#Raise my expectations of myself and tell me I don't deserve to even know things

[brunettemarionette]

Idiots Together

💜 pairing. Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

🔮 summary. Eddie's been acting weird and you confront him but when he blames his attitude on being '"tired" you don't believe him.

🌙 tw/ none. just fluffy goodness.

✨ wc. 1.5k

You've noticed it for a while now—Eddie's been acting strange. Since the two of you started hanging out more outside your usual group alone, there's been this weird tension in the air.

It's not the usual kind of weird, either. It's not like the typical Eddie Munson weird, where he rambles about Dungeons & Dragons or talks about the latest Metallica album with that wild look in his eyes.

No, this was different.

Right now, you're sitting on the worn couch in Eddie's trailer, your legs pulled up underneath you as you watch him pace back and forth across the living room.

He's restless, his fingers fidgeting with the rings on his hands, and you can't help but feel like there's something he's not telling you. He hasn't cracked a single joke in the last twenty minutes, which is unheard of.

You lean back into the cushions, crossing your arms. "Alright, spill it. What's going on with you?"

Eddie freezes mid-step, his back turned to you. He's been avoiding eye contact for most of the night, and now he just stands there, staring at the ground.

For a second, you think maybe he didn't hear you, but then you see his shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath.

"I don't know what you mean," he mutters, but there's something in his voice—nervousness, maybe? You've never heard Eddie sound nervous before, not like this.

"You've been acting weird," you say, cutting to the point. "Like, really weird. You're not joking around, can't sit still, and won't even look at me. So, what's up? Did I do something wrong?"

That last part hangs in the air, and you instantly regret saying it. Of course, this couldn't be your fault, but still… part of you wonders if Eddie's mad at you. Maybe you've said or done something without realizing it.

Eddie finally turns to face you, and the look in his eyes catches you off guard. There's something raw in them, something vulnerable like he's been holding back a dam of emotions, and it's on the verge of breaking. "You didn't do anything wrong," he says quickly. "It's me."

That's not the answer you expected, and you raise an eyebrow, trying to make sense of what he's saying. "What do you mean it's you?"

He sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. "I haven't been sleeping much, okay? I'm, like, sleep-deprived out of my mind right now."

You tilt your head, not convinced. Sure, Eddie always looks a little rough around the edges, but he doesn't seem like he's about to collapse from lack of sleep.

There's something more, and you can tell he's avoiding it. "Eddie," you say softly, "I know you. This isn't just about not getting enough sleep. Come on, talk to me."

There's a long pause where Eddie stares at you like he's debating whether to say whatever he's been holding back. Then, suddenly, the dam breaks.

"I always had the biggest crush on you," he blurts out, and your heart skips a beat. "I've had this stupid, massive crush on you for, like, forever. And I don't know how to act normal around you right now because I'm freaking out, okay? That's why I'm being weird. It's not you, it's me. I just… I don't know how to do this."

You stare at him, your mind racing to catch up with what he just said. Eddie Munson—your best friend, the guy who's always been the dorky, playful one who's never taken anything seriously—has a crush on you?

"Eddie…" you start with a slight whisper, but he interrupts you before you can say anything.

"I know it's crazy," he says, clearly frustrated with himself, running both hands through his hair. "I shouldn't have said anything. I don't want to make things weird between us. But I'm tired, and I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore. You're my best friend and deserve to know the truth."

You're still trying to process it all, but the one thing that stands out to you is the look in Eddie's eyes. He's scared—…scared of how you will react, scared of losing you, or whatever this could mean for your friendship.

And in that moment, you realize something: maybe you've always felt something for him, too, but you never let yourself acknowledge it. You get up from the couch and take a step towards him. Eddie watches you carefully, his heart in his throat, waiting for whatever comes next.

"Eddie," you say softly, "you don't have to be weird around me. It's okay." You reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently. The relief that washes over his face is immediate, and he finally smiles for the first time all night.

Maybe things will be a little different now, but you have a feeling it will be okay. After all, Eddie's always been there for you, and now it's your turn to be there for him—no matter where this might lead.

Eddie stares down at your intertwined hands, his fingers curling instinctively around yours like he's afraid to let go. You can see the tension start to melt from his shoulders, but his eyes still hold that uncertainty—the kind that makes your heart ache just a little.

"You really mean that?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper as if he's still trying to make sense of what just happened.

You nod, offering him a smile. "Yeah, I do. I mean… you're my best friend, Eddie. And maybe…" You hesitate for a moment, feeling the warmth spread through your chest, "maybe I've been feeling the same way. I just didn't realize it until now."

The words hang between you, and Eddie is completely still for the first time tonight. His dark eyes widen, searching your face for any hint of doubt. But there isn't any. The more you say it, the more certain you are—it's like all the pieces are finally clicking into place.

He breathes, almost like he's been holding it in for hours. "Wait—really? You're not just saying that to make me feel better?" His puppy dog eyes stare at you as if begging you not to break his heart.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "No, Eddie. I'm not just saying it. I've been thinking about it, and I think maybe I've always felt something for you, too. I just… I guess I was scared of messing things up."

His expression softens, and that familiar mischievous glint returns to his eyes, a hint of the Eddie you know and love. "So, what you're saying is, we've both been idiots this whole time?"

"Basically," you say, grinning. "but I like to think we've always been a couple of idiots." Eddie chuckles, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "Well, then, I guess we're both idiots together."

You step closer, feeling the warmth of his body next to yours. There's no awkwardness now, no tension, just the two of you standing in his tiny living room. Like this has always been where you were meant to be.

And then, without warning, Eddie gently cups your cheek with his free hand, his rings cool against your skin. His eyes meet yours, and there's no hesitation this time. Slowly, carefully, he leans in.

The kiss is soft and tentative, as if he's still afraid this might all be a dream. But the moment your lips meet, it feels like the most natural thing in the world—like you've been waiting for this without even realizing it.

When you pull away, Eddie's grinning like a kid, his eyes brighter than you've ever seen them. "Well," he says, his voice low, "I wasn't expecting today to end like this."

You laugh, feeling light, like a weight you didn't know you were carrying has been lifted. "Neither was I, but… I think I'm okay with it." he grins, kissing you again as you sigh contently. "More than okay with it…"

Eddie's smile widens, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you close. It's a perfect, quiet moment, just you and him, surrounded by the familiarity of his trailer. The world outside doesn't matter, not right now.

"Hey," he murmurs into your hair, "I know we might not have everything figured out yet, but… I'm really glad I told you."

You look up at him, heart swelling with affection, something that's not new to you. You've always held a level of affection for the wild-haired dungeon master. "Me too, Eddie."

And in that moment, you know you'll figure it out together, whatever comes next. Because you've always been there for each other, and now, as more than just friends, nothing could feel more right.

As Eddie presses another soft kiss to your forehead, you can't help but smile. Maybe things have changed, but it's definitely in the best way possible.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Not Without You

Pairing: Lucien Flores x f!reader (nickname: Poppy)

Word Count: 2800+ 

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Listen. I saw that clip of him making out in The Uninvited. That's it. That's the explanation. This is not betad. This one is for the sluts.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Lucien Masterlist

--------

I get out of my car, staring up at the ridiculous mansion in front of me. The sound of the ocean, just out of sight behind the giant home, is soft and gentle in my ears, calming me. Giving me a little mental boost before I sigh, smoothing down my dress. I make my way to the front door, weaving between a few cars that were parked out front. Expensive cars.

It's not that I'm jealous of my childhood friend. Emilia deserves to be happy and she's happy that she married money. Some fancy producer out here in LA that fell for her big eyes and bright smile the second he saw her.

But that doesn't mean I wanted to come to one of her dinner parties, having to schmooze and pretend to be interested in what everyone has to say. I've been here before, met the people, fucked the party boy actor that eventually broke me, and yet here I am, unable to say no to Emilia.

I raise my hand to knock, dreading what the evening will bring but the door flies open before my knuckles touch anything. Emilia stands before me, a few rollers still in her hair, stress all over her body.

"Poppy, you're early! Thank GOD!" She pulls me inside and hugs me, the door closing heavy behind me.

"I always come early because you need me," I smile as she chuckles, lightly punching my arm. "What can I do to help?"

"You're angel, I swear! Can you make sure the table settings are right? There's extra silverware in the-"

"I know, Emilia. Everything like normal?" I'd been to so many of her parties, I know exactly what the set up is.

She nods, her smile growing wider. "Keep it simple and classy. You know me!"

I nod. "So what kind of party is this one? Another schmooze for Mr.?"

She waves her hand. "Yeah something like that. He's meeting with a bunch of actors for some upcoming project. He's hand selected them."

"Cool."

Emilia thanks me again before running off to finish getting ready. I pause for a moment, looking around trying to remember where the dining room is. I head down the hall and into what I think is the dining room. It turns out I remembered correctly, my eyes roaming over the table and making small adjustments to the settings already there. I end up pulling out more silverware, fixing them to Emilia's standards. I hate that I know this stuff, but I've saved her ass more times than I can count at these things so it helps to know what to expect.

As I work, my mind goes back to all the parties past. The ones she brought me to when she first started dating the producer several years ago. She had been so nervous, as if the producer wasn't already head over heels for her. That's where I met-

No. Not going down that road again. I can't do that to myself.

I shake my head and finish the settings, adding some minor touches to the decorations and finally lighting the candles. A knock at the door brings me out of my head and I walk over to answer it. An older gentleman stands there, putting out a cigarette with his shoe. He introduces himself as the director. What an ego.

Several people arrive after him, a mix of actors and a screenwriter. They all mingle in the sitting room for a few minutes before Emilia and the producer make their way in, everyone doing introductions.

The producer claps his hands together, looking around. "We're still missing one, but I doubt he'd mind us getting started. Who's hungry?"

Everyone gives their approval but as they move towards the dining room, a knock raps on the front door.

"That should be him. Guess I tried to start too soon!" Polite laughter at the producer as Emilia moves to answer the door, a quick glance in my direction before she disappears down the hall. The producer is telling some little story about a prior movie he was involved in, one I've heard a zillion times. But his story is short and he motions behind me.

"Just in time! We were about to eat. Welcome, Lucien."

My back stiffens. The room starts to spin my chest heaving. He didn't say Lucien. Did he? Maybe it was another Lucien. It couldn't be my Lucien? No. He's not my Lucien. He made that very clear when he wanted to continue partying and I wanted to settle down.

"Perfect! I'm starving."

Fuck. There was no mistaking that voice, the one that sets my skin ablaze, makes warmth pool between my thighs, the one that told me he needed to focus on his career and couldn't be with me. Not in the way I wanted him.

A small hand on my elbow squeezes me and I know it's Emilia, gently guiding me towards the dining room.

"I'm sorry, Poppy. He invited him and I didn't make the connection until the last minute."

"You couldn't have given me a heads up?" I yank my arm from her grip and swallow hard. I can't let him see how he makes me feel. He doesn't deserve that. I turn, letting the others file past me until he stops in front of me.

"Poppy. I..I didn't know you'd be here."

I'm determined to show him how much better off I am, that he means nothing to me now. I look up into his eyes and all of my resolve goes completely out the window. Were his eyes always that big? That round? So soft? I want to yank him to me by the thin chain around his neck, press my lips to his and never let go.

Way to show him, Poppy.

"I didn't know you'd be here either."

A silence stretches between us, a heavy, loaded silence. His eyes soften the longer he looks at me and is that regret I see? No. I'm projecting. But then he offers me his arm, taking me completely by surprise.

"We can be adults. Shall we?"

Don't do it. Don't take his arm, Poppy. Don't do it, don't do it, don't-

My fingers close on his offered up arm. "I'm sure this is a great opportunity for you."

Fuck, he's still warm. His skin smooth where my fingers touch him. Way to go, Poppy.

He escorts me into the dining room and I feel Emilia's eyes glued to us. He pulls out my chair and I sit, him scooting the chair in behind me before walking around the table, looking for his name card. Which was conveniently placed directly across from mine.

The producer clears his throat after everyone sits and starts making some speech about the project, about handpicking everyone here, blah blah blah. I zone out, trying to use my peripheral to steal glances at him. It's been several years since that night we split, the yelling match that had devolved into quite possibly the hottest sex I'd ever had. No, don't think about that. I need a better look so I turn my head to take a drink and chance a glance at him, only to find him already looking at me, still with the soft eyes. I nearly choke on my drink, managing to swallow it and clear my throat.

He finishes his speech and everyone claps politely, starting to eat and talk amongst themselves. I sit, deciding to choose silence while eating but then Lucien looks directly at me.

"So, what do you think?"

"Uh what?"

Fuck him with those big, stupid eyes.

He gestures towards the producer with his fork. "The project."

"Oh. Well I'm not involved so," I shrug. "I'm just here for Emilia."

He chuckles. "How many rollers were in her hair this time?"

I laugh, my body betraying me. "Four."

"But seriously. A good project?"

"I think..I think it's an honor he hand picked you. I'm not sure what the project itself is, but I'm sure it would be great for your career."

His eyes study my face as I take a bite of my food. "It's not always about the career though."

Anger surges up through me. "Isn't it?"

"How are we doing over here?" Emilia had walked up, cutting off whatever Lucien was about to say to defend himself.

"Great, Em. I'm just going to get something from the kitchen." I set my napkin on the table and push my chair back, Emilia giving me the smallest squeeze to my arm before I turn and head into the kitchen, the door closing behind me and effectively cutting off the sounds of the dinner party.

I lean over the kitchen island, my hands splayed out over the cool marble, trying to calm myself down. I hear the door open, the chatter from the party momentarily loud again before the door swings shut and it's quiet again.

"Em, I'm fine. Really. He just...caught me by surprise. I can hold it in."

"What if I don't want you to hold it in?"

My head snaps up, meeting his gaze, embarrassment making my skin heat up. "Oh. I thought you were Emilia."

Lucien takes a few steps towards me, the light glinting off the thing chain around his neck. "You didn't answer my question."

I stand up straight, crossing my arms. "We've done this dance before, Lucien. It didn't end well."

He smirks and I want to slap him. "I think it ended just fine. In the doorway, on the floor, in the front yard. I had to move my neighbors were too jealous."

My body betrays me with a small smile at the memory but then I reign it in. "I'm still not paying for that end table."

He's closer now. When did he move closer? Almost close enough to touch. His voice is low and raspy. "I'd destroy every end table on this planet if it meant having you under me again."

Fuck. Me.

I turn away from him, not giving him the pleasure of seeing what he does to me. "Flattering. But you made it very clear I was not number one in your life."

"I was stupid. I guess I needed to prove to you, to myself, that I could actually do this acting thing."

Finally composing myself, I turn to face him. "And how'd that work out for you?"

His eyebrows furrow together. "Have you not seen any of my films?"

I had. I had seen them all. I know I shouldn't have, that it wasn't helping me get over him. But Lucien has this pull, this hold on me I've never been able to fully shake.

"Some. But I'm asking your opinion. Off camera."

His jaw ticks a moment before he takes a swig from the glass I only just realized he was holding. "It brought me here."

I scoff. "Yeah, the producer hand picking you is actually a very high honor. I'd be-"

"No, you misunderstand." He shakes his head and sets his glass down on the counter. "I lied earlier."

It was my turn to furrow my eyebrows. "When? You've lied to me a lot."

"Earlier, when I said I didn't know you'd be here. I knew, well...more like hoped you'd be here. Knew it was a long shot but the only way you'd talk to me again."

My heart was racing, nearly bouncing out of my chest as he takes another few steps right into my personal bubble, my lower back against the counter. "I already told you I'm not replacing that end table."

He's right in front of me, the warmth from his body radiating onto mine. "I was a fool, Poppy. I..I love you."

I've waited years to hear him say those words to me again, to hear him actually mean them. To hear them not sandwiched between things like "but I have to focus on my career".

His lips are so close to mine, his breath fanning over my face.

"You broke my heart, Lucien."

"I know. I'm sorry. Let me put it back together."

"Lucien, I-" but he cuts me off with the softest touch of his lips I've ever felt, a whole slew of emotions flooding my body, including the one pooling between my legs.

"I can't do this without you, Poppy."

"Do this?"

"Life. I don't want to do it without you."

Fuck.

I grip that chain around his neck and pull him to me, our lips crashing together, his body pressing into mine. But then the counter scrapes across my spine and I jolt, breaking the kiss to gasp in pain. Lucien steps back, offering me his hand.

"Let's go somewhere where we won't break the furniture."

I shouldn't take his hand. I can still back out. But a small voice in the back of my head believes that he means it. That he wants a life with me, wants what I wanted all those years ago. And right now, I'm letting that voice win. I take his hand and he smiles, that smile that makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world. He guides me out the back door, past the pool, past the changing tents between the pool and the beach, and down the walkway alongside the neighbors cement wall that leads down to the beach.

He spins me and I laugh, tasting the salty ocean air on my tongue. I back up towards the wall and he follows me, lowering himself to my level. His large hands wrap around my hips, gliding down to cup my ass, and I moan into his kiss, my hand gripping his shirt to pull him closer to me. He kisses me, his tongue sliding into my mouth like it had so many times before. One hand still firmly on my ass, the other slides up my side, cupping my face so tenderly, full of love. He pulls back slightly and looks at me, like he's shocked I'm really here. That he's really kissing me.

"I love you, Poppy. I never should have let you go."

"Then don't let me go. I've always been yours."

He kisses me again, his hips pressing into mine and I can feel him hard, my cunt desperately throbbing, begging to feel him inside me again. Somewhere in my haze of desire, I hear myself begging, whispering pleas in his ear to take me, that I need him inside me before I die. His hands slide my dress up my thighs, reaching under and ripping my underwear in two, tucking them into his pocket. He had ruined so many good pairs of my underwear that way, but I honestly couldn't care less. My fingers fumble with his zipper, but I manage to get it down, reaching in to grip him, a sharp intake of breath when my fingers close around him, pumping him a few times. His hands slide under my ass, lifting me up as he presses me against the wall. He slides into me and the world stops moving, colors are brighter, and I finally feel right, like I'm actually here on this planet. Every thrust of his hips brings him deeper into me, holding me here, holding me to him. His breath comes out in short pants, desperate pleas of love and apologies between our moans as he fucks me against the wall.

And then the light blooming inside me breaks, my head pushing back, my nails digging into his skin, my entire body tingling as pleasure radiates out from where we connect. Lucien follows suit, moaning my name as he spills himself inside of me, pushing as deep as he can. We stay like that for a moment, trying to catch our breaths.

"I want to stay inside of you but my legs are fucking shaking."

I laugh and he yelps, quickly trying to pull out of me as my laughter contracts my body around him. He sets me on the ground and zips his pants as I smoothe out my dress, my laughter slowly fading. I look at him and he looks back at me, his eyes still soft and gentle. He tucks some hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek again.

"I wasn't kidding, Poppy. I was fucking stupied before. I need you next to me. When we're together, I feel...right. like I belong here. I don't think I can face this life without you."

I know it's a possibility this will end the same way it did before, but something in his eyes is different this time. He's had time to think, time to experience life without someone with him. Without me. He's grown, matured - well, matured some at least. But do I want to open my heart back up to him? Knowing that he could shatter it again at any moment?

"I'm still not replacing that end table."

He smiles and it lights up my entire world. "That's ok. I have plenty more furniture we can ruin with our love."

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[creature-wizard]

ngl as an abuse survivor the whole “micro trauma” thing makes me roll my eyes back into my head like that’s life babe sometimes we have a negative experience it’s not trauma 💀💀💀 i really feel like so many folks live soft lives that any negative feeling becomes “traumatic” and something to avoid. i don’t think it’s good to conflate times your ego was tested or times that didn’t go exactly your way with genuine trauma. you’re more resilient than that. (obviously this isn’t about day to day trauma living as a bipoc in a racist white society etc but i don’t think you were talking about that either)

Welp, there's a lot to unpack here.

First of all, I'm an abuse survivor with my own share of trauma. I was raised in a form of conservative apocalyptic Christianity where beatings were considered an acceptable form of punishment. Because my parents believed that parental authority was never wrong, and anything a child did or even felt that seemed to challenge that authority (whether intentional or not), I was constantly told that I was wrong for having my own feelings, punished for having my own feelings if I dared to to express them. In addition to this, my family thought I needed to be very aware that the Mark of the Beast was coming and I needed to emotionally prepare myself for beheading once the Antichrist took over and started killing anyone who refused the Mark of the Beast.

In addition to this, I was subject to all of the day-to-day trauma that comes from growing up with ADHD and autism in an ableist society, as well as the trauma that comes from growing up with ADHD and autism in an environment where people think children must be obedient at all times. (My parents believed spanking and slapping was fine, by the way. So, that happened often enough. And when it wasn't spanking or slapping, it was my mother screaming and yelling.)

Now with all of this context established, I'm going to tell you: You don't get to decide who does and doesn't get to have trauma. Trauma doesn't work according to some abstract notion of what should and shouldn't constitute "trauma." People can, in fact, be genuinely traumatized over things that seem totally ridiculous to you.

Also? You don't know what other people are living through. You don't know what goes on behind closed doors. You don't know how people are being traumatized by economic circumstances, by bullshit at the workplace, by knowing that Christofascists want to subjugate them or kill them. You don't know how many people are being slowly traumatized by partners who invalidate and mock them in countless tiny ways every day. You don't know how many people are being traumatized by thinking they should be able to meet certain expectations that they don't realize are based in ableist standards or impossible capitalist ideals.

You've also evidently never had a conversation with someone who can't figure out how they're such a mess because they "don't have a reason to be traumatized," but the more you talk to them the more it comes out that they lived a profoundly messed up life, and were profoundly mistreated in a thousand ways that they didn't even recognize as mistreatment at the time. (No, it's not normal for your mother to call you ableist slurs if you can't tend to her every whim in five seconds.)

You also say "obviously this isn’t about day to day trauma living as a bipoc in a racist white society etc but i don’t think you were talking about that either." And you know what? You wanna know what? I absolutely was, because my post was meant to be inclusive of all forms of microtrauma.

Anyway, I hope you can recognize that suffering and trauma aren't a contest, and trying to decide who does and doesn't "deserve" to have trauma based on your own personal abstract ideals and limited comprehension of their lives doesn't help anyone.

[fuwaprince]

HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP PLEASE

Hi everybody, how are we doing? I hope you're enjoying the beginning of fall. Now that I'm done just being hospitable, can I just be honest? Can I vent? Can I be heard? Am I allowed to express my hurt? Can I please request for aid?

