else to say here, i liked his design as is, but wanted to add him here :)

[hallow-witxh]

Beginners Guide to Spell Casting

I understand that as you grow with your craft, there are moments that can feel overwhelming. Performing your first 'big' spell that's more than a spell jar or burn spell is one of those. I'm hoping that this list, from my own experience, is helpful for y'all.

The order of spell casting:

Intent. This is the very beginning of any spell, even spell jars and burn spells. This is where you decide what your spell is going to do, how it's going to do it, and why. This is the cornerstone of your spell. Based off of your intent, you decide what herbs, crystals, candles, etc. you're going to use.

Building. Going back to intent - this is when you build or plan your spell. What ingredients are you going to use? What time? Moon phase? Place? Are you going to create your own spell or use something you found from someone else?

Kills switch/Protection. I always have two things in my spellwork: a kill switch if things go terribly wrong, and protection from outside forces. These can be involved in a variety of ways, so do some of your own research. You can also reach out to me if you have any questions and I can do my best to point you in the right direction.

Energy Gathering. Just what it sounds like. Big spells take big energy. Focus on your intent, breathe, imagine your energy like a hot sphere in your chest and breathe out. As you breathe out, imagine the heat sliding across your shoulders and down your arms to gather in your hands. At least, that's how I do it. Whatever works for you.

Energy Distribution. Each step of your spell requires some of that energy. However it works for you, make sure you have a steady flow throughout your spell. Focus on your intent. Don't let go of it, keep feeding a steady stream of your energy into the spell. If you tried my method that's above, you can imagine slowly pouring some of that heat into each step of your spell.

Completion. After your spell is completed, it's time to wrap it up. This is important, do not skip this step! Just stopping at the 'end' of a spell leaves it open and unfinished. You have to shut it down somehow.

Leftover Energy? It happens. In my experience, there are two ways to deal with it. The harder option is to reabsorb it. I personally imagine the heat traveling back up my arms and into my chest, sinking into my core and warming my entire body. The easier method is to release it harmlessly. This is where grounding comes in. Once you are grounded, slowly release the excess, exhaling as you do so. It should feel like it's slowly fading, almost evaporating from you.

Thoughts. This is also an important step, although technically optional. I like to journal about my experience and write down ways I think I could have improved the spell or things that I could have done differently. How did you feel during it? Are you tired? Was it too much?

Other things to keep in mind:

If you don't include a kill switch, either on purpose or accidentally leave it out, you can typically shut down the spell by slowly dismissing the energy from each part in reverse order. While you do that, make sure you take apart the physical components of the spell in the reverse order you set them up. Then at the end, come up with a phrase to close it down and pour more energy into it before clamping down on it. This does not apply to every spell, so do research before you attempt to shut down a spell early!

Write down your experiences somehow. Include how you set it up, how you planned it, and your thoughts on each step. This will give you a reference in the future if you want to set something similar up. It's also a good way to reflect back on your progress and journey.

Mistakes happen. Don't beat yourself up over them. We are human before we are witches and naturally, mistakes are a part of our lives.

Do not, under any circumstances, leave in the middle of the spell unless it's an emergency. Yes, there are ways you can incorporate a 'pause', but it can be difficult. This is another reason why I suggest a kill switch.

Keeps pets out of the room. They can become curious and interrupt the process, or burn themselves on a candle.

If you're doing this on a floor, please protect it by laying out a cloth or sheet. Maybe sure you cleansed it first. In fact, most spells should be done on some kind of protective layer, just in case something spills or gets messy. Again, it happens.

Again, keep in mind this is just based off of my personal experience. Some of it may work for you, and some of it may not. If anyone else has anything to add, feel free to leave a comment or reblog with it in the tags/comment! As always, do your research, be safe, and blessed be.

Support your local witch on Ko-Fi or at my store, Hallow Grove!

[maxlarens]

ok ok ok this is insane but bear with me !! do you remember the landoscar x driver!reader drabble/ficlet I did for your birthday? of course you do but do you remember me yapping in the gc about that soulmate enemies to lovers with max???

well here's a concept for you: friends to lovers landoscar with enemies to lovers oscar x driver!reader and friends to lovers lando x driver! reader (that was a lot to type out holy shit) maybe with the soulmate element thrown in too because I can never do anything simple

VIV!! enemies to lovers oscar mixed with friends to lovers lando OH WOWOW YES!!! yes i yapped thats why this took so long

i think the obvious thing is to do that in reverse but i really quite like it this way. ugh ok so lando who you've been friends with through karting. and then you get into F1 at around the same time as him. and you end up leaning on each other through your rookie years and become super close. would be fun if she had a short stint in mclaren with him too and people obvs loved their dynamic together🥺 and i think reader very much feels like its her and lando against the world people who say they're untalented if u know what i'm saying there.

