#And now I'm the asshole because it's my stupid ass brain that makes me an asshole who doesn't deserve to live

[fragglerockopinions]

.

[yanderedrabbles]

Stupid question I got but how’d some of your OCs feel about thigh high socks, pantyhose, and just general borderline provocative clothing?

Also any of them prefer lingerie? Or don’t really care for it at all?

yandere boys and provocative clothing

Hmm interesting question. I think that each guy has his own version of provocative clothing - something you wear that immediately has him undoing his belt - and its not always what you expect.

Yandere! Cowboy is the happiest man around when it's sundress season. Pretty and flowy and showing off your tits just right. Not to mention the easy access. He'll probably come up behind you and pin you between the kitchen table and his body, hands trailing up your thighs and his nose pressed against your hair.

"Wearin' such a pretty dress means you want me to fuck your little brains out, don't it sugar?"

Yandere! Soldier goes feral when you wear his shirts and socks and nothing else. Nipples just visible through the thin cotton. He's much bigger than you, and his shirts usually fall between mid and upper thigh on you. Seeing the size difference manifested like that is so damn sexy. He's the type to tug at your hemline again and again until you snap at him and give him a reason to pull you onto his lap.

"так грубо - So rude. Shouldn't you be nicer to me when you're wearing my clothes?"

Yandere! Boyfriend buys you tiny, tight gym sets. The kind that toe the line between appropriate and not. HOWEVER you will absolutely not be wearing any of them out of the house. They're perfect for lifting weights in the garage, but no one gets to see you dressed like that besides him. After a long, brutal gym session he loves peeling your sports bra off. Totally ignoring you when you beg him to at least let you shower first.

"C'mon baby, as your personal trainer it's my job to take care of you after such a gruelling set."

Yandere! State Trooper gets turned on so damn easy by heels and pencil skirts. Loves the way your legs look a mile long and he can just make out the heart shape of your ass. Kinda corporate core, it makes him feel all the filthier to have you on your knees. Gets out all the tension after a long day of dealing with stuck up business assholes who think money puts them above the law.

"Say pretty please and maybe I won't handcuff you this time."

Yandere! Academic Rival has low-key Internet brainrot. He gets off to you whenever you look like an e-girl, complete with thigh high socks and a tight leather choker. He might be all old money on the outside, but deep down he's a total gooner. Did you figure it out early on and now constantly use it to your advantage? Who's to say...

"Goddammit, how am I supposed to study when you're dressed like that?!"

Yandere! Cyberpunk Mercenary likes latex and neon, unsurprisingly. Bright body suits that glow fuschia and acid green under the blacklights, showing off your curves like a glow in the dark fuck toy. And tight latex catsuits so he can oil up your thighs and fuck himself silly between them.

"Aww pretty little rich girl doesn't know how to take cock? Don't worry darl', I'll teach you."

Yandere! Sugar Daddy loves designer lingerie. He wants his to girl to dress up for him in the rarest and finest sets, just so he can peel it away layer by layer. He's also got a thing for vintage lingerie. Stuff from older designer collections that's almost impossible to find. The thrill of tracking down a new piece is half the fun.

"My gorgeous girl, you look so good. Just stand still and let me admire you."

Yandere! Werewolf really loves the way you look in your cheerleader uniform. Short skirt, pigtails, so fucking cute he could just gobble you up. And he adores it when you wear his football jersey - his scent is all over it and it drives him crazy knowing it's rubbing off on you. In his dreams, you're usually wearing his jersey and nothing else.

"I'm panting because of training, not because of how good you look, I swear."

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Help me! I'm hypnotized...

The loser roommate I got stuck with did something to my brain. I didn't think it was possible, but that pathetic fag somehow put me in a trance. I don't remember how: with a pendant or spiral; but it doesn't matter! What matters is that at any second he can say a trigger word, and I end up like this: smiling and flexing like a fucking idiot 'till he releases me.

Sure, I look like I'm alright, but I've been stuck in this pose for two hours. My biceps ache and my shoulders are on fire. Add to that a leg cramp that I cant walk off and you'll realize how awful this torture is.

I'd just been trying to finish an essay (his essay to be exact.) I might be on the football team, but this lazy geek is forcing me to do his homework for him! And even though he ordered me to do that, against my will, he calls me up and says my fucking trigger word! It's fucking ridiculous! I used to go out and party with my teammates on nights like this, but now I'm stuck being this dweeb's mannequin-on-command.

I just know he's going to boss me around when he finally gets here. He'll probably make me cook him dinner again. I'd spit in it if I could -hell, I'd probably poison it if I could- but I know I'll be stuck in my own body again. I hate it when he tells me to smile and serve him like a waiter. God, its humiliating...

He makes me workout during my free time, which I have a lot of now that I can't speak to any of my old buddies. I gotta say that my body's never looked better. I guess their is one upside to being under his control: whenever he tells me to train harder, I have to do it.

The gym is the one area of my life where I can at least pretend that I'm not someone's trained monkey. Still, the fact that I can't even shower without his permission is a pretty harsh reminder. Whenever I get back from a workout, my legs march straight to the table where I sit, flex, and smile while I wait for him to tell me what to do. It doesn't matter how tired or hot I am. Sometimes, he doesn't even let me shower. He just tells me to mop the sweat up with my shirt and then put it back on.

I think the nerd has a thing for sweaty jocks or something. The thought of this creep making me do all this to get his little dick hard pisses me off more than anything...

I applied for a job today. It wasn't because I wanted to. My roommate decided that he wants more spending money, so he turned to me and said that I was going to earn it for him. So it wasn't enough for me to be his personal chef, maid, and eye candy! I have to be his fucking ATM now too?!

The tie wasn't my idea either. He told me to go buy some fancy clothes to make sure I impressed my "future employer." He's such a dweeb, and now he's making me dress like a loser too.

Obviously I nailed the interview. It wasn't hard when he programmed me to say things like "I've always wanted to deliver pizzas," or "I want to be the best employee you've ever had!" He made me sound like such a kiss-ass for a stupid minimum-wage job. Even the guy interviewing me thought I was being a bit excessive! I got hired on the spot, and I'm already scheduled every night this week, because my roommate specifically made me ask for as many hours as possible.

Now that I'm done with probably the most humiliating thing I've ever done, I'm stuck flexing with a tie on 'till that asshole gets home...

I got my first paycheck after a long couple of weeks doing his classwork during the day and delivering pizzas at night. My roommate texted and told me to wait by the front door with my paycheck. Apparently, he's going out tonight with some of his loser friends and wants the cash now. I can't believe I'm about to hand it over to him.

"Hey, handsome," he calls, shutting his car door.

"I'm glad your home, sir. How was your day?"

I do not give a shit about his day! He ordered me to say that whenever he gets back. He's also programmed me to get up and hug him like I'm a fucking queer in love!

"Better now," he purrs, squeezing my butt cheek while we hug, "You should come with me and my friends tonight."

The last thing I want to do is be around him and his pansy-assed friends. "Yes, sir," I smile.

"We're going to a gay bar, and I think you would be an excellent wingman."

My stomach drops at the sound of a gay bar. I don't want to be anywhere near that place, and I really don't want the guy with total control over me parading me around that place like I'm his fucking slut! Where is this going? He wouldn't make me do anything gay, right? The terrifying truth is he could. He could order me to act like a stripper there, or...or worse. Fuck! I don't think there's anything he couldn't make me do. He could order me on my knees right now, and I'd do it with this stupid smile still plastered across my face. He could make me blow his tiny cock, and I'd be helpless to do anything other than enthusiastically suck! I don't want to go to that gay bar. I have to escape.

"Yes, sir," I hear my voice gleefully ring out.

[darkshrimpemotions]

I'm gonna end up doing one of these posts for every character at this rate, but I'm baffled at the number of people clutching their pearls about Laszlo forbidding Nadja from working and making that period comment this season as if this man was some paragon of feminism prior to season 6. He very much was not. He loves his wife, and we love him for that, but a feminist the man is not. He's a wealthy white man from the 1700s and his flaws reflect that! This isn't new to season 6.

Laszlo frequently underestimates and straight up ignores how competent Nadja is compared to him. He claims not to need her help escaping from Animal Control, even when he's trapped in a cage and she's actively saving his ass. He's also shown to be very paternalistic and protective toward her when it comes to Gregor.

Nadja doesn't need him to protect her or rescue her, but he needs to feel like he does those things, and she allows it because she thinks it's sweet (and perhaps appreciates having someone want to take care of her, given how little of that she got as a human).

He also does that thing where he's trying to shield her with his hand, which she finds stupid and annoying. He outright mocks her intelligence and lack of education compared to him due to her belief in ghosts (prompting one of my favorite lines from her, "okay, Dr. Arsehole"). He can't admit she was right when they disagree, even when she's proven right. He doesn't listen to her about the stupid fucking hat even when it's obvious she's correct.

In The Portrait, as @weakformemo pointed out to me, he outright says in his letter that he thought for centuries that she couldn't take care of herself. The woman who turned him, who has at least two centuries on him, and he doesn't think she can take care of herself. And in spite of supposedly thinking she now can, he abandons her and sends Guillermo to protect her against his will. He unilaterally makes that decision without talking to her, which is a pretty shitty thing to do and extremely disrespectful and paternalistic, again.

And it's not just Nadja's intelligence he insults. He's frequently dismissive of Nandor as well.

Their conversation in 6x05 was actually a big step forward because all of this was true! Nadja got to finally express her frustrations with how overprotective and dismissive he is, and he got to express that he knows she can take care of herself and absolutely respects her, but wants so badly to be her hero because she's so amazing.

All of this to say, Laszlo is kind of a sexist, pompous asshole and has been that way from the beginning. Generally speaking, he talks and acts as if he is the smartest, most well-read, and most educated person in the room. But this is a running gag, and the punchline of that gag is that he's almost always wrong.

He's also an incredibly loyal friend who's willing to go out of his way and out on a limb for the people he loves, and he loves his wife more than anything or anyone. He also kills and eats people pretty much daily, and has hypnotized his supposed best friend's brains to mush (which he does feel bad about). He contains multitudes, just like every other character on the show. They all kind of suck, and they're all extremely endearing, and none of this is brand-new information in season 6.

[stychu-stych]

I know that by definition we will probably never get anything out of the "not meant for social media" narilamb pile, but that doesn't mean Im not deadly curious about it, like I want to know so bad it makes me look stupid

Plus I'll forever wander how bad it is. Is it just too embarrassing to share? Is it 'mildly bad and insane, but not enough to not have at least 10 to 20 different fics on AO3 with those same hcs' bad? Is it 'so bad that you CAN'T find it on AO3 of all places' bad? Secret kink you don't want to share with the internet (very valid tbh)? Secret third (technically fifth) thing??? I want to knooooow /hj /sillygoofy

Dhdhdhhd that post is kinda old, I put it on my tumblr when I was more afraid of posting things on the internet. Especially when a lot of people started to follow me in a very short period of time. Everytime I posted something more gore-ish or suggestive I've got reported and sometimes my posts were deleted (mostly on tiktok and instagram). I still don't know if that was just one person doing that or bunch of them, or I was some algorithm lottery winner djdbhdh Maybe people expected something different looking at my artstyle (I know it can be described as "cute") and they were mad when I started posting something else? Idk idc really but it was pain in the ass

I also heard a couple of times from not anonymous people that if I create something about toxic relationships (arts, headcanons etc.) that means I support this kind of behavior. Or "romanticize" is a better word. Some of them changed their mind and apologized so we're good now but still I've received so many of comments like this that I started to carefully select what I want to put on the internet and what I want to put into the closet

But it's better now, I'm not that scared of social media like I used to be, I'm also on therapy and it's going great (not only but mostly because of my growing visibility on social media that was scary for me at that time. Never really talked about that with anyone outside my close friends, this is the first time I'm talking about it publicly. Also don't worry, I'm getting better now 💖)

My headcanons are mostly about narilamb relationship that is super toxic, I'm just really into psychology, emotions and why people behave in some certain way. About hurting each other, being jealous, manipulating and controlling. I just like to analyze why brain can work like that and what has to happen for someone to make them act like that. And I like to put all of that in fictional characters

So yeah, now I think that my headcanons aren't that bad, people are just assholes jdbdhdh I'll probably post more about my Narilamb relationship, I just need to find some straight to write it *sob* And I'm not the strongest soldier if we talk about writing, especially in english sjdhdh but I'll try my best 💪

[spidernuggets]

could you pretty please, if you have any request spaces left open, do a little something where y/n is like a ball of sunshine type character and nothing ever seems to break her or get her hopes down, but one day jason is suuupper pissed off about smth and he verbally takes it out on her and it makes her cry, and he feels bad immediately but won't admit to that just yet because he's in his asshole era (maybe this would fit titans jay better), and he just doubles down like why the hell are you crying that he's seen her handle waayy worse than this and still manage to stay upbeat, and she's like forcing herself to stop crying and pull herself together and she tells him it's cuz it's him and hes like oh of course you'd cry over me cuz I'm just so awful and she's like actually no cuz it hurts to be on the receiving end of his anger because she's a little bit in love with him. Angst is my absolute fav so that's why I'm asking for sadness 💔😢

Jason Todd x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

Note: Yayyy angst! 🥳🥳

"Oh, oh, of course it's me! Blame Jason Todd once again for being such a prick and an asshole!"

"Hey, Jay! Wanna train together?" You came skipping into the training room, seeing Jason already throwing a couple of strikes to a punching bag.

"Not today." He replies, refusing to look at you and continuing to hit the bag, quickly wiping the sweat dripping from his forhead.

"C'mon, just one quick sparring match, hm? Please! You said you'd show me how to do that cool headlock thingy," you kept your upbeat attitude, missing the memo that Jason was not having it today.

"Jesus, I said no! Would you fuck off, I'm busy," he raises his voice at you.

He was in a mood because just a few hours ago, Dick threatened to bench him if Jason couldn't keep in line. If Jason won't stop disobeying orders, Dick wouldn't think twice about taking the mask and cape away from him.

But when Jason raised his voice, your smile quivered. "Oh.. I'm sorry. Maybe later, yeah? I know sparring makes you feel better!-"

You were cut off by Jason, fully yelling at you this time. "For fuck's sake, can you not take a hint or are you really that fucking dense? I don't wanna fucking spar right now, and I don't wanna spar with you! So how 'bout you get this through your thick skull, and fuck off!" He didn't mean to say any of that. He mentally punched himself for ever opening his mouth.

He knows you just wanted to make him feel better, but his stupid brain made him take his anger out on you. He always admired your happy and positive attitude. He doesn't know how you keep it up. Every time you walked into the room, it was like an angel came in with a glowing aura accompanying you. And his heart always swelled at the fantasy that you shared that aura with him every time you spoke a word to him, every compliment you gave him, every smile you sent his way. He wanted to apologise, but his thick pride got in the way.

"I..." You could barely get a word out. Jason has never talked to you like that before. Hell, he never even raised his voice to you before. You hiccuped, your throat getting clogged up, and you felt like you needed to hurl whike your chest ached.

It was too late before you noticed the salty tears travelling down your reddened cheeks. And it was too late before Jason noticed his mouth talking faster than his brain could think.

"Fuck, now you're crying?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "There's literally nothing to cry over, and I shouldn't even need to tell you twice to leave me alone!" What the fuck, why won't he stop talking?

You tried to wipe away your tears and tug your lips upward to show at least half a smile, but a choked out whine escaped instead.

"Honestly, stop crying, would you?" He really couldn't stop himself. Words just kept vomiting out his mouth like that time he drank one brew too many last time he kicked some villain's ass. He liked that memory. Granted, he was throwing up buckets, but you were behind him as he was hunched over the toilet seat. You thought he'd forgotten the next morning, but he clearly remembered how you were right behind him, rubbing his back in comfort, telling him you'd stay with him as long as he wanted. He also remembered the way you supported him up while walking him back to his room. He remembered you tucking him into bed, placing a trash can beside it, making sure he's sleeping on his side. He remembered you quietly reminding him about the water bottle you left on his nightstand. He also remembered that bold and cheeky peck you left in the soft curls of his head while telling him to get some good rest.

"You literally got stabbed and had a near death experience, and you were smiling the whole time you were recovering! Now you're crying? And for what?!"

"You- You're being mean," you sniffled.

He scoffs again and lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, oh, of course it's me! Blame Jason Todd once again for being such a prick and an asshole!"

You tried holding in your sobs, but that led to you almost choking on your held breath, your chest feeling full, and your head feeling sore. Jason wanted nothing more for you to slap him, hit him, shut him up. He wanted to tell you he didn't mean it, that he was sorry. He wanted to run up to you, hug you in a tight embrace, and tell you not to cry because he actually is a prick and an asshole.

"Literally, why the hell are you still even here! Get lost, I'm not gonna say it again!" He yells for the final time before going back to the punching bag. And after the few seconds he got back to it, he glanced at where you were standing and saw you were already gone.

He curled over, leaning his hands over his knees, panting furiously. He wasn't sure if the tiredness came from the punches or the yelling. Maybe both. But picturing the broken look on your face pissed him off even more. Not because you were sad. Because he was the one who made you sad. This made him hate himself even more.

He tore the boxing gloves off his hands, projecting them off somewhere in the room, and yelled out in anger. He didn't even notice he started crying himself.