I am struggling to all hell. On and off the streets and been homeless since June 1st. I don't need resource information- I need immediate relief in the form of financial support. My partner and I are doing our best to be strong but being strong does not help when we're in the position where we're lucky just to eat, or do laundry. Over this summer I have been robbed of my possessions (cards, clothes, cash, toiletries, my phone... all of which I struggled to get to begin with). I have been sexually assaulted and put through violent situations. Detained because people LIED and I guess that means guilty until proven innocent. Woke up undressed for reasons unbenounced to me in a house fire surrounded by flames and SOMEHOW, unfortunately survived. Somehow contracted a disease that has no fucking cure. I have reached out to EVERYONE I KNOW BEGGING FOR HELP. I have taken so much shit in exchange for the smallest amount of help, for food, for access to medical attention or a shower or for privacy. I have been homeless with a 103 degree fucking fever that lasted for days and got no help because I was too sick to move. I crawled to a shower and sat on the floor hoping my brain wouldn't melt (which it begins to at such temperatures btw). All this did not happen because I'm "lazy" or "a bad woman".

I am a woman presenting person who probably should have just been born in the right body or into the right wealthy ass family. I am in my 20s. I have been told I would make a great prostitute but I wasn't even made for of- nor am I interested. My abusive ass neglectful ass family are not helping me through my situation and my mom tells me I deserve it so that she doesn't have to cry while listening to me explain how bad things have gotten. I have a stab wound on my neck. I have burns on my body. I did not put those there myself. How could anybody deserve any of that? How could anybody do nothing to help? How can you just look at me and pessimistically say, "good luck". Or give the apathetic and unhelpful "me too" response.

My partner lost his dog after the fire. Can you imagine having to pretend like that doesn't matter because you have to worry about food? Can you imagine trying to provide emotional support because red cross never called back after you requested for health services? When your school says they can't help you because it's out of the budget???? "LIMITED FUNDS" they say. I was on the Dean's honor roll for TWO semesters in a row, almost close to getting my BA (just a few classes away). I was a student leader. UNTIL I had to finally say fuck that shit and drop. I have enough credits to graduate but I do not see how the fuck I'm going to survive until 2025.

I need help! Please help? Words of encouragement are appreciated but please help me raise enough for a down payment for a car to live in. That is what I'm asking for, at least for winter. I would like an apartment but California is so outrageous with prices, all I can hope for realistically is a car. Anything would help. Nothing is expected.

Please rb this post, if you can, it helps.

Always remember to maintain your humanity and that love persists.

Garlic haters DNI

my paypal is @garyanne

[nartml]

To Pimp a Butterfly and 1989: a rant

Listen here, three things about me are that I'm a) white as snow, b) Greek, c) still a minor.

What does this mean? It means that I obviously wasn't raised with hip-hop, and I got into Kendrick Lamar's music pretty late.

As in, early this year.

I've known of him for some time, and the moment I found out he had a Pulitzer prize at some point in late-ish 2023, I decided I had to sit my ass down and pull out Spotify.

Now, as an avid reader of both fanfiction (ao3 raised me) and books [I feel the immense need to clarify that I don't associate myself with mainstream booktok. Capitalism's consumerism has overrun that shit and all I see are the same 20 books being recycled and recommended (a substantial amount of those are Colleen Hoover and her variants). Tropes and spice* are officially the defining factors of whether a book is worth it (*your porn addiction ain't cute) and quantity is heavily prioritized at the expense of quality. Also, diversity who?], I was, for a lack of a better word, hyped.

A Pulitzer prize is nothing to scoff at in general, more so in music, more so in hip-hop.

(Edit: Upon quick reflection, I realize that putting emphasis on hip-hop can come across as coded.

I am in no way, shape, or form trying to undermine hip-hop or say that it's somehow less 'sophisticated' than, for example, classical music. I'm very aware of the amount of skill and technique one needs to write a masterful hip-hop album, and I'm not doubting that there are hip-hop artists out there who are also incredibly deserving of such a prize. I meant it in the sense that I've unfortunately never heard of another hip-hop artist who won a Pulitzer before, which is quite telling.)

That's some huge shit, and I'd be a fool not to be intrigued.

Admittedly, I didn't get on that immediately. For a while I procrastinated, because I wasn't in the mood to hyper-fixate on anything new just yet.

Which of course meant I ended up forgetting about it for a few months, because of course I did.

But then I came across a TikTok that talked about how it was insane that '1989' won the Grammy when To Pimp a Butterfly was right there.

Now, a fourth thing about me is that I don't fuck with Taylor Swift.

And a fifth thing about me is that I'm not baseless in anything that I do, say or feel, and that includes annoyance.

Her immature understanding of activism and feminism leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The way she built up her fan base around this portrayal of her as a relatable girl's girl, her refusal to accept criticism, and always making a victim out of herself (even now when she's in her thirties and is a fucking billionaire) while never using her position of power and privilege for good are all reasons that serve to fuel my dispassionate dislike.

And before any Swifties get on my ass, no, I don't think that "But she's a singer! Why are you expecting so much out of her, she isn't even qualified to speak on XYZ—" is a good enough excuse.

She has always been rich, and now she's a billionaire. There are no ethical billionaires, and that includes her.

Fame is influence is power. Uncle Ben said it all: With great power comes great responsibility.

And let me tell you, I don't see her owning up to that responsibility, especially after all that talk about how she supports women, supports the LGBTQ community, and supports the BLM movement. Has she ever actually put her abundant money where her mouth is?

I've never seen her speak about anything that doesn't immediately concern her.

Don't get me wrong. She's not the only celebrity like this out there. I'm sure there are worse cases. I know it for a fact.

To wrap this segment up before I get even more sidetracked, I'll outright state that I don't hate her, because hating her would by definition mean that I, in some way, actually care about her, and that just sounds exhausting.

Best way to describe me is indifferent, leaning towards distasteful.

She's annoying.

And that's how I feel about both her as a person and her as an artist.

I'm not denying her talent, nor her impact on the industry, nor the fact that she does have good songs that even I like.

A select few, of course, but still.

Apart from those...what? Ten songs? I have never, ever been able to listen to any other song of her's all the way through.

I get bored. They do nothing for me. They sound empty. Hollow. Plastic. Repetitive.

Her lyrics, that are praised by fans for being deep and complex, sound pretty surface level to me.

Not all of them. But I'm a sucker for analysis. A literature nerd. Greek is my native language. I can tell when something's deep and when something wants to be deep.

(Not necessarily including Folklore and Evermore in that category. Her storytelling ability is actually great.)

Her music largely sounds like it wants to be deep.

Most recent example being her latest release, The Tortured Poets Department.

Anyway, back to Kendrick.

My initial plan was to listen to 'DAMN.' first, because that's what he won the Pulitzer for in the first place.

There was a change of plans after that TikTok.

I decided to compare the opening tacks.

I put on Welcome to New York, and predictably, I felt nothing.

The rhythm is dance-y, I suppose. But there's nothing substantial about it. There's nothing exciting about it.

The lyrics are juvenile, and I get it, it's a pop song and she was in her twenties.

Nobody is expecting Shakespeare (no matter how much you scream or kick your feet, the only reason Shakespeare couldn't write Taylor Swift is because he's in another league entirely) or Odysseus Elytis. Nobody is expecting mind-blowing lyricism.

But it's the opening track to an apparently Grammy-worthy album. The very least I'd expect from it would be some additional levels of artistry.

Am I being harsh? Probably. Do I care? No.

Disappointed but unsurprised, I put on Wesley's Theory.

I ascended within the first minute.

Don't get it twisted, I barely understood shit.

Not only am I white, I am also entirely removed from America and its culture as a whole. I don't know what's going on there in y'all's daily lives.

And this was baby's first proper introduction to hip-hop as a whole.

My untrained, white-ass ear barely caught two references. I got what the gist of the song was about, and that's about it.

I had to look up analyses of the track to fully grasp what Kendrick was on about, and even then, there was obviously still a disconnect.

And I expected all of that.

I didn't expect to get hooked on that song within the first listen.

I swear to fuck, the beat is addictive. I swear to fuck, even when I was fighting to understand what the lyrics were referencing, I was having the time of my life.

Even I, an amateur in every sense of the word, could tell that there was depth and there was quality and there was intentional meaning in every line of that song.

It didn't matter that I couldn't understand it. It mattered that I knew it was there. Not because someone told me that was the case. But because it was audible.

I listened to the next track. And the one after that. And the one after that. I had listened to all of the tracks, before I knew it.

And the evident permeance of quality, of substance, carried on throughout the whole album.

It had exactly the type of lyricism I'd expect a Grammy-worthy album to have. It had exactly the amount of artistry I expected a Grammy-worthy album to have.

Even better, it had all the ingredients I expected a timeless album to have.

The poetry Taylor Swift fans insist hides in her discography, I found in plain sight within Kendrick Lamar's.

After meticulously reading the lyrics, I watched video essay after video essay, searched for analysis after analysis on this album, each time understanding the meanings behind it a little better.

Needless to say that the Grammy's are rigged and I love Kendrick Lamar.

Hip-hop is gorgeous.

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 40 ~ The Deal

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 3

✧ Word Count : 6.8k

In this chapter ~ The truth is revealed about what The Governor actually wants; some kind of solution instead of the war they all wanted to avoid. But the agreement wasn't as easy as it seemed, causing a series of unfortunate events to take place in just the span of a few hours. And perhaps...a loss.

Two days had passed since Rick's meeting with The Governor, the deadline approaching for the answer Rick would have to give him about something they had previously discussed. Though none of us knew what it was. He was very vague about it, not telling anyone what that something was, what he was or wasn't agreeing to. But whatever it was, I thought it was a waste of time. In my mind, the time was now to attack Woodbury like he wanted, taking the chance to get it done when they were least expecting it.

I happened to be walking out of the prison in hopes to find him to talk about it further, wanting to decide on an actual plan of what was going to happen and how we would deal with the repercussions. But my steps slowed down to a stop when I made my way outside, seeing Rick talking to Daryl and Hershel in a small circle, keeping their voices low. It looked sketchy as hell.

My brows furrowed as I slowly began to move forward again, watching Hershel subtly nudge Rick to get his attention before silently nodding towards me. The moment our eyes locked he straightened up almost instantly, stopping completely in his tracks with whatever he was saying and watched me walk the rest of the way over.

"What is this? A secret girl scout meeting?" I joked as I approached them fully.

But none of them laughed, they just looked at me with a mixture of concern and guilt on their features. I waited for at least one of them to respond to me, but they seemed to be having a conversation with their eyes as they looked back at each other and I just tilted my head, waiting for them to say something as I felt completely out of the loop.

"Guys, what's up?" I asked, growing more concerned.

Rick glanced over at Daryl as if to get some kind of approval from him, before turning towards me with a sigh, "We're talking about the deal with The Governor."

"Okay...care to share?" I asked.

He visibly hesitated for a moment, swallowing a bit thickly to get up the courage to just say it, "You can't tell anyone else, alright?" he asked, earning a nod from me as he spoke again, "The Governor...wants Michonne."

I paused for a moment before scoffing, "Well, that's clearly not happening. So, what's the problem?"

He only gave me one look, but that's all it took for my eyes to widen in realization. "Wait...you're actually considering this? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"It's the only way, no one else knows." he stated.

"You gonna tell em?" Daryl then asked.

"Not until after, we have to do it today and it has to be quiet." Rick said.

I stepped in again, "Woah, no way. We are not doing this. I mean come on, this is bullshit. You know damn well that he's going to take her and then kill us anyway." No one said a thing. Not a word as they stared at me blankly. "Rick please, she doesn't deserve that. Who knows what he's going to do to her if you just hand her over." I continued.

I was met with more silence, that is until Daryl spoke up, "You gotta plan?" he asked Rick.

My jaw dropped, "Are you serious?" I asked.

He didn't answer, he couldn't even look over at me until I placed myself right in front of him, "You're really okay with this? Seriously?"

There was a beat of silence before he muttered, "Yeah." the word coming out quietly, and not confidently at all.

"No, you're not," I scoffed, "God, all of you are just willing to risk her life like that? After she helped us?" my voice raised.

"We never shoulda told ya." Daryl snapped slightly.

I looked at him in slight surprise, "Why? Because I'm not agreeing with what you're planning? You guys don't get it-"

"Nah you don't get it!" Daryl cut me off, "We do this, there's a chance that everyone else stays safe- that you stay safe! I'm trying to protect ya, and all you care about is a woman we barely know!" he yelled.

"You bet your ass I care about her! She helped save Glenn and Maggie, and is helping us right now prepare for a war against this man we all despise, in case you all forgot? You guys are so gullible to believe that The Governor will just let us off the hook if you hand her over. He won't! He wants us dead! He's going to try and kill us either way, and I want her on our side when that happens." I finished.

I quickly spun around on my heel after that, storming off in the other direction without even giving them a chance to respond to me. I grew livid as I couldn't wrap my head around how they were actually about to fall for this shit, almost like I couldn't believe they were talking about it like it was nothing. Leaving me even more starstruck that Daryl had yelled at me the way he did just because I wanted to spare her life and sanity.

In the back of my mind, I knew he was concerned, he only wanted everyone safe. But he sure as hell had an odd way of showing it by getting up in my face.

I ended up blowing through the common room, ignoring everyone's wide eyes as I rushed into the cellblock, jogging up the stairs to just get to my cell. That is until a louder voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Woahhh, slow down there girly."

I paused upon realizing who it was, backtracking a few steps to see Merle on the ground of an unoccupied cell, ripping up the mattress. "What the hell are you doing?" I asked with furrowed brows.

"Just lookin for some drugs annnnd..." he dragged out hopefully as he searched, "...Nothin." he muttered while flopping down in defeat.

Rolling my eyes, I began to walk away again. "You gonna tell me why you're upset?" his voice stopped me once more, turning around to see him standing now as he leaned against the doorway.

"I'm not upset." I stated.

He chuckled, "You're bout the worst damn liar I ever seen."

My arms crossed over my chest as I tilted my head at him, narrowing my eyes in his direction as he quickly caught onto the silent warning I sent him. "Not in the mood for jokin around, huh?" he asked.

I shook my head, and he nodded in understanding, "...You gonna talk bout it?"

There was a beat of silence before I sighed and leaned against the wall beside me, "Rick is planning to hand Michonne over to The Governor, and I told him he shouldn't. That The Governor is just going to try to kill us anyway with or without her. But my guess is they're going to ask you to help them with their dirty work since I got screamed at, and they're deciding to do it anyways." I ranted.

He stood there with his eyebrows raised, "Wow." was all he was able to say.

I scoffed to myself as I nodded, "Yeah...wow."

He then stood up a bit straighter, "So...you don't think they should give her up...why?"

"Because she's a human being, not a trinket to trade off." I snapped before taking a breath, "Look, just...don't do it. Please."

He stared at me for a while, contemplating his next words carefully. "If he asks, I'm gonna do it." he stated. Upon hearing his answer I tried to open my mouth to speakagain, but cut me off before I had the chance. "Listen to me. I gotta do what's best to protect my brother, and..." he trailed off.

My patience was wearing thin, "What?" I snapped slightly.

He sighed, "Come on, don't make me say it."

I couldn't bring myself to even begin to imagine what he meant, only staring at him in utter confusion. But then he gave me a look in return, one that I would be able to read well, and my thought seemed to cut short. Me. He wanted to protect me.

"Why? You barely even know me." I stated in confusion.

"I don't gotta know ya well to see how much my brother cares bout ya. If you're important to him...you're...important to me too."

He said the last part so quietly I almost thought I misheard him, watching as he couldn't meet my eyes anymore as he stared down at his boots. I guess the nervous quirk was a Dixon thing.

I grew almost speechless as I had no idea what to say to him. But when he finally decided to look me in the eye once more, I gave him a small nod of appreciation, before turning around and making my way into my cell. I needed time to think. Between the Michonne situation and the things that Merle told me, having to pull teeth just to get it out of him. I almost couldn't bring myself to believe he actually gave a shit about me. Sure, we were friendly with each other ever since they both came back in one piece but...I don't know, I guess I didn't expect that from him.

Later on, it had been hours since the conversations that took place, currently busying myself with feeding the baby in the common room by myself. I tried to avoid and ignore pretty much everyone, especially since I found out Merle did in fact agree to help Rick with his little mastermind plan. The whole thing frustrated me to no end, watching how everyone was ignoring practically everything I said because they just simply didn't want to hear it.

But that wasn't going to stop me from trying to find Michonne, wanting to tell her about the things they planned to do so she could do something to prevent it. I didn't know if she would run? Stand her ground and fight? That was for her to decide, all I knew is that I was going to warn her.

Judith was just about done with her bottle when I heard footsteps come into the space, and I glanced up to see Merle standing there and he sent me a small smile. I hardly paid him any mind as I just looked back down at the baby, hearing him sigh from a few feet in front of me.

"You still mad?" he asked.

"You still going to help?" I quipped.

When he didn't say anything in return, I scoffed to myself and darted my eyes away from him again.

He sighed heavily after a few seconds, moving further into the room, "Look, I ain't doin this to piss ya off. I'm doin it so no more of your people get killed." he stated.

I was silent for a long moment, before I felt the need to correct him, "Our."

"What?"

I sighed before looking him in the eye once more, "Our people. You may be an asshole...but you're a part of this group now. Everyone's still just getting used to it."

He looked taken aback for a second, his mouth opening and shutting a few times as he was unsure of what to say. "Uh...thanks." he said genuinely.

I nodded back, "And listen, I'm not trying to be pissed...I just want what's best for everyone. I want to make things right." I subtly hinted, "So, can you just...give me an opening here? Please?"

His thoughts were clearly running loud in his head as he stayed quiet, eventually only nodding once before moving towards the other end of the common room. I assumed he wouldn't say anything, like this conversation had never happened, but he turned back once more before he could pass the doorway.

"I'll uh...I'll see ya later Rose." his voice called out.

Glancing back up at him, I couldn't help the smile that crossed my face at the fact that he used my actual name for once, "See ya later."

He smiled back before leaving and heading towards the tunnels for whatever reason, stomping loudly as his footsteps echoed through the halls. A part of me was surprised he agreed, but it only gave me more time to warn Michonne before Rick could do whatever it is he planned to do. I had an opening.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ DARYL POV *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few hours had gone by in a flash as I kept myself busy helping everyone else outside, trying to piece back together what was left of the fence and clearing out some of the walkers. But no matter how much I tried to distract myself, guilt was beginning to eat me up inside. Not only was I stewing over the deal I agreed to about Michonne, but I was also thinking about how harshly I had snapped at Rose. She didn't deserve that no matter what the hell we disagreed on, but I guess with all the stress that's been going on, weighing down heavily on all of us, I accidentally took it out on her.

But I knew she was right about everything, of course she was. That's why everyone didn't have anything to say after she made her point, because none of us could argue with that. I hadn't seen her since she stormed off, leading me to believe that I should just give her space right now before I eventually fessed up and apologized.

When I realized it was about noon, I knew I needed to move my ass and find Merle, to talk with him about the plan we would be going through with. Rick had talked to him a while ago, but he needed more details on how and when to do it. So I made sure to slip past everyone when they were all occupied so they wouldn't seem to notice.

I found myself searching everywhere through the prison, not being able to pinpoint where he was. That is until I heard shuffling coming from some random room deep within the tunnels. I held up my crossbow as I walked further into the dark, calling out his name a few times but received no answer. My brows creased as I cautiously went around the corner once I was close enough, seeing Merle rummaging around through some cabinets in the far corner of the room.

He turned towards me the second he felt my gaze, "Hey little brother, I was just about to holler back at ya."

Lowering my weapon, I eyed him up and down for a moment, "What are ya doin down here?" I asked while walking further into the space.

"Oh, just lookin for a little crystal meth. Yeah, yeah, I know, shit will mess my life up when everything's goin so sweet right?" he chuckled.

I sighed, "You talk to Rick yet?"

"Yeah, oh yeah, I'm in..." he hesitated slightly.

I looked him up and down, "Are ya sure? Don't seem like it."

He scoffed, "Yeah well, you can thank your girl for gettin in my head about it. She's stubborn, that's for sure, but...nice."

I raised an eyebrow toward him, "She talked to you?"

He nodded his head with a hum, "She asked me not to do it. But I told her I needed to protect you and...and her too. So, I'm in."

I found myself wanting to push further about what the two of them had talked about, but he spoke up again as he continued, "Your pal Rick though? He ain't got the stomach for it. He's gonna buckle you know that right?"

"Yeah, well...if he does, he does." I said simply.

"You want him to?" he asked.

I shook my head almost instantly, "Nah, I want Rose safe. Don't care about nothin else besides that."

He whistled lowly, "Man...you sure as shit are whipped by that girl."

"Oh, yer one to talk, you just admitted that you wanted to protect her too." I snapped slightly, "Why do ya want her safe anyway? Ya don't even know her."

For once in what seemed like our whole lives, he didn't have a smartass comment to say in return, he just stood there still, biting the inside of his cheek. I pressed my lips together as I nodded my head slowly, knowing without him even having to say a word.

"...You know what's funny about all this is? You people look at me like I'm the devil for what I did to them lovebirds. But y'all are turnin around and doin the same damn thing. Doin what you gotta do." he finally said.

I scoffed at the fact that he was connecting the two together, trying to switch sides the way he was. I didn't have time for any of that, nor the patience, so I just turned on my heel to walk out. Until his voice suddenly called out before I barely made it out of the room.

"You yell at her?" he asked.

My brows pulled together as I turned around, stepping back in the room to glance at his face, "What?"

"Did you yell at her?" he asked again.

"Yell at who?" I asked.

"Rose."

A huff passed through my lips as I stood there for a second, staring at him, "I snapped at her. But I just wanted her to understand that I want her safe. Somethin that don't concern you."

He nodded slightly, "Alright fine...I get that. But you're messin up. Ya can't just yell at her like that and expect everythin to be alright afterwards. She was upset, she still is."

"Why do you care so much all of a sudden? Huh?" I asked, getting up closer to his face.

He shrugged, "I'm just sayin I know how you are. If you keep it up with that temper of yours, you're gonna lose her."

"No I ain't." I spoke coldly, turning around to fully walk away.

There was a beat of silence before the faintness of his voice called out one last time, "Your girl has a heart of gold baby brother. Don't let her go." I heard him say as I walked out, only this time, I kept going.

