#adulthood is a little terrifying but I think I’ll be okay

[rocknrollsalad]

STWG daily prompt - Giving in & chill Steddie | t (all the jokes are vaguely sexual but it's pg) | 1765 words

“You’re like a child,” Steve groaned. What should be affection was pure annoyance as Eddie sat on their coffee table, staring straight into Steve’s soul, and begging him to play cards. 

“I’m nothing like those dweebs,” Eddie countered with fake annoyance, strumming his finger across the top of the deck to feel all fifty-two cards. 

Steve opened his mouth to say “yes you are” but shut it, pausing in thought, and trying again. “No, but they act like you. Equally terrifying but I meant an actual child. Four or five years old.” 

With furrowed brows, Eddie stuck his lip out a little 

“You need to be constantly doing things but when I say ‘let’s go for a run’ or ‘we could shoot hoops’ you–” 

Eddie started gagging, doubled over, and making loud vomit sounds until he started coughing in seriousness. 

“You do that. Even though your skin would not fall off if you stepped on a court. So, instead, you talk endlessly through the movie I was trying to watch and now you want to play games. Like a kid.” 

It was maybe a little too far but Steve was exhausted, adulthood was a little more work than he wanted it to be. A full day of work and then he had to make dinner, he barely wanted to eat it tonight after all the labor of preparing it. 

Robin had been bugging him to watch this movie for a week and Steve didn’t feel like doing anything else so it seemed like a perfect night. Eddie said he wanted to watch it too and then made it impossible for both of them to watch it. So Steve packed more frustration on top of everything else and maybe he wasn’t as nice as everyone thought. Sometimes it’s okay to just watch a movie and eat shitty pizza without putting on a three-ring circus for the boyfriend. 

“When are you even around five year olds?” Rather than give into the hurt feelings, Eddie matched Steve’s energy. 

“I dated, like, half of Hawkins High so, ya know, every babysitter in town.” 

“Aren’t the kids supposed to be asleep before you show up?” Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes. 

“Sometimes, yeah, but other times the kid is a little shit so the babysitter calls the cute athlete to come over and wear the thing out. Promises are made and definitely cashed in.” 

“Wear the thing out. Promising for our future, I’m sure.” 

“We can’t have kids,” Steve scoffed. 

“Adoption is a thing,” Eddie said, acting like Steve was the idiot in this situation. 

“I know the ways around the whole 'we can’t carry a child' thing, idiot. We, as a couple, can’t adopt because we can’t tell people we’re a couple.” 

“Oh…yeah,” Eddie deflated. 

Packing his annoyance into a groan, Steve leaned back. He debated putting his feet up on the coffee table to try and be a real bother here but couldn’t do it. It was one thing to be annoyed but he couldn’t be a dick on purpose. Not in this atmosphere, at least. It was fun when they were in on it, goofing off and stuff. 

After a long moment of silence, just enough to let Steve think he was going to get to pay attention to this movie, Eddie said “Do you ever use the moves you used on all those babysitters on me?” 

“What? No. We’re dating. I don’t have to, like, try and get into your pants. Usually, I’m begging you to put some on before Robin comes over.” 

“You’re never begging me to put my pants on, don’t lie.” 

“Every time she comes over. Literally. Every single time.” 

“I don’t hear you complaining about it.” 

“I’m not,” Steve groaned, hating having to admit that right now. 

“So not once? You never used anything from your bag of tricks?” 

“I mean, I’m not really that guy anymore.” Scratching at his forehead, the television screen got a lot more interesting. 

“Do it, though? Use them on me. C’mon. Pretend I’m babysitting some kids and they’re asleep in the other room.” 

“I don’t have to do that.” 

“Please, Steve! I’ll never ask for anything again, please, please, please-ah. Flirt with me like you’re trying to impress me and get into my pants.” 

“Yeah, not in the mood,” shoving up off the couch, Steve gave up. “I’m going to go take a shower.” 

It didn’t make any sense why Eddie would want to see this part of himself Steve tried so hard to get rid of. Everyone they hung out with listed those years of Steve’s as his shortcomings, his flaws. He wasn’t supposed to still use those moves so why was Eddie asking? 

The shower helped some, Steve felt better coming out than he did going in. At least until he got back to the living room where Eddie sat playing solitaire. He looked up and said, “The kids are sleeping and their parents won’t be home for hours.” 

The over-the-top seductive voice Eddie used had Steve nearly throwing up in his mouth. He shook his head and walked off to the kitchen. With no purpose, he opened the fridge and hoped it revealed what he needed. 

Eddie followed, catching up surprisingly quick and dropping his full weight to Steve’s back. It nearly landed both of them inside the fridge but Steve managed to save it. Yet Eddie kept leaning into it. Again, if he were in a better mood and it would have been well received, Steve would have taken a step to the left and let Eddie drop to the floor. He was half tempted to anyway. 

“Why won’t you use your moves on me?” Eddie whined. 

“Because they aren’t my moves anymore? Because you’re already with me? I don’t know, take your pick.” 

“It’d be so fun though. I want to see if I would have given in to the legendary Harrington charm.” 

“Oh, you would have.” 

“Prove it. C’mon, prove it. You know you want to.” From there it devolved into Eddie repeating “prove it” with increasing speed. 

“No,” Steve said, making the word as short and forceful as he could. With resignation, he grabbed a soda off the top shelf and moved from the fridge. 

“Would it help if I put on a whole, like, outfit?” Eddie asked. 

“It’s not going to make me change my mind but I would love to know what your babysitter outfit is.” 

“You don’t know what I have in my closet, there’s some surprises.” 

“Uh, you mean the clothes I unpacked because you were content to keep taking them out of the garbage bags you hauled them here in?” 

“Shit, no? I have other clothes?” 

“Are they different from the ones in the laundry? Because we wash our clothes together.” 

“Maybe I clean them on the days it’s my turn, okay? You wanna take this to court?” 

A smile cracks on Steve’s face. “I just wanna see this outfit, ya know? Might put me in the mood.” 

“Oh my god! Would it?!” 

“No,” Steve groaned, throwing his empty hand in the air. “And you don’t have the outfit.” 

“I could put something together but, whatever, man. I’m the last resort babysitter. Not the first call but the parents are desperate.” 

Nothing that threatened to come out of Steve’s mouth was kind. Even in his sour mood, he was smart enough to know to say nothing. He looked at Eddie to let him know both how wide he left the insult door open and how lucky he was. 

“No, that’s even better! I’m like the struggling first-time babysitter who is desperate for help and I heard you’re a good help. I don’t know about the cost though,” Eddie said with a little shimmy. 

“Definitely not. It’s not happening but it’s really, really not happening without me knowing you want it to.” 

Eddie pressed his hands together and gave the saddest pleading eyes Steve had ever seen. “I definitely want it. Please?” 

“But it’s so stupid. I already got you and with way better moves.” 

“I know but I just want to know. No! I need to know. For science! For mankind! Hell, for womankind too! Everyone needs the full Steve Harrington experience and I can’t appreciate what I have now without knowing what I could have had, right?” 

Dropping his head to one side, Steve blinked rapidly for a second. “For science?” 

“Yes! I mean what if it doesn’t work on me? That needs documented. 

“What? No, it would have worked on you. Without question.” 

Eddie took a breath and slowly started to smile. “Ah, so that’s what works. It wouldn’t have, I couldn’t stand guys like you in high school?” 

“Guys like me? If I was any more your type, it’d be a Weird Science situation. You made me on a computer.” 

“At least I kept your tits reasonable then,” Eddie mocked. 

“You love jocks, I bet I’d just have to knock on the door and you’d be shedding clothes.” 

Eddie tried to sulk about it but he crumbled, lighting back up and moving anxiously around the kitchen floor. “Do it, do it, doitdoitdoit! Just, like, fifteen minutes? If you don’t like it we can put a movie on and I’ll make you popcorn. The Jiffy Pop stuff even.” 

“Eddie,” Steve half-heartedly tried. 

He was already too close to caving, which he hated, Eddie had this effect on him though, and as much as Steve tried to fight it, he’d do anything for the guy. No one said he had to do it happily or instantly though. Steve loved him but he was still going to complain. 

“I’ll do the next loads of laundry and I’ll cook dinner tomorrow night!” 

“Well, are we trying to have fun or are you trying to kill me?” 

“Har har, you know I’ll put a frozen pizza in the oven.” 

Steve pondered that and nodded. “Yeah, okay, but will you clean the bathroom?” 

Eddie walked in a little circle, groaning the whole time, head dropped back to look at the ceiling. “Yes,” he finally said. 

Steve did not think that would work, they needed to barter for chores more often. Heaving a sigh to sell his own performance, Steve rolled his eyes. “Fine. If it’ll get you to calm down and give me a peaceful night? Let’s do it.” 

“Fuck! Yes!” Eddie nearly screamed, fists in the air as he did a bit of headbanging. 

“Go put on your babysitter outfit but don’t work too hard because I will have you out of it in that fifteen minutes.” 

[fundiemental-shitposts]

General Life Update Time

…anyone still read this?

I’m back(ish), though not really super on the fundie snark train as much as I used to be.

Life has been hectic for a couple reasons, which is why I haven’t been active much on here.

Reason #1: New Job

I’m currently wrapping up the last two weeks of my one-year term job, and I start a new position with better pay and more benefits at the end of August.