and then 2023 hits and a certain someone joins mclaren. and idk maybe slightly AU driver!reader is in a midfield team that year (aston martin? ...unfortunately i think a landoscar specific driver!reader is forming here. why do i do this.) and maybe feels a little threatened by oscar. maybe she was trying to get that seat. and then lando and osc start to get closer and closer and reader feels like she's not landos like only Main Friend anymore. and okay maybe a bit of jealousy thrown in there too but she's not about to admit that.

and she develops a bit of a track rivalry with oscar. doesn't like to give anything up to him. would rather see them crash and burn before she lets him overtake. (carcar?😅) and maybe she's not so overt about it off track, but probably isn't super friendly to him maybe tries to exclude him😭 and oscar is oscar and just brushes it off. and thinks okay if she doesn't like me so what, it doesn't change anything. even though lando is probably whingey about it and tells osc and reader to be nicer to each other. i think that continues for the 2023 season.

maybe 2024 she gets a better seat. merc? ferrari even? which eliminates her jealousy around oscar having a better car than her (which idk was mclaren doing better than aston martin in 2023? lets say they were in this world😭). which makes it easier for her to be around him and not be pissed LMAO. which opens her up to his personality and general cuteness. and he starts to grow on her and she eventually starts inviting him/including him in readerlando shenanigans. which soon turn into readerlandoscar shenanigans🥺 love oscar needling his way in there with no effort of his own, literally just his charm and patience has her swooning eventually.

i imagine lando and reader are more extroverted personalities. they're club rats, they're chaotic, they're messy and oscar balances them both out. someone to come home to, someone to coax out of their shell🥺

and re: soulmate au which i didn't touch on. i love like. a soulmate au where ur soulmate isn't necessarily romantic, like maybe the baseline in society is to assume its platonic? anyway. so she finds out so early on that her and lando are soulmates. when they're kids so it never occurs to either of them that it might be romantic (even though it eventually IS). and then the situation develops as above lol, resenting/disliking oscar and all. and in the THICK OF IT, she must find out that oscar is also her soulmate. and must hate him more because of it. ugh idk all of them being soulmates is so cute and finding out at different stages, or not telling each other, or being confused when they all have two soulmates because while it happens, it's not super common or talked about.

[thydungeongal]

I'm finally starting to think of the RPG idea I started thinking of a few days ago and how to actually design it.

At this point I'm not married to any system for the game. I'm simply going to be thinking of what I want an average game session to look like, what the expected gameplay experience and emergent narrative will be, and identify what I think would make for the most interesting decision points to actively engage players with making mechanical decisions in that narrative.

Even though the genre is going to be "fantasy adventure" it's not going to be a dungeon crawler. The manga Berserk is, as always, a big inspiration for me, as it is an extremely emotionally resonant story set in a dark fantasy world. I want a game that can at least somewhat emulate the action and character arcs of Berserk with actual mechanics in place to create player incentives for playing their characters as conflicted, multi-faceted people (Keys, a mechanic borrowed from Lady Blackbird and The Shadow of Yesterday, is, heh, key to this.) and to give characters rewards for living according to their internalities (while at the same time giving incentives for changing as people, which is exactly what Keys do as a mechanic).

Anyway, once I do identify what I want to be the interesting decision points for players I do need to ask myself where I want fortune to come in or if I even want fortune to play a role. Let's be fair, though, I don't quite trust myself to design a diceless RPG as my first proper RPG design project, so it's probably best to assume that the game will have fortune in some form. While I did recently have lots of thoughts about cards in RPGs, dice are ultimately easier for me. So it's safe to assume that dice will be used.

And I can first start with a very simple principle in those decision points:

When the outcome of something (a character action, some variable in the situation, a random event) is unclear, present it as a yes/no question and roll d6. On 1-3, no. On 4-6, yes.

I've actually basically made a universal resolution system, but everything has a 50% chance of either happening or not happening. It's a good enough starting point, but for each specific situation I can ask some further questions:

Should the probability be somehow affected by a character's capabilities? To what extent?

Should the probability be affected by external circumstances?

Should the probability be affected by something in the GM's prep?

Is there something players can do to manipulate the probability?

Does this situation warrant a more finely grained spread of results than yes/no?

And once I have answered these questions I can start to look at how I want the probability to look like for that situation. Eventually I can start grouping similar situations together (for an example, if I have decided that both combat and exploration and interaction should all be affected by character capabilities I can start thinking of whether they could be all arranged under a system where a character's stats are used to alter probabilities one way or another) and turning one-off mechanics into more broadly applicable ones. And once I've done that I can start thinking in reverse, at how to extrapolate more specific mechanics out of those more broadly applicable mechanics.