My head shook in frustration as I couldn't stop myself from wondering why Merle suddenly cared so much about Rose. I didn't think they spent enough time around each other for him to open up to her and let her in so easily. Though I might've not known the reason behind it, what I did know is that Rose had us both wrapped around her little finger.

But the words Merle spoke stuck with me, about how I could lose her. Apart of me wanted to jump to that conclusion that he was cruelly messing with me yet again, but I couldn't help but wonder if maybe he was right in a way. He did know how bad my temper could be, but I would never scream at Rose the way Merle and I used to scream at each other. At least I hoped I wouldn't. I had never thought about it before now, before I had the nerve to take my frustrations out on her for what seemed like the very first time.

But the more I thought about it, the more worried I became. More than I would ever like to realize.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ROSE POV ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After some time had passed, I was still sat in the common room, Hershel and his girls joining me at the table after a while to talk. Although I found myself a little distracted, watching the double doors for Michonne as I knew she would come back inside after working out in the heat for most of the day. I wanted to catch her and take her off to the side, warn her like I had planned. But my loud thoughts were suddenly interrupted when I heard Hershel's voice ask if I would be okay with him reading from the bible during this horrific time. Perhaps to pray. I found I didn't mind at all, though I wasn't very religious anymore after the world went to shit.

I thought how cruel God must be if he cursed us so badly with this new world we were stuck with. But if I'm being honest with myself, I silently hoped that there was a chance that heaven was a real place. For the sole purpose that I would see all the people we've lost once again someday. Thinking about that alone gave me some peace of mind, and I would continue to think like that, in hopes that it would be true.

I held Beth's hand in my own as we all listened to the passage Hershel was reading, and for the first time in a while, I felt calm. I let myself forget about everything negative going on around us for a moment, letting some peacefulness in for once in a very long time.

But the older man suddenly stopped and placed the book back on the table, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he thought. I slowly reached over to grab his free hand as I looked up at him, "You okay?"

He looked at me and nodded, "What I wouldn't do...to keep you three safe." he said while looking at all of us, giving my hand a squeeze.

I knew exactly what he meant by that, catching the knowing glance he was throwing my way after the discussion we both witnessed earlier. His intentions were in the right place when it came time to protect our family, but the thing itself was just wrong, He and I both seemed to know that. Though I still took what he said to heart, seeing the honest love and protectiveness in his eyes from how he looked at the three of us. It filled me with comfort, and only made me think of the things I would do to keep him safe as well, right along with his two girls.

We then suddenly heard the door open, my head snapping up immediately as I nearly stood almost instinctively, but it was only Rick returning. Still, I felt I had to say something to perhaps sway his decision. Hershel and I seemed to share a look before I stood up to face him, to try and stop him from doing something that he might most defiantly regret.

I sighed as the man caught my eye, coming to a stop right in front of me, "Rick, what you're about to do-"

"I can't." he shook his head, "I won't." he whispered as he put a hand on my shoulder.

His words stunned me momentarily, not expecting him to say that at all, but the second they registered I was pulling him into me for a tight hug. He hesitated for a moment at the suddenness before wrapping his arms around me, chuckling lightly to himself.

"I thought about what you said, and you're right. You're absolutely right." he muttered quietly into my hair.

I nodded and let him go, "We'll find some other way, we have to. I'm just glad you changed your mind."

"I need to find Merle, tell him it's off." he said with a nod of his head.

"I'll come with you." I offered, following him as he began to move.

We made our way through each and every part of the prison, searching for him in the large and endless building. But as we passed each and every room with no sign of him, we quickly began to panic more and more. Not only had we not seen Merle, but we also hadn't spotted Michonne since she was outside helping a few others just merely minutes ago.

As we rushed back outside to make a loop around the building, Daryl was standing nearby, watching us pass in confusion.

"I can't do it," Rick informed him, "But we can't find Merle and Michonne anywhere, I'm thinking he already took her."

A look of panic passed through the man's eyes before he nodded back, "Come on." he muttered before jogging towards the tunnels.

The two of us followed behind him through the deep parts of the place, passing by almost every room before he entered the one towards the end, glancing around like he was retracing his steps, "He was in here, said he was lookin for drugs. Said a lot of things actually..." he muttered before glancing up at me.

"Like what?" Rick asked.

"That you were gonna back out, said you were gonna change your mind...and mentioned you a few times." Daryl mentioned, pointing to me.

I looked at him confused, "Me?"

He only nodded his head before moving further into the room, walking around furniture and heading toward the back, before he found something on the ground. There was a bag laying there, a little bit of blood coating the material as he picked it up in his grasp.

"Here we go. Yeah, he took her here, they mixed it up."

My heart dropped. "Damn it," Rick cursed, "I'm going after them." he stated before walking out towards the door leading to the outside, Daryl and I hot on his trail.

"You can't track for shit." I stated as I kept up with his long strides.

He turned around to face me, "...Then... I'll take you with me." he suggested.

"Nah, just me." Daryl suddenly protested as he shrugged his crossbow over his shoulders, "I said I'd go, and I'll go. Plus, when we come back here you need to be ready...everyone needs to be." he said before pushing the door open to leave.

I shook my head despite his protests and followed him out, but Rick stayed behind. He couldn't even argue or protest when it came to going after the man, knowing that he needed to tell everyone else what had happened.

My eyes followed him as I watched him make a beeline towards his bike, "Daryl, wait!" I called out before he was able to completely take off.

"Rose, you gotta stay here." he said, not stopping or turning around to face me.

Though I pushed myself to finally catch up to him, "You really want to go out there all by yourself?" I spoke as I grabbed his arm gently so we would both come to a stop.

"He's my brother, he's my responsibility. I don't wanna drag ya into this, I need ya here where it's safe." he stated.

I slowly nodded my head in understanding, knowing in the back of my mind that we were just wasting time going back and forth. There was still time for him to catch up to them, stop him before he did anything rash.

"M' sorry." he spoke again when a moment of silence passed.

"Don't worry about it...just come back safe, okay?" I spoke.

He nodded and kissed my cheek quickly before turning around, jumping on his motorcycle to go after Merle.

It made me uneasy to let him go out there by himself, but I knew he would be okay. I just hoped that he would catch up to them in time so that Merle didn't hand her over. I then slowly thought back to the opening that he and I talked about, about how we had come to an agreement to wait until I had spoken to Rick again before he made any moves. And this was how I found out that he just lied right through his teeth, not waiting for one moment before taking off with her without hesitation.

It made me angry, every single thing he did leading up to this point just made me utterly furious that he couldn't listen for once. But I knew there was nothing I could do about it now. All I was able to do was distract myself in any way that I could until they got back.

My feet eventually moved from the spot I was standing, waiting until I could no longer see or hear his bike roar before finally making my way back inside. I slowly dragged my feet through the common room and into the cellblock, passing by Beth's room as I saw her sitting down on her bed somewhat somberly.

I backtracked a few steps once I noticed, leaning against the doorway, "Hey honey, how're you holding up?" I asked from outside.

She looked up and smiled at me, "I'm okay. Well...as okay as I can be I guess." she muttered before patting the space next to her as she invited me to sit.

I smiled as I moved in further, "How are you holding up?" she asked just as I plopped down on the mattress.

A sigh passed my lips as I shrugged, "Just trying to be okay."

She nodded in understanding, "Yeah...seems like all we're doing these days is fighting and hoping we make it to see another day."

I hummed in agreement as I knew exactly what she meant. So much for the distraction I hoped for when I waltzed back in here. "I wish we could just...breathe. I wish we could finally be comfortable with where we are."

She stayed quiet for a second, thinking some things over before a small smile was brought to her face, "I wish we still had that guitar." she admitted jokingly.

I laughed quietly, "So do I. It was fun while it lasted."

She smiled in agreement, before it slowly fell from her face as she began to think back to everything else, somehow not being able to escape the thoughts for very long. I noticed her change in mood, quickly wrapping an arm around her and bringing her closer to me as she rested her head on my shoulder.

"I hope it all works out okay." she spoke barely above a whisper as she gently grabbed my free hand.

"Me too." I whispered back, resting my head on top of hers as I closed my eyes.

We sat like that in silence for what only felt like minutes, before we both sat up a bit straighter upon hearing rushed footsteps that entered the cellblock, clearly in some kind of hurry. The two of us then slowly got up and peeked around the corner to see Maggie like she was on some type of mission, her eyes darting around endlessly before she spotted us together in the cell.

She quickly made her way closer to us with an unmistakable grin on her face as she stared at us, "What's up Mags?" I asked cautiously.

She said nothing as she only held her left hand out for us to see, the diamond ring glistening in the light as Beth and I caught on immediately. Her sister squealed as her eyes widened, taking her hand in hers as she examined every inch and angle of the new ring dangling off of her finger.

Maggie's eyes then traveled up to mine in excitement, watching as I just smiled knowingly, and her face dropped. "You knew didn't you." she accused.

"Well yeah," I said as if it were obvious, "Glenn's my best friend who else was he supposed to tell?"

She scoffed as she pushed my arm playfully, eventually letting me bring her into a hug as I whispered a congratulations, telling her how unbelievably happy I was for the two of them. She thanked the both of us as she beamed with joy, going into detail about how it happened and how nervous she could tell he was. It was something she would surely remember for the rest of her life, thankful that something good like this happened for once in what felt like forever.

Though her voice quieted down as we heard more footsteps entering the cellblock, Carol poking her head in with a smile as she bounced Judith on her hip, "Hey, sorry to interrupt but Rick wants us outside so he can talk to us about something."

We all nodded silently as we began to follow her out, knowing in the back of my mind that it was about Michonne, and he was about to come clean to the group. There really wasn't any other way around it, especially if people started to notice the missing members of the group, beginning to put it together themselves.

As soon as we walked outside where everyone else was gathered, I saw just how nervous he was as he paced in front of everyone that gathered around, waiting until we were all there before he even began to open his mouth. I flicked Carl's hat down as I passed him, glancing over my shoulder to see him sending me a playful glare before a small smile broke out onto his face, moving over to then sit next to Hershel. My elbows leaned down on the table in front of me as I followed his pacing steps, catching his eye as he finally worked up the courage to face us, sending him a nod of reassurance.

He only gave a barely noticeable nod in return before clearing his throat nervously, looking up at the others who eyed him expectantly. "When...I met with The Governor...he offered me a deal. He said- he said he would leave us alone, if I gave him Michonne." he said.

I managed to stop the laugh that threatened to escape my lips, leaning closer to Hershel to speak quietly, "I didn't know Dr. Seuss was talking to us." I whispered.

The man pressed his lips together tightly as the corners quirked up, before glancing over and giving me a look that told me to stay quiet. I leaned back with my mouth closed after that, knowing that sometimes humor helps in situations like this. I for one needed it more than I was willing to admit.

"And I was going to do that, to keep us safe," he continued, "I changed my mind...but now Merle took Michonne to fulfill the deal and Daryl went after them. I don't know if it's too late. I was wrong not to tell you...and I'm sorry. What I said last year, that first night after the farm, it can't be like that. What we do, what we're willing to do, who we are, it can't be my call. It can't be..."

I took a moment to glance around at everyone in the small, formed circle, watching their expressions change drastically that Rick could even come up with a plan like this. Seeing them all begin to question everything as he struggled to find the right words.

"I couldn't sacrifice one of us for the greater good because we are the greater good. We're the reason we're still here...not me. This is life and death, how you live and how you die, it isn't up to me. I'm not your Govenor. We chose to go, we chose to stay, we stick together. We vote, we can stay, and we can fight...or we can go."

With his last remining words still hanging in the air, he began to walk away again, as if he couldn't look at all of them anymore. As if he couldn't handle the disapproving glances that were being thrown his way. The air was thick as he left, everyone silenced similar to the night right after we lost the farm, but this was different.

He was calm, willing to hear what we wanted instead of what he wanted, wanting everything from now on to be a unanimous decision. Rick saw what The Governor was doing, who that man became as he led his people, and I could tell it scared him. He didn't want to be like him, lead his people like that and turn into some kind of monster, but what he didn't realize, was that he was so far from that.

And without even realizing it, he proved just now how he could never get to that point. Being open and vulnerable, honest about the situation he was being put in, treating us like his family instead of just some people who looked to him for guidance.

But I was suddenly snapped out of my thoughts, seeing Rick no longer walking away, but running towards the front gate. My concern only grew as I wordlessly got up from my spot and followed him, seeing who was coming up through the fences. I failed to hear the sound of Daryl's bike which only worried me more, but as I got closer, I watched as Michonne jogged through the open space Rick provided, stepping back as he shut the gate once more.

I picked up my pace drastically upon seeing that she was okay, barely giving her time to process my presence before I tackled her in a hug. She became frozen suddenly with her hands hovering over my back, before I felt her slowly relax as she hesitantly wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

I only pulled away after merely seconds to get a better look at her face, "I'm so sorry...I tried to stop whatever happened from happening, but it just-"

"It's okay," she cut me off and gave me a small smile, "I'm okay."

"What happened?" Rick asked as he came closer to us.

She looked over at him, "Merle let me go. Said he had something to take care of."

My eyes widened, thinking of all the shit that man had probably gotten into. I slowly shook my head, "I'm going after them." I said, turning to walk towards the gate, before Rick quickly grabbed my arm to stop me.

"No, are you insane? You can't go out there by yourself, not with The Governor and his men walking around." he said sternly.

I ripped my arm away from him, "I don't care, Daryl is still out there! I can track him."

"What if he comes back and you're not here? Huh? What am I supposed to tell him?" he asked, stopping me again.

"If I'm not back in a few hours, then start to worry. But I need to make sure that they're okay." I said briefly before fully walking away, hearing and ignoring the calls of protest from behind me.

I didn't know how much time had passed; I didn't care. My eyes stayed firmly on the ground as I held my weapon tightly in my hands, passing his tire tracks ages ago along with his bike, now only focusing on his footprints that lingered. They were only becoming fresher, causing me to only push myself further to finally catch up and find him. Though I seemed to recognize the place immediately as I slowed my pace upon the familiarity, seeing that this was the same junked up place that Rick had met with The Governor.

I took in my surroundings with my bow raised, seeing the many dead walkers that were laying lifeless scattered all over the dirt. Something didn't feel right. Something hadn't felt right from the start but now that I was here, listening around but hearing nothing but silence, I was growing more worried.

My steps then came to a halt when I saw a certain walker that was pinned up against the trunk of a tree, a bolt sticking out of its head. The familiar black and green pattern on the ends told me that they were his and it only made the pit in my stomach grow further.

Getting the courage to finally peer around the corner, my heart instantly dropped at the sight as my weapon lowered to the ground. Daryl was placed firmly on his knees as his shoulders lightly shook, staring down at a walker that he had just taken down. Upon looking closer, I couldn't recognize its face from how bashed in and bloody it had become, but taking one glance down at Merle's familiar stump, I knew.

My heart shattered as I stood back, watching him cry for his brother right in front of me. My instinct was to rush over and comfort him as much as I could during something terrible like this, but I didn't know how he would react to me being here when he told me to stay back in the first place. I just pathetically stood frozen as my face fell the longer I processed what happened.

But after only a few seconds, I took a breath and began to walk over to him hesitantly, his head whipping over his shoulder as he heard my steps almost immediately. Tears were streaming down his cheeks when he looked at me, a gasp leaving his lips once his mind processed that it was actually me. He then wasted no time standing up to his feet, walking the rest of the way over to me and stopping right when our chests were about to touch.

"He... he-" he tried to speak, but a sob escaped his throat instead.

I just shook my head, silently telling him he didn't need to say a word before pulling him in for a hug. He instantly crashed into my arms and buried his face in my neck as he let out his quiet cries. My heart broke even more the second I was holding onto him, hearing how broken he sounded as I rubbed his back lightly.

This was the first time Daryl had ever cried in front of me and I was completely speechless. I couldn't think of the right words to say, all I could think about was the last things I said to the man, thinking and knowing how much he meant to Daryl. The familiar feeling of loss was all too heartbreaking.

"I'm sorry love. I'm so, so sorry." I whispered as I kissed the side of his head.

I felt him nod in appreciation, but he didn't move. We just stayed there in each other's arms, lightly rocking back and forth as he squeezed me tighter. I didn't care how long I stood there with him, because I wanted him to take all the time he needed. Knowing I was going to be here for him no matter what.

~ Thanks for reading!

Taglist - @welcumetomyescape @hayley1998 @justareader95

[jacks347]

(After the latest BVZ episode, I have to get this out of my brain. Enjoy Albus visiting home out of panic.)

Faith barely heard the door open and slam shut over the low buzz of the early evening. Faith was working on dinner, Kerano was doing her homework at the kitchen table. If anything, she expected the sound to be Devlin. It wasn't until she felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around her in a tight grip, burying his face in her hair.

It was...odd. Faith almost didn't want to breathe, lest she break the atmosphere. Albus didn't do hugs, Faith would know. But here he was, clinging onto her like she'd disappear if he didn't. If she really listened, she could hear him mumbling something. "She's safe, she's okay, he can't hurt her now." Over and over like a mantra. Just what had happened out there?

She slowly reached up, smoothing over the warrior's hair. "Albus? Are you okay?" That seemed to snap him out of it as he lifted his head, his near death grip loosening. "Huh? Oh, I'm fine, Faithful. Just...had a rough mission." Faith leaned her head back to raise an eyebrow at him, unable to resist a teasing smile. "What's this? The impervious Albus York admitting he had a bad day?" He snorted, almost offended as he pushed her away. "Yeah yeah, laugh it up. Next time I'll just leave you to worry like an old housewife." "Don't you dare, I will march out to Maya myself and hunt you down if I have to." Faith warned, brandishing her spoon like a sword. Albus only chuckled, pushing her spoon down and kissing her forehead. "You're cute when you think you're intimidating, you know that?"

The healer could only sputter and blush, unable to find the words to counter him before pointing towards the table. "Just...go sit for dinner. You came all this way, you're not leaving until I know you're not going to drop over dead from hunger or something." "Stickler as always, Faithful." "Go!" "Alright, alright, I'm going."

Albus wandered to the table, settling into the chair across from Kerano with a sigh. "How ya doing kid? Listening to your sister?" Kerano’s head popped up with a toothy grin. "Mr. Albus! When did you get here?" "Ah only a couple minutes ago, you didn't miss much." "Oh well that's good! Big sister really misses you when you go away for so long." "Oh does she now?" "Yeah! I mean, she has Mr. Devlin and she's always happy with him but she talks about you a lot. Wonders where you are or what you're doing or if you're okay. She really worries about you. She tries not to show it but she acts different when you haven't been around for a while." Albus raised an eyebrow at that. "Acts different? How?" "Her shoulders get all tense. They get closer to her ears bit by bit like a wind-up toy. And she gets really nervous. Then you come by and she relaxes again. It's kinda funny to watch." Kerano giggled as Albus’s heart flipped. She really worried about him. Gods above, if only she knew how much he put on the line to protect her.

"Kerano, honey! Can you clear the table? Dinner's ready!" "Yes big sister!" Kerano hopped down from her seat and quickly cleared her papers off the table, setting out dishes as Faith brought in a delicious smelling meal. As they both took their place at the table, talking and dishing out food, Albus sat quietly and watched. He watched his girls talk and laugh, watched them be happy like a mom and daughter.

This was his mission. This was the thing he fought so hard to protect. Fuck whatever he told people, fuck his own life, he fought for his family. For the woman he loved, the girl he cared for as his own, and the brother he'd grown to have. He would never deserve it, never deserve a place in their picture perfect life, but he'd be damned if he let his actions be the thing that destroyed it. So he would defend them with his life.

"So Kerano tells me you get all jumpy when I'm away. Haven't convinced Vinny to give you any stress relief, eh?" "Albus!!"

(There. Brain worm satisfied. I can finally finish my homework in peace-)

[glitchxinthematrix]

IRREDEEMABLE

Part 4

Love, a concept so complicated to even grasp and yet, every single soul in the universe end up craving it. I have had my share of the cravings, but, news flash, it all resulted in me being left alone stranded. So the concept is now hid safe inside a box. buried deep down somewhere inside, and at times like these I hear the faint screaming it does from the suffocation, all for some acknowledgement. And now, Geto, Love? The one minute he stared longer? Gojo's words kept replaying in my head on my way to find Suguru.

I wouldnt run my thoughts any deeper into this, i mean why should i? what did he do about this? how long has this been going on, and ,oh fuck , thats a pillar and my head is gonna raamm into-, wait no its soft, wait its a hand, a familiar one, shit-

I slowly raised my head to see geto by the vending machine with one can of his favourite drink and the other hand as a barrier to my head and the wall. and yet he doesnt frickin spare me a look, why te hell is his head stooped so low.

Walls are everywhere these days huh?,the audacity to joke around right now without even meeting my eye.

"So youre not even gonna look at me?" I blurt out, unexpectedly helpless in my delivery.

As I see him lift his head up very reluctantly and struggle, i find myself doubting everything gojo previously said, miutes ago.

"Whats up y/n". THE NERVE.

"Didnt take you to be a fuckboi Suguru Senpai, following your best friend's steps is it?"

With a confounded expression I saw him squint his eyes and , well that should be a question then.

"You never called, Geto".

His eyes bulged a bit like he wasnt expecting me to care about the things that we did yesterday. I saw him mumble something under his breath while maintaining the good old strained eyebrows.

"What, you dont care about how i feel now that you slept w me?"

I see his expression waver into immediate shock that desperately needed to set some things straight.

"Y/n..you don't know what you're talking about.. please".

No amount of strained expression from him is helping this mixed signal facade that's happening to me. He takes a deep breathe noticing my baffled expression.

"I do. i do care, more than I've done for anyone else. its just.. by the time you were asleep in my...in my arms, gojo had texted. Soo..it worked. Everything worked out. As intended. Or it didnt, and he came to his senses maybe,finally,else, it doesnt make sense. it makes zero sense. i mean why the fuck would someone not know how to treat you? to treat you shouldnt come as a chore or a result of some challenge, its as natural as breathing air, and idk what was with him all this while, but im sure he realises now, so give him a chance, he'll treat you better I'm sure."

"Is that what you want?"

"What..why..why would it matter, what I think" he visibly gulps, confused.

"It matters to me geto, if you care about me, to know that you like me, I don't know geto you messed with my head, I can't get you out of it...i broke up with gojo."

"What..wait. what?" His face couldn't contain the emotions that rollercoastered through his mind.