It's been another couple of hours. Your cheeks were long dried, but that didn't stop your shallow breaths from shaking continuously.

You then heard light knocks coming from your door. You took 3 deep and calm breaths before going towards it to see who it was.

Jason was pretty much the last person you'd expect to be standing on the other side. Furthermore, him holding a small bouquet of flowers in his trembling hands was the last thing you'd expect him to present to you. But you were scared to make the wrong move that might tick him off again.

"Jason, can we talk later I-" You said slowly in a whisper, looking at the ground while shaking your head, trying to close the door on him.

"Y/n, please," he holds the door, leaving a little gap open between you and him. "I'm sorry. I- I shouldn't have yelled, and I-"

"No, Jason, stop. It's my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you, and I'm sor-"

"Don't you dare apologise." This time, when Jason raised his voice, it was different. It was softer. "It's not your fault. I was just angry, and I took it out on you. The only thing I was right about was that I am a prick and an asshole. And- and I took your gorgeous smile away from you, and-" He started to word vomit again, but this time, it made your lips tug upwards. "And I don't want you to fuck off or get lost. I never want you to get lost because your so amazing and."

He continued his rambles and didn't notice that you opened the door wider. He tore his gaze away from the ground, and his heart raced when he felt your hands cupped around his own that were holding the flowers.

"The flowers are really pretty, Jay," you smiled at him.

Your happiness was so magnetising that he mirrored your smile. But it faltered. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "You shouldn't have cried over me because of how much of an asshole I am.."

You sighed, taking the flowers from his grasp and holding them close to your chest, your finger gently gliding over some of the petals. "Let's be real, Jason, you're always an asshole. But... I was crying because you've never been so angry at me before. I was crying because I hated knowing that I was the one who pissed who off."

"Shit, oh, sweet thing, no," he quietly replied, holding both your shoulders, making you look at him. Your face warmed at the nickname. "You- You didn't piss me off. I was already pissed off before that. It was just bad timing, and me being a hot head- you can never make me angry."

Neither of you realised how the two of you were in such close proximity.

"Well... you can make it up to me?" You say, your spark of sunshine and optimism coming back.

"Yeah- yes, how, I'l do anything," Jason quickly replied.

You step back, walking to your desk, pulling an empty vase to put the flowers in. "There's a cute cafe that opened downtown," you started, admiring the arrangement of flowers. "Go with me?" You shyly ask, back still facing him.

Jason smiled wider, thinking that alone time with you would count as a date. "Of course, sugar. Anything else?"

You giggled and turned around and crossed your arms. "Yes. You're paying, obviously," you walked up to him.

"Obviously," he copied.

"And I want this to be a date." This was a new, bold side to you. You've never been this straightforward before.

Jason glances up to the ceiling for a few seconds, pretending to think. "Yeah," he places his his hands on your waist, your own resting on his chest. "I think that could be arranged."

[burningcheese-merchant]

burningcheese evidence part 2 because yes

I'm kind of foaming at the mouth right now, I'm not really going to be 100% coherent in this post, episode 6 has melted my brain and I need to cool off (also I have actual work to finish irl lololol)

Spoilers under the cut, don't want to be That Asshole

Also for the 1,000th time, it is perfectly okay and understandable if you do not like this ship, I'm not holding a fucking gun to anyone's head, I know it's not really canon or anything, just let me have my dark hero/villain relationship in peace

"Hey where's Golden Cheese? Is Golden Cheese awake yet? Can she wake up now? No? Why isn't she awake? I want her to wake up already, why won't she wake up already? It's implied that I've asked this question multiple times, when will someone give me the answer I want? I want her here, I want her attention, I want her to wake up already-"

He thinks so highly of her in his Joker-esque way. She's so strongggg. He knows she's strong. Why wasn't she strong before? This isn't like her, he knows that. He knows her. He knows she's strong. He wanted to see her be strong. What happened?

Wanting to straight up get high with her. Wanting to watch her let loose. Calling her a combination of "little thief" and "little bird", two pet names the BurningCheese community (spearheaded by yours truly) has had Burning Spice assign to Golden Cheese

"I KNEW SHE WOULDN'T DISAPPOINT ME" bro thinks the whole damn world of her and had faith she wouldn't let him down, look how fucking happy he is she broke out of prison. She's just like him right now fr fr

She's giving him precisely what he desired, which is a struggle. Which is a chase. Which is a hunt. Which is a FIGHT. Which is HER. HE WANTS TO HAVE FUN WITH HER.

Bro is literally SMELLING her everywhere dude. He's attuned to her. To her presence.

"Hey bring her back to me, I miss her. But I swear to God, if y'all hurt her, if y'all ruffle a single one of her feathers, I will KILL YOU, YOU GOT THAT? SHE'S MINE! ALL MINE! BRING HER TO ME ALIVE AND THAT'S IT! YOU GOT IT?!?!?!"

God the cute sing-song voice I can't right now. Jesus Christ, my guy. Calling to her like that, really??

Sniffing her out again because he's fucking deranged and obsessed with her. He's got her whole essence on lock. Tracking her down like a fucking bloodhound. He's hungry for her, he's STARVING, he's BARKING MAD THAT ANYONE IS TRYING TO GET IN HIS WAY

Little bird? Little bird?? Little bird??? LITTLE BIRD??????????

THE NAME I HAD HIM GIVE HER IN MY FIRST BURNINGCHEESE FIC, WHICH I WROTE DAYS BEFORE THIS FUCKER EVEN RELEASED? THE NAME ALL THE OTHER SHIPPERS HAVE HAD HIM CALL HER TOO? YOU CANONIZED THAT? YOU MADE IT REAL? YOU MADE THE PET NAME HE HAS FOR HER REAL??? I CAN READ THIS IN A DIALOGUE BUBBLE FOR REAL? THIS IS IN THE GAME FOR REAL? ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW???

"How good it is to see you in one piece" SMILING AND LAUGHING BECAUSE HE'S GLAD SHE'S OK? TELLING HER SO TO HER FACE? MY GUY

Every step she takes that is wrong to others is right to him. Bust out of jail? Yes good I like that, I want it, I knew she wouldn't disappoint me. Lead him on, make him chase her, have them play hide-and-seek? Yes good, this is fun, I love the thrill of a chase, I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE I CAN FUCKING SMELL YOU I CAN FEEL YOUR FUCKING SOUL YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM ME LITTLE BIRD. Not taking his own goddamn power back? What kind of fool would make such a stupid, regrettable decisi- JK HE'S GLAD HE MADE THIS DECISION, THAT MEANS SHE CAN BE HERSELF AND KICK HIS ASS STILL, THIS IS WHAT HE WANTED, THIS IS EVERYTHING HE WANTED, SHE IS EVERYTHING HE WANTED! YES! (Also, one Freudian slip of several where he says it's HER Soul Jam and not HIS. He's already handing it over to her in his mind. Why? Why tho? Didn't he want it back? Guess not, huh? Guess having the pretty cheese lady beat his ass was too much of a turn-on, huh???)

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW? ARE YOU FOR FUCKING REAL? HE SAYS THIS TO HER? WITH THAT FACE? WITH THAT TONE OF VOICE? SAYING SHE'S LOVELY? THAT WHAT SHE'S DOING IS LOVELY? CALLING WHAT THEY'RE DOING A "DANCE"? TELLING HER TO KEEP IT UP? TELLING HER HE'S THOROUGHLY ENJOYING THIS?

HE KEEPS TRYING TO REASON WITH HER. HE KEEPS TRYING TO TALK TO HER, TO GET THROUGH TO HER, TO GET IT INTO HER PRETTY LITTLE BIRD SKULL THAT HE'S RIGHT. THAT DESTRUCTION IS THE ONLY WAY. Why go to that trouble? Why does he give a single, solitary fuck what she thinks or feels? Why even bother speaking on the matter at all, if it's a fundamental truth in his eyes already? WHY KEEP TELLING HER TO FIGHT, TO KEEP PUSHING, UNTIL SHE UNDERSTANDS HIM? WHY DOES HE WANT HER TO UNDERSTAND HIM? WHO GIVES A FLYING FUCK? And what's this about "and see the day"? Didn't you want to kill her, Burning Spice? Didn't you want to crush her, break her to pieces? Was that another Freudian slip there? Did your mask fall off for a second? DO YOU NOT ACTUALLY WANT HER TO DIE? DO YOU WANT HER TO LIVE, TO STAND UP AND FIGHT, JUST SO SHE'S FORCED TO RECKON WITH THE TRUTH OF YOUR PHILOSOPHY? WHY DO YOU CARE, MOTHERFUCKER? HUH? WHY???

"Stop teasing me" my brother in the Witches we ALL know you don't mean that. You've been BEGGING her to tease you the past two fucking chapters. Stop lying you dumb fuck, your face is giving it all away anyway

He's still clamoring for them to get fucking high together, honestly wtf is wrong with him? Drug-fueled combat, is that his kink? Also boy he sure has a vested interest in her enjoying their battle, doesn't he

She wants more? She wants more of him? She wants more of what he's got? She wants more fun? She wants him to strike a pose that clearly shows off his arms and chest more? YOU GOT IT BABYGIRL-

"You would destroy everything you have, just to get to me?"

"FUCK YES!!!"

My guy. My man. My cookie. My bro. My dude. Your mask fell off. Your mask fell off, my guy. You just told her point-blank that you'll kill people to get her. You'll blow up your own house to get her. You'll trash everything you ever owned to get her. You even have excuses ready to go to justify it. "Oh, it's all garbage, if you want it go ahead. This place ugly as fuck, I hate it, I wanted it gone anyway." Burning Spice. Burning Spice Cookie. You just admitted out loud that you are so obsessed with her that you will tear down your entire life for her. You just told her that to her fucking face, with a big, dumb grin. You've got the "happy" sprite equipped, buddy. You're HAPPY to tell her in no uncertain terms that all that matters to you is going after her. Fighting her. Getting to her. HER. ALL THAT MATTERS TO YOU IS HER!!!!!!!!! YOU JUST FUCKING SAID THAT SHIT OUT LOUD!!!! CAUGHT IN 4K AND YOU'RE NOT EVEN MAD!!!!! YOU'RE NOT EVEN DENYING THE ALLEGATIONS!!!! THIS CAN BE USED AGAINST YOU IN COURT, BURNING SIMP COOKIE!!!!!!

If he doesn't compliment her in some way, even indirectly, at least once per conversation, he will spontaneously combust. Pointing out how different and interesting she is, how she breaks the mold, how she defies the cycle of change and history even after it's already chewed her up and spat her out. Just say you want to put your dick inside of her, dude, please this is fucking embarrassing-

Ok nvm bro is straight up having the biggest, hottest orgasm of his entire fucking life right now, he's straight up speechless, he says like 3 coherent words to her after she awakens and then he's just looking like THIS and smiling so hard his damn is about to be split open by that ecstatic grin. Laughing his stupid, horny, obsessed, creepy ass off. Bro looks like he's CHEERING FOR HER in this shot, are you fucking kidding me? He's HAPPY she got back up, he's HAPPY she got a power boost, he's HAPPY she's kicking his ass, JUST LOOK AT THAT BEAUTIFUL SMILE, HE'S SO IN LOVE IT HURTS

And last, but not least:

Was this really necessary lol

BurningCheese is canon, Burning Simp Cookie is down terminal, we can all fuck off home and die now, I will now be ascending to Heaven (for 5 seconds before God smacks me back down to Hell, because no way I deserve paradise for all of my bullshit lol), thank you goodbye

[yeokii]

# arguments w enha hyung line !! — part two (maknae line ver)

₊﹒ wc! 0.9k

₊﹒warnings! fighting, angst

₊﹒note! ty to my dookie @redm4ri for helping me with the members (im crying) luv ya my dooks

# lee heeseung

"It's not what you think," Heeseung pleaded, irritation visible on his face.

In his head, he thought he was right. But, boy, was he off. Both you and he went to a gathering, but he had ignored you the entire day and spent time with his best friend. You trusted Heeseung with your entire heart, and seeing him do this broke your heart into little pieces.

"She came back from the states two days ago, yn," He tried to reason, "I haven't seen her in four years, for fuck's sake."

"That is no excuse for you to ignore me, Hee," you sternly said.

"God, yn! Why can't you get it in your fucking brain? She and I are fucking friends!" He scoffed, frustrated as he brushed his hair back with his hands.

"Do you think I'm stupid? She looked like she wanted to kiss you! Are you kidding me?" It was your turn to scoff.

The tension thickened as hateful words spewed from each side.

"God, yn, why are you overreacting?" He asked, annoyed. "Stop being a fucking child; she's like a sister to me."

"Do you realize she spent more time with me? Of course, I'd miss her."

"Alright, if you miss her that much, feel free to go to her. I don't give two fucks anymore." And with that, you took your jacket once again and left the apartment.

₊﹒other members under the cut !!

# park jongseong

11:34.

The clock read.

He wasn't home yet.

Your worry grew more with every minute passing. The fact that Jay wouldn't pick up the thousands of your calls. You were a nervous wreck. You couldn't sleep at all. He was never late.

The door opened, finally.

In came a tired jay, his eyes worn out and his hair all ruffled up, his tie loose.

He took one look at you and his eyes automatically rolled.

"What the fuck Jay?" You spoke.

"God, please." He said. "Not now, yn. Im too fucking tired to hear your lectures."

"Jay?" You were astonished by his behaviour. He never spoke like this which took you off guard.

"Why are you speaking like that to me?" You asked, your heart heavy. "I was so worried about you, I called you a hundred times."

"God, I just don't wanna deal with this right now. I had a long day at work. " He massaged his temples as he started to head for the bedroom.

"You could've told me you were coming late."

"Stop being a fucking baby and stop being clingy. I'm a grown ass man. Your not my fucking mother."

You had nothing left to say. You gave him a stern look as your worried expression vanished. You headed to the bedroom and slammed the door not wanting to hear anymore out of your so called boyfriend's mouth.

# sim jaeyun

"Baby, can you please tell me what's wrong?" Your boyfriend pleaded due to the silent treatment you were giving.

You ignored him as usual, continuing to do the dishes.

"I would know whats wrong if you would tell me about it." His eyes holding a desperate plea.

You looked at him with disbelief written all over your face.

"How could you forget Jake?" You asked him, your voice sounding like a slight whisper.

"What?" He uttered with confusion.

"I waited for you all day last night. How could you forget?" You held back tears that threatened to spill out of your eyes.

"Forget what baby?" His eyes searched for some sort of answer from your face.

"Our anniversary Jake."

His eyes widened, as a wave of shock washed over him.

"I'm so sorry baby, It must've slipped out of my mind I-"

"It was raining Jake. I couldn't go outside because it was raining. I had to sit there at our date waiting for you to come. I had to go back home in the rain, Jake." You let out a sob. The familiar emotion of humility emerging over you.

"Yn, I'll make it up to you. It's not a big deal."

"It is, you asshole." You looked at him, tears leaving your eyes nonstop and you left the kitchen.

# park sunghoon

"Hoon please stop." You let out a mutter to your boyfriend, slightly tugging onto his hoodie.

You both were out with your friends and you and Sunghoon were having a good time until him and your friends started joking a little too much about you that made you uncomfortable.

"What? We're just having fun." He shrugged it off, laughing.

"No Hoon. I don't feel comfortable." A rush of insecurity roamed through you.

You tugged onto Sunghoon more which showed a bit of irritation on his face.

"God yn, learn how to take a joke." He said, a frown showing on his face.

"Please, I don't like when you talk about me like that infront of my friends."

"It's just a joke, babe."

"It's not Hoon." You sternly said.

"God! Stop being a fucking baby!" He yelled at you infront of your friends.

"Oh my god! Did yn's boyfriend just yell at her? Yikes.." One of your friends told the girl next to her.

You looked around and then back at Sunghoon. Shame washed all over you. You felt so humiliated, tears started to fall out of your eyes. Everyone's eyes were on you. You felt so isolated and outnumbered.

"I'm leaving." You told Sunghoon and with that you left.

perm taglist!! @flwoie @zuyairus @bubblytaetae @yenqa @haknom

[aluria-sevhex]

HELL FUCKING YESSSSSSSS

hey if you wanna read all of my posts as i play through ISAT, they are all tagged as #Aluria plays ISAT for the first time (please don't spoil)

notes:

-aight i'm back yippee

-title theme my beloved

-i always find it so funny when an enemy tries to freeze Mira

-gonna try this boss again

-ok i think i'll just replay Floor 3 on this loop instead of looping forward after i find out another one of Bonnie's favorite foods so i can build up everybody's stats

-OH. BONNIE OVERHEARD THE DEATH CONVERSATION.

-heh Bonnie slapped Siffrin

-uh... the audio is REALLY ominous...

-oh, Bonnie...

-WAIT WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT DID I JUST LOOP SLIGHTLY BACK IN THE PAST?

-Siffrin you ok i don't think that was helping ur mental health issues your eye is covered in shadow in your dialogue portrait

-i will once again NOT kill Siffrin via anaphylaxis. i will take the fish head

-...i didn't. get info on Bonnie's favorite foods this time.