I’m based out of the Midwest, and the new position is in a medical facility doing neurological research — the medical facility is also tied with a large public university, which also means at the start of the winter term I’ll be eligible to (maybe, I need to double check) start taking graduate school classes at a much less expensive rate than possible before. TBD what I’m going back to school for, as I’ve narrowed it down to two paths, but it’s the closest I’ve come to continuing my education beyond my bachelor’s at this point so I’ll take it.

The issue on the table: the new job is an hour away from home, so that means there’s a couple options: commute and rack up a gas bill, or…

Reason #2: Moving Out

It’s been in the works for months but if all goes well tomorrow (some final details I have to secure before it’s confirmed) I will be moving out of my mom’s house in about a month — hopefully for good, but at least for a while.

I’m excited to move out and have more control over my living environment, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Moving out means (among other things) figuring out new doctors, finding the nearest grocery store, locating a mechanic for my car, and buying furniture and holy fuck are couches expensive.

On the flip side, it means getting to live full-time with my partner of 4.5 years, maybe getting to adopt a cat or two, and being one step closer to potentially getting married (since my partner and I have agreed we wouldn’t bring it up in a more serious context until I figured out my job + living situation), which is all good stuff.

In conclusion:

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: References to sex, masturbation (nothing actually occurs)

Summary: After meeting Mando, you just can’t seem to get him out of your head. (events directly follow Introductions)

A/N: Thanks for the kind reception to the first post of this AU! I’ll be making a masterlist soon for easier navigation :) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts or if I’ve missed a warning.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Lingering Impressions

Your day ended up being an exhausting one. Mando had been your most exciting session for more reasons than just the obvious. You'd reviewed the papers of two freshmen, a junior who wanted you to basically write their paper for them, and another graduate student who disregarded every suggestion you made. Needless to say, Mando's gratitude felt extra special after all of that.

Getting home, you're greeted with the welcome smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen as you throw yourself face-first into the couch. The open floorplan of your tiny two bedroom apartment allows Layla to spot you as you wander in.

"Hello to you too!" she calls over. "I'm making chicken marsala."

You lift your head up from the watermelon-shaped throw pillow to smile at her. "You are a saint and I don't deserve you."

"You totally don't," Layla teases back, happily returning to the stove. You flip over on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while she finishes making dinner. A comfortable silence fills the room, interrupted only by Layla's hums and the discordant sounds of cooking.

Layla has been your roommate since your sophomore year of college, randomly paired together by the dorm sorting system and inseparable ever since. The two of you clicked, a friendship forged over the awkwardness of early adulthood and a shared love of terrible reality TV. Both of you keep busy schedules while pursuing your respective master’s degrees and help each other out where you can. Making dinners for each other is just a part of that.

It’s not long before Layla brings over two steaming plates of food to lay out on your thrifted coffee table. She sits opposite you, preferring to sit on the floor rather than the couch. You’re eager to dig in, groaning at the first bite.

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Layla grins, tucking into her own meal.

“God yes.”

“Long day then?”

You groan again, this time in irritation rather than pleasure. “Yes. I don’t know how many more know-it-all grad students I can deal with.”

She’s heard all about your nightmare sessions with students that think they already know everything. You’ve questioned more than once why they bother booking the session if they're just going to ignore your advice and decide their paper is perfect as is. It seems like a total waste of time for both you and them. 

Layla sympathizes and shares her own gripes about some of the assholes she's forced to put up with while working on her research project. After all, no group project is complete without the one person who does nothing but acts like they know everything. Giving each other time to vent another small way the two of you take care of each other.

As you think back on your day and sessions your mind inevitably drifts to Mando. He hadn’t been anything like you’d expected. He was kind in his own way and by far the most amenable session you’d had all day. Not taking off the helmet was odd, as was not giving out his real name, but neither of those had really bothered you when it came down to it. If anything, they only serve to fascinate you further.

“Did something else happen today?” Layla asks, a spark lighting up in her eyes. She can always read you, something that can be either a blessing or a curse depending on what it is you're hiding. You take a few more bites before answering, already anticipating her reaction.

“Well I might have also met Mando today,” You try to throw it out there casually, hoping that if you treat it as though it’s not a big deal she’ll follow your lead. You should have known better.

“You what!? Tell me everything,” Layla screeches at you from across the coffee table. She pushes her food off to the side, clearly deciding that your unexpected meeting with campus's resident celebrity is far more important.

"He came in for a session. His paper was really good, it-"

Layla is quick to cut you off. "I literally couldn't care less about that and you know it. Tell me about him, what's he like? Is he terrifying?"

You can’t help but snort at that. You know why she asked of course - the rumors flying around about him getting out of hand these days - but when you think about him now they all seem ludicrous. The gentle way he spoke to Grogu and offered his hand out to the kid before leaving. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke to you, eager to hear any advice you had to give him. No. Mando was decidedly not terrifying. “He’s… just a guy,” you tell her, not really sure how to explain his unique presence.

The eyeroll you receive in response is warranted. “Are you kidding me right now? You probably know more about him than anyone else on campus and you’re going to tell me he’s just a guy?”

You shrug, shoveling another bite of food into your mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you Lays, I only spent an hour with him. He was nice, really sweet with his kid, and I’ll probably never see him again.”

You’re not sure why you feel a quick sting in your chest at that thought. It wasn’t like you knew him well or that he even owed you anything. Considering the fact that you’d gone weeks without so much as glimpsing him on campus you’d probably only have another chance to see him if he signed up for another session and there was no guarantee he’d return.

“So the kid thing is true?” Layla asks.

“Yeah. Really cute kid, pretty quiet.” Very quiet now that you think of it. You don’t have much experience with kids that young, but you’re certain kids Grogu’s age can talk. He hadn’t said so much as a word, only letting out an occasional noise or two. It was odd, but then he could just be shy or something. Another question you’d probably never have an answer for.

“Is the kid his?” Layla presses.

“I don’t know, it didn’t exactly come up while we discussed his paper on unique material applications,” you snap back at her. You wince a little at your sharp reply. It wasn’t deserved. Layla was simply curious and now the victim of your long day and swirling thoughts.

You quickly follow up with an apology. “Sorry. I just- I had a long day and I really didn’t learn much about him, okay?” 

There’s a small sense of relief when Layla nods, backing down from her inquisition. “It’s cool, I get it. Just promise you’ll tell me if you see him again?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.” 

The rest of the night passes like usual. You wash up after dinner, a fair trade since Layla cooked, and the two of you get to tackling homework that’s begun to pile up with the semester entering its full swing. Nighttime study sessions have been a regular occurrence since your undergrad days and have only intensified while pursuing your respective graduate degrees. It’s more about solidarity and accountability than shared workload, what with your program being in English and Layla’s in Marketing, but it’s nice. Simply having company is better than doing it all by yourself.

Around 10:30 you call it, eyes bleary from staring at your laptop. Layla is deep into a PDF reading so you leave her to her work and shuffle off to the shared bathroom. While the water heats, you brush your teeth lazily, going through the motions of your nightly routine. You test the water with your hand before deciding it’s warm enough to step in.

Your thoughts drift aimlessly as you stand under the hot stream, unfocused until they land back on him. It’s like you can’t help yourself, the way your thoughts have been returning to him all night. You’ve puzzled about him before, but only in the abstract. A hypothetical more than a real person. Wondering if rumors are true isn't quite the same as wondering about the man himself. 

All throughout the night he kept popping up. One moment you would be considering the symbolic use of color in your assigned reading and the next you would be puzzling over Mando’s favorite color. Maybe orange, if his gloves were anything to go by. Layla's favorite song played and while she sang along you couldn't help wondering what kind of music he listens to. Rock probably, or was that too on the nose? As you sipped your drink you wondered what his drink of choice would be, alcoholic or not. Did he even drink alcohol at all? Something told you he wasn’t much for losing his inhibitions.

It's all the little things, all the little details that actually make up a person that no one bothers to speculate about that consume you now. Who cares about his favorite movie or favorite food when you can guess on whether or not he's been to jail?

As you wash the grime of the day from your body, your mind continues to drift further, settling onto the first thing that captured your attention earlier today. His hands. Those gorgeous sun soaked hands, how fluidly they moved across his keyboard. The firm hold of them when he shook your hand.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can't help imagining that it's his hands skating across your skin. You can almost feel the gentle roughness of them, the way he'd squeeze and hold you - tight, but not so hard that it hurts. Almost unconsciously, your hand begins to drift down your body, only to be interrupted by a pounding on the bathroom door. Your eyes snap open, confusion and embarrassment replacing your fantasy.

"Hurry up in there! I need to pee," Layla yells through the door.

You grumble in response, knowing she can't hear you, but quickly finish your shower. It's not quite as relaxing anymore, flustered by your wanton thoughts. 

Getting back into your room, you check your email before setting your alarms for tomorrow. There’s the usual spam from online stores reminding you of limited time deals, a reminder that rent is due next week (lovely), and a couple generic university emails. Your eyes fall to your new tutoring appointment emails and you flick through them mindlessly to clear them out, knowing they’ll all automatically appear on your calendar. 