"Just say it geto, fucking say it. Do you or do you not like me. Shit, why am I even doing this? " I steer away on my heel as an attempt to hide the tears that are about ruin my mascara, until I feel an immediate grab on my wrist, the same soft hands.

"y/nnn, y/nn....how do i tell you this...you have no idea. not a thing. the way i have craved for you, to be with you, the way i have literally felt my blood boil seeing the way my bestfreind treated you. you have no ideaaa. please dont torment me any more than this, shit im sorry, i know, its not your fault. hell you had no idea how i felt. its just. all you had to do was exist ynnn. the way you aree, the way you smile, hold the hemm of gojos shirt when he failed to pay you the attention you more than deserve, the way you gently hit shoko on her shoulders when you laugh, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, the way and fuck the way, the way i saw you yesterday, every inch of you, its etched in my memory, by choice. Fuck, I need some water"

I couldn't contain the happiness that bloomed inside me and I had to do something crazy because he looked just too cute.

" for now i can help you moisten your lips I think", I stand on my toes to reach his open mouth, so confused and wary and place the timid but hungry kiss on it, but within seconds he makes sense of things and grabs me by my waist only to land a kiss that lasted longer than the hourly bell that rang twice or thrice after that.

"Aaargh, this...you're tempting me to do something irredeemable again" he breathes with a glistening red lips messy with the stray tints of my lipstick.

"Let's redeem through it this time then."

The smirk on his lips right then looked more promising than ever.

[lowkeyrobin]

👀 guess who's back

Is now a bad time to request a Foosh fic?

helloooo!! ; also I'm backed the fuck up but dw I swear I'll get this shit posted LMAO ; also went for some angst cause why not (I wanted to write maze runner angst of some sort but idek I have too many reqs)

FOOLISH GAMERS ; meet you at the graveyard

summary ; you have to say goodbye to one another

warnings ; language, suicidal innuendos

disclaimers ; snow in carolina 😭🙏 forgot where bro lives for a minute, reader is 23 but can mostly be ignored ig, young sheldon reference, me venting about loss and grief kinda idek

track ; meet you at the graveyard, cleffy

word count ; 853

b/m = birth month & b/d = birth date

masterlist

Foolish somblerly walks up to the graveyard where you lay now, where you stay now. He carries a bouquet of crimson red roses in his hand, the snow under his feet making a crushing sound as he walks.

His head hangs low, the vision of the accident and your face clouding his mind as he lays eyes on your headstone. He sets the flowers down across the snow, covering the bottom of your headstone like a freezing cold blanket.

You didn't deserve this, being only twenty-three.

His fingers trace your birth date and death date fragiley, like he'd hurt you beyond the grave.

B/M B/D, 1999 - December 28th, 2022

It stung seeing those numbers like that, under this circumstance. Your birthday was something to be celebrated, bringing joy and excitement, but now it hurt. Instead of creating more fun, happy memories with you, he'd have to sit in silence and ponder, drowning in those old memories because he couldn't make any new ones with you.

He sits down, looking blankly at the grey stone, then up at the grey skies above.

He talked to you every once in a while when he visited, trying to fill the empty hole in his heart. He felt like Mary Cooper talking to you like this, still hurt and alone, just wishing it'd all get better.

"How do you ever expect me to be happy?" He asks, his tone laced with the slightest bit of anger. Anger at himself mostly, angry at the force that took you away from him. "Why isn't letting go as easy as loving you?"

Tears stream down his frost-bitten cheeks, glowing a bright red. He wasn't properly dressed for the cold, only wearing some thick shoes, jeans, and a heavy coat over a t-shirt. He'd nearly left the house wearing basketball shorts until he saw the snow in his yard.

"I can't help it, it's just the way I'm wired, I know. I just can't let go. I love you too much to even try." He shakes his head, shoulders raised as he tenses up. "Every time I see photo recaps of you on my phone, I just cry. I don't wanna cry anymore, Y/n/n. I wanna smile when I see you, but I can't."

He wipes his tears away with his thick sleeves, sniffling a bit as he attempts to keep his composure.

"You taught me so much, you gave me so many new experiences and memories and showed me things I never would've if it weren't for you. I'm here right now because of you, everything is because of you." He admits. "Getting over you feels so wrong, even if it's just trying to live with myself without you. Those words that you said before you left my house are stuck in my head like glue, I don't know what you even meant. I can't even tell between fact and fiction with it"

He thinks of it over and over again before whispering it aloud. "'See you tomorrow, maybe', what does that mean?" He questions, "What does that even mean?" He asks again, his voice breaking.

At the response of nothing, he hides his face in his hands, struggling to hold back the tears. He quickly stands up without wishing you goodbye, heading back to the front entrance to leave and get back home.

You watch as he does so, his frozen fingertips hidden in his pockets. You sat on top of your headstone, knowing he couldn't see nor hear you, hoping one day he could. You always answered his questions, responded to his statements. You'd stay there until he joined you, hoping it was later rather than sooner, if anything.

As much as you'd been waiting for him, you could wait longer. You wanted him to live the long, fulfilling life you didn't give yourself. He'd be okay without you, he just needed time to adapt.

The days flick by quickly as if they're merely seconds, showing the snow melting over time and those roses wilting. Eventually, they're fully decomposed, leaving the plastic wrapping to be picked up by a stranger visiting their loved one, as it'd blown in the wind toward them. The grass is cut again once it's warm again.

They never weed wack, but mow over the flowers Foolish left at your grave, angering him. He decided that every time he'd come, about once every two to three months, he'd plant new ones. They hadn't run over the new rose bush he'd put beside your headstone, pleasing him at least.

You watched as he grew month after month, clearly happier and healthier after each visit. They'd become more sporadic, but he'd never healed, you don't just heal after losing someone like that. You break for good, you're able to super glue the broken plate back together, but cracks and small missing pieces still remain.

His goofy laugh makes itself present one day, lighting up your whole face like you'd never smiled before. It glued together one of those broken pieces inside of you, you swore it.

"I love you, Y/n/n."

[bogkeep]

it was always a strange dichotomy. every middle school classmate i had told me i'd be a millionaire when i grew up, a Famouse Artisté. it's easy enough to imagine as a teen, i suppose: skill equals fame equals money. i was doubtful about this prophecy, not because i wasn't confident in my ability to draw, but because it was hard to imagine a world where i'd be paid for it.

it was an ice breaker game at summer camp. horrible one, really - everyone in a group were given a character profile. now we had to imagine that it was the zombie apocalypse, and the helicopter to safety was two seats short and we had argue why we deserved a spot. the character i got was an asshole doctor of some kind. i don't remember if i argued my way into the helicopter or not, but i do remember the feeling that's been hanging over me my entire life - if the apocalypse happens right now, i have nothing to contribute.

there's something really painful about it. i have cultivated a skill for my whole life, i can make art and tell stories that are entirely unique to me, there is no way to get someone else to create in the exact same way i can, and yet - i've contributed more to capitalist society by sitting in an empty hotel reception for eight hours a day.

which made me develop anxiety, to boot.

i illustrated two children's books. they're some of my best work. the contract i signed was industry standard and the indie author who had hired me was incredibly kind... but even after stock sold out i had earnt little more than some pocket change.

in high school we had an outing to dig our own snow caves that we would spend the night in. in teams, thankfully. i have so little physical strength to speak of, most i could do to help was clear away the snow rubble and toss it outside. i know, i know, my classmates reassured me it was an important job to do, i was an invaluable member of the group, sure - but it's that feeling, you know?

what would my task be in the communist solarpunk commune?

a person cannot be useless. it's a human being. they just exist, no ifs and buts about it. one can only be useless in the eyes of an ableist, capitalist society that sees no value in being alive beyond production and profit.

sometimes i receive messages from internet strangers to tell me something i said - often several years ago - was helpful to them. maybe it was a throwaway comment on a forum. maybe it was replying to a question they could've googled the answer to. maybe it was an encouraging reply to someone's artwork. turns out it mattered to someone. huh.

of course you can learn new skills. i have learnt plenty over the years! i have also learnt that there are limitations to what i can do. that some of the obstacles i face are not in fact obstacles everyone faces. it's not that i can't break tasks into smaller steps, it's more that half of those steps are going to be "rinse your hands because you Touched a Thing and now you're going to have to touch Another Thing." i wonder if that's adding to my cognitive load or something.

i was never raised to be a man, so by all accounts i do not understand why i'm so haunted by the spectre of toxic masculinity - what would i do if i was a medieval peasant and a war broke out? what if i was in a pre-historic hunter gatherer society and i was expected to hunt? what if i was a humble farm boy discovering the sword of the chosen one and the world depended on my non-existing courage to face certain death?

look, it's stupid. these are not scenarios i will find myself in. besides, pre-historic humans depended on community and taking care of each other. that's how we survive.

i'm not useless and i decided to make peace with being useless anyway.

we're surrounded by digital clocks. we can't really escape them. do we need watchmakers? would they save me a spot in the zombie apocalypse helicopter? no, don't answer that. i'm just happy i found something that requires a light touch and an observant eye.

[xmorguekittyx]

Ever Locked

Part 3: With Your Ghost

Part 2: On the Rocks

pairing: Older!Leon Kennedy × Ex!Coroner's Assistant Reader

warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, this chapter is more of your pov with how Leon’s affected your psyche. No real warnings for this one, a slow but telling chapter <3

extras: this fic will also be slow and longer, we're telling an entire story, i want it to be detailed with Reader and Leon as well as introducing Marina and Ryan. I hope you guys enjoy i have so so so many ideas and rough drafts already written. next part should be out Sunday!

Blue that's what I remembered the most about Leon Kennedy, the nights sleep evaded me. The days in which every stranger somehow had the same ocean eyes, same chubby cheeks and boyish face. How someone totally unrecognizable, morphed into a version of the man that I both loved and despised. Don't get me wrong, Leon is a bastard- a no-good, psychotic, lunatic, who deserves to be behind bars for what he's put me through. Yet, I find myself thinking about how it would've played out... had that night never happened. Had it all simply been a bad dream in itself, would we have children by now, be married? Would he still be an officer, and I, a coroner's assistant... would we have left Raccoon City together or would we have died in the bombing?

  The clink of the glass brought my vision back. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were thinking about me.", Ryan's hands cupped around mine, his fingers laced between mine, pressed to the glass in my palm. "But your brows are so furrowed i think you'll gain permanent lines.", his head appeared in my line of vision, black brows raised as his smile was wide. That was Ryan, always so sweet and caring, always the hero and the calm man. He was everything and more, my heart clenched in my chest as his thumb pad brushed the area between my brows. His digit working at the tense muscle as i felt a deep sigh leave my lips.

  "He's not going to bother you. Not while i'm here, i can call some guys from the office. We can start checking into him and get a restraining order in place-", he spoke as if he already planned it in his head and I couldn't complain. Except, for the fact, that part of me saw him, the sweet shy rookie, in those heavy blue eyes. That the years didn't change him and that he was still the shy boy who came into my office to wait on a file all that time ago. That, maybe, just maybe... it had all been a nightmare, I got them more often than not, these days. The scar on my temple reminds me daily that he wasn't a dream, that i was in the claws of some dangerous, predatory wolf cramped into a small sheep's skin.

  "Would that be okay?", his words hit the side of my cheek, breath lingering with the scent of mint, probably from the ones he keeps in his front pocket. Another thing to draw the once blonde back into my mind. "Yeah.", it doesn't sound like me, a squeak from between my lips that doesn't sound confident in the slightest. "Yeah... that would be okay.", a soft nod to reassure him with my words. His eyes shine in an uncertain light, lips twitching with unspoken questions. It wasn't normal for me to drink anymore, I wanted to be in control of my body, never so vulnerable at the hands of another again, not even Ryan, despite how sweet he is, how caring and protective.

   I couldn't do it, be broken down again. Not by someone so close, a stranger's betrayal is expected, it doesn't hurt like a loved one's betrayal. The biggest betrayal of love, what a sick thing, love itself. We can't choose who our love goes to, or if it will ever be reciprocated. I love Ryan, I love the safety blanket he surrounds me in, the love he gives back to me... but Leon's "love" felt different. It was warm but in a way that was far too hot that it burnt, as if the heat within him came up to kiss my skin, leaving burning welts in its path. A path trailed in love and destruction, his heaviness was a weight so unmovable by my own strength. Ryan gives me the option to remove the heavy weighted blanket of his love, taking a breath for a moment before I cover myself back up in his presence.

  A kiss, so soft and tender to the crown of my head, his soft, pouty lips that touched the skin of my head with the most caring feeling. I could cry, my eyes burning as the pin pricks of a sob wailing down. "I love you, I have to handle this thing for work. I'll just be in my office, okay? Call out to me for anything.", he was so fucking sweet, like an ice cream cone that was begging for my tongue to swipe across. "Of course, have fun.", the small smirk tugged at my lips, an invisible string pulling the shape together as I gave a sigh laugh. "Oh, it's going to be a joy~", his hand waving as he walked into the office room.

  His steps pattering against the floor, until the door clicks and I feel the weight of the world fall back onto my shoulders. The thick feeling in my throat coming back as I swallow down another mouthful of the whiskey, the one he had before him in the bar. I didn't see the appeal, the more expensive stuff was much better.. then again, Leon was never very flashy. He didn't care about things like that. He was not what i thought he was, he was so different. A shy man and a psycho all in one, a sweet, precious lamb, begging for a hand to pet its head, then a raging wolf, ready to penetrate its prey with the sharp, ravenous teeth. I was the prey. I know that now, it never left my mind the way it felt to hear the sickening thud of my head against the floor, to hear the tile shatter under the amount of force that was behind the hit.

  A bit of alcohol threatened to come up, splashing the back of my throat with an angry sizzle. My phone vibrates off the table, the sound grating against my already tense mind. "Hey are you okay? You left so quick after Ryan came. What happened?"- Marina, i hadn't told her anything simply telling her to call Charlie and get him to find someone to cover my shift, mascara and eyeliner coating my cheeks as it did now, Ryan guiding me past her. "I know you're reading this. The guy at the bar asked me for your number. I didn't give it to him, just so you know. I know there's something you're hiding, but it's okay, you'll tell me when you're ready. Right?", I don't think I'd ever be ready to fill her in on what happened when I was 20, the years after that trying to calm myself and remind myself there's no flesh eating monsters after me, no craze-stricken man trying to kidnap me. "Right.", It was quick and to the point, I didn't want to linger on this anymore. I wanted to face him, then again, i didn't. What would i say? I saw him and started to cry, flash backs and memories, bittersweet to the mind's taste.

  The silence was deafening once the first thunder rolled through, causing the serene atmosphere to feel a little heavier. I didn't truly mind, rain was my favorite, and a constant in this town. It seems i couldn't get far from a rainy town. The glass between my fingers, slowly lowering in volume as the rim pressed to my lips. Against my willingness to forget, I wonder if he's out in the rain, if he's still drinking at the bar or shacked up in some hotel room? I'm angry to try and think about him anymore, it was probably a fluke- he wouldn't come 3k miles just to find me, right? 7 years is a long time, he probably found someone else while he was away. I was away.

  It's not that I find myself forgiving, because I don't, nor will I forgive him. I fought myself through the "you should be grateful you were captive for very long."'s, the "others have been kidnapped and died, you survived."'s and most important, the one i still let linger. "it's not as bad as you say, you just keep making it worse for yourself."'s... those linger in the hollow of my chest and come out on bad days, like today. It's like, I'm haunted by someone who still lives. He's alive, he's here, in Seattle. He's alive, he's been alive this entire time and he's okay... physically- he's okay. Some of my questions were angered then, some things gaining closure but the back of my mind thinks it's not a coincidence, no matter how much i try to fight back those feelings. It has to be, he can't- the glass hits the table as the first round of sobs fall from my lips.

  Arms covering my face, muffling the cries. It feels like I'm stuck in a deadly dance with a man who couldn't be nearly as horrific as I remember. I remember, but it was so quick, back then it felt slow... now i struggle to remember things. The red underwear, my red underwear... I thought about it while I was sitting in his home, the day he went to work. Those were mine. They had to be, his fucking "They're mine.", excuse was a load of bullshit. Just like everything else he ever said, leaving that morning to get breakfast... while he was doing, God knows, what to Mrs. Jones. This dance was deadly, like we're dancing apart, destined to eventually bump into each other and intertwine. Maybe, tonight was that bump, that intertwining moment that sealed our inevitable meeting again. He looked so different, if he hadn't had looked up, if he just fucking kept drinking away, i wouldn't have realized, i could continue in this fantasy life,  i'd created. The life, I love, Ryan, Marina, Charlie, our boss who likes to add a little to our checks for the bullshit we put up with. My apartment, it was so much nicer than the one from before, I don't miss that life i had before. I miss Rebecca, if only i knew if she survived. I think that part of me died that night, I died the night that Raccoon City went under and the man who loved me was whisked away into a government agency. It was a sorrowful moment, but it was destined for me. I wouldn't change it. As selfish as it is, I wouldn't change it. I'm a horrible person, it's horribly selfish and heartless but I can't find a single bit of regret for that day. I'd be doing, God knows, for a man who was willing to kill for me, it's so romantic in the books and movies, but to know i slept next to someone who didn't see how wrong it was to kill an elderly woman? The thoughts made me feel sick, imagining what he probably did, how he went about it. Rebecca never got the change to tell me how she went out, Leon definitely wasn't going to tell me.

 

  I must've missed the door steps echoing in the thunder filled apartment. Probably missed the door opening too, couldn't hear over my sobs as hands found their way around my waist, the stool slightly rocking as his weight pressed behind me. A shushing sound came from his lips, his hand traveling up the valley between my breast, palm caressing my jaw. His fingers are so warm, against the cold air that hit my tears. He was a gentle giant, something Leon never truly was... was it all a facade? something to get me closer, a trap? The thought sends another wracking sob through my chest, lungs expanding under his arm. "It's okay, now, my sweet girl. I'm here, you're safe and nothing's going to tear you away from me.", his words were calming, but nothing had a name, Leon Scott Kennedy and I knew deep down, now that the bunny was in the wolf's sight... the game had only just begun.

[cinnamonest]

Yandere twst - Jamil

Taking this as an opportunity to make a post for my boy!!! Similar to the last one I'm going with a "consensual relationship that quickly takes a turn for the worse," I am liking the dynamic >:3 Important note that you should probably read the last one for Kalim prior to this one (I originally intended to release it as one post but ended up dividing it bc both were like 12k+ words lmao), so this one makes several references to the other one.

Previous entries for twst series:

[Kalim]

[Floyd]

//manipulative bastard behavior/moderate yandere, somewhat dark, bullying, mind control, I think there might be implications of fem reader iirc

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The first interaction you have with Jamil is only a few brief moments. A conversation in passing, the sort of empty casual exchange that is normally more or less forgotten by both parties before the day is even over.

He's pretty aware of his surroundings at all times, so he sort of saw you walking over out of the corner of his eye, working himself away making food and setting up arrangements and venue as per usual for some function or another that Kalim decided to hold at the last minute on the main campus grounds . Bouncing from one task to the next. But several others have passed by already without a word, so it catches him a bit by surprise when your steps come to a halt, when you speak.

You know, every time I see you, you're always working on something. Don't you ever rest?

Your tone is that sort of endearing, amused way of speaking, but still seems to express a genuine sentiment. You're not exactly spending idle time either -- you have some box or package in your hands, headed somewhere to drop something off. Who knows what compelled you to say something, on this one occasion in particular, to voice the observation you've made quite a few times now. Spontaneous, spur of the moment.  A decision made with casual impulse.

His eyebrows raise, but it doesn't take him more than a moment to formulate a response. A very generic response, one that comes out mechanically, given how often people express similar thoughts to him, tell him he's working too hard, that he deserves a break and all that, things he hears pretty frequently. A randomly chosen option, the first that comes to mind, of a preset list of responses to such inquiries and comments.

A casual sigh, a shrug of the shoulders, followed with a 'well, someone has to get this done, might as well do it myself.' With a pleasant tone and a slight chuckle, of course, as socially expected, that perfect level of exasperation to where he can complain, but just not enough to make it seem like he actually feels burdened. A default exchange like so many others, that he recites his parts of without really thinking about it.

Likewise, you give what he perceives as a typical reply.

If you need any help, I can come back as soon as I get this dropped off...

He just shakes his head.

That's alright. Everything that can be done today is nearly finished anyway.

You shift the box you're carrying, jerking it up with a soft motion to re-secure it in your arms.

Well, alright, if you say so... you can let me know if you ever need any help with anything!

Of course, that in and of itself is also an empty social gesture. So often people say things of the sort -- let me know if you need anything, or I can help if you need, so on and so on, a courtesy expected by arbitrary rules of social etiquette, but not anticipated to be very likely to be actually taken up on the offer. He couldn't even count how many times people have said similar things to him, it's just a matter of social propriety. The exchange melts into the vast collection of perpetual memory, as with every other uneventful moment in one's life, and he doesn't think of it again for the rest of the day.

He's a bit taken aback, then, when you show up the next day. You can see the slight bewilderment on his face when he asks if you need something. Your reply is a bit sheepish, but friendly.

Well, you said 'everything that can get done today' yesterday, so I figured you'd be busy again today too... I don't have anything better to do, and I'm trying to get to know people here, you know? You seem like you could use some help.

Ah. Well, that does make sense. In truth, he values the solitary time he gets to himself, and trying to get to know new people often leaves him rather exhausted. But still, you're a pleasant person, and he would appreciate getting this set-up work for the event tomorrow done faster. He thanks you, pauses for a moment while trying to determine a task to delegate to you. Can't give you something too difficult, seeing as you're generous enough to do this in the first place. You end up performing some menial, repetitive task, simple but necessary, while he does the heavy lifting and more difficult aspects.

It's easy to talk to you, thankfully. You mostly just ask him a bunch of questions about the school, about himself, about Kalim, about the Scarabia dorm, so on and so on. Nothing too intrusive, nothing that's difficult to answer. Truthfully, it's actually kind of nice. He's not particularly used to people expressing a great deal of interest in him, he usually sort of works in the background, quiet, unnoticed, doesn't draw attention to himself. He was a bit weary of the thought of working with someone on this, but he finds that he actually enjoyed the time, once it's over, when you bid him farewell and head back to your own dorm, promising to come by again sometime.

But again, that's a social courtesy. Maybe you will, maybe you won't. It would be rather nice, but he won't be too disappointed nor surprised if you don't; after all, you must be very busy meeting tons of people and adjusting to the situation you've found yourself in here. He's not expecting anything.