-ok according to the save screen that didn't count as a loop

-anyway time to try looping to get the Bonnie snack info

-hey... the Tear dialogue isn't as silly anymore (it just says yes or no without the 'looping time' or 'living time')

-hey i didn't skip any loops this time!

-time to kill this pair of assholes again

-"carry my ashes with you" aw that's a sweet dialogue option

-i am so tempted to kill Siffrin. but i won't.

-awwww... i talked to Bonnie and now Sif is comforting them

-ok how the fuck do i get the info. BONNIE PLS.

-hold up. does Siffrin no longer nod when zoning out? :((((

-WAIT FUCK DID I FORGET TO GET THE KEY ON FLOOR 2.

-...Mira's roommate. was learning to make bombs. why???

-lol Isa knows how to make a bomb

-Mira has anti-anxiety meds. this makes a lot of sense tbh

-...what are these papers for???

-so i decided to try using the silver coin since a person said that you can do something with it related to the croissant lore. and it said "you think about the Incident" or smth like that lol

-lol Sif forgot the term 'stuffed animal'

-idk why but it feels like a lot of Craft skills are like. slower. or have bigger cooldowns in Act 3. even tho i KNOW they don't and my brain is fucking with me

-ok the game accounted for the key thing

-in the bathroom again

-Sif is calming themself again and figuring out what to do

-Siffrin, self-loathing and calling yourself stupid won't help :(

-i zoned out at some minor dialogue but i don't remember what the dialogue was the first time so i am fucking clueless about what was going on with a choice i made. sorry Mira idk why i 'saved you' by smacking your mouth ;_;

-i love getting to obliterate weaker Rock enemies with Paper α V

-i have now gotten Sif to level 60

-sometimes it's nice to take a break and talk to Loop

-wait a sec. doesn't one of the lower floors have a sharpening stone?

-ok it's been a while and now i have everybody back to level 52. time to kick the asses of the 3rd floor boss

-ooo Odile got a new skill

-time for the last snack break!

-Bonnie's upset now because i didn't try the fritters D:

-time to face the King again... and hopefully talk to him

-welp. *that* didn't work

-oh nvm now i can ask him questions via the Craft menu!

-you. you can give the King the flower.

-yeah the characters have a point! why Vaugarde specifically?

-the King is NOT responsible but he says Siffrin has an odd smell. huh... the only other things where an odd smell has been noted is Bonnie saying the star crest Sadnesses smell odd... but if Sif had that smell then it would've been noticed sooner...

-dude. how rude to say that if Siffrin doesn't understand Time Craft they can't understand the King's methods. maybe i should read more on Time Craft in one of the libraries? or that one book on craftonomy...

-the "you have heard this before" for zoning out got more and more annoyed

-once again. what does the King need to say?

-hm i was talking to Odile and Bonnie piped in really excitedly that they have more pineapple in their pocket

-GOD FUCKING DAMMIT MIRABELLE I LOVE YOU BUT YOU STOPPED ISA'S CONFESSION ToT

-time to talk to Euphrasie and loop again ig

-hey what's that in her hair?

-"you inhale sharply, almost choking on the smell of burnt sugar around you" BURNT SUGAR BURNT SUGAR THAT'S THE SMELL OF TIME SHENANIGANS AS SEEN WITH THOSE SADNESSES

-SAY SOMETHING ELSE EUPHRASIE

-how do i get the familytale?

-ok i talked to Odile and i'm gonna help her!

-am i gonna have to go all over town for this?

lmao yeah i think i will

-oh hey the wizard-loving kid is named Manon

-oh my god. i have to go back to the boulanger

-FINALLY

-:O THERE IS NO RESEARCH???

-oh THAT'S why Odile is in Vaugarde

-oh... her mom left... all of her travels here have been to try to reconnect with that part of her...

-HEY SIFFRIN I AM ONCE AGAIN ASKING WHERE THE *FUCK* ARE YOU FROM?

-damn. bro has amnesia

-LMAO I ASKED MIRA ABOUT THE PAPERS AND THE BATTLE THEME STARTED

-...bonding proposals???

-oh my god Mira joined a dating website group

-"we have one of those at home"

-"oh, i don't have a type! i like all kinds of people equally!" is this in a bi way or an aro way

-YEAH AROMANTIC REPRESENTATION

-DIVERSITY WIN! THE KICKASS HANDMAIDEN WHO'S IMMUNE TO BEING FROZEN IN TIME AND THE SORT-OF CHOSEN ONE IS ARO!!! I FUCKING CALLED IT YEAHHHHHHHH :D

-oh, Mira :( you're not the problem you don't have to do anything like that you're not comfortable with

-hm this game is dealing with personal identity a lot

-:( :( :( oh, Mira...

-DIVERSITY WIN!!! THE SKETCHY WANDERER STUCK IN A TIME LOOP WITH MENTAL HEALTH PROBLEMS IS ACE!!!

-MY BLORBOS ARE ACE AND AROACE FUCK YEAH I AM SO HAPPY

-FUCK IT I'M POSTING NOW

SERIOUSLY THO I DON'T THINK I CAN ACCURATELY CONVEY HOW FUCKING HAPPY THIS PART IS MAKING ME. TWO OF MY FAVORITES ARE ACE AND AROACE HELL FUCKING YES

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Hellooo

As per usual, I'd like to ask for some arsonist Neil/firefighter Andrew, I'm still stuck on Neil's whole ass gay panic to Andrew calling him cute. Also, the firemen light structure thingy was very funny because the pic totally looks like it could be Neil's

Anyways, thank you and have a good week : )

WIP Wednesday (9/25) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 238)

The call ends and Andrew rolls onto his side to get snuggly-warm in his nest of blankets and pillows. His best adult purchase, he thinks, is this bedding. He smushes his face into one of his pillows and lies there in the dark on the verge of slumber. But, just as he's about to fall asleep, his brain suddenly comes to life and he replays the call in his mind. Did he call 10 cute? Andrew thinks for a moment. Yes. He fucking did. What the hell's the matter with him? Andrew isn't the type to call anyone cute.

He lets out a sigh. Evidently, half-asleep Andrew is the type.

10 didn't call him on it. He must not have noticed. Good, good. Andrew wriggles a bit deeper into his cocoon and goes to sleep.

-

Andrew spends much of the next afternoon pondering a possible gift he could get for 10. He knows it's not needed, but he'll be damned if 10 gives him two presents before Andrew's gotten him one. (The gift basket full of chocolate was the first, of course. Andrew misses those stupid little cookies.)

But it's hard to pick out a present for someone he barely knows. Actually, he knows 10 quite well. He knows about his terrible past and his night terrors and love of fire. He'd guess he knows 10 better than anyone. However, the arsonist hasn't got any (non-arson) hobbies or interests.

Andrew likes to think himself a good gift-giver. Sure, they're usually practical ones. But they're good. The problem is, as far as he knows, 10 doesn't need anything.

See, last year Andrew bought Renee a new backpack. Hers was falling apart, so Andrew scoured the internet and found a duplicate. She loved it.

And for the station's Secret Santa, he drew Wymack's name. So he bought him a nice cushion for his chair. (The old man was constantly complaining of back and hip pain. Andrew fixed it.)

Last Christmas, he and Aaron hadn't exactly been close enough for gifts. Andrew had considered buying him a new remote for his Xbox, because he'd been complaining about it during their calls with Nicky. But he didn't want to shell out that much for a man who hated his guts. So he didn't.

The only other gift he bought last year was a pair of noise-canceling headphones for Kevin, who'd been struggling with the nosiness of planes and team buses. Until Andrew fixed it. (He likes fixing things.) Oh. Speaking of Kevin, Andrew really should thank him for the sweater. He won't. But he should. The asshole. How dare he know Andrew looks good in green before Andrew did. Bastard.

In lieu of a thank you, Andrew sends Kevin the photo he took of last night's outfit. Less than a minute later, his phone nearly vibrates off the table. Renee looks up at him, concerned.

"Everything okay?"

"It's just Kevin."

"Ah." Renee nods and looks back down at her crossword book. From the look of it, she's only got a few left. Maybe he should get a new one and leave it laying around the station. Andrew makes a mental note to do just that and picks up his phone.

Kevin Damn. See, I told you. I fucking told you that would look good on you. Is this the first time you've worn it? I think you could try it with jeans too. And a smile. For fuck's sake, Andrew. You look like the most bored person alive. But good. Really good. I love being right. It's a hobby of mine. Are you not going to answer? Asshole. Andrew Excuse me for taking thirty seconds to reply. Some of us have actual jobs, Day. Kevin Exy is my job. Andrew Exy is your disease. Kevin Which I get paid for. Do you like the sweater? Does this mean I get to buy you clothes now? Andrew Do whatever you want. If you buy me something, I might wear it in three years. Kevin You suck. But you really do look good in that, Andrew. It suits you well. Andrew Stop flirting with me. Kevin I'm not flirting with you, idiot. By the way, Jeremy also says you look nice. Jean thinks you should get those pants hemmed. Andrew Are you going to get opinions from all your teammates? Kevin No, just the ones I live with. Where are you going? Have a date? Andrew It was last night. Went over to Aaron's to 'meet' his girlfriend. Kevin Oh. Do I need to post bail or...?

[nonconstories]

I am absolutely HAUNTED by this post I saw where this entitled-ass rando was seriously complaining that none of the girls they want to bang are well-read enough for them. Like, the post went something like "UUUUHHHHHHHGGGGG its sooooooo FRUSTRATING when I meet a girl who says 'I love to read!!!' and I get SO EXCITED but like, it turns all she 'reads' is BOOKTOK TRASH like barely-concealed-fanfic rewrite TRASH like its soooooo DISAPPOINTING where are the ACTUAL READERS lol" and like

I'm dyslexic! I'm SEVERELY dyslexic! And my school wouldn't accommodate me. They told my parents that the combination of ADHD + Autism + Dyslexia was too severe and they should "lower their expectations" for me, aka "your six year old is too stupid, give up on them ever being able to read". It took MULTIPLE YEARS of VERY EXPENSIVE private tutoring and its still HARD. Its still so FUCKING HARD, and the ADHD makes it even HARDER, and BTW, I was reading graduate school level material by the time I was 12 because I worked my brain into MUSH and I FOUGHT and I TRIED and it was EXHAUSTING.

But I fucking did it, and I'm bringing that up so you ~* book lovers *~ can't dismiss me as another slack-jawed yokel drooling in front of reality TV or whatever other imagine you are choosing to use to dehumanize others. I can READ and I read VERY WELL when I have the TIME AND ENERGY. FOR MANY YEARS I HAD NO TIME AND NO ENERGY AND YOU ASSHOLES COLLECTIVELY SHAMED ME FOR IT.

"Booktok romance trash readers thinking its impressive to read eight books a year lol I read like eighty during a BAD YEAR oh my god I can't believe how dire the sitch is fam!!!"

Fuck you fuck you fuck you.

Eight books a year is so fucking impressive for THE MAJORITY OF THE COUNTRY. How do you read eighty books a year, huh? HOW? Do you work a white collar job that requires zero emotional labor from you? Do you spend 40 hours a week in an air conditioned cubicle and then have a 30 minute subway ride home so you're nice and rested when you get home at precisely 7pm every night and your weekends and vacay are guaranteed? Do you make $85k a year and have a nice secure Xanax prescription to take the edge off your anxiety?

Did your parents read to you? Did your school teachers make reading fun? Did your hometown have a safe, clean, well-stocked library you could regularly access????

Or did you grow up in fucking Detroit? Or did you grow up in fucking Flint? Or did you grow up in fucking East LA? Or did you grow up in fucking Jacksonville Missouri? Or did you grow up in fucking Bucksnort Tennessee?

Maybe that girl you suddenly found less hot because of her reading choices was raised by parents who were also undereducated. Maybe she's fucking dyslexic. Maybe her school shoved her through year after year despite how hard she was struggling. Maybe the shitheads running her county budget slashed anything allotted for library maintenance. Maybe it was only open four days a week and her parents worked full time and granny couldn't drive so good anymore so she didn't have any books to read to begin with.

Or maybe she read two books a week when she was a kid, but then she grew the fuck up and had to get a job where she's on her feet eight to ten hours a day and the schedule changes every other week and its fucking LOUD and HARD and STRESSFUL and she's always getting yelled at. Maybe after all of that she's doesn't want to waste an hour and a half of her precious, vital free time trying to scrape and struggle and cry through 10 pages of whatever ~* important artistic triumph *~ you privileged brats are using as a litmus test for personhood this fucking week.

So she reads something FUN something she ENJOYS something she can ACTUALLY FINISH because AGAIN reading is HARD its EFFORT and sometimes you are too FUCKING TIRED TO READ especially when you did not have EXTRA BONUS SHIT TO HELP YOU GET INSANELY GOOD AT IT.

Disliking TV is not now, nor will it ever be a virtue, and your leftism doesn't mean shit if you can't stop being a smug, classist, ableist, dipshit. If adult literacy makes you THAT DEPRESSED, go volunteer to teach adult learners! Or bother to vote in your schoolboard elections! Or donate your old books to a book gifting program! Fucking DO SOMETHING instead of posting on tumblr about how 'booktok people' kill your boner.

[elacular-kink]

Poly-Techhic 4: Dinner date

Popping back to the present (3.5 B, oops all hiccups, will happen someday, but apparently not today), we will now see Kiran and Susanna go on their first date, for good and for ill.

Character Sheet

TW: Anxiety, Dysphoria (MtF), hunger, Internalized fatphobia, Body Issues, Embarrassment, Snobbish asshole, Emotional breakdown

Kinks: Hiccups, Embarrassment, Hunger, Stomach noises, hurt/comfort?

I was so nervous.

I was so unbelievably, unbearably, incredibly, unimaginably nervous.

Was my dress alright? It didn't look stupid, did it? Did I look feminine enough in it? Had I shaved well enough? Was I growing any stubble? Were my shoes okay? I knew we'd need to walk, so I'd chosen flats, but would they still be painful? Was the restaurant I'd chosen an acceptable distance away? Would it be a good restaurant? Would the food be good? How much should I eat? I wouldn't want to look like a pig in front of her, absolutely not, but I was hungry since I hadn't been able to stomach eating lunch today and—

Breathe. I tried to force myself to breathe.

My stomach growled. That didn't help.

I repeated Olivia's words in my head. "You don't have to be afraid of her. Susanna will tell you if she doesn't like something." And she hadn't told me she didn't like me. She'd communicated that on more than one occasion to people she actually didn't like, so I knew she was capable of it and willing to do it. So if she didn't like the restaurant, she'd say so and then we'd

We would...

Before I could think of an answer to that, I heard her voice. "Hey, Kiran." When I looked, Susanna was approaching me, wearing one of her usual cool black hoodies and a set of loose-fitting khakis. Did this mean I was overdressed? How formal was a strapless pink dress and a white loose-knit cardigan? Especially when that dress was supposed to be a midi but looked more like a mini because I was too tall and too fat and clothes were impossible to find and—"Fuck, you look really cute in that."

"A-ah!" I looked down and saw a soft smile underneath her hood. When she looked up at me I also saw that she had put on some eyeliner (crap, I was barely wearing any makeup, did I look okay?). "Th-thank you!" My stupid hands wouldn't stop flapping. "Y-you look, um—"

Susanna chuckled. "Don't worry. I know I'm not exactly Prince Charming over here. I'm actually dressed a little better than I look right now, but it's fuckin' cold out." Her eyes went down me and I followed them. When I looked down lower, I saw that she was actually wearing dark brown dress shoes. "Speaking of which, I'm amazed you're not freezing your ass off. Let's get a move on." She tilted her head in the direction of the restaurant and I squeaked and nodded. God, how was I supposed to handle a date with someone so cool?

We were walking. I'd walked this path to the restaurant a few times before to prepare, but it still felt like it'd fallen out of my brain. It felt even more like that when Susanna reached over and grabbed my hand. "I have a little trouble keeping pace with other people when we're walking together. Mind if I hang on?" I shook my head, nodded, then decided to communicate that I meant yes by intertwining my fingers with hers as best I could. She smiled at me again. "Cool. Sorry I couldn't get a ride, but Maya'd wanna come in with us, and I love her, but I'm trying to have a date with you here. And there's no way I'm making you sit in Olivia's deathtrap of a car." I'd seen said deathtrap and I agreed that I would prefer to never even touch it, much less enter it, though I certainly wouldn't be saying as much out loud.

"I-it's perfectly fine!" I shook my head. "I really should take more walks anyway. I could really stand to lose some weight."

Susanna frowned at me, her lips pursed. "Nah. Walking's good and all, but not because you need to lose weight. Your body's fine just the way it is."

I couldn't bear to look at her. "You don't need to say that."

"Yeah, I don't need to. But I'm gonna anyway. 'Cause I feel like it."

A little laugh worked its way out of me, and I was able to stop flapping my free hand long enough to brush my hair back. "Well...I suppose that I can't stop you in that case."

"Damn right you can't." For the remainder of the walk, Susanna filled the air between us with talk about her class on sound mixing. The combination of computers and music was something we could both have educated input on, and that helped me pay attention and stay engaged. Eventually, though, we arrived at the restaurant, whose name was something French that neither of us could quite pronounce. Susanna glanced through the windows at the white-sheeted tables within. "Uh...not to be a mooch or anything, but you're paying, right?"