This is, of course, not the only way to go about this. I could also start with a mechanic and then think of a way how that mechanic could be turned into an interesting source of narrative and conflict in game. For an example, I could start with the following Key:

Key of Guilt Your character has a guilty conscience for transgressions they have committed, either real or imagined, and it informs their every action. Gain 1 XP every time the character helps someone in a situation that reminds them of their past. Gain 3 XP every time the character's past comes back to haunt them and places them in harm's way. Gain 5 XP every time the character saves someone from the fate they inflicted on someone else. Buyoff: Your character absolves themselves of their guilt and chooses to start living again.

And think of what types of situations a character with said Key would be cool to see in and what kinds of action that situation could contain. (I'm not entirely happy with the above Key, but it's a starting point.)

[sepublic]

Watching and Dreaming Trailer!!!

Oh my god. OH MY TITAN.

OKAY OKAY!!! Lemme analyze in as close to a chronological order as possible…

We start right off where For the Future ended, with the Collector attacking our found family of Luz, her friends, and Camila! We also see that Luz finally gets to reunite with Eda and King, only to be interrupted by an angry Collector, who is being particularly freakish!

We see Gus and Willow in their regular outfits inside a room with a bunch of puppets, including Amelia and Terra, the Bard teacher, etc.! So it seems that Luz goes off to reunite with Eda and King, while her friends and possibly Camila access the puppets, possibly finding a way to free them! Speaking of…

Lilith has been turned into a puppet! So I imagine the Collector sends his spies to where Eda, Lilith, and King are, causing her to be transformed. It’s not the first time she’s become a puppet, so perhaps King and Eda relay the knowledge of how to undo becoming a puppet, which must’ve been utilized on Lilith during the timeskip!

LUZ IS DRESSED LIKE BELOS?! And at his castle?! She mentions something about ‘waking up’ so I think it’s a dreamscape…? We see her look through an old photo and even a nightmare version of the Conformatorium, likely calling back to the first episode! It’s all coming full circle…

RAINE AND BELOS MIND BATTLE!!! Belos sheds off even more of himself to hold back Raine as he crawls to his throne room…

Okay. A part of me thinks it’s a dream, but another part of me think it’s real life, and Belos is using the giant heart in the throne room, which the trailer reminds us of, to… Well, we see a shot of Eda and King outside, surrounded by a dark-green ‘coral’ that resembles hands and has Belos eyes. I’ll be frank, I think Belos is using the heart and he’s planning to possess it, because it’s the Titan’s heart; Thereby infecting the entire Boiling Isles with himself!

He remarks as Raine how things will be ‘easier’ than he thought while holding a lone star… Could just be a set piece symbolic of his hold over the Collector, but what if that IS the Collector? What if we start with the Collector attacking our protagonists, they incapacitate and talk them down, just for Belos to attack from behind and take their power! And then flee to his castle to possess the Titan’s heart?

So if it IS real life, why does Amity advise Luz wake up from a ‘dream’? Why is Luz dressed like Belos? Are they in HIS mindscape, in the Titan’s? Did Belos use the Collector’s reality-manipulating powers to dress Luz as his heir and protege, to hammer in his insistence on their parallels? 

We see Bump, Derwin, Morton, Boscha, and Mattholomule petrified, right below the bridge leading to Belos’ castle. God I hope this can be reversed with the Collector’s power, or maybe it is a part of a nightmare sequence. Maybe it’s part of an elaborate illusion Belos has laid over the place, reflecting Luz’s worst fears back at her, not unlike what Gus did in Labyrinth Runners to Adrian and even Hunter!

And the puppet strings, around Luz’s friends? Reset to their old selves, almost mocking their attempt to grow? Saying they’ll never change, which particularly hurts given Willow’s recent arc no less? And Luz uses Light, her signature spell, her first one that started it all, presumably to defeat Belos!

I think the story goes as… Collector VS Luz, Eda, and King. The kids go off to the puppet room and free everyone, probably running into Odalia since she’s a loose thread. The Collector is talked down, but at a vulnerable moment Belos jumps in to take their power. He then flees to his castle, planning to possess the isles itself with this power, our protagonists follow chase.

Belos casts a powerful fear illusion (lowkey a jab at Gus for doing the same to him in King’s Tide), and tries to infect the heart but Raine fights back; The puppet effect was reversed but they’re still possessed, or at least partially. Eda and King also navigate a nightmare labyrinth, and Luz eventually fights back after Amity encourages her, before she and the others are pulled off by I guess Belos? 

Oh god. Oh Titan. Oh Titan oh fuck we’re screwed. And we still have to talk about the dude in the in-between! Luz seems to be entering it, possibly her establishing a portal with King’s help, which might lead to finding this dude, either a Titan or Titan Trapper, and freeing him! It’s all coming together, it’s all full circle and I see why it’s called Watching and Dreaming now…!

[archerygun]

Was anyone else disappointed as a kid after watching the prequels? (But not for the reason you think. Read further.)