Since over a week passes, he starts to think it will be just a one-time thing, not thinking much of it. It's a rather pleasant surprise, this time around, when you do show up again. He says it's nice to see you again, even more of those necessary appropriate courtesy things he's supposed to say, although it is meant sincerely. Thanks you for coming by again.

Conversation comes a bit more easily, as you're not really strangers this time around, your exchanges lack that inherent slight awkwardness that comes with interacting with a person you've never spoken to before. This time he can make some conversation based on asking you how your week was, how you're getting adjusted, so on and so on.

You come back a third time, after that, this time only around five days later. Then a fourth time, although that time you take even longer than the time between the first and second visit. He does take notice of that, supposing it to just be a habit of being observant of details like that.

It turns into a habit. You keep coming back, trying to help out. It's an appreciated act of kindness, but... somewhat uncomfortable, too. He's used to having to do quite a lot by himself, or employing the help of random Scarabia students, but even then he's acting more as a director, telling them what to do while working on other tasks himself. He's not as much used to working directly with someone, having someone hand him things and work right alongside him.

Still, it gets the job done faster. And it's nice to have someone to talk to, makes it feel like it's going by faster too. Not to mention, your returning to help him on multiple occasions suggests you have some desire to be around him, since he's fairly certain it's not as if you find manual labor particularly enthralling or anything. That gives him a feeling that is very...

...Unpleasant.

Yes, categorically, it should be considered unpleasant. A tight constriction of the chest, jittery nerves, increased heart rate, a feeling of unease and bashfulness. None of that is particularly positive, and in fact is rather irksome.

But the feeling is somehow, nonetheless, an addictive one, a sort of natural chemical high that, despite the duality of its unpleasantness, still leaves him with that trademark "warm fuzzy feeling" for the rest of the day, well after your departure. The back-and-forth of how good and bad the feeling is, is confusing and frustrating in and of itself. Not to mention the way he gradually increasingly finds his thoughts drifting to you in some way, wondering what you're doing and where you are. The sudden rushing feeling to his chest whenever he happens to spot you. The way he starts to look forward to your coming to visit and help. The surge of excitement when you do come walking through the door, and admittedly, acute disappointment on the days you don't show up.

More importantly, the conclusions to be drawn are frustrating. He's not clueless, quite the opposite. The realization of the sentiments he has for you aren't something he goes into self-denial about, nor does he have to sort through them.

It just sort of dawns on him one day, when you show up a few minutes late to a class you both have -- he finds himself a bit worried for the few minutes of your absence, and similarly a sensation of relief when you come sheepishly slinking through the doorway, quietly trying to enter the room without being noticed or called out for tardiness. Your eyes briefly meet from across the room. You flash a quick smile in his direction before heading to the spot you normally sit in. The slight concern, the relief, the way that one quick second of eye contact and smile from you made his heartrate go up, made a warm tight feeling in his chest... it just sort of occurs to him within that moment. Yes, he's not the sort of person to be in denial or delusion and convince himself he feels any other way, and is quite good at recognizing and fully understanding his own psychology.

...

...

...Ugh.

Not that he doesn't appreciate you or anything, but at first, it's actually something he's not particularly thrilled about, quite frustrated actually.

Firstly, it's inconvenient. For someone as busy and with so many responsibilities as himself, it's not good to have distractions or liabilities. Such things can compromise one's sense of priority, and keep oneself absent-minded, neither of which he can afford.

More importantly, it's a sort of weakness that he doesn't like the thought of having. His calmness and composition throughout most matters is largely dependent on the fact that he tends to operate from a distance, executing plans by proxy or otherwise indirectly. He doesn't approach things very head-on, it's just not his way of doing things. And any matters he conducts are usually professional or academic, rarely having to involve feelings and emotions, particularly in a relational sense to other people. While he's very persuasive, well-liked, and certainly doesn't struggle to socialize or anything, he doesn't really form a lot of very close relationships.

Thus, while would never admit to it, he's sort of lost when it comes to matters of a truly romantic nature, and would be very awkward if he tried to be forward or initiate any sort of display of affection. Thankfully, he's self-aware of that, and isn't about to make a fool of himself doing something stupid and impulsive.

This leads to a sort of stagnation. Yes, he'll do everything in his power to set up the correct circumstances in which he can be around you, will manipulate all sorts of surrounding factors and nearly everyone in your social network, even if that involves countless hours of quietly carrying out plans... he just won't, you know, ever say it outright to you, at least not unless you do first.

After all, even in literature and media, courtship is often compared to some form of game, where the one who cares more and needs the other more is thought of as the weaker, "losing" party. There's an innate sort of vulnerability to transparency in openness to one's emotions, and he's strongly averse to that. Part of it is the innate sensitivity to rejection present in all people, but it's also a matter of control. He likes situations and people and things that give him a firm sense of control, stability, security. People who are easily manipulated, situations that he can easily direct the outcome of... and opening up such a situation would mean relinquishing control of whatever happens next, control of his own emotional state, control over the inherent power imbalance present deep within every social interaction, over to you. Can't do that.

And when that "losing" party makes their desperation and vulnerability known, it turns off the other, bores them, makes them feel the desperate one is disposable and soon treats them as such after losing interest.

Well, some people. If you ask him, the thought of that level of desperation and neediness from a partner is actually quite nice. He can't really wrap his head around why some people would find it irritating or boring when just the thought of it seems like a euphoric fantasy. Since he likes control, a lack thereof, a sense that something is slipping out of his grasp, that he can't easily dictate the actions or results of something, is something he can't stand for.

So, he can't do it. Can't expose that degree of openness, risk rejection.

But that's alright, he can't afford to have that sort of relationship with someone anyway, it would simply interfere with his responsibilities too much. So he determines, at least initially.

The solution to both of these problems, then, is to simply refrain. No interference with his responsibilities, and no need to expose any vulnerability. He's very used to restraining his emotions, refraining from acting upon impulses or desires, however harmless they may be, because responsibility must take priority. Rarely has something consumed his thoughts to such a degree, but still, he can handle it.

Thus, for a while, he might actually avoid you to some extent, thinking it will decrease the chances of attachment. Gets things done in a different location than where you usually find him, works at different times.

But then it seems so boring and empty when he's working alone, when he doesn't have your bright smile there, it feels very... depressing. Likewise, when he sees you again, coming up with some excuse as to why he was absent the day before or so (did you come looking for him and he wasn't there? Were you disappointed? The thought of that is satisfying on its own...), the discontentment goes right back to feeling everything is alright and well with the world, and it's a feeling he just can't give up.

He quickly realizes it seems pointless to continuously resist. If he can't rid himself of it, he might as well try to work with it, adapt to the best of his ability. That seems like the only logical conclusion. Keep you close, but not too close, and to avoid exposing any affections beyond very simple appreciation for your help and presence, at least until he has full security that he can afford to do otherwise.

He doesn't initiate it, but gladly welcomes it when you start to seek him out elsewhere. You learn you have the same lunch period during most of the week, and a few electives together. You don't always talk to or sit next to him, but you sort of rotate between your friends, so he gets to interact with you some of the time.

The other times, though, you opt to talk to others instead. Turns out you're getting along quite well with several people on campus since you showed up here. He just sort of waits at the beginning of the class to see whether or not you'll come to him, or if you go to someone else.

If it's the former, he's certainly happy about it, perhaps almost a bit relieved that that was your choice. You would never get the impression it was what he was hoping for, though, he ensures that. Refrains from looking up when you enter a room, stares blankly down at a paper or textbook on the desk, as if not paying attention, giving no semblance of caring either way, merely watching you from the corner of his eye, and pretending to only notice your presence the moment you sit down.

Whenever it's the latter, he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel an increasingly sharp sense of disappointment. Perhaps a bit of irritation. A strange, gnawing feeling in his stomach, a tightness to his chest. Very opposing feelings, ones that he soon realizes linger with him the entire day. If you choose to talk to him, the rest of his day feels great, and if not, he finds himself a bit disgruntled for the rest of the day. It feels embarrassing for something so simple to be affecting him to such an extent, but he can't control the emotional aspect.

That begins to create a greater concern.

A bit of worry that this initially unwelcome sentiment of affection is starting to create some other, more problematic feelings. Ones that feel harder to handle.

It's more of a subconscious worry, at first, a faint uneasiness that largely rests at the back of his mind. The full extent of the realization comes as a sudden occurrence, one day, when you don't show up at the end of the day for the first time in a while, seeing as you've started coming by to help him out on a daily basis now.

He's a bit disappointed, sure. But it's no big deal, it's not as if you ever agreed to come every day or anything, you're certainly under no obligation to do so, it's incredibly generous for you to come at all in the first place.

...You could have said something, though, you know.

It's not as if you don't see him throughout the day in passing, in class. It's completely voluntary to begin with, so of course it's not necessary for you to tell him if you're coming or not, nor does he take it as a rudeness that you didn't, it's just... you could have. It would have been appreciated. After all, now he has to wonder where you are, which leads him to contemplate the very small possibility that something might be wrong, which causes unnecessary worry that he could have been spared had you just bothered to stop him for a second, or send a message with a single sentence since you exchanged numbers a while back, neither of which would have taken very long... but that's a selfish mentality, so he tells himself. Obviously you must be spending time with other people doing other things, like anyone does, which you have every right to do.

He can't help but wonder with whom, though. A few people come to mind, he mentally goes down the list of people he sees you with most frequently and at what time of day he sees you with each one...

Which is something he only now realizes he's subconsciously been keeping track of. But that's force of habit, he has to be observant like that... okay, no, it's not, it's definitely more than that, he can't lie to himself. The force of habit does contribute, but nonetheless.

Still, if he runs down the list, given the time of day and day of the week, he can come up with one most likely possibility, and a couple lesser possibilities, as to your current location, company, and activity. The fair degree of certainty is reassuring.

But there's still a knot in his stomach the more he thinks about it. His hands keep working, but his mind is playing imagery and words in his imagination, things you might be talking about and saying and doing and what others might be saying back to you and it's a very, very, very awful feeling.

Soon enough, he's forced to snap back to awareness when he realizes the task he was working on is done while his mind was elsewhere, and nearly an hour has passed. He should probably go home and get started on food for the evening.

It's not the direction his feet take him in, though.

It can't hurt to check just for a second. Besides, it's only like a five minute detour, so he might as well. Just a brisk walk through a few halls, down a few doors, just barely peeking over a door window to ensure he remains unseen.

Sure enough, he was right. You're just sitting around and talking. He makes a quick mental note of the other individuals in the room, tries to listen in for a moment before realizing it's (unfortunately) too muffled to be clearly heard, then turns around and goes home.

And ends up sitting on the edge of the bed, elbow to each thigh and head resting on each respective hand, staring at the wall, running through the events of the past hour and a half, fully realizing the significance of how unusual and intense his behavior was. He was aware of it even in the moment, sure, but the momentary impulse overrode any sense of reason. It's a mistake he tells himself not to make again.

But he knows the feeling is increasing. The intensity is getting worse and worse with each passing day. While he's careful not to be careless about it, he finds himself making a habit of checking on you on the days you don't come around to see him. The fact that there even are such days, seeing you with other people doing something else, starts to upset him more and more, to the extent he starts thinking about it at random throughout the day. Each occurrence of such thoughts striking him with a feeling of bitterness that makes him clench his jaw, curl his hands into fists, even respond more bluntly than he normally would to other people when approached -- he even overheard, on one such occasion, after giving a frustrated what? to someone that approached him, the same student remarking to someone else that the vice housewarden has been in a really poor mood lately, to which the other seemed to agree.

The potential consequences of it all does worry him. But his response to these emotions, and understanding of them, isn't quite what you might expect.

Unlike almost anyone else would be, he's not concerned or confused by the acknowledgement of the fact that he has abnormally intense, compulsive, obsessive attachment. He's not really alarmed by realizing what's happening.

See, most people go through a reckoning phase, having to do with their self-image. Most see themselves as a good person, and struggle to come to terms with their actions and thoughts — ultimately either coming to terms with the wrongness of what they want, or deluding themselves.

But Jamil is no stranger to having nefarious urges, nor does he have any real issues with acceptance of the reality of his desires. But more importantly, part of what makes him such a force to be reckoned with, and gives him such frightening potential for success as an obsessive, is a lack of any compulsion to prescribe to conventional morality, nor any feeling of need to justify his own actions. He's fully aware that the ideas in his head and urges in his thoughts are "wrong," there's no period of self-bargaining or attempting to rationalize or justify anything to himself, no attempts at self-delusion. He's just perfectly fine with accepting that he wants to do things considered immoral.

In fact, completely unlike Kalim, he's almost unnervingly self-aware. There may have been a bit of confusion, or very brief attempts to justify his actions to himself in the beginning, but after the initial realizations take place, he becomes acutely and immediately aware of every thought, every action.

He wouldn't think of himself as a bad person, but unlike most people, he doesn't think of himself as a particularly good person either. In fact, he finds the thought of people who believe themselves to be fully good to be rather exasperating and foolish. Do people really believe themselves to be innately good, that they won't act on selfish desires? He's never understood that.

It's not at all uncommon, nor is he any stranger to strong sentiments. Everyone has heard of such a thing before. It's common enough that you often hear advice of obsessive lovers being something to be avoided, meaning that while it's viewed negatively, the frequency of its occurrence indicates that it's not particularly abnormal. One could even argue it's innate in some people, some leftover instinct from more primitive days of the human species. There's plenty of cases of it in media, in the news, accounts you see from people who were subject to such a thing,  and even plenty of cases in folklore. They say the great Sorcerer himself used to be fond enough of a princess to try and kill someone over her, or something like that.

It ties into his own self-perception too, his honesty to himself about his personhood. Someone who would develop such urges and feelings... yeah, he can see that happening to him. At first, it actually doesn't seem to make sense, but the more he thinks about it, the more it does make sense, after a long while of contemplating it almost amusingly, as if he's a third party analyzing someone else, and not himself. It checks out, he supposes. Irksome and inconvenient that that would develop in him, but there's no use trying to fight those kinds of urges when, based on his own observations and accounts of such things, the people who tend to have such tendencies always seem to have it in such a way that is clearly an innate part of their psychology, thus pointless to avoid, and better dealt with by adapting and adjusting. Oh well.

Those sorts of cases frequently end poorly for the individual in question, but those are normal people, with normal levels of control and cunning. By contrast, he knows himself well enough to know he has high restraint and inhibition, so the risk of acting out and drawing attention is near nonexistent, and he's patient and calculated enough that he's fairly certain he can act out the ideas he begins to have without risk of consequence.

Because there would be negative consequence, he's sure of that. The extent and intensity of his emotions is at a point that it could be considered erratic or obsessive, as he already knows full well, and would cause alarm if you or anyone else became aware of it. Even if, say, you were to return the feelings to a normal extent, even if you like him, he still has no doubt that the full intensity of what he is capable of, the malicious and unethical nature of many of the urges themselves, would almost certainly cause you to change your mind. So even if you respond positively, he has to keep that in check.

But acknowledging the potential consequences of acting out of line aside, he's surprisingly very unbothered it, for someone who is coming to the realization that they have feelings and urge for behaviors that go beyond the conventions of normalcy or what is considered "heathy." The latter of which he just rolls his eyes at; he's always been convinced that most people condemning emotions as "unhealthy" are really just trying to get people to conform to social norms -- hey, if he wants to let himself be slowly consumed by resentment over the course of his entire life, that's his business, you know? Same thing applies here. Abiding by the cultural norms and social expectations of a "healthy relationship" and "being ethical" is just a roundabout way of stopping him from doing what he wants and won't get him the results he desires, so no need to even try to listen to such nonsense.

Alongside all of that, he has remarkable persuasion skills, can lie and act very convincingly if needed.  Difficult to catch off-guard, has planned out interactions and alternate paths to take in case one avenue doesn't work out. Always prepared for almost anything that could go wrong. He's patient, cunning, intelligent, perceptive... all traits you do not want in someone with his intentions. He's fairly good at concealing emotions as well -- sure, sometimes a bit of it may slip out here and there, but he's still infinitely better at it than the vast majority of people.

All of this combined — lack of concern for ethics, high self-awareness, fairly high ability to mask his emotions, unhesitating acceptance of the realization of forming an obsession, high intelligence and perceptiveness, great patience, and high impulse control in favor of cunning premeditation — makes him an unusually highly effective obsessive with an almost alarming capacity for harm and success. One of the most unfortunate individuals in the establishment you could end up catching the affections of, in terms of your chances of things ending well for you.

Not that there aren't a few moments where it slips through, just the occasional word or gesture. He's still better than virtually anyone else at concealing emotions, but nonetheless, those emotions are the ones that may just come out, if but for a moment.

You end up missing a few more days of helping him in a row. Friends invited you out to a couple of events. You didn't really think anything of it, at least, not until you come back to your usual routine, on what would have been the fourth day of absence if you hadn't come.

He's already not the most talkative person in the world, but you quickly notice an unusual curtness to his tone. Usually, if you sit down and open with a how was your day?, he'll shrug, say nothing eventful occurred, or make a small mention of something that happened if something eventful did occur.

This time, though, you get a much more brief answer. It was fine.

The tone of his voice is clearly cold, almost passive-aggressive. You tilt your head and ask if something happened, if something's wrong. You get a similarly curt answer.

No.

But as he tends to do with regards to his own behavior, he catches himself, realizes how it comes off. For a brief moment, the realization is actually a bit embarrassing -- he knows getting bitter over such a thing is immature behavior. So he corrects it, shakes his head as if clearing his thoughts, comes up with something about being momentarily distracted and answering on a mental autopilot so as to seem that he was just not paying attention, and asks you to repeat the question, this time forcing out a regular calm demeanor as if not upset.

This, the initial disgruntlement goes more or less unregistered in your memory. You do notice, though, as you continue talking, that he asks more than once about how your week has been -- you answer with a general statement that it's been good and just regular life, nothing out of the ordinary, but apparently that answer isn't quite sufficient.

And what have you been doing these past few days?

He nearly bites his tongue as soon as he says it. That came out a bit more forward and obvious than it sounded in his head. Thankfully, a quick glance upward from his task shows no indication of perturbance on your end, as you merely smile and answer in full, giving a few details of what you've been up to. Hanging out with friends, primarily. He has to refrain from asking specifically whom, seeing as at that point, further questioning on the matter would probably even strike you as oddly intrusive. He'll just have to leave it at that.

Likewise, he'll have to accept you doing whatever you want with your spare time. Any indication that he feels any other way or trying to influence your decision would certainly be noticed, and perceived as strange. It's not like he's entitled to your time... that is, from the perspective of general social consensus. He knows that reasonably, from an objective standpoint, he isn't entitled to that. Even if he might personally feel that way.

He does seem distracted, throughout the rest of the day, has to get you to repeat yourself a few times after seemingly spacing out. But he's always rather busy and under a lot of stress, you have no reason to think anything of it.

He truly does do a good job of concealing his thoughts and feelings. Most obsessive admirers would have long since cracked and shown their true colors by now, as the months go by. His is just tiny little slip-ups, every now and then, much like the first one. Primarily a slight coldness and bitterness to his demeanor whenever you go a significant amount of days without coming by. It only lasts for a few moments before he corrects it, but you do occasionally start to take notice of it. Still, that doesn't seem too out of the ordinary. You're friends, so you can understand he'd be a bit upset, when you think about it, and he's under a lot of stress anyway. Much to his satisfaction, you actually seem to take notice and correct the behavior all on your own, as you gradually stop having significant gaps in days between seeing him, and even on days you aren't coming, you now usually send a message.

There was also that time you stayed in for the day due to feeling sick, and woke up after a long sickness-induced nap to four back-to-back messages, one every hour or so from the time class sessions start, increasingly concerned by your lack of reply. Which is perhaps a bit much, but the messages abruptly stop around noon, as if realizing it was a bit too intense and backing down. But in all fairness, it's only natural to be concerned, so you appreciate it, if anything.

Then there was also the time you had that one guy that kept seeming to try to get close to you for a while, someone you'd worked with in one of your classes once and got along well with. The two of them had never interacted to your knowledge, until you were talking one day and another familiar face came up seemingly out of nowhere. Rather forcefully intruding on the conversation with an uncharacteristic bluntness and coldness, and a near tangible aura of hostility, a glare distinguishable even to you.

Yes, it was definitely too forward, and certainly both the most impulsive act and the largest blunder he's made so far, but it was borderline torture standing there up on the second floor, watching from the window, unable to do anything. He manages to at least somewhat defend himself, and hopefully quell any irritation or confusion you might have had, by telling you later in private that the individual in question is in fact known to be of poor character, manipulative and two-faced, so people say, and was probably intending to take advantage of your kind nature. You seem to accept that, much to his relief, and even express some gratitude. Unfortunately, though, he won't be able to use that excuse again without seeming suspicious, so he just has to hope you don't start to get close to someone with obviously non-platonic intentions again.

Still. It's not as if he can just take the risk, nor does he think that a simple intimidating interaction will deter the other guy entirely. Other measures must be taken.

To you, though, it's just a confirmation that Jamil was right, once the guy gets expelled. Apparently he attacked someone at random, became violent with a group of students and apparently injured one to such an extent that the administration didn't even just give him a strike, but viewed it as grounds for immediate expulsion. You mention it, when you're visiting Jamil as usual later that day, with concern and shock over the incident in your voice as you ask if he heard about it.

He just shrugs. See, told you... ah, but it's not your fault you didn't realize it. Some people are just very good at concealing their true natures, you know? But it's good that you distanced yourself from the guy before anything bad happened to you. You voice your concurrence with that statement.

And yet, after that guy disappears, so does Jamil, at least during those same time blocks. He goes back to not being around during that time, leaving you to find new people to talk to during that time instead. After all, he doesn't want to come across as clingy. Settling for returning to the window position allows for greater scope of observation, anyway.

Jamil engages in a great deal of his fixation from a distance, with you unaware of his presence. He won't necessarily come up and talk to you, but he'll watch you from across a room, from a window looking down on you below, from a shadow a ways away from the crowds and groups you're busy interacting with. He doesn't have to worry about unintentionally being suffocating, this way, while still knowing what you're doing. It's actually a process that often makes him upset, an irritating swelling feeling to his chest, because people like you far more than he would prefer, and now he's forced to watch. Not that he would want people to dislike you either, that would probably hurt your self-esteem and... ah, whatever. It's just irksome to see people gather around you so much. It would be preferable if your presence wasn't treated as something of a spectacle on the campus, but there's nothing he can do about that.