"N-naturally, naturally." That had always been the plan, and I could imagine very few scenarios where I'd want any date to pay for our various activities rather than myself doing so. I may not have had much to offer, but as long as money still mattered, that was something I could treat people with.

"Cool. Then after you." Susanna pulled the door open and gestured for me to enter, and I couldn't help but giggle.

Once I had shaken my laughter away, I took a deep breath and walked up to the maître d'. This was where I had to be the social one, and I'd seen it done enough times to copy the behavior myself. "Mandal, party of two."

The man in the tuxedo looked past me at Susanna as she entered. "We don't wear hoods in this establishment, sir."

"M-ma'am!" I corrected him, blushing.

"It's cool, Kiran," Susanna pulled her hood down and I saw that, rather than laying flat or being mussed like it usually was, her hair looked like it had been styled with gel or spray, a perfect gently punkish messy spikiness to it. As she unzipped her hoodie, I saw that she was wearing a white button-up shirt underneath, the arms having been cuffed up past her elbows in an imitation of short sleeves, and the bottom tucked into her khakis and strapped down with a leather belt. Oh god, she looked so dapper. How was I supposed to cope? "I don't mind what people call me, and I figu—uh..." She'd started tying her hoodie around her waist when the maître d' took it from her and hung it up on a coat rack instead alongside mostly suit jackets. "Uh...yeah. Okay. That works."

The tuxedoed man sniffed and turned. "This way, ma'am and ma'am." He showed us to a small table and placed a set of black leather-bound menus in front of us. "I'll need to see ID if you intend to drink."

"Nah, I'm good. I'll just take water."

"Hmph." He took a note.

My stomach growled. I hoped to god it wasn't audible. The idea of ordering soda in a place like this made my stomach hurt even more. "I-I'll take water as well, please!" The maître d' made a noise I didn't know how to interpret and walked away.

Susanna sighed and flopped against the back of her chair. "Damn. You get taken to intimidating-ass places like this a lot?"

"A-ah...occasionally, yes. L-less often than other members of my family go to them." I kept a death grip on my menu so my hands couldn't flap.

"Man. I dunno how I'd handle it. I feel like the air in here hasn't been circulated since the 70s." She opened her own menu, then squinted down at it. "Uh...okay, do you know what the fu—uuuhhh...the heck any of these are?" Hearing her nearly swear, I choked back a laugh.

When I actually looked at my own menu, I saw that they had, in fact, only included the names and prices of various appetizers, entrees, and desserts. Luckily, I knew what they were, and I forced her to ignore the numbers as we considered the less intimidating spread of appetizers. Once I convinced her money was no object, she ordered canapés and I ordered a salad (hoping I'd grown into enough of an adult to actually eat it).

I particularly hoped I'd be able to eat my salad when my stomach growled very audibly. A small twinge of pain went through it, and I couldn't help but cringe for multiple reasons. "You good, Kiran?" Susanna asked. I nodded, but I couldn't bear to look her in the face. "Right. 'Scuse me, sir." My heart fell into my empty stomach as I saw her call over a waiter. I had no idea how to read the man's face as she requested our appetizers. Our water hadn't even arrived yet. "Right," she turned back to me once she was done. "Hopefully that'll—shit. You okay?" I wasn't sure. Was that polite enough? Had she offended someone? Why did she do that? "Hey. Take a breath, Kiran." Susanna audibly inhaled, then exhaled the same way. When she'd done that a few times, I was able to join her. "Yeah. There you go. Is that, uh..." She glanced back towards the waiter she'd summoned. "Is that a thing I shouldn't do?"

"I...I'm not sure."

"'Kay. I won't do it again. Sorry about that." She put a hand on mine and I saw that she'd painted her nails dark blue. It looked really cute. I wondered if I should try painting my nails.

After a bit too long, I managed to initiate a conversation about that. She told me she'd gone to a friend from one of her music courses for help with it. I was surprised to learn that she actually did used to paint her nails fairly often, but now that she roomed with Olivia, the smells of the polish and remover were too offensive for her to ever use them in their dorm, so she'd given up on it outside of special occasions. I managed to suggest that she could teach me and do her own nails at the same time in my building from time to time, and the smile she gave me absolutely filled my stomach with butterflies.

It was unfortunate that it was only butterflies and not anything else filling it because it kept growling. I felt ridiculous, and it felt like everyone in the restaurant must be staring at me. Why didn't I force myself to eat something? I knew my body got noisy when I was hungry. At least I could take some comfort in knowing that it could be worse.

I then immediately lost all of that comfort when a particularly loud growl was followed by an even louder "*HEEK!*"

Susanna's eyes were on me. I could feel them. I couldn't bear to look at her, but I could feel them. "Whoa. You okay, Kiran?" I didn't dare open my mouth to answer. Please be a "single", please please please please please be a "single".

Of course I wasn't that lucky. My body rocked with a barely muffled "*EEP*" that felt ear-splitting even as I slapped both hands down over my mouth. Fuck, how could my body be doing this to me? God dammit, why couldn't it ever do anything right? "*MMP!*" Even with my mouth completely covered, it was still so loud.

"Oh shit." Her voice was soft, and I heard her get up from her chair. Before I knew what was happening, I felt her presence beside me, her hand hovering over my back for a moment before carefully landing on it and beginning to rub it. "Hey. It's okay. You're okay, Kiran. Do you wanna try drinking some water?" God, did I? Would it help? I had no idea. "You don't have to." I couldn't just sit here and keep making these noises. I at least had to try. So I nodded. "Okay. I can hold your glass up for you, so you don't have to keep your mouth uncovered for too long." 

How could she be so considerate? I opened my eyes back up and saw her lift my glass with one hand. I removed one of my own and helped with it, waited until my next "*MNK!*" hiccup had passed, then put my lips to the water as quickly as I could and drank. I drained my glass as fast as possible, half holding my breath and desperately hoping that my body would shut up and let me continue having this date. But no. As soon as I put the glass down and opened my mouth to breathe, another deafening "*HIUK!*" forced itself out of me. I covered my face, hearing my voice whining with horror. Worse still, even though I managed to muffle my next "*HMK!*" I felt my stomach jolt and heard all of the water sloshing inside of it. God, what was wrong with me? How could my body be so obstructive and gross?"

"Shit. It's okay, Kiran. It's okay." I had no idea how it could possibly be okay, but the gentleness of Susanna's voice and the feeling of her hand rubbing up and down my back made it seem the tiniest bit more believable. "It, uh..." her voice paused in an odd way. "This is happening because you're hungry, right?" I nodded. "You think eating would help?" I nodded again. "Okay. Hopefully your salad'll get here soon. Think about what kind of main thing you'll wanna order, we should tell the waiter about that the next time he comes around."

How could she be so calm? I looked up and saw that her face was actually flushed bright red. When she saw I was looking at her, she quickly turned away. Fuck, she wasn't calm. She was embarrassed too. Of course she was. How couldn't she be?

"Ma'am, you're distracting other diners. Please sit back down in your chair." I heard the maître d''s voice behind us.

"Shi—uh, sure. Yeah, sorry about that." I felt her move away from me and missed her hand on my back, though she gently pulled one of my hands away from my mouth so that she could hold it from across the table.

"I'm sure that your fellow patrons would appreciate it if you would keep quiet as well, ma'am." I couldn't even bear to open my eyes.

"Hey. She can't help it." There was a slight growl to Susanna's voice, and her fingers gripped the top of my hand more firmly.

"Of course." Even I could hear the contempt in his voice as he walked away.

"...asshole. Don't worry about him, Kiran. Fuck that guy." Susanna kept her voice low as she swore, and I couldn't help but laugh. That almost made a louder hiccup come out of me, and even through my hand, I couldn't silence them. Not completely. And I could still hear my stomach sloshing. God, the chair might have even been creaking every time I moved.

Excruciating minutes passed with Susanna gently rubbing my hand, speaking softly to me about random, unthreatening topics, like video games that she was enjoying, or the less raunchy escapades Maya had dragged her and Olivia into. I appreciated it so much, but it didn't do anything for the fact that I just kept hiccupping every few seconds. Not to mention my stomach was growling...everything about me was so big and loud and obnoxious. I hated it so much. Why couldn't I be small enough to just disappear like she was?

"Madams?"

"Uh, hey, cool," I heard the voice of the waiter that Susanna had accosted earlier. "Do you know how long the salad's gonna take? Oh, also, I wanna order for her. Which one of these will take the least time to—"

"I-I'm sorry, madams, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave." My eyes shot open and I looked at our waiter. Unlike the maître d', he looked apologetic enough that even I could see it.

"'Scuse me?" Susanna's voice hardened again, and her hand firmly gripped onto mine.

"Erm, other customers have been complaini—"

"What other customers? This place is mostly empty. If someone's really been complaining, can't you just move us further towards—"

"Other customers have been complaining, and I'm afraid that unless you're able to be less disruptive, we'll have to request that you leave." The waiter's voice sounded nearly pained as he said that.

"Look, if you could bring out her salad or some other food, that should help and she'll—" I couldn't help it. I sobbed. Then I hiccupped. I could feel the eyes of the waiter and Susanna on me, and I felt so humiliated that I couldn't even think. I had no idea whether to cover my mouth or my eyes, and the hand that had been under Susanna's was uselessly flapping instead of doing either of those things. "...fine. Okay, come on, Kiran." I forced my eyes open and saw Susanna, slightly blurry, take a wallet out of her pocket. She glanced at the menu, cringed, then pulled out a few bills and placed them on the table. "Change is a tip for you." 

Susanna grabbed my flapping hand and started dragging me away, pausing for a second to glare at the maître d'. I could hear him sniff as we left. "Don't forget your...jacket."

"...thanks." Susanna paused long enough to grab her hoodie, then dragged me the rest of the way out. "Okay, fuck that place. There's a Wawa just a block away, we'll get you something there, then I'll see if there's any better restaurants nearby where I can get you some real food."

"I'm–*HIUK!*" I choked out more sobs and I could feel tears rolling down my face. Pathetic. "I'm sorr–*EEK!*"

"Don't be." We reached the convenience store. I wasn't sure I'd ever been inside of one. "Okay, think about what kind of sandwich you might want. I'll grab you something quicker." I forced my eyes open and looked around. There were a few people here, and they glanced at me when I hiccuped, but then looked back away. The middle-aged woman behind the counter looked particularly unbothered by me...unbothered by anything, really. And unemotive about anything. Possibly chemically so. "You don't eat meat, right?" I nodded at Susanna. "Got it. Kinda, uh, limits our options, but..." She went to the counter and, before I could stop her, paid for an apple fritter, a fruit cup, and some sort of...bag of pickle slices? How did she know that I'd been craving pickles lately?

However she knew it, when she gave them to me, I immediately started eating, hoping to god that it would make my body stop making sounds. I was still crying, but at least I was doing so mostly silently. When she confirmed that I would be able to eat it, Susanna bought me a large sandwich with cheese, tomatoes, and lettuce. I felt absurd for making her have to order and pay for me, but the fluorescent lights were making my head ache. "Hey. There's a park-type thing a couple blocks from here. It'd be pretty quiet, so you can take a minute and rest. That sound good?" I nodded, and she smiled up at me. "Cool. Come with me."

Susanna didn't hold my hand this time, just because both of mine were full with the sandwich and snacks she had bought me. I was still crying and hiccupping, and it made me feel so ridiculous. My attempts to eat weren't helping. And my feet ached. It was such a relief when we reached the park and she showed me to a bench. There was nobody there, and the street lamps were warm and unthreatening. "Okay. You don't have to try and hold back or hide, Kiran. We're alone here. You won't bother anyone."

Feeling her sit next to me and hearing her say that made me sob again, which didn't help my stupid hiccups. "I'm sorr–*HEEK!*"

"You shouldn't be. You didn't do anything wrong." I did, but I wasn't able to explain that to her right now. Whether or not I did, though, Susanna was rubbing my back again, not seeming bothered at all by the way I would jolt into her over and over. "Hey, I'm gonna call my mom for a minute, okay? Don't worry about being quiet or anything, this won't take long." I nodded. I doubted I even could be quiet, no matter how much I might have wanted to. I heard the sound of Susanna's phone and glanced at her. She'd ended up tying her hoodie around her waist, so she'd unrolled her shirtsleeves, which were now just barely avoiding covering her hands. Her face looked a little flushed, but the lack of light made it hard to be sure. "Yeah. Hey Mom. I need to borrow the Yelp account." She paused and rolled her eyes. "Yes yes, how are you, I'm great thanks, look, can we keep it short right now? I'm on a date...yeah, she's great, Mom." Susanna scowled and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Fine, I'll call you on Saturday, you can hold me to that. But I need the Yelp account now...because I'm gonna go nuclear Karen on someone's ass and you're the one who actually reviews things...No, I'm not overreacting, they made my date cry!" The genuine anger in her voice was a little scary, and I must have audibly gasped, because she turned towards me and stopped rubbing my back for a moment to gently pat my shoulder. "Yeah. Yeah, that's what I thought...God—...bless it, Mom, you really need to change that password...Well, I ask every time because I'm very polite and respectful." I couldn't help it. I laughed. I laughed and I hiccuped, and Susanna smiled at me. And my heart fluttered. "Okay. No, I don't need your help, I learned from the best...I know, I know, I won't use any profanity. I'll be good...yeah yeah, love you too. Bye." She hung up and exhaled. "Mom says hi. And...I only just now realized that I should ask you about this, so...are you okay with me being a bitch to that French place on Yelp?"

I looked down. "You...*HMK* You shouldn't be. They di–*IC* they didn't do anythi–*INK*–i-ing wrong."

"Bullshit. You're the one who didn't do anything wrong."

"But I did! *HIUK!*" Yelling was a terrible idea, but that didn't stop me from doing it, and my stupid eyes were tearing up again. "I didn't ea–*EEK* eat lunch today becau–*UCK* because I was nervous, but I kn–*HEEP* know that being hungr–*EEK* hungry makes my stomach gr–*UCK* growl and gives me th–*IC* the hic–*CUPS!* I ruined our d–*HUP* our date!"

"Bullshit!" It caught me off guard just how quickly she repeated herself, and she grabbed both of my hands. "You didn't ruin anything, Kiran. Your body did normal human things and that dickhead in the tux was a piece of shit about it. He sucks, that place sucks, fuck both of them. I didn't see any of the other patrons complaining, so I'm pretty sure it was just that prick. And even if it wasn't, fuck anyone who tried to give you shit about it." Susanna closed her eyes and took a slow breath. "You're allowed to take up space, Kiran. You're allowed to be a person and experience the shit that humans experience. You shouldn't have to be perfect. I mean, you'd think they were being assholes if they kicked Olivia out for the same reason, right?"

I blinked. "W...well yes, b–*UK* but...she can't he–*ULK* help it."

"And you can't either. Not right now at least. I don't care if you could have somehow avoided it earlier; the past is the past, now is now. And right now you can't help it." Her face was definitely strangely flushed right now, and she was avoiding eye contact too. "It's not your fault. You've just...you've just got the h-hiccups. That's all."

"Yeah. *HMK*. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." After a moment of hesitant hovering, Susanna got up and hugged me. Her arms wrapped around my neck and she leaned over, so her front was pressed against mine. My stomach jolted with a hiccup and it shook her whole body, and I heard her let out an odd little giggle at that. Somehow, that made me giggle too. "Don't be sorry. You don't huh--have to be." When another hiccup bounced her, it interrupted her voice. "And I don't mind. I'm frie—uh, friends with Oliv---via. Of course I do--on't."

That...made sense. I wrapped my arms around her too, and even though it was embarrassing to feel how my body shook and wobbled against hers, it felt good to have her small form pulled to me and feel how soft she really was. "Thank you. *HMK*"

"Of course."

I didn't really let go. And she didn't really either. So for a few minutes, we were just holding each other while I hiccupped, and....it was okay. It was okay. I apologized when I was loud next to her ear, and she told me it was fine. Eventually, she started wriggling and pulled back. I honestly could have stayed like that all night, but it wouldn't do either of us any good to be greedy. I went back to eating and she leaned against me, somehow managing to type on her phone while I kept shaking her. After a few minutes, she turned to me and showed me the review she'd typed out, which was the politest, most venomous thing I'd ever read in my life ("My mom's white. She taught me their secrets."). With a few small edits, I let her leave her one-star review, and she snickered to herself as she sent it before logging out.

As I was finishing up my sandwich, something occurred to me. "Susanna, *mnk* you didn't actually buy anyth–*IC* anything for yourself, did you?"

"Uh," she chuckled. "Nah. Guess I kind of forgot that."

"Mm. Did you find a re–*uck* restaurant nearby that lo–*HOOP*–nnnhf...excuse me, *mmk* looks good?"

Her lips pursed. "I mean, good to me or good to you? Because there's a diner-type place that I'm kinda curious about but—"

"Then let's go th---there. *mmk*"

She looked up at me. "You sure?"

"Well, my sug---gestion didn't exactly pan ou–*HUP* o-out, so...let's try your inst–*ic* instincts this time. You will be le–*HUP* letting me pay this time, though."

Susanna chuckled and scratched the back of her head. "S'long as you're sure, I guess. I want you to be comfortable."