Just as you’re about to close out of the app and get some well needed rest, a new email pops through. It’s another appointment alert scheduled for next week. You tap to open it and your heart flutters when you read the name on the form. Mando. No need to wonder about if you’d ever see him again now. You’d be seeing him Tuesday at 3 PM. Somehow you know he won’t miss his appointment.

×××××

Din is exhausted. Between Grogu, classes, and trying to find ways to make money, he barely has enough time to do basic functional adult things. Things like showering regularly, eating more than a required minimum of once a day, or heaven help him sleep. 

He wishes he could afford a regular babysitter, allow himself some occasional reprieve but it's not possible. He makes just enough to keep the bills paid and at least Grogu's stomach full. There's also an ever present paranoia about letting a stranger into his home, much less to watch his son. Only Paz and Cara have ever babysat for him and even that was mostly against his will.

Din slumps onto his couch, exhausted from the long day. He’d found the couch on the side of the road. It’s well worn and has a couple holes in it, but it was devoid of fleas, comfortable, and most importantly, free. His helmet is off, sitting on the kitchen table where he’d left it after getting home from campus. He’s mostly used to it these days, but sometimes it can still feel suffocating underneath the custom bucket. Taking it off at the end of the day is always welcome, especially when Din sees Grogu’s eyes light up at his exposed face.

He allows himself just a moment of rest, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Grogu had finally gone to bed, demanding three stories before he fell asleep and Din not having it within him to deny the requests. A small smile rests on his lips, thinking of Grogu's excitement at his mediocre storytelling. He already loathes the day when Grogu won't ask him to read anymore.

There are about twenty other things he should be doing right now other than sitting on the couch. The apartment hasn't been cleaned properly in weeks, dishes are piling up, laundry needs to be done, he needs to find a job for this weekend, should probably find better daycare for Grogu, has an exam to study for, and a paper to finish writing. He should be doing all of that and more, and yet he can't find the will to move. He stays planted firmly on the couch, letting his thoughts drift. A few different ideas and ruminations swirl around, but his mind settles onto one. Her.

She isn't what he had been expecting. When his professor had recommended a session with a writing tutor he'd been a little miffed at first. Din knew words weren't his strong suit, but he hadn't thought he was that bad. He probably wouldn't have even considered it if she hadn't immediately assured him that it was only a suggestion because she saw potential in his work.

He had still only been considering it, form half filled out, when Grogu had hit submit. He’d looked for a way to cancel the appointment, but couldn’t figure it out with the school’s poorly designed website, so instead he had resigned himself to going. After all, just the one session couldn't hurt and he'd already be on campus.

He thought the tutor would be some irritating know-it-all, pointing out all the mistakes in his paper. Either that, or that they'd be too nervous to make any real criticisms. He’d noticed the way people froze up around him, sometimes too timid to even look in his direction. She wasn't either of those things.

She was all smiles and kindness, not hesitant around him for a moment. Even Grogu took an immediate liking to her, as evidenced by the gift of his frog drawing. Din had more of those than he could count, but very few others had been bestowed the honor of his sacred amphibian themed artworks.

She challenged him in a way he liked, not rude but still forceful. Encouraging him to figure out what it was she was guiding him towards with the paper. Not taking ownership, simply identifying where ideas could be made stronger or clearer. They’d only worked through a few pages in the session and Din already felt more confident in his writing. 

What he liked most though was that she hadn't even asked about the helmet. It was all he heard from those brave enough to speak to him. Where did he get it, why did he wear it, did he ever take it off, what does he look like underneath, and so on. Avoiding all of those questions got to be draining. She didn't even acknowledge it.

She had mentioned the rumors that were apparently swirling around campus about him but that was it. He was a bit grateful for that though, entirely unaware of how popular he'd apparently become. The stares that followed him on campus were hard to ignore, but he didn’t know about their accompanying whispers. He still isn’t sure if the rumors are a good or a bad thing. Her reaction hadn’t given him all that much to go off of. He wishes it had.

That thought stops Din short. Where did that come from? Why did her opinion of him suddenly matter after a single one hour session? Din can’t remember the last time he considered someone else’s opinion of him. Probably when he first brought Grogu home to meet everyone. Now here he is, wondering what his English tutor’s thoughts were about the rumors everyone has been spreading about him. He needs to get out more.

Din shakes his head free, trying to ponder other aspects of his life. Like when he’d be able to get the Razor Crest up and running again. She’d broken down again after only the second week of classes. Paz makes fun of him for riding on such an old bike, but she’s a classic. Din can’t get rid of her, no matter how much she likes to break down on him. In the meantime he could make due with the loaner truck from Peli.

Thoughts of his motorcycle only distract him for so long though. He realizes half-way through the fantasy that he’s imagining taking her out on his bike, feeling her hands clasped around his waist as he rides through the city. The way she’d hang on just a little tighter, pressing herself against his back, as he hits the throttle just a bit harder.

Din sits up on the couch and mutters to himself. “Come on, Djarin. Pull it together.”

She’s beautiful, yes, but to already be fantasizing about taking her for a ride? That’s a bit much. It has been months since Din has seen any kind of action, but he shouldn’t be this desperate after spending only an hour with a pretty face. Still, now that he’s thinking of it, his mind wanders to what she’d be like. 

Would she take charge, calm and in control like she was earlier today? Or would she submit to him, allow him to do whatever he wanted? A small groan escapes Din’s lips at the thought of having her beneath him, begging for him to take her. How she would look spread out on his bedsheets, how sweet she’d taste. He can already imagine how good she’d feel wrapped around him, the way her eyes would look all strung out and cockdumb. It would be a beautiful sight if he’s ever lucky enough to see it.

An alarm Din forgot he set suddenly blares on his phone. He can’t even remember what he set it for as he’s yanked from his lewd imaginings, scrambling to turn it off. There’s a small wave of embarrassment as he registers where he allowed his thoughts to drift. 

Ignoring the uncomfortable pressure in his jeans, Din pulls up the tutoring appointment form on his phone and signs up for another session. There’s an option to select a specific tutor and he’s quick to open it up, choosing her name from the drop down menu. 

There’s nothing wrong about this, right? She’d helped him with his paper and Grogu liked her. She even asked if she’d be seeing him again. That was plenty of reason to have another session. His renegade fantasies had nothing to do with his decision to go back. Din is a man in control of his urges. If anything, this next session would prove that his thoughts were all just fleeting, just a simple result of going too long without anyone in his bed.

.

.

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taglist: @honestly-shite​ @booksarekindaneat​ @wonderless-screwup​ @pinkninja200​ @captain-jebi​ @ajeff855​ @leias-rebelion​ 

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated 💕

[amayawolfe]

Itsy Bitsy Spider (Chrollo x Fem.Reader)

A/N: fluff, spiders, angst, some harsh language

Word Count: 5262

Summary: Having been born in Meteor City, the majority of your life has been nothing but hardships. Looking back on it, you often wondered how you even made it to adulthood let alone become the treasured partner and wife of eight years to the head of the Phantom Troupe and mother to yours and Chrollo's son.

In the middle of prepping dinner, Chrollo and some of the troupe return from a successful mission. Your husband fills you in on the details as he and a couple of the members begin to help in the kitchen. The peace is suddenly shattered when your six year old comes running into the kitchen terrified, screaming, and claiming there is a monster in his room!

taglist: @to-move-on-means-to-grow @daisies-write

   The menu music to the DVD you were watching gently woke you from your unintentional nap. You blinked your eyes a few times to bring them into focus and stretched your curled up body along the large, overstuffed couch. This particular spot on the couch was often your place of rest unless your husband was home; in which case the couch was hardly ever used.

   Using the remote you turned off the tv and player then pushed yourself up into a sitting position. You snatched up your phone from it's place on the coffee table and checked the time. It was nearly early evening.

   "Guess I should start thinking about what to make for dinner," you said to yourself as you swipe through your phone to check for messages.

   Down in this underground hideout beneath Meteor City, phone signal alone was nearly impossible to receive. Thankfully, one of the family was able to figure out how to set up a computer that would broadcast Wi-Fi into the hideout from a line that went to the surface where a receiver was carefully hidden. This way, you could at least send and receive messages between the family and yourself.

   Your eyebrows rose and a smile touched your lips when you saw that you had a message from your husband, Chrollo.

Luci: Shopping run was successful, we should be home in the evening.

   You smirked a little at the cryptic message. The "shopping run" Chrollo was talking about was actually a heist during a gem and jewelry show. A heist in which you had helped plan out with your husband and three other family members.

   You glowered down at your phone when you realized the message had been sent a little over an hour ago while you were asleep.

   "I really need to get a louder phone," you muttered to yourself as you began to type a response.

You: I just woke up...

You: I haven't started dinner yet, is there anything you or the others would like?

   Phone still in hand you got to your feet and head in the direction of your son's room. As you walk through the hideout your sock covered foot falls are silent from a lifetime of practice. You pass a collection of pictures hanging along the walls. There are photos of you, Chrollo, your son, as well as the rest of the family doing random things a family would do.

 There were a couple from around the holidays and you and Chrollo are watching your son open gifts. Another was on Chrollo's birthday and two of the members had sandwiched his face between two pieces of vanilla cake with strawberry frosting. The look of shock and horror on Chrollo's face had been perfectly captured. While it was one of your favorite photos, he despised it. Chrollo's favorite picture on the wall was of you and him stretched out on the day bed in the library reading a book together while his head was resting on your nearly full term pregnant belly. You had to admit, it was a very cute picture.