He's even more careful not to make mistakes and show affection than he is careful about negative emotions, but that doesn't mean positive emotions don't also sometimes show as well.

You're far too nice to him, for one thing. You just have to go on these spiels about how much you appreciate his help with various things, or when he thanks you for helping you just have to smile so sweetly and say you enjoy it, that you're glad you get to come by and all... it's one of a few ways to make him genuinely flustered, unable to look you in the eye, all stiff and fidgety as he mumbles something about how it's appreciated, and that you don't have to feel pressured to and whatnot. You have a tendency to say too-nice things that leave him feeling all hot in the face and embarrassed for the rest of the day. Just like the initial feeling of attachment itself, it's almost unpleasant in its own way, and yet, it's addictive.

You still just barely notice the slip-ups, if at all. Those times where he maybe gets just a bit too close, talks to you for a bit too long, seems a little bit too nosy asking what you've done today or prying for details on a conversation you had with someone else -- before he catches himself, correcting the mistake by switching topics or coming up with a reason to leave so as not to linger too long. Can't give you the impression that he wants to stay around you for much longer, can't come off as desperate or vulnerable.

Little things like that. Mostly tiny little mistakes, and besides, he's increasingly even more careful not to make such errors, often getting a bit panicked after each one and becoming stricter in the future. None of it ever crosses the line of what would really catch your attention as something abnormal or something that would induce any concern.

It carries on for some time like that. His self-control allows him to maintain a state of limbo, where he can keep himself in check, not doing anything he shouldn't nor making any move to take anything further, but ensuring you stay close, that you don't drift away. Making sure there are no more issues with people becoming too close to you in ways he doesn't like.

But much to his satisfaction, you seem to grow closer anyway, without him having to take any sort of action to do so. You come by more than ever, and he likes the implications of the fact that you come to see him so often.

He tends to be a bit more open to sharing thoughts and observations normally kept reserved to you, too, as he grows more comfortable talking to you. A bit more openly negative and sardonic. It's not even intentional, really, it happens subconsciously at first. He's just never had an outlet before, and once he does, it becomes such a source of catharsis that one day, after making a slightly negative comment, to which you inquire about the matter, he finds himself starting to perhaps say a bit too much. Unloading all of his frustrations and bottled up negativity. Initially, he catches himself doing it and cuts himself off after a few moments, starting to apologize and saying something about being irritable as he didn't sleep much the night before or something like that.

But you shake your head.

Oh, come on, it's fine. You don't have to pretend around me, you know?

He pauses for a moment... but shrugs, starts to return to voicing the same thoughts. He still won't fully express his feelings, then, but if you're fine with it... it can't hurt to talk about some of his frustrations and complaints. If anything, you seem to find some of the comments amusing, snickering at some of the more sarcastic mutterings. It actually feels quite nice. It's something he hasn't ever really had before, usually having to keep all his negative thoughts to himself. In the end, you end up unwinding too, complaining about this or that. A cathartic session for you both, and you end up sharing a few smiles and laughs over some of each other's accounts and shared annoyances.

It would seem, though, that his efforts to grow closer to you do pay off. It's pleasing. It feels like it's "going somewhere," so to speak, that all the conversations have progressed to being closer and closer; which is, of course, what he would hope for.

Eventually, he figures it can't hurt to try and push for some progress himself. Yes, perhaps he can afford to try and make some small push forward, little by little. He takes the same approach as he does to most matters -- quietly, patiently, avoiding risky, bold, reckless actions in favor of a gradual and calculated plan.

What he decides on doing does require him to take some initiative and ask, although he chose a group event rather than anything you'd be by yourselves for. Just one of the many large dorm-wide social events they have in Scarabia on a regular basis, although this one in particular is supposed to be for something special or another. You agree to it, with a smile at that. It's very reassuring.

Except it turns out that that presents a brand new problem.

Well, part of a larger problem. As he's observed, you've been mingling with different people, forming a friend group during your time on the campus. He would know, he's been watching very carefully and making note of each person, and may or may not have interfered once or twice behind the scenes to prevent you from interacting with individuals he would prefer you not to.

One, however, has not only slipped through any attempts to deter interaction, but apparently has avoided registering on his radar of who you interact with entirely. The only conclusion is that you must have had all your interactions during those times where he can't watch over you. Just perfectly, by the narrowest of margins, managing to grow close to each other, somehow exclusively during those few times he's had his back turned and off fulfilling some other responsibilities, completely unbeknownst to him until this very moment.

Or so he learns, when you arrive, smile when you see him, immediately making your way over to him to talk... until something else catches your attention, something behind him. Your eyes flicker to something just over his shoulder, something he can hear approaching with rapid footsteps and saying your name. Something that quickly swerves around him in favor of lunging at you and grabbing you into an enthusiastic embrace.

...What.

It feels like some sort of cruel joke from a higher power. Like the will of the universe is to spite him. Like being a comedic relief character where the running gag is his constant misfortune. He finds himself standing there, arms limp at his sides, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, eye twitching as he looks back and forth between the two of you.

But... but how did... when did you... you never mentioned... why...

You're clearly overwhelmed, though, you have that awkward smile where you're clearly uncomfortable but don't say anything to be nice... so after a moment of pause (as soon as he finishes mentally cursing his very existence to whatever force of the universe is listening, that is), he doesn't hesitate to reach out, grab and pull the invasive creature off of you by the shirt collar.

Kalim, you're being suffocating.

Not that those words deter the other boy for even a second. Other than a brief choking sound at sudden jerking motion pulling the front of his clothes against his throat, he immediately recovers, bright-eyed as he gets out an apology, smiling all the while, and continues rambling about something else, until being interrupted.

I didn't realize you two even knew each other.

It takes every ounce of his willpower to force those words out in a way that sounds neutral and curious rather than like he's about to strangle him to death, but he manages. You smile and start to clarify that oh, yes, you have this or that class together and have talked a few times... which just so happens to take place during the longest stretch of the day that he has to go without seeing you, which he frequently worries about. How incredibly coincidental. Haha. Anyway, if you'll excuse him for just one second, he has to go check on something to ensure that the students have everything ready--

--which is actually him walking off to the nearest secluded spot and slamming his fist into the wall with all the force he can muster without breaking his fingers. Takes a deep breath in, deep breath out. Okay. That was cathartic enough to hopefully get him through the night with minimal homicidal urges.

Kalim seems absolutely determined to test that, however. You would think he was the one who invited you here, given the fact that he seems dead-set on monopolizing your time and attention in every conceivable way. He can barely get a word in, can barely say anything to you for a few seconds without getting interrupted. At several points throughout the night you quite literally get dragged away by the wrist to go look at something or participate in something, while he sits there left with nothing to do but seethe over it, trying to distract himself by taking in all the stimulus of the crowded lounge, lest the violent urges start getting the best of him because he's about arm's length away from several very sharp objects on the table and it's starting to get a bit too tempting. By the time midnight rolls around, he's barely gotten to spend any time with you at all. He's pretty sure you've actually been trying to keep coming back and talk to him, but keep getting dragged off and are too nice to say anything about it.

Normally, he's masterful at keeping his outward emotional expressions in check. But for once, he finds himself so deeply upset, such a tight feeling in his chest, that he can't sit there and bear it with a blank face like he normally does with everything else. He ends up having to walk away, quietly slipping away to go walk it off to sulk and seethe alone.

The campus is fairly empty this late, so it's easy to get some fresh air by oneself as he mulls over it. Even though he's by himself, he sighs, has to stop and pinch at and rub the bridge of his nose in irritation. Getting this worked up over a crush, what is he, a grade schooler? It's embarrassing, even if he's the only one who knows. Even having what would be called a "crush" is embarrassing, really, it feels infantile. It seems like something that would be laughable if other people caught onto it. Ugh.

He keeps walking, until he's out of the dorm, slowly moping his way across the campus, long since gone quiet and still due to the lateness of the hour, no one else around. Makes his way over to a bench in an empty campus building.

Finally he gets to just sit down, takes a deep breath in, deep breath out, tries to relax the tension in his shoulders, tries to calm down. Mentally forces himself to clear his thoughts, leaving a blank slate so he can transition to thinking about something else to hopefully take his mind off things, and just allows the first thought that pops up to come to the forefront of his mind. Unfortunately, that thought is:

Which one do you like more?

Dammit. Can't clear his mind after all.

And God, that feels childish. Like how young kids quarrel over who is the best friend of someone else. Just thinking about it feels embarrassing, even if the thought is just to himself.

But it does seem like question that has an answer. After all, when he thinks about it, he can form a pretty solid ranking in his head of acquaintances, and which ones he's more fond of than others. Surely you have the same.

No, that's a stupid question. Obviously it would be him.

...Right?

Yes, it's a ridiculous question because it's obvious. You spend more time with him, you know him far better... it's a foolish question, he shouldn't even be worried.

Still, he can't get rid of the gnawing, unpleasant feeling in his chest, it's eating away at him, driving him up the wall. It takes a while before he can bring himself to go back.

By the time he does so, though, it's fairly late into the night, you're clearly exhausted (no doubt largely due to having your energy essentially siphoned out of you), you speak in that sort of "departure" tone as people do when they're indicating the end of a visit as you say that well, I should be getting back...

Maybe it's the heat of the moment, the lateness of the night drawing out impulsiveness, the possessive irritation and intense emotions, perhaps some need to feel reassurance, some sense of reclaiming something, that emboldens him. Maybe he's still just irked about not having gotten to spend any real time with you. Or maybe his earlier crisis has left him with a desperate need for confirmation. Regardless, for once, his impulse wins over his inhibition, over any self-control. He finds the words coming out without thinking.

It's rather late. You could just stay with me, if you want.

He stiffens as soon as the words come out of his mouth.

It's not as if you're that naive. It would be one thing if he said there was a spare room or something, but directly telling you you can stay in his own room has very obvious implications that he definitely can't excuse his way out of, and he's fairly certain you're definitely not at that point, at least not yet, and his skin crawls at the realization that saying that most likely just ruined any chances of ever reaching that if anything. All that effort, all this time and careful planning, and he may have very well knocked all that down in one sentence.

He starts to try and back out of it, heartrate going up with a moment of panic, opening his mouth and getting out a brief stammering attempt — ah, nevermind, if you don't—

Okay!

There's a few moments of quiet. Blinking at you with a numb expression before seemingly processing your words. You've never seen him undergo quite such a loss of composure within a second, eyes going wide open and stumbling over his words.

I... Well, a... alright. Then, you... I'll, ah, it's over there...

But it's endearing, really. You find yourself smiling while you walk back. He keeps talking about something else entirely, as if to distract you both from any acknowledgement of the exchange that just occurred. At least he manages to successfully distract you into looking at something off in the distance once you reach the room so you don't see the slight tremor to his hands getting the door unlocked and open.

The night lasts a long time. You can still hear the muffled sound of the noise going on outside as the other students continue to do whatever it is they're all doing (some collective game or another, being far too loud), but you manage to talk at least loud enough to hear yourselves over them... and continue to talk... and sit down... and then you lay down... and then you're both side by side... and then your legs brush up against each other... and then there's a few awkward moments of silence...

You do like him quite a bit, so, you're fine with it. He doesn't flinch or pull back when you lean over onto him, doesn't shift when you pull yourself closer, instead wrapping an arm around you. One thing leads to another, as such matters tend to go over. It's awkward at first, of course, like most friend-to-lover situations are -- once the heat of the moment is over, you're left panting and sweaty and you both sort of look up at the same moment and your eyes meet. A few seconds of silence pass. For such a composed person, you've never seen him quite so flustered... but it's cute. You find yourself grinning and giggling and reveling in the ecstasy.

You're happy about it. You get the sense he's happy about it too. You fall asleep pretty quickly, enveloped by warmth.

And he is happy. Truly. It doesn't even feel real.

But he's also very, very worried. Panicked. It begins to set in before he can even properly appreciate the bliss of the moment.

Even if you are willingly with him, even if you love him, that almost makes things worse, because now he has to work with the fact that the social expectation is to increase time with you and that he can be more openly attached, but still have to be careful not to go too far. Not to mention, this makes things more fragile. Riskier. Doesn't it? You're going to be more observant. It will be harder to hide certain behaviors from you. You'll be more careful and critical of what he does as a natural means of protecting yourself, you'll notice any slips of the tongue he might have gotten away with before.

Besides, this part is just one step of many, so he can't afford to relax. He thinks back to that same concept as before, that the social interworkings of all this sort of thing is like a game, a competition. If he lets his guard down and assumes everything is fine now, that just opens the possibility of being caught unprepared if something bad does happen. No, now he has to be even more vigilant and even more protective than before, and more careful of limits.

Nor are said expectations and their limits always clear. Where does the line of acceptable behavior get drawn? Does it not vary from person to person, from one act to the next? He can't afford to find out by trial and error, either, that's too risky.

For a short while, he contemplates if maybe he could get away with just one or two small abnormalities. After all, everyone has flaws, and people expect that partners will have flaws. Can he outright tell you to not interact with a specific person? Is that normal? No, that would definitely be seen as controlling. There's definitely some things he can determine by thinking it through like that, but that doesn't apply to every situation, which is the greatest concern.

And perhaps more importantly, it makes everything feel harder to deal with. It was easier when he had to refrain entirely. Now, it's one of those situations where having a taste of something makes one all that much more weak to craving for it, makes it all that much more alluring than when you had no concept of what the experience was truly like before.

At least his nerves are calmed by the fact that you spend more time in his presence. He doesn't have to deal with intrusive thoughts of concern about what you're doing and if something could be wrong at any given moment.

Perhaps most relieving of all is that other people seem to back off to a greater extent than they already did. You must have told people.

Well, most people. Most people back off, seem to respect him enough to give you two a bit of space while still being friendly towards you both. Don't get too physically close when talking to you, and certainly don't touch you.

Except for one.

The only upside to you being so close to Kalim is that, by extension, you see him more often than you would have just him on his own, as the two are often together. Granted, you're obviously spending more time with him anyway, but now that he's with you more often, that means he gets to witness you two interact, and on the rare occasion you were seeking out Kalim for something, he's usually there too.

You two get along very well. Which he's very frequently forced to bear witness to for the entire duration of your interactions, quietly sitting there with a clenched jaw and fingernails digging into his thighs and the occasional eye twitch that hopefully goes unnoticed. At the same time, that's comforting in its own way, as he can directly witness it rather than have to be psychologically tormented by knowing you two interact but not knowing the details and specifics.

But unlike how Jamil himself would give plenty of space to Kalim and a darling, Kalim does not do the same for him. He's still talkative with you, and touchy too. Far too much for the sake of sanity. He constantly grabs at you, hugs you when he sees you (for several extended seconds, not just for a moment), gets far too close into your personal space when talking. On more than one occasion, he's insisted on trailing along with you two for this or that venture, being an oblivious third wheel — which is made far worse by the fact that you don't seem to mind at all, paying them both equal amounts of attention.

At first, he tries to apply some reason to it. Maybe he thinks it's fine since the two of them are inherently close. Maybe he doesn't realize just how intense he is, or doesn't think he's passing the boundaries of what's considered acceptable. Or...

...And then he realizes that that's giving Kalim's intellect way too much credit. No, it's just how he is, nothing more. He's just outright not thinking about it.

This can become an issue, to say the least. Over time, he does his best to try and avoid you both coming into contact, tries to memorize schedules and give Kalim a wide berth to ensure minimal contact. Nonetheless, of course, it doesn't always work. He finds himself grinding his teeth, stiffening up as he watches you two interact. A person with less self-control would have certainly put the boy in a chokehold at least once by now, but he manages to bite his tongue. Can't just let him have this one thing in peace? Have something to himself? No, of course not, of course he has to be the one to suffer like this... despite the thoughts in his head, he has to be careful not to let that pessimism show in any form of outward bitterness, has to keep a neutral face and mildly exasperated voice at best, pretending any frustration towards the other is due to his high energy and antics and not the fact that just watching you two talk ignites violent instincts he didn't even know he possessed. But there's not much else he can do other than tolerate it.

Besides, it's not as if that's the only person he has to worry about either. Now that you're actually attached to him, he has to ensure that you stay that way, seeing as plenty of people would gladly take his place. But rather than just dealing with others, part of keeping you means making sure you're attached to him.

Unfortunately for you, this does not manifest as exceptional kindness towards you, nor trying to please you, or anything of the sort.

Sure, he could be sweet to you, shower you with affection and attention and gifts and so on... but that is a form of "losing." Making it too obvious that he needs you. There's a chance you'd get bored. After all, why take the "wholesome" way, when that isn't guaranteed? Especially when what is so often deemed the wrong way of doing things, has a guarantee to work. Frankly, that way has a higher success rate, so he sees no reason not to take it.

He has plenty of subtle, conniving means of prying into your mind without you really noticing it's intentional. You, well, you're incredibly easy to manipulate -- and that's a good thing. He likes it that way. Every single trick in the book, you respond perfectly.

It's fairly easy to discern any insecurities you have, some he was already aware of and some that become more evident as you become more emotionally open around him. So he can pick some nice words and compliments that are just a little bit backhanded, have the slightest of implication of a double-meaning shortcoming or insult laden in them, you visibly seem to notice, and sure enough, it's only a matter of time before you express some insecurity over the the thing in question -- and he's right there to assure you that it's entirely fine, or even appreciated... the unspoken implication being that yes, the thing you're insecure about is true, but he likes it. Worded in just the right way so that you won't feel like it's intentional, no, you're sure he had the best of intentions and meant to make you feel good, but it just came out the wrong way, or you're just being too sensitive, or he's just being how guys can be where they're a bit obtuse to how their words might not be as helpful as they intend. He's clearly trying to make you feel happy, right? You appreciate that in its own right.

Besides, it's easy to reassure you with physical affections, too. That becomes another frequent element of your day to day life... he's a fairly restrained person in public, and much prefers being alone and behind closed doors rather than being together while around others. Besides, even if not just for getting to interact more directly with you, being alone in the dorm means being able to relax and unwind... and get out any stress.  Which he has a great deal of -- you can't even begin to imagine the level of stress this boy has pent up, given the hectic nature of his daily life.

He's not particularly "kinky," per se, not really into any particular paraphilias or extreme forms of bondage or use of much tools, so much as he is simply rough. He tends to grab rather hard. Likes holding you down the whole time in some way, restraining some part of you with his own hands, often pinning your forearms down or grabbing the underside of your knees and pressing your thighs against your chest with force. His hand often ends up on your throat. He has a tendency to be rather harsh with it overall, merely rutting into you with animal-like forcefulness, leaving you exhausted and sore... although he at least seems to get flustered about it after the fact, mumbling apologies and getting you water, holding you close and all that.

You do notice some of the more... aggressive elements of the his sexuality, but it doesn't concern you. It's fairly common for someone of his age and sex and all that, and besides, it's normal for people's sexual tendencies to be non-reflective of their character otherwise. You have no reason to think of it as anything worth noting, and no negative thoughts cross your mind, other than the soreness and the tendency for bruising. If anything, the whole "gap moe" between the roughness in the heat of the moment and his usual collectedness versus the sheepishness afterwards is rather cute, really, that that's the one thing that such a normally composed person as himself can get easily embarrassed by. It reaches a point where you're more or less used as some kind of stress toy... but you don't mind at all. It does make you feel loved, which is also a critical part of the intent.

But outside of direct expressions of affection, he ensures he's very subtle in his ways. Being outwardly nosy would just irritate you.

Sure, he wonders what you're looking at whenever you stare at your phone screen, but doesn't fall for the urge to lean over and look, you'd probably find that annoying. He just waits until you go to sleep to look through it, checking the times of certain messages being sent, scrolling through conversations each night until reaching the point of the last time he checked, occasionally taking screenshots and sending them to himself before going back and deleting both the messages on your end and the photos themselves.

Likewise, he doesn't linger around when you're talking on the phone trying to have a private conversation or the like, no, he just quietly gets his own phone out, opens the audio recording app, and leaves it in the room while he goes off to do something else, plays it back later when you're not around. He doesn't ask who certain people are and why you interact with them, instead opting to do some digging on his own time, seeing as there's plenty of online information on nearly everyone, or simply networks his way around into finding out more about a certain person.

All very carefully ensuring you don't perceive any clinginess, any obsessiveness or possessiveness. Nothing that would annoy you or turn you off. He manages to never really appear very bothered or curious about anything, and never exhibits any behavior that would ever lead you to even consider the possibility of what is actually happening in reality. You would never think of him as anything but a very healthy partner — in fact, more so than the average person, he doesn't exhibit any of the controlling or intrusive behaviors you hear people complain about in their own partners. You think of him as an exemplary one.

But nonetheless, every now and then, as time goes on, he starts to just barely get this sense that he's too close to reaching a point where things become unbalanced against him. That whole concept he was worried about, where you might feel like he needs you more than you need him -- and while he's fairly certain that's true, he can't have you sensing it. Yes, he's sure you're starting to get bored, to get complacent, and soon you'll probably want something new and more exciting. The fact that he's essentially surrounded by an ocean of competition doesn't help his nerves. He's practically like some poor animal trying to protect its kill from a horde of other predators that would gladly steal it from him the moment he looks away for so much as a second.

But if he's outwardly worried, insecure about it, comes across as desperate or needy, that will only turn you off to him.

So he takes an entirely different approach.

Suddenly, you find that he seems to be oddly absent. You've developed a habit of walking to certain classes together, but suddenly he stops showing up to the regular spot where you meet up. Disappears and is nowhere to be found during your lunch periods. Doesn't send as many texts. When you do see him, he seems absent-minded or distracted, not spending more than a small amount of time before apologizing and claiming to have something needing to be dealt with before disappearing again. Is suddenly unable to spend the night over, claiming to be busy with something. In truth, he's just gone back to watching you from a distance... but you don't know that, of course. And, although it is greatly difficult on his end, he has to even refrain from being as physically affectionate, often standing, keeping his laptop on his lap while working and so on, so you can't lean onto or embrace as easily, and even more painfully, not being able to spend nights over means having to sleep alone without your affectionate snuggles, and having to just jerk off when he could be inside you instead. Sigh... such painful efforts to go to for the sake of security.