"I want y–*HUP* you to be comfortable to–*HOOP*–oooohhh..." I rubbed my chest, a bit surprised they were still holding on. I still felt hungry, though. Which was...humiliating, given how many snacks I had just been given, but I did my best not to let it bother me. I decided to be gently self-deprecating instead of aggressively so for a change. "Besides, *hmk*, Olivia's not here to ge–*ulp* get them for you, so we would–*nnkt*–n't want you getting too hu–*UP*–ungry and catching the hi–*IC*–cups like me."

Instead of the soft laughter I expected, I was watching her close enough to see Susanna's face flush bright red. A second later, she laughed far louder than she usually did and scratched the back of her neck. "Y-yeah. Wouldn't want that, hahaha..."

That was...that was odd.

When we got to the diner the woman behind the counter glared at us and threw the menus aggressively on our table, then gave us both free hot chocolate because "it's cold out there, you goddamn kids." There were significantly more people in this restaurant, and I did get brief glances while I still had the hiccups, but only a few. Since we'd been seated at a booth more appropriate for four people, Susanna sat next to me, and I noticed that she leaned against me and took every opportunity to rub my back. Under the less aggressive fluorescent lights, I could see just how much more flushed her face was than normal, and see how it drained back to its usual color when the Portobello burger I ordered finally filled me up and chased my hiccups away. The whole time we talked about our classes, the music we listened to and played ("I used to play piano when I was young! Do you think you could teach me more?" "Maybe. I'm actually better at pipe organ, of all fucking things."), our families, our friends on the rugby teams, the friendships we were developing outside of them, and it was just...

It was just comfortable.

I just felt like myself.

I was a bit overfull by the time we left, and Susanna had poached what was left of my meal into a doggy bag that she would be keeping. As we were walking, I kept an eye on her, waiting for the inevitable as I felt that tiny tension in my chest that I always got after I ate a little too much, until eventually I—"*HEEK!*" hiccuped loudly again. Even though I'd been awaiting and anticipating it, I still felt myself blush bright red and automatically covered my mouth.

Under the street lights, I saw Susanna blush bright red too as she whipped around to stare at me. "Uh—" There was something tense about her voice, and she looked away faster than she normally would. "Y-you good?"

"Y-yes, excuse me." My little stutter matched hers. "I, um, had another one of those 'singles'."

She chuckled. She was bad at laughing on purpose. Even I could tell it wasn't quite right. And since she didn't have her hood on, when I leaned forward, even though she was facing away, I could see the tiny smile on her flushed face. "Don't worry about it, Kiran. I don't mind."

That seemed like it might not actually be true...or that it was, if anything, an understatement.

When we were in front of my house, it wasn't long after my "single", and Susanna was still a little unmoored. Even so, she smiled up at me. "Hey. I had fun tonight."

I could feel myself smiling and realized that my hands were flapping. I didn't have the energy to try and hold them back though. "I-I did too! Sincerely! The..." my hands stilled and I felt the shame of earlier crawl into the back of my throat. "The first restaurant was...bad. But everything else..." I laughed. "Everything else was really lovely. Even with the hiccups."

Red. Her face went red again. She fake-laughed again. She scratched the back of her neck again. "Glad to hear it. So, if we both had a good time..." she looked up. I dodged her eyes, but I already knew she didn't take offense to that. "Wanna try it again another week?"

My hands were flapping again. "Yes! Yes please!"

"Hehey, that works great!" Her smile was so wide. She then hesitated, lifted a hand, lowered it, then lifted it again and placed it on my cheek. I instinctively leaned into her touch. "Hey, Kiran. Think you could bend over a bit for me?"

My heart was pounding in my chest as I lowered myself. "Y...yes. Like this?"

"Yeah. Exactly like that." I felt the heat of her breath against my lips and my eyes shut without me before we touched. Hers were so chapped but so soft. I had no idea what I was doing. But she taught me. She taught me and I learned as best as I could. And we stayed together much longer than a second or two. When we finally pulled back, I was breathing heavily. So was she. Clouds of steam were forming between our lips. "...night, Kiran."

"Goodnight, Susanna."

Our faces were close enough that I felt her smile before I saw it. And then she walked away, only seeming to realize once I was behind her that she could put her hoodie back on.

I made my way back into the empty house, walking past the bedrooms where other students weren't and up the stairs to my own. And once I was curled up in my warm bed, I took out my phone and looked at my messages from what I was mostly sure was Maya.

Queen of Illusion: YOU BETTER TELL ME HOW THIS SHIT WENT WHEN YOU GET BACK PLEASE TELL ME YOU FUCKIN KISSED HER AND THEN KISS ME (IF YOU WANNA)

Kiran (Kiki): Hello Maya(?) Our date went wonderfully.

Queen of Illusion: Youre damn right it did! (And yup its me)

Kiran (Kiki): Before I get into that, though, may I ask you something that might seem a little ...strange?

Queen of Illusion: Bitch I might seem a little strange go 4 it

Kiran (Kiki): Alright.

Before I could bring myself to actually ask, I scrolled back a large number of messages until I found three spoilered ones. I finally clicked the spoilers of the last message.

3: Its something Liv does all the fuckin time

Alright. That made me significantly more confident in what I was about to type.

Kiran (Kiki): With regard to the missing context that you and Olivia have concerning Susanna Would that context possibly be that she has some sort of ...affinity? For hiccups?

Queen of Illusion: ...babe.

Kiran (Kiki): Did I say something wrong?

Queen of Illusion: Babe no You said everything fuckin right. And we are gonna have so much fuckin fun with this OPERATION "SEDUCE THAT BUTCH" IS A FUCKIN GO!

The mixture of excitement and terror in my stomach made me feel like I'd made the best decision of my life and a horrible mistake all at once.

[ivymarquis]

i know i'm late and i want to hear about all your wips tbh but i have to admit that "Boot Worship + Hate sex (COD/Konig x Reader)" got me going real 👀👀👀 (--direwombat)

Fun fact! This is the fic that totally derailed my kinktober! Both between the fact I was rapidly realizing that the word counts I was hitting with my entries was not sustainable with my schedule (3.2k before clothes even came off) and I hit a wall and was hating it (although looking back months later, it’s substantially better than I initially thought it was so maybe I’ll try to finish it. Surely no one will mind if I do kinktober in January/February baha)

Konig being an asshole, unhealthy work dynamics, boot worship, hint of puppy play under the cut

"My problem?" he intones. A man of his stature doesn't need to yell but God does she wish he would. Her skin fucking crawls at the smooth, level cadance of his voice. There's a fire in his eyes that she can see now that she's close enough to him (even if she has to crane her neck up).

He doesn't stop advancing with those slow, deliberate, heavy steps until her nerves finally get the best of her and a single foot lifts and steps back away from him.

"My problem is you are young and cocky and entitled. That for all your talent you don't know what to do with any of it and I'm not sure if you're more of a disappointment because you lack the discipline to hone that skill, or because your newfound independent streak one day will lead to one of your brothers being killed in the line of duty trying to cover your ass, when you are the one who has caused this entire problem to begin with."

For all your talent rings in her ears- it's the first compliment she can recall him ever giving, even if it's placed so nicely in front of the fact that he views her as a disappointment and a liability.

"You are fucking impossible to please, you know that? I have no idea why the hell you've been gunning for me since the day I stepped foot in here. I have tried so hard to prove myself to you that I know how to do my damn job correctly and all you can do is micromanage me to the point I have no choice but to fail because I'm not a damned mind reader and you keep moving the goal post. You're so damn difficult to work with and I just-" Her words cut off abruptly as he steps closer into her space. It's actually incredibly frustrating for her that even in the midst of what she is sure will turn into a knockdown, drag out, ground zero, "clear the air" fight- at the end of the day she knows why König's blatant disapproval bothers her so much.

She wants this man so badly that it makes her look stupid. She barely keeps the cognitive brain function to remember how to dot her I's and cross her Ts correctly when he's watching her. Tells herself it’s just frustration and the constant lowgrade anxiety he’s got her tizzied up in from the incessant disapproval as her fingers find their way below the hemline of her underwear at night.

"You want my approval?" The way he’s crowding her space shouldn’t be making her stomach flip like this. “Let’s start simple and see if you can follow simple fucking orders, hm? Kneel.”

This is out of line yet she complies immediately. It’s a hell of a dissonance, being so utterly pissed off beyond all belief at someone who she fantasizes about constantly.

She goes to the obvious line of thought- that he wants her to suck his dick.

She should be telling him to go to hell and booking it straight for Majka and Ridgeback.

Overachiever that she is, once she’s on the ground looking up at him- he has to crane his neck down just to look at her-, her hands moving up towards the buckle of his belt.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” Each word has more bite to it than the last and she flinches like he’s slapped her despite him not having made a move.

“I-” she stammers, “I thought-”

He cuts her off “That’s your fucking problem. You keep thinking. You are not paid to think, you are paid to follow fucking orders. I only told you to kneel. You. Don’t. Listen.”

God he is such a fucking asshole.

“You want to act like a puppy with no manners? That is fine. I know how to train a bitch to heel.”

Even for all the vitriol she has dealt with in her career, she's never quite been spoken to so callously. Of course he has no hesitation in doing so, however- why would he.

She should be shooting up to her feet and leaving his office, and yet she sits perfectly still as he takes a half step closer to her. The bulge of his groin- jesus he's not even hard, it doesn't look like he is at least- is at eye level with her before one of those giant hands of his reaches out and pushes at her shoulder- makes her sit on her heels with a featherweight touch as assuredly as if he'd put real effort into it.

She doesn't balk or shy from him even when one hand takes a fistful of her hair to hold her still.

She shouldn't be allowing this. This is humiliating and debasing and she has not spent the last years of her life becoming excellent at her job just to be treated as a living doll.

And yet she sits perfectly still even as he moves one of his massive feet between her legs. She doesn't sink down onto it nor lift up away from it, allowing him to place his boot where he deems fit.

"Don't think I don't know," he starts, and she stares at him with wide eyes. "You're not quite as subtle as you think you are." Oh that is not ideal by any stretch of the imagination.

"I think you lash out because you want my attention. You're so focused on it you aren't paying attention, and subsequently digging yourself deeper into the little hole you've made for yourself with me." he continues like he isn't holding her like a dog on a leash.

"So we're going to get a handle on this, because I'm not going to be as indulgent of your little temper tantrums going forward."

The boot scoots ever so slightly more snug underneath her and she tries to ignore the fact she hasn't had any male attention in quite a long time. She has her faults, sure but she is not about to hump his leg like the ill mannered puppy he wants to claim her to be.

"That's a good girl, Schatz, waiting for me like you are supposed to. Maybe you can be coachable after all. Now, you very clearly have some built up tension that needs an appropriate outlet,"

She bites back a snort. Not a single thing about this situation is appropriate.

"So we will start with releasing some of that pent up energy. So go ahead and use my boot like a good little puppy and we can get on with our day, hm?"

It is never too late to ask me about my WIPs!

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

A Strange Sort of Family

hi, resident evil fandom, i'd like to throw my hat in the ring

look, i don't even really go here, the fandom mold just got into my brain and would not fucking leave. this is my first time writing any of these characters so if they feel a bit rocky, please forgive me. my media analysis brain has been spinning nonstop since we started the resident evil brain rot and ho boy would I love to sink my teeth into a proper horror fic but! i don't know if i'm there yet so i figured i'd start a bit easier for me :)

also--we all know there's no way ethan's just gone from the franchise now, right? like, sure, he's dead, but he died like 30 minutes into re7 and that didn't fucking stop him

ALSO also big shoutout to @dragonsareaqueerthing and @greenninjagal-blog for the encouragement to actaully make the words go :) hopefully i'll be spending more time in this fandom now that I've got that ball rolling

Read on Ao3

Warnings: talk about events of shadows of rose dlc, nothing explicit, bullying

Pairings: implied ethan/mia/chris, but Ethan & Rose is the focus

Word Count: 10,919

You'd think after about 16 years of being treated like a child and the most powerful bioweapon the world has ever seen, you might get used to it.

Nope!

Not even slightly.

Sometimes a family is a molded bioweapon, a traumatized agent, a former bioterrorist, and a series of golden, sparkly words. Sometimes family is decorating your room with your mother, sometimes family is hugging a pillow because your dad isn't here anymore. Sometimes family is training too hard and going out for ice cream, sometimes family is a dinner where your parents won't stop teasing you.

Or, five times Ethan Winters was there for his daughter, and one time Rosemary Winters was there for her father.

1.

You'd think after about 16 years of being treated like a child and the most powerful bioweapon the world has ever seen, you might get used to it.

Nope!

Not even slightly.

Okay, well, maybe slightly, but only in the way she's able to shake off some of the lesser things that would've made her really upset before. She's no longer threatening the lives of the agents that call her Eveline, to her face or behind her back when they think she can't hear them. Even when she really, really wants to. Small victories.

But despite her best efforts, she still returns to the cell block of a room—Chris had been so insistent that it wasn't a cell, but it was all concrete walls and a tiny window and a camera that she knows is in the corner—and curls up on her bed, jamming her headphones in and refusing to engage with the outside world until she could summon up the resolve to impersonate a normal person again.

Today had been no exception.

Rose throws her backpack onto her desk chair and slings her hat over the hook, kicking her shoes off and collapsing face-first onto the bed with a groan. More tests today, always more fucking tests. Didn't they have every inch of her shitty, moldy body cataloged by now? She has half a mind to start making shit up when they ask her the same stupid questions. 'How are you feeling today, Rose?' Oh, you know, just getting stuck with more needles than a fucking porcupine, how do you fucking think I'm feeling? Yeah, no, no homicidal instincts yet, just had one murderous thought the other day when I was imagining mold eating the bitch who called me a charity case. Although I did go to the park after I snuck away from that asshole you have tailing me on Tuesdays to see if I could amass a mushroom army, how was your day?

A small laugh leaves her throat at the thought of the doctor's face if she actually did say that, but then she'd probably have two assholes tailing her until they deemed her 'no longer a risk.' God, they were supposed to be these super highly trained agents, then why the fuck do they suck ass at being subtle?

Turns out, even having mold superpowers means she still has to breathe like a normal person, so she drags her face up from the bed and doesn't even bother to fully get up to inchworm up to the pillows. She mashes her face against the slightly cold surface—honestly, the best part about this prison-cell-ass room was that the air conditioning was always on Arctic, so her pillows were always cold—and grabs her phone, squinting at the notifications.

One from school saying her group project deadline was coming up…something from some shopping website she'd logged onto out of pure boredom three weeks ago…and a text from Chris.

Rose sits up a little more and opens the text. "Overseas this week…sorry I'll miss the—you fucking dick!"

Of course Chris is working this weekend, of course he's not gonna be fucking here to take her to the cemetery—great, that means another two hours of bus rides until she can actually go see her dad. She swears he does this on purpose sometimes, how often does he actually need to go overseas for 'work?' And it's not like anyone else here would be able to take her, she's learned her fucking lesson about asking them for anything more than more fucking food. Not bothering to stifle her groan, she flops back onto the bed, only for her phone to clatter out of her hand and onto the floor.

Great. Now she has to move again to pick it up.

She decides that moving is actually not what she's going to do right now, letting one arm hang over the edge of the bed, her cheek scrunched awkwardly against the lip of the mattress. She tucks her face against the collar of her jacket and rubs her thumb against the ring on her finger.

"Sorry it's gonna take me longer," she mumbles, "I really wanted to spend longer with you this time."

Her eyes widen when gold sparkling words appear on the floor next to her phone.

it's okay

"What the—" she whips around to look at the door, closed tightly, and jerks back— "how—"

The words are still there. The words are still etched into the floor, right next to her phone. She should check if they're on the camera—no, they can fucking hack into her phone whenever they want, and she doesn't—she can't—if this really is—

Rose swallows the lump in her throat as the words shift and change.

you ok?

"I—what—how are—" she swallows again, camera in the corner of the room, "uh, M-Michael?"

A pause as the words reform: sure

"I mean, I—I know," she says quickly, "I know what—I know what this is, I…I remember, it's just…"

camera, I know

"How is this possible?" she whispers, not daring to move from her haphazard scramble up the bed, "I thought you were—I mean, at the end, when we, uh, did the thing, it seemed like you were…that you were going again."

The words sparkle again as she grips the sleeve of her jacket—his jacket.

apparently i'm bad at it

"Bad at what?"

staying dead

Another laugh chokes its way out of her throat and she reaches out without thinking about it, just to touch the words. They glow a little bit brighter as she touches them and the tips of her fingers glow. Almost as an afterthought, she grabs her phone and shoves it behind her, hopefully muffling the microphone and at the very least, getting its cameras away from her dad.

Her dad. Those are her dad's words, that's her dad, he's here, he's here.