   The home was enormous, consisting of s/n's room and his own bathroom, yours and Chrollo's large master bedroom with a large bathroom, a gourmet kitchen, library, study, massive living room, dining hall, training area along with a gym and a pool, a giant vault for looted treasures, multiple guests rooms with their own bathrooms, there was even a "war room" where missions and strategies were discussed.

   All the rooms in the place were lavishly decorated and furnished for maximal comfort. Any electronics and appliances were always top of line. Your husband always insisted on the best of the best for you and the family.

   Upon reaching your son's open door way you peeked in on him and found him laying on his belly on the floor reading a book aloud softly. He had his collection of stuffed animals surrounding him as though they were an audience listening to the story he was telling. A majority of them were a variety of teddy bears of all shapes, colors, and sizes. Ever since he saw a picture of a tiny teddy bear defending a sleeping child from a large monster he had taken a great liking to them.

   S/n's favorite teddy bear was one that Chrollo had asked Machi to make for him during a difficult time for s/n where he was greatly missing his father whenever he went on missions. It was of average size for a teddy bear and had medium brown fur. The button eyes were the same shade of grey blue as Chrollo's and it even had a dark long coat with white fur lining. But how Machi really outdid herself were the little details of a tiny book with a felt cover sewn to the teddy bears paw, the same mark on it's forehead as Chrollo's, and giving the bear little blue green glass bead earrings.

   Your son had been so happy to the point of joyous tears when his father gave him the bear made especially for him. He decided right there and then to name the bear "Sir Brollo." Upon s/n announcing this, you had to bite your tongue so hard it bled to keep yourself from laughing at the bright red look that came over your husband's face.    Sir Brollo had a front row seat sitting right beside s/n as he read. That bear rarely ever left your son's side.

   You rest your head against the door frame as you leaned against it and listened to your son read to his "friends." It saddened you knowing your son had no one to play with except for you and the family when ever they were home. But being the son of the head of the heavily feared and all powerful Phantom Troupe, precautions had to be taken.    There had been a few dangerously close calls of s/n being taken away to be used as revenge or leverage against the Phantom Troupe. Close calls that resulted in a sense of dread and anxiety that never fully went away. Even after Chrollo had gathered the nen techniques needed to build you, your son, and the family this safe place, the possible threat of invasion always weighed heavy in the back of your mind. And poor s/n was never allowed out of the hide out unless he had you or Chrollo and at least three other members of the family with him.

   These constant negative feelings that lingered in the air had taken a toll on your son causing him to become a very nervous and skittish child with a fear of nearly everything. You and the others hoped that, over time, he would be able to shake these fears and stand up to them.

   When your son finished the chapter he was on you lifted your head and gently called his name.    "s/n"

   The child jumped and looked up at you with wide blue grey eyes. His father's eyes. You could feel the sadness in your own eyes form at his frightened expression.

   "I'm sorry kiddo," you said softly and entered his room to kneel down close to him. "I didn't mean to startle you, I just wanted to let you know that your father and some of the family will be home soon."

   "Oh, okay, thank you mommy," s/n replied softly.

   "Is there something special you want for dinner tonight?" you asked.

   "Hmmm, not really. Just, no fish, please," your son wrinkled his nose, "I really don't like fish."

   You couldn't help but laugh aloud at his response. Stroking his soft hair you leaned forward, and kissed him on the forehead.

   "I know, baby, I know. I promise, no fish."

   s/n smiled at your  words and he began to kick his feet in the air just above him.    "Who else will be home?"    "I think your uncles Fei, Phinks, and Shal will be coming in with your dad."

   Right then your phone pinged and vibrated alerting you to a message response. Glancing down at it you saw Chrollo had responded to your previous question.

   "Oh," you said, "speak of the devil."

Luci: I have been asked to put in a request for your famous stew.

   You looked down at s/n, "How does stew sound for dinner?"

   His eyes grew wide and he smiled happily.

   "Yeah!" he cheered as he rolled to one side and pumped a tiny fist into the air. You couldn't help but laugh again and ruffled your son's hair.

   "Alright my silly boy, would you like to help me in the kitchen?"

   "No, I want to keep reading to Sir Brollo and the others," he answered honestly. "I want to finish a few more chapters before time to eat."

   "Okay, I'll come get you when it's time to eat then." You rose to your feet and started to leave the room. At the door way you turned and added, "I love you, sweetie."

   "I love you too, mommy," s/n beamed then returned to his book.

   As you made your way to the kitchen you messaged your husband a reply.

You: I can do that, I'll go ahead and get started. See you soon?

Luci: See you soon, princess.

   You felt the warmth of a blush touch your cheeks. A reaction that always occurred when Chrollo called you by his favorite pet name for you.

   When you entered the massive kitchen you set some upbeat classical music to play from your phone. You loved listening to music while you cooked and baked. You then brought down a large stock pot as well as collected a peeler, knife, mixing bowl, and cutting bored. From the fridge you set out a large chunk of beef, bacon, carrots, and celery. The pantry had the potatoes, flour, beef stock, onions, a bottle of red wine and garlic you needed.

   You really felt like you were getting into the grove as you gave your hands a good scrub. You diced up a few slices of bacon and tossed them into the stock put and turned the stove flame on to a medium high heat. While the bacon started to cook and release the greasy fat you were going to brown the beef cubes in, you cut the beef chunk into bite size pieces with impressive speed and accuracy. Chrollo wasn't the only one good with a knife.

   Once the meat was all cubed you tossed it into the mixing bowl along with some olive oil. Tossing the meat and oil in the bowl until the meat was evenly coated you then added flour, garlic powder, onion powder, season salt, and pepper; stirring it until it the meat was all evenly coated.

   Checking on the bacon and giving it a stir, you decided to let the bacon bits crisp a bit more and started working on dicing up a large yellow onion. Humming along with a playful piece of classical music known as "Thunder and Lightning polka" by Johann Strauss II, you really felt like you had a good rhythm going and was very much engrossed in your work.

   So much so you didn't even notice someone quietly enter the kitchen and walk up behind you. You didn't notice them watching while you worked, waiting for a pause in your actions before placing their hands on your waist.

   You let out a small yelp of surprise as you knocked the persons hands aside and spun around quickly, bringing the sharp edge of the kitchen knife up to your would be assailant's throat. You had expected to see the face of a dangerous stranger. But instead, you where greeted by the warm, familiar face of your husband. There was a small playful smile on his lips and an extra little gleam in his eyes. Chrollo normally wasn't one to sneak up on you like he just did, but he did tend to become mischievously playful after a successful mission. You figured it was most likely from the adrenaline high.

   "Damnit, Chrollo," you hissed as you removed the knife from his neck and leaned back against the counter, "You know better than that. What if I had cut your neck wide open?"    "Mmm, but you didn't," he replied softly.

   You sighed and rolled your eyes, Chrollo was never one to dwell on the "what ifs" of life.

   "I got you a little something, my dear," he stated as he reached into the pocket of his favorite long coat. Your husband was always bringing you little gifts when ever he went on a mission without you.

   From his pocket he with drew a small, dark navy blue velvet box and held it before you. You quickly washed and dried your hands so as to not to get the box all dirty, carefully took the box from his hand and let out a small gasp upon opening it.

   Inside the dainty box was a small rose charm necklace. The piece was masterfully crafted as the delicate petals of the rose were made from chips of rubies while the petals were made of dark green chrome tourmaline chips. Both gems were set in fine gold which also made up the delicate stem of the rose. The chain was made of fine delicate links also in gold.

    "Oh Chrollo," you breathed in awe, "it's absolutely gorgeous."

   Your husband smiled at your reaction, pleased to see you so happy with the piece he had picked out for you. He held up his hand to take back the box.

   "May I?"

   Without a need for question you handed the box back to him. You watched him take the necklace out of the box and he returned the box back to his pocket. You turned around as he held up the necklace and you moved your hair at the way so Chrollo could have unobstructed access to your neck. He stepped closer as undid the delicate little clasp and carefully hung the necklace around your neck.

   After he redid the clasp behind your neck he slid his hands to your shoulders and placed a soft, warm kiss on your neck. Chrollo's breath tickled the fine hairs on the delicate skin causing goosebumps to erupt down your arms.

   "A piece fit for a princess," he whispered against your ear in a low, sultry voice.

   His hands moved down your sides to your waist and pulled you closer to him. Your back flush against his chest, you tilted your head to one side allowing him easy access as his he ran a trail of soft kisses from just below where you neck and shoulder connect to your ear. Chrollo's arms came around your waist and he hugged you tightly as he nuzzled his nose against your ear and breathed against the sensitive flesh. You braced your hands against the counter as your knees started to feel weak.

   Mischievous and playful were not the only moods that overcame Chrollo after a successful job. You looked forward to the private activities that were most likely to take place between you and your husband behind the closed bedroom door later that night.

   "Hey boss, we finished placing all the merchandise into the vault," called a familiar voice, ending the tender moment between you and your husband. As romantic as he could be, Chrollo was never really comfortable showing physical affection in front of the others. Something that both amused and annoyed you the entire eight plus years the two of you had been together.    Your husband gave you one last chaste kiss just below the earlobe before turning to Shalnark walking through the kitchen doorway.