The answer, broadly, is yes, I know. But not for the reason you’re thinking. Just for one, hyper-specific reason that has little to do with the quality of the films.

Owen and Anakin weren’t actually brothers. Owen and Anakin met like… once. ‘Too much like his father’ the fuck you mean Mr. Lars, the man you met ONCE?

You mean to tell me we were robbed of what had the potential to be the funniest sibling dynamic in ALL of Star Wars? Angry old dirt farmer vs the Chosen One/Dark Lord of the Sith? Objectively hilarious. The implication (in the og film and book) that Anakin just fucked off one day to become a jedi starpilot, leaving Owen at home thinking “What a fucking nob.”? Peak comedy.

Can you imagine if these two were actually siblings? Owen watching the look in Luke’s eyes develop into the wild, idealistic look that cost him his brother. Telling Luke his father was a drug smuggler on some old cruiser because that was an easier story for Owen to tell than the reality of it, and after a while Owen himself starts half believing it. Despising Obi-Wan for both taking his brother from him, and then in his eyes causing him to become a monster. The tragedy of Vader ordering the death of his brother.

Say what you want about the brotherhood between Obi-Wan and Anakin, it’s a brilliant dynamic. But the idea of Anakin and Owen coming from the exact same nowhere, same family, same upbringing and everything… it hits me in the feels. Because they represent two polar opposites that ended up with a sort of reverse parallel fate.

Anakin wanted adventure in the stars and he got it, at the price of everyone he loved and never getting to see his kids. Owen wanted a simple life minding his farming and he got it, at the price of dying without ever seeing the stars and becoming alienated from his son. If these two men had been brothers, the TEARS THAT WOULD HAVE COME OUT OF MY EYES-

It would have humanised Owen to the audience long before Kenobi (which I do still basically consider non-canon even though it was a fun ride) did him the - admittedly a little bit over-the-top/ridiculous - justice he deserved. There have always been appreciators of Owen Lars but a lot of people see him as just a bastard. Give him some real PAIN behind that exterior. Give him a VERY good reason, an even better reason than the one in canon, for being the way he is.

Plus, the idea of Owen partially having the force is objectively the funniest concept ever (although I’d still go for the whole “Anakin had no father.” thing and have Owen be normal).

Sorry for the incoherency of my ramblings, I love Owen Lars.

[nerdygaymormon]

“That means that few trans people will remain in the church, and that might be the ultimate goal.” Surely they can see that that is a terrible goal? What happened to all is welcome? Surely they can see that? Why would the true church of CHRIST want to exclude anyone? Why are they so scared? David, you’re a bit older than me (but not /that/ old) - is this worldwide transphobia an echo of how it was for gay people back then? Will it ever get better? Or will it just get worse and worse?

I agree it's a terrible goal.

I think because it wants to maintain that all are welcome, the LDS Church doesn't want to forbid a whole group of people, but it can make things intolerable enough that those people will remove themselves. That used to happen with gay people, and it was useful for the church because it didn't have to see the harm that its teachings had on their lives since they were no longer around.

There is tension in the church over queer issues. It would be easier if queer people remained "other" and not seen as part of the body of the church. Turns out that there's a group of people who are resistant to change and aren't willing to adjust their understandings because they're comfortable in their bigotry.

There are church members who have deep love for what they had been taught, members who eagerly opposed gay marriage, and who wish the church would go back to taking strong positions against gay people. The changes have made what once clear to now seem muddled.

Things will get better. God is love. The great commandments are love. The US Constitution offers rights to all citizens. The things which are right about this church and about American democracy & society can fix the things which are wrong.

Not knowing how long it will take is part of what makes this feel hopeless. Imagine if we knew that these new restrictions would be reversed in 3 years? It would make it easier to resist and endure.

There's no guarantees, but I believe there's reasons to be hopeful.

For one thing, there's a group of members who've gotten to know trans people and their eyes are opened to their divine humanity, they can't go back to not seeing.

Another is that while some states have implemented draconian anti-trans laws, court challenges are slowly rolling these back. And other states have opened their arms to trans people and many are moving to them from the inhospitable states, which means folks in the welcoming states will get to know trans people and view them as regular members of their community and want them to be treated with fairness.

Many queer people, including those who are trans, genderfluid, & nonbinary, have learned that God loves them as they are, that this is part of how they're meant to experience life. That truth is more important than any church policies and restrictions, or even church membership.

It makes me sad that the LDS Church is so scared of queer people because they can't see that God means for us to have joy and love. Many cherish the theology as they currently understand it and don't want to interpret things in a way that challenges or changes that understanding, it would mean going from feeling a secure stability to a feeling of unsurety as they step forward to new possibilities.

We need to learn how to see the great diversity of God's creation as being compatible with God's great plan