"Are you—is this…are you really here?"

sort of, as the golden words swirl around, part of you

"What do you mean, 'part of me?'"

not a scientist

"You're the only other m—person like me I know, I'm sure it'll be fine." She can almost hear the little huff of laughter as the golden sparkles swirl again. It seems like it's the same as it was when she was in there, with her dad only able to say a few words at a time.

i'm part of the mold, just like you, we're sharing a part right now

"Are you always sharing a part with me?"

i wish i could, and she feels her chest hurt a little bit, takes energy

"I guess that makes sense." Her arm begins to ache from being so stretched out. "I really miss you."

i miss you too sweetie

Fuck, she's 16, she should not be getting this choked up over her dad calling her 'sweetie,' but fuck it, she's a mold person and her dad's dead, she's allowed to sniffle a little when those words glow warmly under her fingers. Some hysterical part of her wonders if he'd be able to give her a tissue or a hanky the way he gave her guns and chem fluid in there, but she scrubs at her nose with her sleeve and decides that it's enough right now that he's here, in her room, still calling her sweetie.

***

2.

She almost recognizes it the second time, a tug in her gut. Given that she's got her hands over her face and is currently doing a fabulous impression of an angry seal, it'd be harder for her to see it. Still, she can't help the dumb smile on her face when she rolls over.

bad day?

"Oh, you know," she mumbles, "just your average day of being a human guinea pig."

ew

She snorts, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle it. "You know I get a look at their notes sometimes? That's what they call you, just your initials."

surprised they're still talking about me

"What do you mean? Of course they're still talking about you, you're the—" she cuts herself off. The golden sparkles swirl.

i'm the what?

"Never mind."

The floorboards wait expectantly, but she twists the ring around her finger, chewing on her lip. After another moment, new words appear.

can i help?

"With what? With the tests?"

with you

Another tug in her gut, this time at the fact that she can't actually remember the last time someone asked after her, not their biggest liability or their most dangerous weapon. She props herself up on the cold pillows—thank you, government AC—and sighs. "I'm just really tired."

i bet

"Like—are they bored? What do they get out of sticking me with the same needle fifty different times? And it's not like they talk to me about anything, they just look at each other and then fake-smile at me and they tell me 'you're doing great,' like I'm supposed to know what that means. And the other people aren't any better! They keep trying to train me how to do a thing but they're not—it's not like they tell me why we're doing something or what I'm supposed to be doing instead, they just tell me I'm wrong and that's it."

that sucks

She huffs. "You have no idea."

After a moment, though, she realizes that might not actually be true. From what little she's actually managed to get Chris to tell her, and what she can learn from Mom, they were both held in BSAA's quarantine for ages before they moved over to Romania. And if Mom knew about Dad's…not-aliveness way before he did, then they must've done some sort of tests on him too.

"Can I ask you something?"

anything

"Did they, um, did they test you too?"

The floorboards stay empty for a minute, but it feels more like he's thinking than it does him avoiding the question. Sure enough, after another moment, words start appearing again.

they did, they didn't tell me anything either, just that i was lucky

"Lucky how?"

to have made it, even when i didn't

"You did, though," she mumbles, fiddling with the ring again, "you—this part of you made it. Chris told me, Mom told me. You…even after you were…gone the first time, you…you came back. The important parts of you, they came back."

and i'm grateful for it, for you

"You're gonna make me cry," she mutters, scrunching up a little tighter.

i love you Rosie

"Shut up." It's empty and they both know it. A few extra sparkles swirl around and she could swear he's laughing. "I love you too."

Sunlight streams in through her tiny window and she finds herself looking at the way the leaves on the tree dapple the shadow across the floor. Part of her dad's words are still glowing. She looks at the nightstand, bare except for her charger and alarm clock, then over at the desk where her school stuff is, then at the dresser. She reaches out and touches the metal bedframe. It's cold underneath her fingers.

what's wrong?

"Nothing." The words remain and she sighs. "I'm just being mopey."

you're allowed to mope

"Someone at school said something today," she says before she can think better of it, and she winces at how young she sounds.

bullies?

"Not really, it wasn't even really about me, I just—it's stupid."

if you're upset it's not stupid

"They were just talking about this thing they got for their room, okay?" Embarrassment makes her curl her fingers into the loose fabric of her jacket. "It's this mirror thing that hooks up to your phone and lets you play music and stuff from there. They were just talking about it and I thought—see, I told you it was stupid."

There's another pause. The breeze rustles the leaves outside. The shadows dance over the walls.

do you want it?

"Not really…I don't like mirrors that much anyway. And it's not like they'd let me just have another thing that connects to the Internet in here." She glances at the alarm clock. "I barely got them to let me get a laptop for school stuff. I don't think they've got a 'Mold Bioweapon Allowance' in their budget."

The silence grows thoughtful. She turns her head to look at the floorboards again, watching the few sparkles there swirl around.

it's your room, they say finally, it should feel like it

Rose scoffs. "What am I supposed to do, walk up and ask them to sponsor a shopping trip?"

why not?

"They're not gonna do that. They're just gonna brush me off again or tell me they're busy."

you've tried?

"I told you, I barely managed to get a laptop, which is something I need to be able to do schoolwork or anything, even have a taste of what being normal is like. And even then I had to argue for like, ages, and I had to get one of my teachers to write an email saying that it's necessary." She swats the white pillowcase, bitterness seeping into her words. "Everything else isn't necessary. They're all about practicality, like I'm just some other expense they have to deal with."

what about Chris? or Mom?

"Chris isn't here. He's always off somewhere doing something or he's here glaring at me like I'm some stupid new recruit that he doesn't want to have to train. And Mom's…I don't want to bother her, you know? She's got her own life now."

she's your mom, come the words almost before she's done speaking, she'd want to know

Rose sighs, sitting up to lean against the headboard. She twists the ring around and around her finger, chewing on her lip. "I don't know. Sometimes it feels like she's…like she doesn't want to know."

Another pause. What her dad had said before, about them sharing a part of the mold—she can feel something in her chest. An emotion that isn't quite hers, something like a deep and exasperated sadness. It's faint, not quite enough to put words there, but she can tell when she needs to look back down at the floor.

she does love you, let her

"Okay. I'll try."

thank you

"Would you come shopping with me?" she asks, even when she knows the answer. "If you could?"

The room gets a little happier as the sparkles swirl around.

i'd spend all day with you

"What did you want to have in your room? When you were my age?"

telescope

"A telescope?" She laughs. "Did you want to be an astronaut?"

astronaut ew

She laughs again and the sunlight seems a little brighter.

***

3.

She meets Mom at a coffee shop near the big bookstore downtown. She's not wearing Dad's jacket—it still feels weird to do, even after Mom's said it's fine—but she has his ring on a necklace under her shirt. Mom waves her over to a table in the corner, nodding to the smoothie already waiting.

"Pineapple mango," she says as Rose sits down, "your favorite."

"Thanks, Mom." She takes a big drink, savoring the weird feeling the pineapple leaves on her tongue. "How're you?"

"I'm okay. Work's been getting busy again recently with the month's end rush." Mom swirls her straw around her coffee. "Did I tell you about this new thing our boss is trying to make us do?"

"No, what?"

"Apparently some young CEO in the area made it big on corporate social media about 'team building exercises,'" and Rose is already groaning in sympathy, "so he sent out this survey this past week about what activity we'd rather do."

"What were the options?"

"This group painting class thing, where we all paint the same picture—"

"Like in kindergarten?"

"Like in kindergarten," Mom agrees, "there's a bar-arcade place that's just opened up on the West Side that does private events, and then there's a good old-fashioned work dinner."

Rose makes a face. "That's it? No, like, crazy obstacle courses, or escape rooms, or anything?"

"We barely had the budget for the normal year-end stuff."

"So what did you vote for?"

"I ended up voting for the painting, actually—"

"What? Mom, that's so lame."

"Hey!" She jokingly flicks a napkin at Rose. "Lamer than the most awkward dinner you can imagine or sitting and drinking for a whole evening?"

"Isn't that what adults do? You sit and drink and talk?"

Mom sighs, shaking her head as they both laugh. "Yeah, well, I figured it might be better if we tried to do something that wasn't just sitting and drinking."

"I guess."

"Besides, I'm still missing something for the bathroom upstairs. Maybe I'll hang up whatever I manage to make there," she adds, winking at Rose.

It's supposed to be a joke at how bad at art she is—really, even Chris looked at her stick figures and struggled to find something nice to say, and Mom just laughed it off—but Rose's smile fades and she shuffles a little in the chair. She drinks more of her smoothie. Dad's words turn over and over in her head.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Mm?"

"Would you…" She fights the urge to reach for the ring. "Would you help me decorate my room?"

Mom's brow furrows. "At my house?"

"N-no, my…my room at the compound. It's stupid, never mind."

"It's not stupid, Rose," Mom says, picking up her coffee, "I'm just—I guess I'm just surprised. Most teens don't really want their parents anywhere near their rooms."

"Yeah, well, forget it."

A car drives by. Despite herself, she reaches for the ring anyway. Something warm pulses in her chest.

"It's just," she manages, "I don't really have anything in there. It's just the military stuff."

Mom's coffee cup hits the table with a thud. "What do you mean you don't have anything in there?"

"I mean, there's just a dresser, a desk, and a bed. And my little side table thing. They didn't really give me any—"

"How much time do you have?"

Rose blinks. "Huh?"

"How much time before you have to get back?" Mom's already getting up and putting the lid back on her coffee. "We're not that far from the big stores and I have my car."

"I, uh, I think I have a few hours, so—" she scrambles up too, reaching to grab Mom's arm— "wait, you're really okay with doing this?"

Mom pauses for a moment, then reaches out and covers Rose's hand with hers. "You're my daughter, Rosie, I'd love to help you decorate your room."

A lump appears in her throat and she swallows it down. "Thank you."

"Come on," Mom grins, "what are you thinking you want?"

"Uh, I was thinking maybe like a whiteboard? That way I could write down stuff that I might forget? Or like—a magnetic one so I could stick stuff to it?" She gets into Mom's car and they start driving. "Or a corkboard—I've seen a lot of people pin like, pictures and stuff to a corkboard on their walls."

"What if you get both? A corkboard to put pictures and cute stuff and then a whiteboard to write on?"

"I also want a lamp. The normal lights just make my head hurt. And they buzz, you know?"

"Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about. It's like the world's most annoying crickets, isn't it?"

"And there's no, like, in between! It's either no light at all or—"

"Or my eyes are being scorched out, that's right."

They pull into the parking lot of the store and get out, still bouncing ideas back and forth. Mom grabs a cart and they head straight for the stationary section and they spend about five minutes talking about the different corkboards and whiteboards. Then Rose decides she wants magnets so she can stick stuff to the whiteboard, then Mom spots a cute set of push pins, and then another mom and daughter walk by with one of those fancy photo printers that print out pictures from your phone like Polaroids, and they just have to get Rose one of those.

As they pick out lamps and wall decor and sheets that actually have some color, she's struck by how normal this is. She's with her mom. They're shopping for stuff for her room. They're freaking out over the pillows that have little penguins on them. She's actually smiling and laughing and she's excited. She can't wait to get back and put all this stuff in her room.

She just…wishes Dad could be here too.

"I think I'd prefer the yellow lampshade, but it's up to you." Mom looks up from the shelf to notice she's gone quiet. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Nothing, nothing," she says quickly, wiping surreptitiously at her face, "…just…I kinda wish Dad was here too."

Mom's fingers stutter on the box and for a moment, she thinks she's going to see those walls go up again, the ones that always go up when she tries to talk about Dad, but then Mom puts the box down and rubs at her wedding ring. She still wears it sometimes. Rose reaches for Dad's, under her shirt.

"I wish he was here too, Rosie," Mom says quietly, "he'd be so proud of you."

Rose swallows, and her eyes catch on a tiny monkey LED lamp further down the shelf. She picks it up. "I think he'd vote for this one, don't you?"

A hint of fond exasperation comes to Mom's face. "God, did I ever tell you what happened when he found out that you loved that little monkey you got when you were still a baby? He tried to buy everything monkey-themed he could find because he thought you might like it."

"Wait, really?"

"I had to get Chris to help me talk him out of buying an entire monkey crib for you."

Rose puts the monkey lamp in the cart. Mom smiles and they keep walking. They end up spending way more than she thought they'd be and sheepishly tries to put some stuff back, but Mom won't hear a word of it and bags everything up.

"Chris can help cover the cost if he's so worried about it," she declares as they pull back up to the meeting spot where the car is supposed to take Rose back to the compound, "anyway, all of this should have been done years ago."

"Thanks, Mom," Rose says, "I had fun."

"We should definitely do it again. I'll help you decorate your college dorm too."

Rose smiles and gets out of the car. It fades a bit when she sees Paul again, leaning against the side of the van with his arms crossed. She turns her back deliberately on him and goes to help Mom get all the bags out of the trunk.

"You're late," Paul says, like he has any right to sound like a smug, condescending asshole.

"By like five minutes. Open the trunk."

"What's all that?"

"Stuff. For my room."

"Well, I—hey!" Paul finally moves when Mom just opens the trunk and starts putting the bags inside.

"You must be the agent Rose told me about," Mom says, her voice saccharine as she dusts off her hands, "is that right, honey?"

"Yeah," she mumbles, "that's him."

"Paul," he says, "Ms. Winters."

"Mia." Mom holds out her hand and he takes it, Rose peering at them from under the brim of her hat. Her eyes widen when Mom yanks Paul closer to her, her smile fading as she hisses in his ear. "Call my daughter Eveline again and I'll break your nose, are we clear?"

Paul jerks in surprise, before turning his head slightly. "Stand down, it's fine, I can handle it."

"You can't afford to make a scene in such a public place," Mom says, her voice still perfectly even, "and Chris won't risk harming me or Rose. So you can start treating my daughter like a person or I can break your nose right now and Chris can clean up your mess."

Rose can't stop her snort as Paul sheepishly walks back to the front of the car and gets in. Mom watches him go before she turns around and says, loud enough for him to hear, "Make sure you send me pictures when you get it the way you want it, okay?"

"I will."

"And if you decide you want anything else, we'll get it next time."

"Thanks, Mom. I love you."

"I love you too, Rosie." She glares once more in Paul's direction before she walks back to her car.

Rose doesn't stop smirking as Paul drives them back to the compound. He slinks off with his tail between his legs after helping her get all her stuff into her room. She can't cover up the camera—and let them know she knows about it—but she can play her music out loud as she decorates, hanging up the little plants they found and pinning a few photos to her new corkboard. It still strikes her how normal all of this is, dancing to her music and putting up all of her new things, finally collapsing onto her now-colorful blankets with a laugh.

She texts a few photos to Mom, who responds with gushing reviews and excited emojis, before she rolls onto her side to look at the floor.

"What do you think?"

The words only take a second to appear.

it's beautiful, sweetie

"You were right," she murmurs, "it was really nice to let Mom take care of me a bit."

i'm glad

"Oh! I forgot to show you the best part!" Rose jumps off the bed and goes over to the far wall, switching on the fairy lights she hung from the ceiling amidst a bunch of fake vines. "Now the camera will just think the glowing is from the lights!"

Golden sparkles swirl beneath the soft glow.

you're so smart

"I mean," she blusters, trying not to show how pleased she is, "I was just tired of lying down to talk to you all the time."

i see, still clever

"Thanks." After a moment, she reaches over and picks up the little monkey lamp and her stuffed monkey, safely hidden beneath her pillows. "Mom told me you wanted to buy a monkey crib for me."

it would go with the onesie

"You got me a monkey onesie?"

mom has pictures

"I'll have to ask her next time." She chews on her lip, running her fingers over the seams of the monkey's ear. "I wish you could've been there."

me too

"Mom threatened to break Paul's nose if he was rude to me again." The light swirls as Dad laughs and she laughs too. "I'd kick him in the nuts too."

that's my girl

***

4.

"Stupid fucking dickhead," she spits as she slams the door, throwing her backpack onto the chair so hard it scrapes across the floor. "Fucking asshole! I'll fucking rip his head off, the fucking bastard!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a tiny sparkle from the floorboards, and she stomps over to the lights, turning them on. Almost immediately, golden words swirl up.

what happened?

"Your buddy Chris fucking happened!" Rose throws herself onto the bed and punches the pillow. "He keeps treating me like I'm some—some fucking gun that only he knows how to fire and I'm fucking sick of it!"

It had been especially bad today, too. Chris apparently woke up and decided yeah, today's the day I'm gonna be a total fucking asshole for no goddamn reason. He started them out sparring, which he never does, he always has them warm up first because it's important not to strain yourself, except apparently not today when she was thrown against the fucking ground three times before she could even open her mouth long enough to say hi.

Or maybe ask what the hell crawled up his ass that morning.

And then he kept fucking looking at her like he was disappointed! Like it was her fault she wasn't expecting to be slammed up against the wall or pinned to the ground by a man fucking three times her size and then grunted at when she winced in pain because that fucking hurt, you asshole! And he kept on saying these stupid little comments that just made her angrier and angrier and then he had the gall to be like hey, you need to get a handle on your emotions like he wasn't pushing every single fucking button he knew she had!

You need to be sharper, he'd said like he had any right to try and be reasonable as he almost dislocated her fucking shoulder, emotions make you sloppy.

Yeah, well, he could try being sharper when he was being bullied for no fucking reason.

And when she'd finally screamed at him that she was done, that she didn't want to fucking do this anymore, he had the fucking audacity, the nerve to scoff and cross his arms and tell her that no, she wasn't done, she was only done when he said she was done. And yeah, she hadn't really made the decision to rush at him after that, her body did that on its own, but he literally just tossed her aside like a fucking doll and then said she wasn't leaving until she could do the fucking stupid thing he wanted her to.