   "Thank you, Shalnark. And what are the others up to?"

   "Oh, they're arguing over what to watch until dinner is done," Shal laughed.

   "Why am I not surprised," you said over your shoulder as you started to scoop the crispy bacon bits out of the stock pot with a slotted spoon. "Say, since you two are here why don't you help me out with peeling and cutting the vegetables? The sooner everything gets into the pot the sooner it'll be done and we can eat."

   "Sure thing!" Shal beamed, causing you to smile. He always seemed so happy to you and reminded you of a little ball of sunshine.

   "I'll go put my coat up and then I'll come back and help," Chrollo replied and strode from the kitchen. Shalnark came over and washed his hands.

   "If you don't mind, could you go ahead and peel and chop up the carrots first?" you asked as you started to add the coated beef cubes to the bacon fat.

   "Yea, I can do that," Shal chirped. He dried his hands and set to work peeling the carrots. "How's everything been here the last few weeks?"

   "Dull and quiet," you said with a sigh as you turned the meat cubes, "it's pretty much the same routine when everyone else is away. Not that I am complaining, really."    "I would hope not," Chrollo entered back into the kitchen without his coat. He was wearing a dark sleeveless shirt with a high collar and some white bands creating a pattern down the front, a dark pair of jeans and white socks. The shirt showed off his toned arms, chest, and shoulders and it enticed you to take a nice, long looks at your beloved.

   "'Dull and quiet' means 'safe' for my two greatest treasures." Chrollo took his turn at washing his hands before asking, "Now, what shall you have me do, dearest?"

   Deciding against speaking aloud the first thing that came to your mind and causing your husband to blush in front of a family member, you set him to work on peeling and cutting potatoes.

   You had removed the meat from the stock pot and added some red whine to deglaze the bottom of the pot when Feitan came in mumbling.

   "Did you lose the coin toss, Feitan?" Shal asked while he was chopping the carrots.

   "Yes," he sighed, then added bitterly" and I would much rather help here than watch another sports game."

   Chrollo smirked and Shalnark chuckled while you bit back a laugh. The three of you knew that Feitan would have greatly prefered watch some documentaries on famous criminals; yet somehow Phinks normally won the coin toss on what they would watch when it came to what those two would watch.

   "Well, Fei, in that case you can get the dinner roll dough out of the fridge, space them out in a greased baking then cover them with a towel so they can start rising."

   You felt the look Feitan shot at you more so than saw it. He had obviously been kidding about wanting to help out on the kitchen. Or, at the very least, he was putting on a show pretending that he actually didn't want to help out when in truth he did.

   When you didn't look back over your shoulder at him after a bit he sighed and went to go do as you had asked. You had made sure to give Feitan an easy enough task where he didn't have to ask someone to help get something down or where he would have to get a chair. You knew he could sometimes be a sensitive and prideful when it came to matters of his height.

   "So tell me, love, how did the mis-" your question to your husband was suddenly interrupted by the terrified screams of your son coming from his bedroom.

   "MONSTER!! MOMMY THERE'S A MONSTER!!!"

   Your heart nearly stopped as you dropped what you were doing and started to turn to run out of the kitchen along with Chrollo and the other two.

   Chrollo was the first to the door but came to an abrupt stop as s/n came around the corner and ran into his father. Your husband grabbed hold of him to keep him from falling backwards then maneuvered your son away from the door towards you so Feitan and Shalnark could pass to go investigate s/n's room.

   Keeping himself between the doorway and you and your son, Chrollo knelt down beside s/n who was now clinging to you and shaking with tears forming in his eyes. He placed a gentle hand on his son's upper back while you stroked his head.

   "Tell me what happened, son," he calmly ordered.

   "I was r-reading my book and a big monster c-came out of the corner of m-my room." s/n stammered.

   "What kind of monster, sweetie?" you asked.

   "We couldn't find anything, boss," Shalnark reported as he and Feitan returned.

   "It looked like a b-big spider!" s/n added.

   Chrollo's eyebrows started to creep up his forehead, "Spider?"

   Your son nodded.

   "PHINKS!" you nearly roared. Phinks had been known to play pranks on s/n in the past. Pranks that didn't go as he had planned and usually scared the poor kid senseless. The Troupe member claimed he was just trying to help s/n get over his fears, you usually ended up beating the crap out of him regardless.

   "It wasn't me!" came Phinks's response as he quickly joined Shalnark and Feitan. "I swear!"

   He shied away and stood behind the other two when you locked a deadly glare onto him.

   "No, mommy, it wasn't Uncle Phinks," s/n sniffled, "I was reading in my book and it got to a part with monster spiders then a huge spider appeared in my room!"

   There was a silent pause before nearly all the adults let out a collective sigh and their guards dropped.

   "See, I told you it wasn't me," Phinks muttered as he went back to watch the game.

   "Another false alarm," Feitan sighed while walking back into the kitchen.    "That's some imagination," Shalnark stated and gave s/n a pat head, "you must have thought the spider was one of those creature right out of your book, huh?"

   S/n nodded his head. His face was starting to turn red as he began to realize he had most likely been afraid of nothing once again.

   "But," he whispered sadly, "there really was a big spider in my room. And, I'm afraid it's going to hurt Sir Brollo."

   "Sir Brollo will be fine, love," you assured gently. "Give me a minute and daddy and I will come help look for the spider, okay?"

   s/n nodded and released his grip from you to stand a little closer to his father who rested a hand atop his sons head in means of comfort.

   You went to the stove, reduced it to medium low heat, added in the beef stock and spices then turned to Feitan and Shalnark.

   "Could you two please finish cutting up the vegetables and add them to the pot? Once that's done add in the meat last, give it a good stir then put the lid on. It should be good on it's own after that."

   "Can do, boss lady," Shalnark beamed.

   You thank them both and join your son and husband and the three of you head towards s/n's room with Chrollo in the lead. Upon entering the room everything seemed normal. S/n held onto you at the doorway and Chrollo walked a few steps further in while looking around carefully.  As he rounded the end of s/n's bed, looking down at a part of the floor you and s/n couldn't see, Chrollo actually jumped a little and a look of surprise appeared on his face.

   "Well, I was not expecting that." He blinked a couple times then began to look around the room for something.

   "What is it?" you asked. Chrollo smiled a little as he took a large clear plastic container and dumped out the contents to one side. He then went back over to the part of the floor you could not see, turned the container sideways and slowly knelt down.

   "An understandably good reason for our son to be scared," he replied softly, "at least at first."

   All you could see your husband do was make some slow, careful arm movements. He was speaking softly, to softly for you to here. You wanted to move forward to see what he was messing with but your son didn't want you to leave nor did he want to go farther into the room.

   You didn't have to wait long though, as Chrollo began to stand you could now see what he had corralled into the plastic container. It was indeed a spider, but not just any spider, this sider was enormous. With it's legs fanned out it was easily larger than your husbands face.

   "It's a snowy tarantula," Chrollo explained as he slowly walked over to the two of you, "it's sort of an ironic name considering it usually lives in hot, arid climates like the desserts around Meteor City."

   Once he was within a couple meters of you and s/n he knelt down and gently set the container on the floor. The creature inside barely moved as it seemed to turn and look up at Chrollo.

   "It's called a 'snowy' tarantula due to the white hairs all over it's body. The hairs actually shimmer and reflect the light just like fresh fallen snow. An evolutionary trait that developed to help reflect the dessert heat away from it's body and keep it cooler. A magnificent specimen to behold when the light hits it just right. Come see, s/n. She's actually quite docile."

   S/n looked up at you and you gave him a warm smile and a nod. He slowly let go of you and took one slow, cautious step after another towards his father and the spider that had frightened him so. You carefully followed behind your son wanting to get a look at the tarantula as well.

   As the two of you came closer, the tarantula daintily turned and looked up at you. You gasped slightly at the beautiful deep blue eyes that now stared up at you.

   "Now watch," your husband instructed and he began to carefully rotate the container in a circular side to side motion causing the light to dance across the hairs of the tarantula.

   "Whhoooaaaa." Your son's eyes grew wide in awe as a rainbow of prismed light moved over the hairs of the tarantula, giving her the effect of a living gem. "She's so pretty. I've never seen anything like it, daddy."

   Chrollo stopped the rotation of the container and carefully set it on the floor. He then reached over, placed his hand on the back of his son's head and gently pulled s/n's head towards his own as he too began to lean forward. The two touched foreheads over the tarantula and looked into each others eyes.

   "There is no shame in having fear, s/n, but do not let that fear keep you from learning and understanding the unknown. What once was scary and ugly could turn out to be something wonderful and beautiful once you find the courage to face it. Do you understand?"

   Your son smiled and nodded slightly, "Yes, daddy, I understand. I'll try harder to be brave, just like you, mommy, and the rest of the family."

   Your husband returned the smiled and closed his eyes, "Very good, my son."

   S/n closed his eyes as well and the two shared an unspoken bonding moment over the snowy tarantula who just looked up at them. You smiled down at the two you held most dear and felt your heart swell with love and emotion.  

   Your son was the first to break the silence.

   "Do you think we could keep her?" he asked as he gently pulled away from his father. "She could be our mascot!"

   "Ah-ha, I don't think so, sweetie," you said firmly. "I'm sure she would be a lot happier on the surface where she has room to find food and make a home."    "Awwww," s/o whined in disappointment, "when is she going back then?"