It works perfectly. It becomes clear in no time at all that you're a bit hurt by it, which quickly turns into outright concern and insecurity. You get this sad look on your face whenever he "has to" leave, look at the ground. You start to speak in a softer voice when you ask about doing something together later. And, very much to his satisfaction, you stop talking as much to others even compared to when you spent more time with him, opting to sulk by yourself, presumably in too poor of a mood to socialize.

Eventually -- perhaps a bit disappointed and fed up with waiting, as he was really hoping that you would outright address it and ask about his sudden distance, but oh well, perhaps a bit of a push is necessary -- he seems to "realize" how upset you are one afternoon that he (now a rare occurrence) stays with you throughout the day, and you wrap your arms around him, rest your head on his chest.

Ah, I've been neglecting you, haven't I... I've been so busy, I didn't even notice.

You pout, but you nod.

He puts a hand on top of your head. You always seem to like that. Gives you a sort of warm, endeared smile. Ah. Sorry. I'll be more careful. I hope you can forgive me?

He might feel a little bit guilty, sure, but it's also an incredibly satisfying feeling when you nod again. But not so satisfying as what comes after that stage, when he reverts back to suddenly giving you plenty of attention and affection, even apologizing again for the period of neglect, and seeing how happy it makes you. You seem incredibly relieved and ecstatic, you respond more affectionately than you even did before, and perhaps, he can't help but notice, you seem to be even more clingy and desperate to please, as if afraid of losing the closeness again, now that you've regained it.

Next time, it doesn't take you as long to get desperate. Because of course, there is a next time. It's inevitable that the relief and worry wears off just a bit, and he can detect just the slightest subtraction of affection from you as you begin to drift into a "comfortable" state once again. He doesn't like that state. Sure, you're still affectionate, but not as much as he would like. And your affection lacks the sense of neediness and insecurity and clinginess that gives him a sort of exhilarating, ego-boosting high that the "comfortable" levels of affection just doesn't provide. So inevitably, he has to get a bit distant again, although it never takes quite as long as the first time before you get clingy and desperate and you go through the cycle all over again.

Soon you seem to have a constant subconscious level of fear, he doesn't even have to try and distance himself. You'll ask a questions at random that's just an obvious plea for reassurance. You'll check to affirm that you'll be going through the same routine as always the next day where you spend a certain block of time together, followed by a  quiet 'right?' that's dripping with the perfect level of insecurity. Your grip around him when you're lounging around and resting against him is always tighter than it was at the very beginning. You're touchier altogether, often leaning and embracing and nuzzling, whereas in the "comfortable" state you might have been on the other side of the room doing your own thing or the like. You start performing little gestures of affection more often. Whenever you're alone at night in one dorm or the other (increasingly often his, as he's more or less convinced you to spend most nights in a dorm that doesn't have ceiling leaks and enough dust to fill a lung), you tend to be more provocative, and not at all subtly, opting to walk around in underwear and having completely ditched those pajamas you were provided with by the administration when you first arrived. You initiate more often, too, oftentimes just randomly latching on and climbing onto his lap and rolling your hips forward, latching your mouth onto his. You wrap your legs around his waist when you're on your back, rather than just having them spread apart, you latch your arms around him and pull him so close your bodies are pressed together, the noises that come out of your throat sound so much more desperate and needy than before.

A back-and-forth, push-and-pull -- the push that puts distance between you just makes you all that much easier to pull back in, and reaps great rewards from you when he finally does.

It's euphoric. It's perfect. It feels like complete and total control. You're so desperate. Whenever you're clinging and pressed up to him afterwards, he often has to pull your head close up against his chest so you don't see his expression. He knows full well there's a sinister sort of glee to the grin on his face, but for once, even he can't refrain.

Well, it's almost perfect. Everything with you is perfect, but there are obstacles that remain preventing everything from being perfect. And at this point, they might as well be dealt with.

Despite all your clinginess and the effectiveness, there are still assigned times for classes and extracurricular responsibilities (which he temporarily thought about abandoning, but that would come off as a bit too needy) that require you to be apart. And during that time, as he's learned from having "accidentally" put his phone in your bag and recording the whole time a few times, he knows what you're doing. Identifies the voices of those you talk to, and can't help but notice that not only are they the same people consistently, but there's one in particular that makes those violent urges flare up again. Hell, he snapped a pencil in half by accident just while listening to the playback.

No matter. He'll just have to resort to his Plan B. It wasn't his first choice, seeing as there are potential complications, but he has no real reservations. He can't put a rift between you and Kalim, unfortunately, as that would likely just become problematic for himself later down the road... he'll have to work with just keeping you two apart, whenever he can't be right there. That's the only real way to deal with that problem.

Besides, he's only a genuine issue during one specific time slot. The schedules of various students aren't always consistent day to day. Some lectures are longer, labs tend to be shorter, so on and so on, people have different time gaps, some students even eat lunch at different times depending on the day of the week.

You have one particular gap of time where you have no classes, but he does. It's not too big of a deal, seeing as you usually just go over to the Scarabia dorm these days and talk to some of the others anyway... but therein lies the issue for him.

On one of those days, you're a few minutes later than usual, as he left his pen sitting on the desk in the last class, and you went back with him just to keep talking, opting to take the extra minute or so to stay together, as it wouldn't be more than a minute or two delay. With the majority of the throng of students already rushed to their next destination, the halls are empty as you reach the spot where you usually part ways until meeting up again later in the day. But as you say something about seeing him later—

Oh, before you go, one more thing.

You pause. You turn your head back around to look at him.

Hm?

...You jolt at the sudden commotion, snapping out of a daze. That big clocktower bell ringing off in the distance at the middle of the campus, followed by the loud sounds of dozens of students' chattering and footsteps as they head on to another class.

Oh, the period is already over.

...Wait, what...?

Your head throbs. You feel dizzy, disoriented. For a brief moment, your surroundings seem to spin around you, until you shake your head in an attempt to clear it, and the feeling seems to go away. But you're not in the spot you were in what seems seconds ago, instead sitting down at a desk. There's a tingly, fuzzy feeling in your head.

Oh, right. You opted to take some time for yourself this time around in an empty classroom because—

...because...?

Right. The book on the desk is open. You were studying. You seem to recall some of the information retained, even if you were sort of spaced out for the duration of the studying itself, everything for the last little while feels like a blur. Was there a test or something coming up? There isn't one today, but you must have remembered to study for a reason. Your mind was preoccupied, one of those moments where you realize you've been spacing out for a long time, so lost in thought that you don't really remember the words your eyes have been scanning over, nor your own actions.

More importantly, you remember talking just before you were about to head off, Jamil was going to tell you something important, but admittedly, you can't remember what he said. You feel sort of bad about it. You just hope it wasn't something too important, like something you were supposed to go pick up or something like that... you're sure to ask later, and apologize for spacing out while you're at it. But it must have been no big deal, based on his own words.

Tell you the truth, I don't recall either... ah, it's been a long day. I'm sure it wasn't important.

You end up making a habit of it. You find yourself ending up in the same spot on that day each week, like clockwork, without even thinking about it. You're pretty sure you gravitate towards doing so out of a need for a brief rest to rejuvenate your energy for the day.

...But it does feel strange. The first time, you dismissed it as just spacing out, and the second time as well, but you keep noticing you follow the pattern without intending to. On the third week, you very specifically told yourself you wouldn't be sitting out today like you had the past two weeks, since you felt plenty energetic and missed talking to Kalim and the others you usually spend that time with... yet found yourself ending up there anyway. Your head always feels fuzzy when you seem to recuperate your energy and alertness. You mentioned it to Jamil once, and he merely told you to just stay consciously aware and not drift off into thought right before that time period... and it did work, at least that one following week. Then it went right back to the other habit, and from then on, you find yourself alternating, sometimes going to be with friends, but quite often ending up by yourself, completely lost in a blank state of mind. You feel dizzy, disoriented. Each time, it feels like there's some sort of gap in your consciousness, like waking up from a dream.

It's not the only sudden onset of odd occurrences, either.

The first occasion of the other occurrence leaves you entirely bewildered. You did notice that one of your friends seemed to avoid you for a few days in a row, but you figured he was just busy, so you're caught off-guard when he comes up to you looking down, apologetic expression on his face.

Hey, I just wanted to apologize again for the other day... I don't know what I did, but I'm really sorry if I upset you...

You find yourself in a confused stupor for a few moments, unsure of what is even being addressed. After a moment, your following questioning prompts the boy to elaborate on how you exploded out of nowhere... I figured you must have been really mad at me for something... followed by a brief recollection of some choice unkind things you apparently came up to him to say out of the blue, and another apology. You stammer something about how it was fine, you don't even remember any of that, you're not mad at all... you must have been mentally preoccupied and just blurted out something without thinking, or so is the best explanation you can conjure.

You don't think too much of it, though, until virtually the exact same thing happens again. Another person coming up to you, asking if they did something wrong followed by a claim that you released some sudden angry outburst seemingly at random and didn't provide explanation. You try to reassure them of the same thing as you told the first, making note to yourself to be more consciously aware of yourself. The only thing you can really think of that makes any sense would be your initial conclusion... or, perhaps, it does strike you for a brief moment that they're just messing with you, but the sincerity and slight hurt in their faces and voices makes you second-guess that idea. You must have actually said those things and had such outbursts, even if you don't recall, seeing as multiple people are making the same claims.

It doesn't take long for the matter to get worse. Soon, you find that when you come up to the same friends, smiling as you approach to initiate conversation, they merely narrow their eyes, huff and glare, turn the other way, sometimes walk off. You must have done something to upset them, or perhaps they're still upset about the outburst you apparently had...? You try to ask, but you get nothing but glares, harsh words telling you to just leave me alone or similar dismissals. To make matters worse, you're questioned by others as well -- what did they do to deserve that?, but everyone seems to think you should know what you did, and never elaborate.

You're bewildered. It feels like being an outside observer to some sort of mass delusion. You have absolutely no recall of doing anything that would upset anyone.

You even considered the notion of it being some sort of large-scale prank wherein you'd later be told they were all just kidding and trying to confuse you, but as time passes it becomes clear it was serious. That being said, you know you didn't do anything, your mind can only think of a few other possibilities. Why would people lie to you?

It's as confusing as it is hurtful. You didn't actually do anything to anyone to deserve this... the fact that multiple people would be needlessly cruel for no reason feels unfair and painful, although you suppose it's not at all unheard of, school environments are known to generate some of the worst people. You hope it will pass.

At least you still have some solace. Yes, really, the timing was at least as good as it could have been, seeing as now, you have someone you know will believe you and think the best of you no matter what, and will give you the comfort and reassurance you need. After some prompting about how downtrodden and melancholy you seem, you do finally open up about it.

Jamil doesn't seem particularly concerned about the matter, though. He shrugs it off, dismisses your concerns, although you do sense that he's trying to make you feel better. He dismisses the idea of it being some sort of conspired ordeal, says that's just being paranoid, but the alternative he suggests does seem helpful -- that you did indeed do what you were told you did, but with reason.

Perhaps you're under excessive stress. That would put anyone in a poor mood, and you may be too preoccupied to really recall the occurrence... or, it's likely that those individuals draw negative emotions out of you. You shouldn't spend time around people that make you feel poorly.

And then, after a pause, he adds,

Besides, you've never been anything less than kind towards me. That would suggest others are the issue, not yourself.

You appreciate the input, but the situation still certainly bothers you. It's not only your friends, either, that start to behave unfairly and even cruelly towards you. You would not have thought yourself to be someone who would be targeted for any malice, as you've tried to be nice and considerate and have never done anything you can recall that would have made you an enemy to random people.

You're completely caught off-guard, then, when some people seem to begin treating you as such at complete random. People you don't know very well, or have even never interacted with. You were sitting in a classroom when someone walked in, grabbed your things and ran off with them before you could take it back out of their grasp. And then, within days of that incident, someone comes out from the shadow of the side hall as you're walking, shoves you so hard you fall face-first to the ground, and runs off before you can identify them. Then, you leave your bag sitting down for a few minutes during a break, only to find someone, be it out of malice or carelessness, must have hit your bag with some heavy object, seeing as the laptop the school provided you with is smashed, forcing you to get a new one after profusely apologizing. It gets worse and worse, people coming up to you just for some cruel act or another, and now you don't even have friends to defend you... they only seem to bother you when Jamil isn't around either. You imagine that's because they know better than to provoke him, maybe.

You stay quiet about it for a while. Wouldn't want to burden him with such a thing, and you hope that it will pass... even at prompting, you merely mumble that you're fine, that you're just tired, that nothing is wrong. To say you're being bullied or anything of the sort would feel childish. It's just people being jerks, surely they'll move on and mess with someone else. Telling him would just upset him for your sake, and then you'd feel like you were overreacting, blowing it out of proportion. It's just rudeness that everyone will deal with from someone at some point. You're not even sure who a lot of them are, though... it's almost always, for whatever reason, students you're pretty sure you've never even interacted with, as if intentionally doing so in order to ensure you won't know their names or faces and can't confront them or report them.

Although it gets harder to handle, the longer it goes on. Getting tripped, shoved around, stolen from, even a few times getting things thrown at you... you find yourself becoming quieter, increasingly tired and depressed. It wears you down, emotionally and psychologically. You're always paranoid someone will come up to you and do something. You start to shut yourself in. You take longer to reply to the friends you have left. You start leaving earlier, when you usually hang out with them... even then, several of your friends no longer seem to want to hang around you anyway. It hurts.

And eventually, it becomes too much for you to keep trying.

It's almost startling when Jamil comes back to his own dorm room one day, for you to already be there. He's usually the first one back, while you spend an indefinite amount of time with friends and never come back at a consistent time, so he's caught off-guard to find you already back in the room. Curled up in bed, chest rising and falling with slow, heavy breaths. Your eyes seem a bit puffy, swollen, the flesh around your eyes reddened.

Poor thing. Yes, he did account for the fact that you'd inevitably get your feelings hurt from the acts, and when you started finding yourself all alone, but he does still feel bad, seeing you so upset. In fact, the realization that someone else caused this -- because it was, after all, someone else who actually committed the cruel acts, who did mean things to you, and thereby they are the ones responsible -- he has to swallow the subsequent feeling of sudden rage down. It's a necessary consequence.

The guilt doesn't last for too long. He climbs into bed over you, lays by your side, wraps an arm around you... he's not sure if it's a subconscious action in your sleep, or if you stir for just a moment, but regardless, you suddenly grunt as you turn over to face him instead, instinctively snuggling up close to the warmth, nuzzling your face against his chest. Your hands latch onto his undershirt, fingers curling to secure their place before you return to the soft little breaths, lulled back to deep sleep by the steady heartbeat against your face.

When you wake up, he's sure you'll be at a breaking point, you'll finally break down and talk about how mean and cruel people have been to you lately... and then he can assure you that it'll all be fine, leave for a while and come back, tell you they won't be bothering you anymore because he took care of it, but you should probably not go off on your own again anyway... yes, that will work. That should go over very smoothly, given all the steps that have been taken to ensure it.

And then... that will be everything. All the little obstacles, all either out of the way entirely, or well within the realm of being manageable.

Yes, with that, that momentary, miniscule guilt dissipates, replaced by a swelling, euphoric feeling of satisfaction and smug pride. Everything worked out exactly as it should. He runs his hand over the back of your head in slow, soft motions.

If it all really is some sort of social game, then this must be what it feels like to have won. He couldn't be happier with that outcome.

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumptober Day 9

Learning everything ain't what it seems that's the thing about these days / Polaroid / Mistaken identity / "You're a liar" I used the alternative list for "Reluctant Whumper"

"Please I don't want to do this to them", Whumpee shakily held onto the crowbar.

"You can pick another weapon, but we all know they deserve it, you can do it", a masked man stood behind them watching.

Whumpee eyed Whumper, who was tied to a chair in front of them. Whumper yelled through their gag.

The masked man glided towards Whumper. He grabbed Whumper's chin and pulled their face up to look in his eyes.

Whumper's eyes were wide in fear, they breathed heavily into the gag.

"You deserve everything you are about to receive, I've watched for to long before I could act", the masked man dropped Whumper's head, they looked back at the terrified Whumpee, "Whumpee will get their revenge, one way or another", they sighed.

"Okay go to town", the masked figure stepped aside.

Whumpee looked at Whumper, then at the crowbar, "I-I can't", the crowbar fell to the ground with a heavy klink, "I'm not them, I can't do it, I'm sorry."

The masked figure knelt down and cocked their head to the side. They studied Whumpee for what felt like eternity.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?", Whumpee looked at them, "you said you've been watching for a while, but I've never seen you before."

"Some have called me an entity, a watcher. I prefer magician myself. You called me to you a while ago, you never realized, but you've felt my presence", as though he knew what the next question was, "I had to wait for my strength to gather before I could offer aid, I am not from your plain of existence my power isn't as strong here and it takes a while."

Whumpee whimpered, "I remember a ghostly figure once."

"There is no need to be afraid of me, I was called to you because you needed my help. I am your protector now", the masked figure stood back up, "I almost expected you to not be able to hurt Whumper, I wanted to know for sure though."

Whumpee looked at Whumper, then back at the masked figure, "I can't, I'm not Whumper. Causing more violence to an already violent situation will not bring peace."

A chuckle came from the masked figure, "you will be an honor to protect, so pure. Even in the face of evil you offer forgiveness and peace."

Whumper thrashed in the chair bringing their attention back to them.

"Unfortunately, I can not let you go unchecked and unscathed", the masked figure sighed, "you are to dangerous, I'm sure by the time I'm done with you, you will wish they enacted their revenge, not left me to do it."

"Whumpee I will enact your revenge, I will cause them the same grief and pain they've caused you. They will feel how you felt for so long", the figure picked up the crowbar, "these earthly weapons mean nothing to me, but I have to conserve as much power as I can."

Whumper looked at him terrified.

"Please no", Whumpee pleaded.

"I'm sorry, I know it's horrific to your tender soul, you do not have to witness it", the masked figure sighed, "if we left them like this they could get free and hurt someone else. You have to let me."

Whumpee reluctantly looked at Whumper, then at the figure.

"They could hurt others?", Whumpee looked up sadly, not realizing that truth sooner.

"Yes."

"Are you going to kill them?", Whumpee sobbed.

"You do not have to witness it, you can go wait a few rooms over", the masked figure stated again.

"Your not saying no", Whumpee sobbed more.

"I am bonded to you, I am not able to lie to you, but i don't have to tell you whats going to happen", the masked figure crept closer to Whumper, "I'm starting in 10 seconds, I suggest you leave now. I will join you when I am done."

Whumpee whimpered and glanced at Whumper. The masked figure was standing in front of him now.

Whumper shot a terrified glance at Whumpee, then looked back at the figure. They screamed again into gag.

Whumpee watched the crowbar get raised. They darted out of the room as fast they could. They heard the crowbar make contact. They heard rhe scream.

Whumpee hid in the living room and buried themself under blankets and pillows. The figure both comforted and terrified them. What did they mean by protect and not being part of this existence.

They couldn't hear what was going on though so that was good.

Back in the room, Whumper squirmed as the crowbar came down again.

The masked figure searched the room for Whumpee, "I had hoped they would leave so I can show my true form, I mustn't allow them to see that side of me." The figure removed the mask to reveal their face.

Whumper weakly looked. The horrid face wasn't even a face, no eyes, no mouth, no nose. Whumper screamed.

The face morphed, "I take on the form of what scares you most, that is why I wear the mask", the figure chuckled, "hmm, this figure haunted your nightmares when you were young. I'm glad this is who will kill you in the end."

Whumper screamed again as the figure came closer.

"I'm going to eat you now, that way you are completely removed from this existence", the figure removed the gag.

"No don't, I'm sorry, I'm sorry", Whumper thrashed.

"It's to late to apologize."

Whumpee jumped when they heard a loud scream.

They peaked out of the blankets to see the masked figure standing at the doorway to the room.

"The deed is done, they can not hurt you anymore", the figure bowed, "any request for me."

"Can I ask a question?", Whumpee shook.

"Yes of course", the figure lowered itself to kneel, "you may notice, my form is my hazy now. I am but a shadow in this existence, it takes a lot of my energy to materialize."

Whumpee nodded, "I'm sorry, but I'm comforted by your presence, but still scared of you. What are you here for?"

The figure sighed, "about a month ago, you asked for help in a way that invoked my presence to you. Unfortunately my presence isn't the best here, so I had to wait to gather strength to aid you. I tried my best to comfort you though. I'm bound to you until you ask me to leave, I will take the form of your shadow, and go with you."

Whumpee looked at them confused and lost for words.

"I will explain more later", the figure stood and cautiously approached Whumpee, "you must rest now, you have been through a lot in a short time. Rest now."

"What do I call you?", Whumpee watched the figure.

"You can call me magician, everything will be alright. I promise to take care of you."

Taglist: as always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

[lilac-hecox]

Lilac I love you, you are so cool and important to this fandom and I love what you do

But would you chill the fuck out?

Like in a silly goofy joking way.

I get you like Ianthony and you’re scared. No one is allowed to police each others feelings. But like. Girl. Ur making me stressed. I love Ianthony. And the idea that we might barely see them is quite frankly crushing. But I’m doing my best to not be upset about it considering this is what they’ve wanted for years. They were delayed by defy and Anthony leaving. But this has very much always been the goal. I love them. I love their dynamic and their sketches. We cannot deny YouTubers the right to retire like every other profession just because their faces are the brand. They have done an incredibly smart and responsible thing programming the channels the way they have so that they can slip into the background more and more this past year. It hurts. Of course it does. They raised me more than my piece of shit parents ever did. They are partially the reason I am still alive today.

But they deserve their freedom, and the fans need to breathe and not be so clingy.

I’m also in the game theory fandom and have been watching Matpat for around as long as Smosh and he again did a very similar thing slowly passing over his channels and hosting duties. And his fandom reacted very differently than the Smosh fandom. And it’s making the transition harder for everyone involved I fear.

Again have all the feelings you want about it, but I feel like when you and others are anxiety spiraling about the dudes on YouTube you need to step back and take a bit of a breath. Because now I’m anxiety spiraling. Which yea my own thing to deal with. But I just. Post on your own. But when I’m not expecting it and I go into the reblogs on someone else’s post and ur in the notes reminding me that Ian and Anthony are pulling back because you’re busy moping it feels kinda catty?

All this too say everyone’s feelings are so valid and understandable but we have to actually work through them instead of panicking. Please.

If you're talking about what I just reblogged I messaged the op and told them I wasn't trying to attack their post.