She tried. She really fucking did.

But she couldn't do it.

And Chris kept refusing to help, saying he'd been training her for so long already, that he'd wash her out if she were any other recruit—to which she'd screamed that she wasn't, so why the fuck was he being like this? And he didn't fucking answer! He just told her to try it again and he kept making her angrier and angrier and she could tell Chris was getting angry too which just made hers worse because what fucking right did he have to be mad at her? What the fuck did she do to him?

It ended really badly. She'd gotten so mad she'd thrown herself at him again, not caring about proper technique or what was smart or anything, she just went for him. He grappled her, obviously, and that was supposed to be their tap-out, fight's-over thing, but she hadn't stopped. She'd scratched him and punched him and kicked him even when he growled at her to yield, and when that didn't work, she'd bit him.

Chris fucking wrenched her off of him and threw her across the room and she heard three guns click.

They'd glared at each other, Chris holding his arm like it was a fucking biohazard, and then he'd stalked off without a word while agents forcibly shoved her back to her room.

She's panting by the time she finishes, glaring a hole in the wall right below where the words normally appear. Her hands still tingle from where she'd hit the walls and the pillows. She looks up when she sees the familiar swirl.

you shouldn't have bitten him

The anger surges up her arms and she clenches her fists. "That's all you have to say? No 'I'm sorry he was such a dick, Rose?' 'You didn't deserve that?' You're fucking defending him?"

i didn't say that

"I just told you that your friend, the person you told to watch over me and keep me safe was fucking bullying me for no goddamn reason and the only thing you can say is that I shouldn't have defended myself?" Betrayal steeps vehemence into her words. Her nails bite into her palms. "I'm fucking glad I bit him!"

he's trying to help

"How in the fuck is he trying to help," she cries, "by being as bad as the bullies in school? By treating me like a freak that needs to be kept muzzled and on a leash?"

you did bite him

She picks up one of the pillows and hurls it at the wall. It hits with a pathetic thwap and falls limply to the floor. It only makes her angrier when she sees the words calm down when the lights stop shaking.

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down! You're supposed to be on my side!"

i am

She barks out a humorless laugh and picks up the pillow, throwing it back on the bed. "You're not on my side, you're on his. I don't need you lecturing me too. Just leave me alone."

More golden words swirl as she turns away, throwing herself onto the bed and curling up tightly around her stuffed monkey. She chokes around the lump in her throat and wills herself not to cry. She'd almost cried in front of Chris today already, she won't give either of them the satisfaction of seeing her cry now. She won't, she won't, she won't! It's not fucking fair that Chris did that. It's not fucking fair that he gets to act however the fuck he wants and then she's the only one punished for it. He gets to go all over the fucking world and only see her when it's convenient to him and he gets to be an asshole about it.

Dad's not even alive.

A sob chokes out before she can stop it, and then it's too late. She's blubbering like she's a stupid fucking baby again and she can hear the echoes of their voices in her ears. All alone, poor freak Rose, crying like a baby who doesn't get her way. She's so weird, she's so stupid, she can't do it. She's useless, she's not strong enough. Just go away. No one wants you here. No one wants you. No matter how hard she presses her hands to her ears, they won't fucking shut up!

Maybe she should've fucking kept the purifying crystal. Maybe she should've left with no powers and had a normal fucking life. Maybe she should've just left her dad to—

As soon as the thought threatens to cross her mind, she recoils from it. Guilt and anger war in her gut as she nearly grows sick. How could she fucking think that? After all he'd done to save her, protect her, how could she think about something like that, even if it was in a fit of rage?

A strangled noise escapes her throat and the bruises and injuries from her humiliating 'sparring session' abruptly make themselves known. Her body screams in pain; her shoulders ache, the bruise on her ribs throbs, and her jaw feels like it's about to explode. She has the hysterical impulse to bite herself and she wonders if it would hurt more than everything else. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpses a glow coming from the floorboards now and she curls up tighter, burying her face in the monkey's tummy. Fuck it, she's been called overly emotional and childish enough times already, she may as well throw her tantrum properly.

It's like falling into the Megamycete again; she has no idea how long she lies there, wallowing in her own emotional turmoil. Flashes of the bullies, of Chris's stupid fucking face, of watching herself get tossed around and left behind…even stranger things like massive castles filled with screams and horror, creepy old houses that just feel like tombs, deep water and clanking metal, all filled with whispers of freak, dangerous, stupid child, not good enough. Everything is too loud and too quiet and she just wants it to be over.

When she finally manages to rouse herself from whatever malaise she'd fallen into, the sun has long set. Her clock shows that it's close to 10—that would explain why her stomach is trying to dig a hole in her intestines. The anger fled unknown hours ago, leaving her weary and wrung out. In its absence, she no longer feels like the bioweapon that she's supposed to be, only the scared and lonely child. It's cold. She's hungry.

There's still a soft golden glow coming from over the side of the bed.

Her lip wobbles. She doesn't want to face the consequences of yelling at her dad and throwing a pillow at him, but she can't stop the blooming warmth that he didn't leave. She crawls to the edge of the bed and peeks over.

i'm sorry Rose

She sniffles and rubs her cheek on the sheets. "'M sorry too."

you were right, i should've been on your side

"You're always on my side," she mumbles, "I know you are."

still

She sniffles again and tucks the monkey under her chin. "Why was Chris so mean today? Did I do something wrong?"

i don't think so, sometimes he's just like that

"Why?" She's ignoring how much she sounds like a baby, thank you. "It's not fair."

no it's not sweetie

Rose closes her eyes, basking in the soft glow of her dad's comfort. "Was he ever mean to you when you were training?"

yeah

"What did you do?"

broke his nose once

It startles a laugh out of her. "You what? Wait, what happened?"

he was being an asshole, so i punched him

She giggles again, both at the image of Chris's surprised face with a broken nose and at the fact that her dad got so angry with Chris that he punched him hard enough. A few more golden sparkles surround the words before they change again.

you shouldn't try it though

"Aw," she complains, mostly for show, "but you did it."

do as i say not as i do

She's quiet. After a moment, she lets her arm hang down to touch the words again. They glow gently. "I don't like fighting with you."

me neither

"I'm sorry. I was being a brat."

The words swirl up quicker than she's ever seen.

you were upset at something unfair, not a being a brat

She sniffles again, reaching over to grab a hanky and blow her nose with a sharp honk. She throws it over to the laundry basket and lies back down. The words have changed.

if you need to hear it, i forgive you

"I forgive you too."

rest

She nestles up against the pillows. "Will you stay until I go to sleep?"

of course sweetie, i love you

***

5.

Mostly Rose doesn't dream. She'll close her eyes and open them again and it will be hours later and it's time to get up. Most of the time when she does dream, it's weird half-memories that aren't hers mixed with something she does actually remember. She has dreams of a house with a red chimney being taken apart by little robotic goats, or of a crocodile swimming through a swamp filled with dead crows, or of bugs crawling over test tubes and dirty flasks. Some of them make sense when she digs into the files she's not really supposed to have access to, some of them don't.

On rare, awful occasions, she has nightmares.

She's been curled up and unmoving for who knows how long, desperately trying to feign sleep. The mold in her keeps prickling like there's something else in the room, watching her, just waiting for a sign that she's awake to pounce. Her white-knuckled grip hasn't wavered either. She dares hardly breathe; even though her rational brain knows there's nothing there, there can't be anything there, her entire body is screaming. She can feel the milky sweat beginning to ooze from her palms.

Something creaks.

She goes stiff as a board.

A creak, a groan, a rumble as the air conditioning turns on and she forces herself to relax, cracking open one eye to see that yes, this is just her room, there's nothing to be afraid of here, she's fine.

Her eyes land on the switch to the fairy lights.

The small and whimpering part of her lunges for them, for the warm glow of the light, her dad's words, in lieu of running to her parents' bed to be comforted. The other part hisses that the second she moves, whatever's lurking in the dark will strike. The monkey wheezes as she tightens her grip, staring at the innocuous plastic box hanging against the wall.

With a sudden burst, she launches herself from the bed, slapping the button, and curling back up beneath the safety of the blankets.

Immediately, the soft warm light chases away the worst of the shadows and she can peek over her shoulder to assure herself that yes, nothing is there, she's safe in her room, everything's okay. Golden sparkles are already swirling, a quiet inquisitiveness filling that one empty part in her chest as she lies back down. He's rotated his words so she can read them easily.

what's the matter, sweetie?

"Nightmare," she whispers, more into her pillow than anything else.

i'm sorry

She curls up tighter, trying to pull the blankets up almost over her head. The sweat's almost ruined her monkey—she's going to have to wash it again—and she wipes her hands on the sheet. The absence of it hits the cold air and she shivers, hunching tighter in the covers and sniffling. A sudden and sharp ache sears through her chest and she shudders, harder this time, only the top of her nose peeking out over the comforter. She's so cold. Not in the way where she can pile more blankets on and it'll go away—she could put the whole world on top of her and she would still be cold. This horrible, achy, exhausting cold that seeps into her bones and makes her want to cry.

what can i do?

"You said in your—in your letter," she hiccups, "that you'd hold me when I had nightmares, and—and sing to me until I went back to sleep."

But the words on her wall are just words and words can't hold anybody.

She wants a fucking hug, goddamnit. No one touches her anymore, not unless they're running some stupid test, or sparring, or escorting her roughly down the hallway like some—some prisoner. The last time someone touched her and it wasn't that it was Mom, telling her she'd help decorate her room and that was so long ago, everyone else just—just—

"I want to go home," she sobs and it lands like a dead weight in the still room.

what do you mean?

"I want to go home, I want to go back to that house you showed—showed me when I was in there, where you—where your memories are and I can actually h-hear you and it's warm an'—an' safe, and you love me," she cries, not caring that it's the middle of the night and she's talking to a wall, "no one here loves me. No one loves me, the doctors think I'm some—some experiment that's run too—too long and the agents all think I'm a l-liability and Mom's not here because she gave me up and Chris h-hates me."

he doesn't hate you sweetie

"He does! He does, he does, I can feel it." She hugs her monkey tightly to her chest. "He h-hates me for being the reason you're not—you're not here anymore and he hates me for reminding him that you're dead and he hates me for—for being like this and—and—and—!"

shh…shh…shh…

But he's not here and she can't hear him shushing her and she's all alone in her cold, dark room and she wants to go home.

don't cry, Rosie, it's gonna be okay sweetie

"It's not. 'S not okay."

The wall doesn't move for a moment, then it swirls again.

scoot back, i'm going to try something

Frowning, she does, shuffling awkwardly back until she's on the far side of the bed. The golden light swirls around for another second, before it writes itself on one of the pillows.

hug me

"D—Michael?"

i'm right here sweetie, i love you so much

With trembling fingers, she reaches for the pillow, touching the words with a soft gasp as they glow warmly against her still-slick palms. A sob of disbelief leaves her throat and she bundles it to her chest, burying her face in it. A soft scratching and buzzing fills her ears as more words write themselves across the pillow, but she doesn't pull her face away to read them. Not when this is the closest thing to hugging her dad she's been since she was in the deepest stratum of the Megamycete, crying over his dying body. Not when she's still so cold and the words are so, so warm. She tucks her face into the crook of the pillow's embrace and she cries.

The words don't stop writing themselves over and over and if she focuses hard enough, it almost sounds like her dad is humming.

She falls into a light sleep, not willing to miss a moment of actually being so close to her dad, soothed by his presence. Soon, light has begun to break through the window, the auto timer on the lights long since activated to switch them off. The pillow is all gross from a mixture of drool, snot, and tears, and she sheepishly tries to wipe it away when a small glow comes from underneath.

it's okay

"It's kinda gross."

my privilege, i'm your dad

"Still."

ew, remember?

A watery smile. "Thanks."

i love you so much, i'm so proud of you

"I love you too," she mumbles back, curling her arms around the pillow. Another set of words writes itself and she leans back.

do you really think Chris hates you?

"I don't know. He…he looks at me like he can't sometimes. Or like he's waiting for me to…I don't know, turn crazy or bad or like he's waiting for me to turn into you, almost." She rubs her fingers over the pillowcase. "He used to be nicer."

have you spoken since?

She doesn't need to ask what he's talking about. "No. He's been out of town again. He's supposed to be back, um…"

She leans over to check her phone, eyes widening when she sees the date.

"Uh, today. Shit, I actually think we're supposed to have a training thing today."

Before more words can write themselves, there's a knock on her door. She freezes, phone still in her hand, pillow clutched close.

"Rose?" Fuck. "It's Chris. Can I come in?"

be brave, says the last flutter of words before her dad vanishes, i love you

"…yeah."

Chris opens the door. Rose tugs on her dad's jacket over her pajamas and clutches the pillow in her lap. She doesn't look at him. He moves around a little in the doorway before he shuts it with a click. After a moment, the bed dips and groans under his weight and she sneaks a glance at his arm. Her bite mark is still there.

"Surprised they let you walk around before that healed."

"You didn't even break the skin."

It's probably meant to come off in a way that means she doesn't have to worry about it, but it stings anyway. She turns away again.

A car drives by outside.

"I owe you an apology," Chris says finally, his voice low and gruff, "I shouldn't have been so harsh. I'm sorry."

She doesn't reply, but she shifts to face the window instead of the wall.

"There's been talk of getting you moved to another squad," he continues, and her stomach drops—is Chris leaving too?— "and I thought…if I could prove that you were good with us, that we had it all under control, then they'd drop it. Leave you alone."

At the rustle as he shifts, she glances over at him. His jaw works and his hand twitches on his knee.

"I thought…" He trails off, then scoffs at himself, shaking his head. "I don't know what I thought."

He turns to meet her gaze and her gut clenches at the obvious guilt and remorse she can see there. She swallows.

"You were mean." Her voice comes out a lot smaller than she'd hoped. She swallows and tries again. "I thought you hated me."

"I don't hate you, Rose," he says in a rush, turning to face her, "please don't think that."

"So you're not trying to get rid of me?"

"Shit, Rose, no, I'm not trying to get rid of you. You're—I think Mia'd kill me if I tried, no, I'm just—" he takes a breath— "I'm just trying to keep you safe, okay?"

"Then you should've said something! I would've trained harder if I knew—we could've—I would've done something else, did I do something wrong?"

"No," he insists, shaking his head, "no, you didn't do anything wrong."

Relief begins to pool warily in her chest. Her grip on the pillow loosens and she scoots a little closer. "I'm sorry I bit you."

He shakes his head again. "It's fine. You, uh, you have good bite strength."

"Good bite strength?"

"Yeah. Your contact's really good." He gestures to the bite mark on his arm. "Got all of them in there too."

"Thanks," she says, laughing a little. Chris smiles and it's a bit easier to breathe. She gives herself a shake. "So, what's today? Weapons, sparring, how to punch boulders?"

"Actually, I, uh, thought we'd go get ice cream."

Rose pauses, looking up at him, blinking as if she'd heard wrong. "Ice cream?"

"Weather's gonna get cold soon, the good place around the corner's gonna close." He shrugs. "Been craving it."

"Yeah…yeah, ice cream sounds good."

"Great."

And before she can think too much of it, she throws herself at him and hugs him for all she's worth. She feels him stutter, not quite sure what to do, and then his arms slowly wrap around her, holding her just as tightly. And oh, she's on fire, Chris is big and warm and solid and he's holding her like she's something special and she's gonna fucking cry her eyes out if she stays here a moment longer and she's gonna die if she lets go. Chris lets out a noise of dismay when she sniffles and scoops her up, like she's a little kid again, holding her in his lap and now she's making a mess of his shoulder too.

She could swear she feels Dad smile.

***

+1.

"I'm telling you," Rose says as she lounges on her bed, "you're wrong about the cover. It's actually pretty good."

i like the classics

"Yeah, well, you're old and boring, so that makes sense."

:(

The sight of the old-fashioned emoticon frowny face makes her burst out laughing. "Oh my god, that's so lame. I don't think I've seen someone use that in years."

it's a classic!

"You gotta get with the times!"

totes dope fam

Rose winces at the immense amount of psychic damage those three words dealt, her neck protesting as she almost cringes it out of alignment. "No, D—Michael, just no."

lol

She tosses the pillow playfully at the wall again, laughing when another frowny face appears on both it and the wall. "Aww, okay, I'm sorry, here."

She picks it up and cuddles it and the frowny face turns to a smiley face. Lying back down, grin still on her face, she toys with his ring. It's gotten shinier from all the rubbing, except where she ties the cord around it so she can wear it as a necklace. She turns it this way and that, watching the sunlight glint off of it. As she does, she catches sight of the engraving on the inside.

Always and forever.

"Do you want me to tell Mom and Chris about you?"

The words swirl for a moment.

up to you

She pushes herself to sit up, propped on one elbow. The ring glistens as she slides it back onto her finger, turning it to and fro. "I don't know. It feels bad keeping something like this from them, but I want to be selfish about it too, you know? I kind of like having you all to myself."

it's not selfish

"And what if Chris thinks it's bad?" She twists the ring harder. "What if he tries to take you away from me?"

i won't let that happen

Her shoulders drop a little and she picks up the pillow again, cuddling into it. A few words write themselves across it just so she can feel their warmth and she rubs her cheek against it. "Don't you miss them?"

all the time

A melancholy that isn't hers hangs in her chest and she squeezes the pillow again. "Then should I? They miss you too, you know. I think they'd be happy to, you know, hear from you again."