   "Probably the sooner the better." Chrollo added, backing you up before s/n had a chance to ask him as well.

   "Can I show her to the others before she goes back outside?"

   Chrollo chuckled, "I don't see why not. Just be sure to carry her gently and don't shake her. You don't want to hurt her before we let her back outside."

   "Okay!" s/n said with excitement. He carefully picked up the plastic container and walked with precise hurried steps out of the room, eager to show his uncles that he hadn't been afraid of just nothing.

   As soon as s/n was out of ear shot you turned to your husband who was now standing beside you.

   "I'm not going to lie, had that thing snuck up on me while I was reading I probably would have screamed, too," you admitted with light laughter sounding in your words. Chrollo smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist bringing the two of you close.

   "How did something like that even get in here? The airducts, maybe?"

   "It's possible," Chrollo agreed, "I'll ask Shalnark to run a check on the ventilation system just in case."

   You stood on your tip toes and kissed his nose, "I'd appreciate that. Also, you might want to ask Shal and Fei how the hell they missed such a big spider when they came in here to check for intruders."  

   "When s/n jumped up and ran out of here screaming it probably startled her and she hid among all the stuffed toys," your husband made a gesture with his head to your son's mass collection. You looked down and realized that, even though the spider had been huge, she could have easily hid between some of the bigger plushies blocking her from view.

   "Good point," you chuckled, "Okay, one more question, 'Who's taking the spider top side?'"

   "Once s/n is done showing the others I'll take them all top side to let her go," your husband volunteered, "we won't go far just to release her."

   "He's getting better at recovering from scares like this," you observed. "But still... I worry about him..."

   "Of course you worry about him," Chrollo said softly, bringing his head down to now touch his marked forehead to yours, "you're his mother. I suspect you will worry for him one way or another for the rest of your life."

   "And what about you? Don't you worry about our son?" you asked in the same softness Chrollo was expressing.

   "Of course I do, y/n, he's my son. But, seeing how the two of us are, and what we survived to get here, I feel s/n is going to -"    "AAAHHHH!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?" Phinks screamed, "WAS THAT IN YOUR ROOM!?!?! NO!! I DO NOT WANT A CLOSER LOOK!"

   Chrollo threw back his head and let out a genuine laugh. A laugh that made you smile and laugh along with him.

   "Hey! I can hear you two! Shut the hell up!" Phinks yelled, his voice cracking in embarrassment.

   His words made the two of you laugh even harder for several minutes.

   By the time you two had settled down and caught your breath there were tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. Chrollo looked down at you with a smile still on his face and gave you a long, warm, soft kiss right on the lips. It gave the moment an almost surreal feel to it.

   He was the first to break away from the kiss. Your husband chuckled as he swept some hair behind you ear with his finger tips.    "As I was saying, I think our son is going to be just fine."

[nypmphetsbastard]

PARADIS ISLAND

Genre: slowburn fanfiction, college!au

Pairing: yelena x fem!reader

Summary: college becomes a whirlpool of new people and emotions once you meet a woman by the name of yelena manages to weasel her way into your once perfect life and tear down everything you ever thought to be true. From religious views to friendship, she builds something new. Now, she introduces you to new world she likes to call Paradis Island.

Warnings: angst, smut, hurt/comfort, struggles with Religion, homophobic comments/people

A/N: this story is posted on ao3 {NYMPHETSBASTARD} as well as wattpad {SUGACODED} because wattpad is acting a fool and I need another place to save this story👍

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Leaving home was always a rough time for both parent and child. Anybody who grew up in a loving home tended to stick to that home like glue, not wanting to separate from it and instead choosing to go to schools and jobs closer to home, closer to family. Those without however, preferred their freedom. When the clock struck 12 and everybody went to sleep was the only time they'd have to themselves, the only time they'd ever have to feel safe and relaxed — leaving home wasn't as hard on them.

You...well you were a different story. You didn't like a lot of things, being grabbed, having things snatched out of your hands, people taking your food without permission, somebody talking to you when you're clearly trying to avoid them — the list could go on. But growing up leaving you home never seemed to cross your mind. For whatever reason you felt like things were fine at home, not perfect but not terrible either, nine year old you didn't stop to think that one day you'd have to make the decision to move away from your friends and family. The small town you were in had a lot of older people, ones that never separated from their high school popularity phase and believed that the world revolved around them and them only, the others were newly young adults seeking any way out. You hoped you'd be the ladder.

Your parents had never spoken to you about leaving the house, meaning you grew up only learning what was taught in school. World War One and two, Pearl Harbor, slavery, and other shitty thing America did and or went through throughout the course of centuries on end — all only ever learned or discussed in school. The main focus in your household was religion and religion only. It's what you grew up to be right, nothing else existed in your mind besides that.

There was nothing wrong with that. Well...until around the time high school hit. Senior year was the year stressed to you since you were a freshman, you could barley fathom the fact that you'd have to apply for colleges, work on a bunch of different essays and possibly move away when you were young and you could still barley understand it now. But it was only then, then when they had handed you that slip of paper of which colleges you were going to apply to did you realize something; you didn't want to end up in a boring old relationship with a guy from your sophomore geometry class, get married, have a couple of kids that would send you to a nursing home and never live the life you dreamed of having.

You wanted that Disney channel teenage life, teenage adventures that would give you enough memories to last a lifetime and successfully say you lived your life to the fullest. While your teenage years had been spent in a church every weekday, your nose in school books and your bedtime forever stuck at the time 8:30, you swore your adulthood would be different.

Everything would be different.

"Are you sure you're not missing anything, hun?" Your mother asked nervously watching you pack the trunk up with your suitcase and extra bags. You yawned into your hand due to the more than early hours you guys were beginning the trip in order to make it early to your destination.

"You made a list mom, I don't think there's anything I could miss." She smiled your small joke and got in the passenger seat of the car, "You know, you guys really don't have to come. It's nearly a 4 and half hour drive over there, not including the drive back." You mentioned

"We already told you we're going to stop by my mother in laws and stay for a while." Your father explained, you sighed and got into the backseat of the car.

You brought your favorite stuffy and laid your head on it against the window as you prepared yourself for the 4 hour drive from your old childhood home to a new place where new memories could be made. It felt almost nostalgic watching your entire childhood fly by from behind a window. The blue slide you loved going up and down on till you felt like throwing up. The metal pole that always terrified you trying to go down. The monkey bars you taught yourself to climb because of the lack of friends you had that could teach you. It all seemed to disappear behind flashes of trees and road as the car drifted further and further away from the place you called home.

"Morning sunshine! We're here!" Your father exclaimed, waking you out of your slumber. You groaned quietly and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, taking a moment to look out the window at the large building in front of you. Gawking at the size, you shook your head and stepped out of the car to get a closer look.

"This is much smaller than the one I went to." Mentioned your father, squinting up at the building and helping you pull your suitcase out of the trunk.

"That's because you went to community college, honey." You chuckled at your moms observation and rolled your suitcase up to the sidewalk.

"Well I'll see you guys—" you started until your words were cut off by your mother slapping her hands down on your shoulders and giving you a firm look.

"I better not come visit you in a few months and see you with a purple Mohawk, piercings and a girlfriend, you hear me?" You nodded at her dramatic remarks and felt yourself internally cringe at her words.

"Hopefully we come back to you with a kind little boyfriend and a college degree we can show off to the rest of the family." Your father said, wrapping his arm around his wife's shoulders and gave you a tight lipped smile.

"Call us when you get settled and show us your roommate."

"And if they're anything we told you to not look like or if they smoke, drink or are sexually active in public, please change roommates."

They listed off, you internally rolled your eyes but still managed to give them a nod.

"Okay, I get it. Bye." You waved them off and stayed on the sidewalk till their old beat up grey car pulled away from the university.

Sighing, you rolled your shoulders back, grabbed all your things and walked the 10 minutes all the way to your side of the dorms. Personally, you had no clue who your roommate was besides their name but you knew even if you got a wild one you wouldn't change rooms. It didn't matter to you wether or not your roommate had purple hair, while your parents and nearly everyone in life tended to stick their nose in the business of others, you had no care in the world about anybody else.

From the moment you stepped into your new room, your nostrils were immediately being wrapped in by the smell of vanilla and incense. You looked around the room and noticed that only half of it was done up while the other was plain and void of any decoration.

"Hello, who are you?" A soft voice asked politely and there in front of you stood one of the prettiest girls you'd ever seen. She was a short young woman with long, disheveled shoulder-length black hair, a Greek nose and relaxed dark eyes.

"Oh sorry! I'm your new roommate, you're Pieck Finger, right?" You greeted her, shaking her surprisingly soft hands and placing your bags down on the floor next to you.

"Sorry about the smell, I'm lighting some incense to cleanse the new room. I just got here last night."

"Mhm, are you religious?" You asked, pointing to the black leather notebook in her hand. She looked down at it but smiled and shook her head.

"Ah no, I'm Agnostic. Although my childhood friend practices Hinduism and I guess I pick up on some things." She explained, you nodded at her words and made a mental note to ask her what the hell agnostic meant at a later time. Her eyes went down to the bags in your hand and reached out to grab your suitcase.