I'm aware I'm having anxiety about it. Bro, I wish I could chill the fuck out about this but I'm having a really hard time.

I was talking to a couple friends and explained that Smosh and Ian and Anthony are a happy place for me so I'm scared to lose that and I get that it is mentally not healthy for me to think that way.

I'm trying to not even engage so I don't act like a brat and whiny but I know that I am being that way.

I'm sorry. My mental health is in the toilet and I just don't feel good and this is all making me feel way worse.

Have fun and love Bit City and be happy about it. I don't want people to feel bad or feel like they can't enjoy it. They absolutely can.

Idk I'm confused on your ask you tell me my feelings are valid but then tell me I'm being catty?

I don't mean to be mean or catty. I'm sorry if I've come off that way. I don't like to see a ton of posts saying "Well Angela and Chanse rightfully deserve to take the main channel from Ian and Anthony."

I put a little timer to only give myself a couple of hours on tumblr on my phone a day before it blocks it but maybe I should block it all together to find peace before I don't have any friends in smoshblr left.

[strawberryicemoon]

Why I can't watch the Ducktales Finale

I'm not the kind of person who struggles to watch the last episode of something. I love to finish a show, and let it sit in my brain. I'm the kind of person who often enjoys spoilers because it adds to my understanding of the media. I love to view the media in their entirety just as much as I love a journey to get there.

But I can't get past the first few minutes of Ducktales 2017, The Last Adventure. And it's because of spoilers that I couldn't deal with. I don't like them, and even years later after I've had time to digest, and have seen so many finale clips, that I still can't just sit down and watch it. And I've made attempts. I've looked through the summary of the episode to prepare. But I can't.

And there's... a couple of things that rub me the wrong way about the Finale that keep me from being able to just watch it.

1. Webby is Scrooge's Clone Daughter

2. Webby is April, of April May and June

3. Donald and Daisy are going on vacation.

Now, I don't actually hate any of these... conceptually. And I'm well aware that Frank Angones has stated the Webby twist was planned from very early on. And usually I am completely down for whatever a finale is, as long as I can tell that this was something the creator really believed in.

I'm a fan of such "controversial" endings as, Amphibia and Digimon Adventure 02, because I know exactly why they ended like that. It's written in the themes. Even if it took me time to understand Adventure's ending, I've grown to understand it and love it once I learned more about the original Japanese version and the shows production (and also grew up myself). Amphibia ended exactly as I expected based on one of the very earliest things I heard about the show from Matt Braly: "an ode to past friendships". Even if I think there are things they messed up I GET IT. I wouldn't want them ending any other way.

So I understand WHY the decision is made. Conceptually it does make sense. Webby exists as a composite character of April May and June, and I believe shares the same name as April in one language. Webby being Scrooge's clone daughter is an effective way of full-circling her relationship with him. Strangers in each other's home to father and daughter. She's family not BECAUSE of Blood, but because of Love. She still loves her Granny, it's just the non blood relationship wasn't the one she thought it was. And Donald deserves a vacation, and to have the more down to earth life experiences he wanted, especially after raising his sisters kids alone for 10 years.

But they still twist me up inside.

And I think it comes down to three reasons: 1. Lack of Continuity between episodes 2. An over-focusing on Scrooge 3. Handling of Word of God

1. Lack of Continuity between episodes Part of what got me to fall in love with Ducktales was S1 and the continuity of the Spear of Selene subplot. We got hints at a semi-regular pace, but it successfully overhung the entire series. It was what separated Scrooge and Donald. It was why Della was gone. The subject matter was of course not something that needed to be overstated, as most of it was being kept hush hush. Sure it was a mystery, but not an urgent one. Dewey had never had his mom, so it wasn't like he couldn't focus on anything else for a while

But in S2 I started noticing that the show stopped explaining or foreshadowing things. Maybe it always did, I haven't re watched it properly. But I definitely noticed something off about the storytelling then. But it was definitely a problem throughout the show.

Webby never brought up Lena after her sacrifice until the relevant episode.

Lena living with the Sabrewings was something never brought up until episodes later we saw her with them.

We had Della talking about the boys with their "Uncles" setting up the pain of not knowing how things fell apart after her departure, only to get no payoff.

We didn't get ANYTHING about Webby's parentage until the final episode, and barely a hint in 1 season 3 episode.

Almost every finale episode changes the status quo in some way. The question is how much. Lots of final episodes kind of have things going back to the way they were before plot kicked off but better (like with new friends or a new government). Sometimes someone dies.

Webby being Scrooge's clone is paradigm shifting. And that kind of thing needs to be set up. You CANNOT catch your audience off guard with something like that.

In Digimon Adventure 02 the series ends with everyone on earth with a digimon partner which is controversial but at least built up throughout the series at hints of other digidestined until an arc near the end showcased many international digidestined. Hilda ends with the reveal that Hilda's mother is half-fairy, and despite not being present throughout the first two seasons, it was hinted at through the third season, and contextualized some of the few things we did know before about Johanna's childhood. The Hollow's first season ends with you finding out it was all a game, but it had been hinted at before with the video game nature of the world. Sure Avatar didn't hint at Aang getting the power to take away bending, but we knew he was a pacifist who didn't want to kill so was looking for a solution, getting the power to remove bending (ie power over others) works thematically, in the same way Anne using the power of the stones and getting brought back to life by a god like being worked. Sure, Scratch turning out to be a wraith at the end of The Ghost and Molly McGee was rather sudden, but people had been theorizing that Todd was Scratch's body for a long time, so it wasn't like there weren't any hints, and while the show was cut short and had to rush to end, the build up of Scratch's memories at least gave some sort of foreshadowing link to what was going on.

There's a reason people rarely throw in new characters at the very end of a show. It can absolutely work. Amphibia and The Owl House threw in "God" at the end, but that gets a pass for being the kind of figure they meet once and then move on with their lives. On the other side, you can sometimes have secret big bads that were pulling the strings the whole time too. I can't speak for the finale of Ducktales (because again, can't bring myself to watch it), but adding two new characters on top of changing the entire dynamic of how the family is set up at the very end of the show does not sit well with me. We won't get to see how this change in status quo effects the characters. We saw how learning about their mom affected the boys relationship with Scrooge, her return and having to build a relationship with her and her presence conflicting with Launchpad's. But we don't get that with Scrooge and Webby? Basically too many status quo shifts in the finale all at once.

All we got was Beakley was a spy, was overprotective of Webby, and a few episodes before the end it was revealed Beakley was lying to her. Webby didn't seem to care about her parents. And this was a girl who was very dedicated to unraveling the secrets of clan mcduck. Couldn't they have had one hint at some point in the show where it was unclear if it was the boys or Webby who were recognized as a McDuck? Some offhand mention where the boys ask her about HER parents, because she helped them with her mom?

You couldn't tell what was or was not going be important in the way they dropped. It's very hard to set your expectations when you had no clue what to expect. And while there is something to be said for unexpected surprises and twists in a story, an audience really needs to know what is or is important or they're going to go on wild goose chases and get disappointed when they build up hype for something the show then refuses to address.

In HINDSIGHT, I find it extremely odd that Huey and Louie, prior to finding out about Dewey's investigations, did not pry at ALL into the fact that hey: if Donald was an adventurer with Scrooge, then he had to know their mom. Like that’s weird right?

2. An over-focusing on Scrooge Scrooge is the Center of the Universe.

I'm not a Disney Ducks fan. Aside from 2017, and pop culture osmosis, I know very little. But the thing is I am someone whose first inclination once I become a fan of something is to check out the wiki pages for information. Find about what longstanding fan mysteries there are. I understand the importance of cross continuity callbacks. I'm a fan of other longstanding series and have rubbed elbows with several others. I get really long franchises with several iterations.

Which is to say that I, despite not having a horse in this race, understand how this works and how it should work.

Now a bit of this is the fact Ducktales is ABOUT Scrooge. But Scrooge isn't the center of the Duck universe. Something I find pretty interesting is the fact that Donald has reasonably fleshed out family trees on both sides of his family. That's cool. That's how real people work, a meeting point of the stories of those who came before. But Ducktales doesn't care, the only adult the show cares about is him. I get that to a certain extent it was the show execs insisting on focusing on the kids. And again, he's kind of the main character. But you brought back Donald, and Della. There are other characters here with rich lives, he doesn't need to take over everything.

It's especially egregious ANY time the McDuck clan gets involved. Could Matilda be the youngest child now? Sure. But that's a really arbitrary change, that they don't use for anything. And even if that was purposeful, the fact is that the first thing they established is Donald's mom is still Scrooge's sister, so Donald is the grandson of Fergus and Downy McDuck. Not nephew? Surely they could recognize him? But where is Hortense and Quackmore? They brought them up in the first episode, and then they never made any appearances aside from references. Why were Donald and Della staying with Scrooge for Christmas? Never clarified. Fans (reasonably) assumed they were dead. Scrooge called Donald his ward (admittedly when he also called him Fergus and Downy’s nephew rather than grandson). I mean where else would they be when their DAUGHTER DISAPPEARED. Would they not want to meet their grandchildren? But that was never clarified. And I've seen some fans alternatively interpret them as bad parents, which I think is just really unfair. Scrooge gets to be the good parent? It's once again Scrooge to the rescue. The CAPITALIST? I mean it's also a little bit just a family issue in general: It's Uncle Gladstone and Cousin Fethry when they are theoretically the same: technically cousins but old enough to be honorary uncles. It's fair enough. But really that brings us to the Duck family in general.

Grandma Duck? What about Gladstone and Fethry's parents? Gus Goose? Are they all dead? Does Fethry have any siblings? Do the boys not know or not care about the Duck side of the family? They know Gladstone but no one else? I mean Scrooge's parents, who should be dead, were magically kept alive but nothing for the duck family. Speaking of which, they constantly bring up how old Scrooge and occasionally refer to the causes of his supernatural age, but that does not explain how young Donald and Della are compared to him. Overall, we get nothing on the Duck family except for its existence at least, so even removed from the context of Disney Ducks legacy its weird to introduce a side of the family and just gloss over it.

The one episode about the Duck family legacy is a Webby episode. Which, fine, she's not a Duck, but she's part of the family. Except wait. She's Scrooge's daughter/clone, and you gave her the focus on the one episode about the Duck family not the McDuck's? You couldn't leave Scrooge out of anything?

So for Webby's great twist in the finale, was taking not just one, but two characters NOT related to Scrooge (April and Webby), and tying them to Scrooge. I think I could deal with Webby being April, and (HUGE MAYBE) Webby being Scrooge’s clone or April being Scrooge’s clone but not both. Not to mention April, May and June are DAISY's nieces... not random three girls who are her boyfriends uncles clone and and boyfriends uncles clones clone? It doesn't sit right with me that a character who I thought was supposed to be learning that he was sometimes in the wrong, and not the center of morality (see how he made Glomgold a villain through his own ego), continue to be made the center of the universe in ways he simply shouldn't be.

He's literally an old rich guy. Like there is historical context for why this character is like this, but why does the world revolve around him in this show.

3. Word of God Word of God is useful. As are interviews and statements made by the creator. It helps to provide insight into the themes. I love seeing the person behind the art.

But here's the thing. Word of God is clarification, insight into how you should look at the work to set expectations. It's supplementary. It doesn't replace text.

This is a little bit difficult to really talk about now that I'm several years removed from the experience, so grain of salt and all, but I really think the way Word of God was handled did the show a disservice.

Back to Lena becoming a Sabrewing, we didn't get that in show. Lena just dropped off the face of the earth, not until S3’s premier we got a clarification on that in show.

We never got Della's reaction to learning that Donald and Scrooge were estranged, she just suddenly stopped speaking under that assumption.

So Word of God became an essential part of understanding the text, because a lot of necessary information was left unexplained by the canon its a huge problem. And Word of God is often fluid. It can be changed later if during the writing process something changes. (We should probably cover this topic in show and want to do it a bit differently, I have a great Idea of what we can do to turn that error into foreshadowing, I was lying to the fans to keep a secret).

But when word of god is necessary, word of god becomes essential for tempering expectations about the show.

This is probably going to be less of an issue for people who come and watch the show later. Sure, things are still unexplained, but when you can binge the show Lena's unexplained absence is less obvious, you're so busy moving on to other things that Della's change in understanding about the situation is clearly unimportant and you can move on.

But what ended up happening is that Frank Angones struggled to balance clarifications, keeping show secrets, and a sometimes changing story. Which sometimes left characters completely sure on where the story was sitting, only for it to be ripped out from under them. Also, tying back to the first point, of plot points being dropped until the episode where they where they were relevant made it VERY difficult to tell what was or wasn’t going to be relevant, and what emotional beats to get emotionally invested in.

Prior to the finale there was a bit of a community of Webby/Triplet shippers. Personally, I see that as a complete dismissal of the themes of the show and a bit heteronormative. I avoided all such content. But at the same time, shipping doesn't hurt anyone. At the end of the day, the boys and Webby were not related by blood, and hadn't even met until age 10. There wasn't... really a reason you couldn't ship them. There are TONS of shows out there with 10 year old characters and love interests. Just off the top of my head: Any Ship with Ash Ketchum, Sprigivy, Phinabella, Kenyako, Sorato. Even if they don't get together at 10, (or at all) the fact of the matter is 10 year olds getting shipped is old news. I'm still attached to Pokeshipping and Takari to this day, even if I tend to see them more as platonic relationships these days. So I avoided all shipping with them, but I understood why people (particularly younger people) were shipping them. Until the finale hit, and the ships that people thought never going to be canon, but were safe, weren't. To a certain extent, that's the game you play with shipping clearly noncanonical ships. But I feel that the way questions about shipping were answered didn't help, because iirc he tended to say the show wouldn't focus on that more than he explicitly stated the kids were family. He called Webby/Triplet shipping highly unlikely for example, giving it more legitimacy than a no, which leant to it being taken as a solid fact prior to the finale that Webby was definitely not related to the boys, because a lot of what else was said was solid fact.

4. (Bonus): of course, I do also feel it kind of isn't enough to justify breaking the found family. So much of Webby's arc was being accepted into the family. Becoming the 4th triplet. So for her to have been blood all along is a little cheap. Sure it doesn't break the becoming family despite blood before. But, having meta-knowledge of Launchpad probably finding family with Gosalyn and Drake Mallard, it's just Beakley whose left as not blood related (and she's technically the help...). And yeah, there's the Granny/Grandaughter adopted relationship. But....

Webby is one of four kids. Again, she became one of the kids. So yeah. I'm happy that she became one of the kids. Able to call him uncle scrooge. But it feels weird to me that she, the kid who already lived in the manor with Scrooge even if they kept their distance, displaced the triplets as Scrooge's natural heirs. The uncle relationships in this show being parental/grandparental was already good. Not all families look the same, some people parent their siblings' kids for one reason or another. Scrooge's presumed "heirs' ' was his sister's descendants, not his, but he loved them like his own. That's good. So to not only break the "not blood related at all" to "actually daughter", kind of ALSO meant a "my niblings are my legacy" got overtaken with "my daughter is my legacy".

And maybe I'd feel less sour about it if we had more time after the show. But on a fundamental level it didn't just alter Webby's place in the family, but her grandmother's, and the Duck Twins and Triplets. Again, especially with the triplets. I wanted the four of them to become functional equals. The 4th triplet. But for her to have a secret Scrooge connection that overtakes the one she was jealous of the triplets of having doesn't sit right to say the least.

I feel I could get over this one, especially maybe if they gave us more time. But it just didn't make it worth it to me.

5. (Bonus Bonus): Now I don't use the term Mary Sue lightly. But what I do think of canon Mary Sueism is a tendency to make female characters on predominately male casts "special" in some way to justify their presence. They have to be the level headed smart ones and the ones with . They have to be likable so they're robbed of character. I wouldn't say Webby is a particularly bad example of this, and it's not like Ducktales lacks other flawed female characters (Della my beloved).

But the way Webby is treated reminds me of April from TMNT 2012, and Allura from Voltron Legendary Defender (and kinda Larmina from Voltron Force). All are 80s characters in shows that had a predominately male cast of characters, and who were both an outsider, and defined by being a girl. And then the reboot both doubled down on making them special, integrating them into the group more, but also making them generally tougher the boys in some way, and also sometimes more in the know about things. Webby is aged up to match the boys age rather than aged down to match the boys age like April but the effect is still the same.

The girl is now a peer to the boys, 4th triplet, rather than a little sister. Webby is more capable and well-read than any of the boys. And at the start of the series she's socially awkward enough it feels like it will work. And I'm not saying Webby isn't flawed, she is. But when it comes to the things the family finds important: adventuring, she doesn't have any obvious shortcomings. Louie quits easily and isn't as coordinated, Dewey is reckless and generally uneducated, and Huey isn't flexible. And Webby... used to be socially awkward???

It’s kinda trading 1 sexist trope for another. And yeah, all shows do have OTHER female characters who kind of avert this. But it doesn’t change the fact the leading lady is more “special” than the boys. Like being a girl has to be special.

In short, at the end of the day Webby being Scrooge's daughter doesn't help her character, her grandmothers, or the rest of the family. It kinda helps Scrooge’s character, but while I haven’t seen the episode myself, I’m not sure there would be enough time for it to be meaningful. And again, I think a lot of the characterization and worldbuilding of other characters were already sacrificed for Scrooge’s sake in the show already.

Oh and the Donald/Daisy thing.

The reason Daisy/Donald's trip doesn't sit right with me is we barely got any Donald and Della having to coparent. Get used to each other again. We barely got any of them and we're heading back into separation. It doesn’t feel cathartic when we still have unanswered questions from this stage in their life. And even if the trip is well, a trip. It feels weird.

It feels kind of unexpectedly "conventional family", even if it's still really unconventional. Donald is going to go be happy with his love interest, away from the boys he raised who aren't actually his sons (and yes, I know he takes May and June with him but still, knowing that May and June are by default Daisy's nieces kind of has "new kids with new wife" implications to me but that's neither here nor there). Adding this to "Webby being Scrooge's daughter is a good plot point for him" and it's just really weird, and kind of feels like the final nail in the nontraditional family dynamics coffin. If feel only way they could have buried it more is if Beakley died or something.

I was already kinda uncomfortable with the “Daisy being the only one to understand him” thing because like. That’s sweet. His soulmate is the only one who really hears him. But also that’s a fucking speech impediment Donald has. Are you telling me that no one in his family cared enough to effectively communicate with him despite his disability? Like if it is REALLY that much a problem he should have an effective communication method. Sign-language for example?

The triplets he raised don’t always understand him. His twin sister doesn’t always understand him? But this random woman does? I am all for Daisy and Donald being basically soulmates. But uh? This feels both ableist and allonormative in a show that really wasn’t those things before. (well okay it was kinda ableist about Donald but it felt less weird to me when there wasn’t one person who could magically understand Donald). And Daisy understanding him still could be a big thing? The first person who understood him without getting to know him first/wasn’t literally raising him/raised with/raised by him?

I want to like Daisy so much, but she just feels a bit like Webby does: a legacy female character they are trying to make too cool, who gets some of their coolness incidentally defined by a male character, rather than a full-fledged character on their own. (For instance if we saw Daisy with anyone other than Donald, her overbearing boss and… whatever Storkules is). 

I feel some of these may have been resolved with more time. But some of these problems had their seeds planted as early as S1. That said I think if the quality of S1 was maintained they would have been fine. Overall, I think Ducktales is a good reboot, and a good show, but it really could have been better. Was so close to being better.

[frownyalfred]

you are mentioning this Alpha called Dan... now I'm curious about them... could give us a glimpse of this himbo of a man?

Yes!! Thank you for asking!

So Dan came about while Januariat and I were talking about Lex and how he deserves his own alpha, to feel safe and loved, etc.

I thought it would be very funny if Lex was guarding the lake house later in Bruce's pregnancy when everyone in the Pack is on high alert, and he's out doing a patrol of the grounds when he comes across an unfamiliar alpha trying to get in. Obviously, this being Lex, he nearly kills the alpha before realizing that it's just the repairman.

Dan the nice repairman/handyman was hired by Alfred years ago to do occasional jobs on the property, and everyone forgot to tell him that the lake house was now Pack territory, so he just came waltzing in like usual to go check on the water softener, the pipes, the various electrical hookups, etc.

Dan is a very nice alpha from the Midwest, like Clark. His mother raised him right so when a vicious omega tries to rip his throat out, he just lays there in the dirt and gently holds him back, trying to purr and calm down this random person so they both don't get hurt.

I think what charms me about Dan and Lex is that Dan just wants to be useful first, an alpha second. Lex has been around a million alphas who throw their scent and weight around constantly, and he doesn't have time for an alpha who would even think about growling him into submission.

Dan doesn't know who escaped criminal, billionaire, murderer Lex Luthor is at all. He doesn't ask who the resident of the lake house is, which is why Alfred likes him and hired him in the first place. He's just here to fix things and go home and watch football. Obviously, this intrigues and delights Lex, because he's freaking weird.

Bruce is suspicious of Dan because he's an unfamiliar alpha who keeps making eyes at his packmate. Clark is hopelessly amused by the whole thing, and he watches Lex make a fool of himself for a himbo alpha from afar, sending approval when needed.

Dan proves to Lex that it's okay to slow down and enjoy the simple things. Like having a ruggedly hot alpha pliable and open to anything underneath him. Hmmm.....

Snippets from my conversation with @starkexpos last night:

Lex, holding onto the most basic alpha ever: this is my most prized possession, Dan. I love Dan. He fixes all the iPads I break.

Dan, slightly muffled: yeah I mean usually he just throws the iPads when he gets mad and the screen shatters so I have a buddy who sells me the screens at cost and I just replace them myself. It’s pretty easy actually…

and from @starkexpos:

The best part is that Bruce has to give a shovel talk and he’s SO UPSET that he’s going to have to give a shovel talk on Lex’s behalf he yells for 5 hours. Meanwhile Lex is just mooning over the plumber saying, “Dan….” in a dreamy voice.

I’m crying. This is so good. Literally the most boring, normal guy. He takes Lex to the Olive Garden for the Never-ending Pasta Bowl. It only happens once a year, he tells Lex excitedly.

@starkexpos I think the funniest thing about this dynamic is that everyone including Bruce expects Lex to see this alpha and snap him like a twig, but for some reason he is DELIGHTED by him and his humble pleasures. Like here is this dangerous rich omega criminal who eats alphas for breakfast and he’s at the Olive Garden purring at his boyfriend!