The words fade and the wall glows again as he thinks. She lets him have his time, rubbing the ring back and forth, listening to the slight rattle it makes as it spins around her too-small finger. When she hears the familiar soft scratch again, she looks up.

they're happy now, i don't want to ruin that

"They're not happy," she can't help but say, "they still miss you."

content, then

"You wouldn't be ruining anything," she argues, "I thought—I thought I'd never get to see you again after I got out of there. The day I heard you again? That was the happiest moment of my life."

mine too sweetie, or my un-life i guess

The words glow brighter as her fingertips glow too. She gets up and lays her hand against the wall, smiling as their powers dance together. "I really think they'd be happy."

A pulse of warmth runs up her arm to her chest as the words shift once more.

when you think the time is right

"I'll tell you, I promise."

i'm so proud of you, Rose, i love you so much

"I love you too."

That time doesn't come on their terms, though, because that would be easy. No, instead it's when she and Chris are over at Mom's house for dinner and Chris asks a question out of nowhere that almost makes her spit all over the table.

"What?" Mom asks as Rose glares a hole in Chris's stupid forehead.

"I said," Chris says like an unrepentant asshole, "who's Michael?"

"Michael?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rose mutters, staring down at her lap.

"I was coming to get you for training last week and you were talking to someone called Michael." Chris takes a bite of steak and talks with his mouth full, like an asshole. "So who is he?"

Mom elbows her, winking. "Someone you like?"

"What? Ew, gross, no!"

Chris and Mom just laugh and Mom elbows her again. "Don't worry, I was your age once too. That's how I reacted when my mom asked me about my crush."

"Michael isn't my crush!"

"Boyfriend, then?"

"No, he's not my—" she covers her face and sighs. "He's not my boyfriend, he's not my crush, he's not someone from school, happy?"

"So who is he?"

Well, fuck it, no time like the present. She pushes back from the table, muttering about using the bathroom. They wait until she's halfway up the stairs to start talking again, their voices low in that way where she knows they're still talking about her, but she pays them no mind as she goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. She braces her hands on either side of the sink and takes a deep breath.

"I'm guessing you heard all that."

The words swirl up right below the mirror.

yeah

"I mean, it's not like we'll get a better opportunity."

probably not

"Are you ready?"

are you?

She rubs at the chip in the linoleum and turns on the cold water, just to make sure there's no milky sweat on her hands. "I'm nervous."

me too

"No matter what happens," she says firmly, "no matter what they do or say, I'm here for you, okay? I've got your back. I love you."

i'm so proud of you, sweetie, i love you too

The words glow cheerfully against the weird tile pattern and she reaches out to touch them. They share a moment before the words fade and she takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders in the mirror and nodding to herself. "Right. Let's do this."

She marches back downstairs and Mom and Chris do a horrible job of pretending not to be nosy and expectant. She sits back down and folds her hands in her lap.

"I'll tell you who Michael is," she begins, "but you have to promise not to tell anyone else."

"I promise, honey," Mom says, miming zipping her lips shut.

"Chris, you promise too."

Chris looks at her for a moment like he's going to disagree, then he winces as Mom kicks him under the table. "I promise too."

"Good." She takes another breath and reaches for the ring around her neck. The second she brings it out from under her shirt, Chris's silverware clatters against the plate and Mom inhales sharply.

"Rose," she says shakily, "where did you get that?"

"Before I said yes to joining you," Rose says, "I met K outside the lab. He told me there might be a way to get rid of my powers for good."

Chris frowns. "K never said anything like that to me, what do you—"

"I'm getting there. He took me to the lab where there was a piece of the Megamycete, and said that—"

"He what?"

"Will you both just listen to me?" The two of them quiet down. "Thank you. So, like I was saying, he took me to see the piece of it and said that there was a purifying crystal that Miranda discovered that could take the mold out of someone. All I had to do was look through the Megamycete's index of consciousness to see if I could find it."

"That's incredibly dangerous, Rose," Mom says quietly, and Chris looks like he's trying to strangle his fork. "Please tell me you didn't—"

"I wanted them gone," she interrupts, looking at her Mom, "they were—I was just a freak with no friends. Someone offered me the chance to be normal, are you telling me you wouldn't have done the same thing if you were a teenager?"

Mom looks at her for a long moment, but she doesn't disagree. Rose squeezes the ring and keeps going.

"It wasn't that easy, obviously. It was…really hard. And really scary. I had to fight my way through these, like, twisted versions of the places in Miranda's village, like that big castle and the creepy doll house, and there were all these versions of me that kept getting killed and tortured, I fought a version of Eveline too—"

"Rose," Chris tries to say but she doesn't let him.

"—but I had help," she continues. "There was something helping me. It helped me figure out where to go, what to do, gave me a gun and taught me how to use it. There were these glowing words that would appear when I needed them most and it…it was like having a guardian angel."

"Michael," Chris says, and she nods.

"Yeah, I called him Michael. He—he kept trying to get me to leave, said that it wasn't safe, but I wanted to find the crystal and so he helped me. And then we found out K wasn't actually K and it was all a trap set by Miranda—"

"It was what?"

Chris is already getting up. "Is she still in there? Do we need to—"

"Sit down, Chris, it's fine, we beat her. She's dead now, like, really, actually dead. She crystalized and turned to dust, I saw it."

His face still looks like he ate a lemon, but Chris sits slowly back down. He exchanges a worried look with Mom and she puts her hand on Rose's shoulder. "You said 'we?'"

"Me and Michael." She looks down at the ring and turns it over in her hand. "Until I found out who he really was."

Mom gasps, a small and shuddery thing. She holds her hand over her mouth and stares at Rose. "Ethan."

Chris makes a noise too as Rose nods. "Yeah. It was him the whole time. He…he protected me. From Miranda, from Eveline, from everything."

"He loved you so much, honey," Mom whispers, her eyes growing wet, "he never stopped loving you."

"He showed me our house in Romania," and to her horror, she can feel her voice growing thick too, "with all his memories. I heard his voice, Mom, he—he wrote me a letter, did you know?"

"Yes," Mom says, trying not to sob, clutching her shoulder, "yeah, honey, I know. He cried so much while he was writing it, he wanted you to get old enough to read it with him, oh, Rose…"

She swipes a hand under her nose and turns to Chris, who's doing that big, tough, I'm-too-manly-for-my-emotions-right-now thing and reaches for him too. After a moment, his hand turns and covers hers. He's trembling. "He taught me how to fight, Chris. We—we fought together. He shot the monsters in the face with a shotgun and gave me his power so I could kill Miranda, once and for all."

Chris swallows heavily. "Your dad was…he was one of the best men I've ever known, Rosie. He would be so proud of you." He sniffs. "You said he shot them in the face with a shotgun?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah, that sounds like Ethan, alright." Mom laughs and it sort of sounds like a sob but she and Chris are smiling now, so it's okay. Chris looks back at her and nods a few times. "So you were talking to him, then?"

"Yeah. When you walked by on Tuesday, I think it was…yeah, we were arguing about whether the original Blade Runner was better than 2049." She wrinkles her nose. "He said the original was better but I like the remake."

Chris frowns. "What do you mean, he said—"

The words scrawl over Mom's dining table, illuminating their faces.

i like the classics, that's all

Rose would laugh at the way Chris almost falls out of his chair if his hand and Mom's weren't trembling. She looks at Mom, who stares at the glowing words, and at Chris, who looks like he's about to be sick.

Mom breaks the silence first. "…Ethan?"

The words move, now right next to her forgotten plate.

hi honey

"You're—you're—"

bad at staying dead?

Mom's breath leaves her like she's been punched in the gut. "Oh, Ethan, I—I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry—"

breathe, it's okay

She squeezes Mom's hand as she takes a few shaky breaths. "What—how is this possible?"

rose

"We're both part of the mold," Rose says when Mom looks to her, "he's…he's using my part right now, we're sort of sharing it."

told her i'm not a scientist, figured you'd get it :)

"No one uses those anymore," Mom mumbles and Rose whispers a quiet told you so! as the smiley turns to a frowny for a moment, before the words change again.

i know it's been hard, i'll always love you

"Oh, Ethan," Mom whispers, reaching out to touch the words. She gasps as a flicker of warmth pulses through them and Rose squeezes her hand again. "I miss you."

i miss you too

Another glow flickers up next to Chris, who startles and stares down at the words in shock.

you too

"E-Ethan, I—" he cuts himself off as the words swirl again.

thank you for taking care of my daughter

Chris swallows heavily. "She's incredible, Ethan. You should be proud of her."

always am

"I'm sorry," Chris whispers, and something in Rose's gut clenches at how close to tears he looks too, "if I'd been faster, we could've gotten you out of there, we could've…"

it's okay, Chris, we're all okay

"You're dead."

i died in 2017, doing pretty well considering

"He is really bad at staying dead," Rose adds, "Miranda said so too. You should've seen her, she was so mad at us."

Chris looks like he's having a hard time deciding whether he wants to laugh or cry. The sparkles swirl again.

she's a fighter, she gets that from you too

His free hand jerks and Rose squeezes the one in hers. "You can touch, Chris, he won't bite. That's my thing."

it won't hurt, promise

Chris takes a deep breath and slowly touches the words. His breath leaves him in a rush as they glow warmly under his fingers. Rose smiles as she feels the mold connect all of them there, in that moment, through her and Ethan. Some part of her clicks into place. As if he can feel it too, which he probably can, another set of words appears in front of her.

we're so proud of you, Rosie

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbles as she feels heat rush to her cheeks, "shut up."

no :)

Mom laughs. "We finally have all three of us together again and you want us to not tell you how proud we are of you?"

"They've got a point, Rosie."

"I'll break your nose!"

"No, no," Mom says as Chris squawks, even though she's still smiling, "no breaking Chris's nose."

even if he deserves it

"Hey!"

As they all laugh together, Ethan's words still glowing in the warm, quiet house, Rose sits back in her chair and twists her dad's ring around her finger. Sure, being a mold bioweapon teenager was weird, but if this is the family she gets to have because of it, it can't be all bad.

[starsarefire824]

For @wheelersboy @foodiewithdahoodie my madwheeler besties. 🖤 @perexcri tagging you too Babe cause Reasons™️.

Based off of @wheelersboy’s post from a few days ago. 😩

Kind of Best Friend

Hey Mike,

I'm not going to call you Shitface like I normally would, since, if you're reading this it probably means I'm dead or passed on or maybe just stuck in some agonizing hell with Vecna somewhere. I won't really know, will I? But the truth still is, if you're reading this, it means I'm not here anymore. And that's okay.

I mean I’m scared shitless right now, but you know it's like you said. Remember that one night at the quarry late last summer when the rest of the Party ditched us to go see Ferris Bueller for the four hundredth time? I had just broken up with Lucas and you were missing Will really badly and I was missing Billy. And we both were missing El. You had your feet hung over the edge of the quarry and I was scared I was going to fall. You threw your arm around my shoulder and chucked a rock into the pit. Then you drunkenly told me that every atom in our body was a billion years old and that if you really thought about it, it meant that we were made up of energy and that it would always be bouncing around the universe until the end of time. And you said that that really helped you when you couldn’t get Will being pulled out of the quarry out of your head.

Sometimes I think about that when Billy’s in my dreams too much.

And so yeah, if you're reading this maybe my brain isn't here and I can't fight you on any of your stupid ass plans anymore. And we can't sneak out of the lunch room to the alley between the art and science wing and eat lunch by ourselves when Eddie is being too insane. But maybe I'm still here somehow. Like the swirl of cream in your coffee in the morning or the wind kissing your hand. Like when you hung it out your dad's car window that one night when he picked the four of us up from the mall, and we were all too high to risk talking out loud. I watched your fingers glide through the air from the backseat and wished I thought anything else was as pretty as when the sky was periwinkle purple and the lightning bugs rushed by.

We never talked that night, after we had that awkward conversation in the parking lot while Dustin and Lucas were in the video store. We just sat in silence and watched two stupid comedies until one in the morning because you knew I didn’t want to go home. It was the nicest thing you ever did for me. I get that you like the quiet sometimes. I'm not Will. I know that. But I want you to know that you've weirdly become one of the best friends I've ever had. And I guess we can thank Mrs. Kelly for sitting us next to each other in 10th grade math for that. Who knew that getting high off sharpie markers and planning various murder plots to off Troy could be something to bond over.

I mean, you're still a total idiot, and you've been way too moody and a complete asshole to pretty much everyone since El and Will left. And you really do need to clean up your fucking armpit of a basement. Seriously Mike...if Hawkins isn't totally destroyed and you and Lucas and Dustin and the rest of them somehow make it out of this. Please, for the love of god, can you clean your basement. And afterwards, get everyone together, eat too much pepperoni pizza, and play a campaign for me. I'm sure Eddie can help you with that. And tell Dustin I’m sorry for making fun of him when he asked to sit in for Lucas. The truth is I wanted to play—but you know. I just couldn’t.

And speaking of the truth. Please! Do not waste any more of your or my time not being honest with yourself. I am El's best friend. I would kill you for her in a split second. You are aware of this right? But I know you Mike. I know the real reason why you've been so sad since the Byers moved to California. And now that I'm dead I can say this. It doesn't matter what it means. You need to be honest with yourself and be honest with Will and El.

You need to be brave Mike. It's fucking important. It really sucks, but it’s true that you never know when you might find out your life is over.

Don't do what you think is right. Do what your heart really wants. El will understand. El doesn't need you.

But Will does. So fucking fix it.

And also...just….thanks. For sitting with me when no one else would.

Your kind of best friend,

Mad Max

PS. My mom was wasted one time and told me you were her favorite friend of mine. And also, I am sorry for that one time when you slept over my house after we drank at the quarry. I was lonely and sad and way too drunk. But yeah, El and Will are lucky to have someone as nice as you…. with noodle arms that turns out are great for hugs.

When you're not being a whiny bitch anyway.

Also if you ever tell anyone about that night. Or for that matter, any of the nice things I just said about you in this letter... I WILL KILL YOU. I DON'T CARE IF I’M DEAD.

Mike chuckles a broken sob and sweeps a tear from the lined notebook page that Max has splattered with her bubbly handwriting in blue ink. It smears some of her words and he curses.

"Shit!" he hisses, wiping his snotty nose with the back of his hand and shifting quickly to spread the paper out flat on his bed. He tries to iron out a few of the creases and rereads some of his favorite lines, laughing all over again. He can hear her voice as she makes fun of him, can see the crease at her brow and the disgusted squint of her blue eyes. Eyes that flashed at him with hatred one minute and humor the next. His laugh grows thinking of her face, red hair wild and staring up at him from whatever short person's world she inhabited. Mike laughs to himself until he can't breathe. He laughs and laughs, until those laughs turn to sobs and the tears flow down his face and drip off his nose. He never expected it but the hole ripped open inside his chest at the thought of Max being gone forever is utterly agonizing.

Eventually, his lungs find air again and the tears stop falling. His body is completely exhausted and his eyes are red rimmed and raw. He dries his face and knits his brow together with determination, squinting over at the radio he left lying on his desk before he left for California. She's not dead, he thinks with determination. Max is lying in Hawkins Hospital, broken and sleeping. But not dead.

[lauriemarch]

i feel stupid with age– my tongue has become a numb, angry thing that can only swear with the rage of a teenaged girl (fuck you, you motherfucker, you're the lousiest bitch in this joint, he's an asshole and a fucking idiot, what the fuck, amirite?!) and my fingers type with the same ease and expertise of a newborn. i'm getting older and i'm getting dumber, i'm so sure of it, my brain was everything when i was seventeen and i could set the world on fire if i even had the inkling.

i believed in myself when i was young in a way that i can't fathom at this old-bones age, this spry young thing wrapped up in a spinster's bones, clawing red and bloodied at the flesh that is pockmarked with mosquito bites and acne scars that won't give the hell up. and my mom has always told me that swearing makes me seem less intellectual so i leave it out of my writing but honest to God, i've never felt as brilliant as when i was using words like dipshit and bitch-ass and goddamn and balancing precariously on them, like a newborn baby deer, still trying to figure out how the world really felt about me.

now i'm clumsy and wise. my heart has been broken and i've been to the hairdresser all on my own and i pay a rent that's too high for a city that hates me a little too much. i have an EBT card. i think about becoming an influencer, because that's probably a hell of a lot easier than getting a graduate degree. i don't write anymore, i have a google doc full of first sentences to stories i'll never hear the end of (my play about Goneril, the scorned eldest daughter of King Lear. fanfiction for a litany of tv shows i enjoy. a sad stringing together of flash fiction i write about my own life when my tears can only compress themselves into a mess of the english language.) and i begin drafts of tumblr rantings that i can never screw the cap all the way on.

i wrote something about six months ago that gets pretty regular traction, and the novelty has worn off. people call me soft and bitchy in the comments for writing about something that still sends dull aches through me when i give it the time of day. i'm getting dumber as i get older, sacrificing all of the energy i gripped like hot, wet heat, for the definitive understanding of a world who doesn't want to give anything in return.