"Here I got this, I'll put this on your side of the bed and let me know if I can help with setting anything up." She offered kindly, you nodded at her offer and the two of you immediately got to work.

As you folded your clothes into a drawer and hung them up in a closet and Pieck finished wrapping your bed in it's covers and blankets, the two of you talked. Talked as if you'd been friends since birth. Pieck felt like someone you could truly se yourself being friends with in the long run of college, she was also someone your parents would most likely accept and allow you to stay with. The two of you bonded over certain interests, Pieck had a knack for writing — poems, full books, it didn't matter; you were the artistic one. Always doodling on something or recreating famous art paintings in your room, usually religious paintings as your parents always told you that if you were going to have painting as a hobby you might as well paint something useful.

"Finally, we're done." You sighed, exhaustedly throwing yourself onto the newly made bed. Pieck chuckled and stood up, grabbing her belongings and putting them into a small book bag.

"Hey, me and my friends are meeting in the library later, would you like to come?" She asked, you mulled over the idea for a quick second and nodded your head.

The walk from your dorm and the library gave you and Pieck even more time to get to know each other. She explained how most people from her old high school had come to the nearest college, it being this one which is why she never worried about not making any friends. Your eyes nearly popped out of your eye socket as you stepped up to the large library building, it being much bigger than any library your town had to offer. Pieck held the door open for you as you stepped in and took a moment to admire the large area.

"Psst, Pieck!" Whispered a voice, you looked over to see a brown haired woman in big round glasses waving the two of you over with a wide grin on her face. Pieck waved back and walked over the round table with the two other people sitting and you following behind her.

"Hey guys, this is my new roommate. This is—"

"Hange Zoë, nice to meet you!" The glasses wearing woman exclaimed excitedly taking your hand in her and shaking it vigorously. A nearby librarian glared her way and hushed her, she smiled and apologized to the old woman.

"I'm Porco." Replied the blonde boy on the other side of the table dryly.

You waved at him awkwardly and sat down next to Pieck, yet it was only after they began pulling out their books did you realize you had nothing with you. Tapping the dark haired girl on the shoulder, you motioned towards the bookshelf's and stood up to leave once Pieck nodded her head.

You walked around aimlessly with no true destination or book in mind till you came across a bookshelf, this one different than the others and tucked away in a little corner. It was old and basic but it still had integrity. The wood was straight and it hugged the wall. On closer inspection you could see scratches, the wood a little more pale where it had been dinged. You touched the roughness, not minding one bit and looked at the books inside. The fiction section had always been your favorite growing up, your parents believed books like Harry Potter were some sort of books that demonic and plaguing words hidden within them so you only ever grew up reading them in short amounts of time in the library before they could find you.

A small gasp made its way up your throat as your eyes landed across a book titled Alice in Wonderland, one of your top favorites. The ladder that usually came along with each bookshelf was currently being occupied yet this specific bookshelf seemed to take up nearly the entire wall of the library — this might've been one of the first things you couldn't successfully grab with ease. You reached your hand up to grab the book, your fingertips only slightly touching them before the book suddenly disappeared from your grasp and a warm presence creeped up behind you, towering over your frame.

Looking up, your eyes met a pair deep dark eyes staring down at you, the book now forgotten in your mind as it was now clouded with the face of the person in front of you. It was only after a couple seconds that you blinked out of your trance and stepped back, falling straight between the bookshelf and the person. You felt...intimidated. The person in front of you was more than taller than you, a height you thought was nearly impossible. They tilted their head to the side, bent down a bit and held the book out in their hand as your eyes stayed trained on theirs.

"Do you want it?" They asked, you nearly jumped in your skin at the sound of their somewhat deep voice.

"Huh?"

"The book." You looked down and finally registered the fact that they'd picked up the book you were grabbing at and now held it out to  you.

"O-oh right, thank you." You stuttered, mentally cursing yourself for acting this way. While your eyes strayed away from theirs, they went downward to the person's appearance.

They wore a dark green turtleneck sweater paired with high waisted black pants, accentuating their long legs and black lace up Oxford shoes — their entire appearance intimidated you. The center of their nose pierced through with silver piece of jewelry.

"I..." you regretted opening your mouth the second the words came out, "gotta go," the words spilled out of your mouth as you immediately walked around them and towards your table, the interaction still replaying in your head on loop. It wasn't until you rapidly sat yourself down next to Pieck that you felt like you could breath.

You weren't the most social person in the world but you also weren't the most nervous, but they...their presence, their height, the look in their eyes, it all seemed to send you into frenzy. Ignoring the slightly worried look you got from Pieck, you open the notebook given to you and tried to let the interaction seep away into your memories. Yet it didn't work. Every word on the paper seemed to fly over your head, your mind never sticking to the sentences given to you. Hell, you could barley read about Alice's shitty life without comparing it to what had just occurred. It was all too fresh. Too new. Too...interesting.

"Mornin' Pieck." Greeted a deep voice from behind you, turning around you were faced with a tall blonde haired man with small circle glasses resting on his nose.

"Good mornin, Zeke." Pieck responded kindly, the man looked around the table greeting everyone till his eyes met yours.

"I don't think I've met you before, and who must you be?" He bowed down respectfully and held out his hand, you looked at it confused for a second before sliding your hand into his and watching as he leaned his head down to plant a kiss at the back of your hand.

Before you could protest, a different hand gripped Zeke's shoulder, he pulled away and turned around to find his female companion standing above him with a blank expression on her face — one he'd gotten used to over the course of their friendship. Meanwhile your breath was caught in your throat at the sight of the intimidating person you'd met only moments before.

"Your book, Zeke." They said plainly, Zeke pulled away from you and took the textbook of their hands, thanking them and skimming through the textbook as both of your eyes never left theirs.

"Good morning, Yelena." Pieck greeted her with a smile, finally, Yelena's eyes drifted away from yours and were now on Pieck, the sides of her lips quirking up into a smirk for a second.

"Good morning, Pieck." Your eyes went back and forth between them in confusion until another person popped up behind Zeke.

"Hey guys, hey hange, Pieck." The dark haired man bun wearing boy said, leaning his arm against Zeke's shoulder despite them being the same height.

"Guess I'm just invisible then" spoke up Porco with an offended look on his face, the dark haired boy simply looked at him and blinked.

"Oh no I knew you were there, I just don't care. Anyways, are you guys coming to my big party tonight?" He asked excitedly, Zeke scoffed and pushed his glasses further up his face.

"Tch, we're not children, Eren. Why would we go to some teenage party?" Eren scoffed at the blonde mans response.

"Yeah obviously not you, old man, you're fucking ancient. I was talking to Pieck and..." he looked at you with a confused expression before shrugging and pointing at you, "and her."

"I'm not even that old—"

"Sorry, Eren but you already know my answer." She apologized, Eren pouted and groaned.

"Oh come on, please, Pieck? The last time you went everybody loved you, please?" He begged Pieck, placing his hands on her arm that was leaned against the wooden chair she sat at.

"Aw sorry, kid. I love them all too but I gotta tutoring session today." She apologized sympathetically, patting the boys head and turning to you, "what about you?"

You jumped at the sudden spotlight on you but shook your head regardless, "If Pieck's not going then neither am I." Eren groaned again and tried puppy dog eyes on the long haired woman in front of him.

"Look Pieck, you're deriving your new friend here with the experience of a fun college party." She smiled at his explanation which apparently told Eren enough that he stopped bugging her and stood up to his full height, slamming his shoulder into Zeke's as he walked away and mumbled something under his breath. Zeke almost turned around to go after him until Yelena outstretched her arm to stop him.

"He's a child." She pointed out

"He's a little shit, is what he is." Zeke complained, you looked over at Hange for information.

"They're brothers." She stated, your mouth made an o shape as you finally came to understand why the two seemed to have so much beef between them.

"Half brothers, Hange. Don't associate me with that brat." Zeke huffed, everyone chuckling at the mans clear discomfort with him and Eren being in the same room let alone sentence. "Anyways, we've gotta go, me and Yelena have business to take care of." Zeke said.

"Jeez, you make it sound like the two of you are hooking up." Porco mentioned with a disgusted look on his face,

"What if we are?" He joked playfully until he looked up to see Yelena towering over him with a straight look on her face, Zeke cleared his throat and shook his head, "Kidding, kidding."

The two of them walked out of the library and the three other people at your table continued on their reading while your mind was racked with a bunch of questions of the new characters you just met. You tried to avoid eye contact with Yelena when she was leaving but could still feel her piercing gaze stay onto you until she couldn't anymore.

"So are they?" You inquired with a whisper, leaning over Pieck's shoulder

"Are they what?"

"Zeke and Yelena. Are they..." you raised your eyebrows as the words clicked in Pieck's mind and the other two at the table began laughing into their books.

"No, sweetie, they're not sleeping together or dating." She denied

"Pfft, the day we see Yelena with a man is the day pigs fly." Chuckled Porco, you looked at them confused at their jokes.

"Yelena's a lesbian, babe." Pieck finished your thought and your eyes slightly widened at her response, not expecting it. Embarrassment silently creeped into your mind as you groaned and tucked your head into your arms.

"Well now I feel stupid." The three of them laughed and Pieck rubbed your back.

For some reason, those words felt like a small weight lifted off your shoulders. You couldn't understand why you felt so...happy that she wasn't with Zeke in that way. Maybe you just wanted to her friend. Yeah....that had to be it....her friend.

[forever--rain]

I mean if you’re making playlists.... I’ve seen a lot of Zutara playlists and that Sukka one you made was freaking adorable! Can I request a Taang one 🥺

I just have very soft feelings for them and would like to cry to a playlist pls 😭🥺💛

OF COURSE YOU CAN REQUEST A TAANG PLAYLIST, JOY. WHO DO YOU THINK I AM? I WOULD NEVER DENY YOU SOMETHING SO PURE.

We both know this is you subtly trying to get me to be more of a hardcore Taang shipper. 😉 No, I'm kidding. I know you love them. I love them too! 💛

Oh, this playlist was so sweet to make! I have so many E.M.O.T.I.O.N.S now. (Explanations below the cut to save space.)

Wildflowers by Tom Petty

Seven Wonders by Fleetwood Mac

Fools by Lauren Aquilina

Why Can't I? by Liz Phair

The Louvre by Lorde

Precious Metal Girl by Weezer

Doors Unlocked and Open by Death Cab for Cutie

Wild Heart by Mumford & Sons

From Afar by Vance Joy

My Arms Were Always Around You by Peter Bradley Adams

Send me a playlist title and I’ll give you 5-10 songs I think would go on it!

Wildflowers

You belong among the wildflowers/You belong somewhere close to me/Far away from your trouble and worries/You belong somewhere you feel free

This song makes me think of the moment Aang asks Toph to teach him earthbending and join the Gaang. I also think it could carry over into plans they make post-war and could represent their adulthood. Really, it's a song that feels applicable to them at any point in their lives. And it goes both ways! They'd want one another to have freedom and they'd want to be by each other's side in that freedom.

Seven Wonders

So it's hard to find/Someone with that kind of intensity/You touched my hand, I played it cool

I see this as a "Toph is pining" song. It's probably a post-war POV for her. She's been around the world with Aang and has developed feelings for him, and she knows that she'll never find this kind of adventure with anyone else. Maybe they part ways for a time after the comet. They're still friends, of course, but their post-war plans take them in different directions and Toph has that big "OH" moment.

Fools

Friends, I watched us as we changed/The feelings in my headspace rearranged/I want you more than I've wanted anyone/Isn't that dangerous?

Best friends to lovers anyone? Honestly, I could see this song from either of their POVs. If we're talking Zutara, Sukka, Taang endgame, I see Toph and Aang taking the longest to get there. Possibly even into their mid-to-late twenties. Everything is just so good and easy between them, you know? They have an easy camaraderie and they can tell one another anything, but they know something is there underneath it all and they're terrified. Katara and Zuko are probably the ones who finally tell them that they need to have The Talk.

Why Can't I?

Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?/Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?

Mutual-pining-but-they're-with-other-people, anyone??? I mean, you could even tie this into the previous situation. Toph and Aang are such good friends and they can't hang on to significant others because other people find their closeness weird. The vibes they throw off around one another are just a big red flag to anyone else who wants to date them. And they're like, "No! We're just best friends! I don't get butterflies! My breath isn't taken away by the most mundane moments! THIS IS FINE!"

The Louvre

But we're the greatest/They'll hang us in the Louvre//Okay I know that you are not my type/(Still I fall)/I'm just the sucker who let you fill her mind

Ah, yes. This one is a Toph POV for sure. She's in denial, you know? "He's not my type! I'm not into him!" But her heart just starts hammering whenever Aang comes around. She gets so caught up in him. And one day she gives in and decides to make a move and... Broadcast the boom boom boom boom and make 'em all dance to it. 😉

Precious Metal Girl

'Cause you're my precious metal girl/My best friend in the world

Okay. I know this is super cheesy, but COME ON. She's his precious metalbender girl.

Doors Unlocked and Open

Down in the ocean of sound, sound/We'll live in slow-motion/And be free/With doors unlocked and open

This song gives me so many domestic!Taang vibes. They sleep with the windows open at night and they don't lock their doors and breezes curl throughout every corner of their house (which they built from stone themselves) and they're free.

Wild Heart

It took a wild heart to tame mine/And it took a wild heart to charm/Now a wild heart has gone and floored me/With this ever lasting glance

I see this going both ways! Aang has a wild heart in that he's so free and Toph's heart is wild in that she's Toph Fuckin' Beifong. It takes them to round out each other's edges and smooth one another's rough spots. They never fail to astound one another every day, whether it's with a new bending move or the sheer force of their love for one another. And maybe it took them a long time to settle down, but when they did it was with each other because they are perfect together.

From Afar

You lined me up/Across the room/Two falling sparks/One willing fool//It shouldn't come as a surprise/What I'm feeling, what I'm feeling now

Okay, I gave you Toph pining and mutual pining. Now... I give you AANG PINING. I personally headcanon Toph falling first but being very in denial about it. But if Aang were to fall first, this would be the song. And maybe it freaks her out because she's like, "We're friends! This is not what friends do! Why are you throwing off those vibes, Twinkletoes?" He doesn't understand how she's so surprised by his feelings, of course, because she's incredible. She's Toph Beifong. But she is because his first girlfriend was Katara and he's had other girlfriends like that since. And Aang is like, "Yeah. And they were all great in their own way. But they're not you." (Nobody look at me. I'm v emotional now.)

My Arms Were Always Around You

Your pretty little wings/They must be getting tired/Trying to keep your feet/Up off the ground//No more dreams/Must I sacrifice/My heart is safe/You'll guard it with your life

Ohhhhh. Yes. Okay. This song is for both of them. Toph gives Aang a safe space to ground himself and Aang gives Toph the freedom to chase her dreams without inhibition. They always have one another's backs. They're always there to support one another. At the end of a long day, they're always there to let the other sink into the comfort of their embrace. 🥺

[losingmymindtonight]

been on a for-your-own-good imposed exile from my phone & social media since Friday, so what’s a gal gonna do except eat pizza, reread The Inheritance Cycle, and finish old fic drafts?

I humbly present: Peter can’t sleep, but Tony’s a father now, and he’s got a few tricks up his sleeve.

--

Peter was okay.

He was. That wasn’t even him being self-sacrificing (like May thought) or deferring some kind of PTSD (like Tony thought) or anything. Most of the time, he was totally, completely, undeniably okay.

As a general rule, he just didn’t think about Thanos. He was too busy for that, with planning for his school’s Europe trip and patrolling and learning how to be a big brother to Morgan and resettling a whole apartment with May and rediscovering the absolute thrill of being alive along with the other fifty percent.

He had a good life, and considering everything that had happened, he was so, so lucky.

So, Peter was okay. Despite what Tony and May seemed to think.

He only ever had problems when the sun fell.

Vigilante by day, anxious wreck by night, he thought, more than a little bitter.

There was a bone-aching frustration that came with insomnia. He couldn’t sleep, but he was tired. God, he was so, so tired. His eyelids creaked, his face was tight and worn. Every inch of him was screaming for rest.

And yet, well, here he was: awake, staring at the ceiling, mind swirling down the inescapable drain of death throes and battle heat and the memory of his DNA vibrating apart.

He clenched his fists, then slowly pried them apart. His wrists hurt, yet his webshooters were comfortingly cool on his bare skin.

“Mister Parker,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. suddenly said, and Peter still jumped despite the fact her volume had been lowered and pitched into her softer night mode. “I apologize for the intrusion, but per my protocols, I am to alert Boss if you or Morgan are awake for longer than thirty minutes from the hours of 11:00 pm to 6:00 am. I thought it was only fair to warn you that he is en route to your bedroom and you should be prepared for his arrival.”

There was a time when an alert like that would’ve filled him with annoyance. A time when he would’ve met Tony at the door with a sharp reminder of, I’m almost an adult, I can take care of myself, on his tongue. Now, though, he just felt a dull splash of surprise.

“Mister Stark has rules for if I’m awake?” He asked the ceiling, blinking slowly at the smooth molding. It was different than the popcorn texture in his apartment. Probably easier to deal with when it came to painting.

As if on cue, his door swung open. A soft, yellowish bar of light flashed over his sheets and then collapsed in on itself with a distant click. Huh. So Tony thought that this needed to be a private conversation. 

“It’s called the Cradle Protocol,” Tony offered, and despite the fact that Peter hadn’t actually looked in his direction yet, he could hear the man’s smile in the warmth of the words, like curling into a fireside on a winter’s day. “You know, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Oh? Thought you spent most of your life wondering about pretty much everything.” His bedframe creaked as Tony settled down near his hip, and suddenly Peter didn’t have much of a choice but to stare up at the man, taking in the burn scars on his face and the gray in his hair and the quiet love in his eyes. “That’s what kids are best at.”

“I’m not really a kid anymore,” he whispered, but not a single inch of the words felt defiant. God, he wanted to be a kid again. He looked back on the moments he’d spent racing to adulthood and wanted to cry. Wanted desperately to hit rewind on all of it.

“All of us are kids, in the end,” Tony said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “And you’ll be my kid forever. Sorry. No exchanges or returns on that policy. It is how it is.”

Tony’s thumb brushed soothingly over his cheek as he spoke, and the contact was rough and calloused and so intensely familiar that Peter let his eyes squeeze shut against it, swallowing hard.

“I don’t want to exchange it,” he whispered, and somehow he felt a little ashamed to admit it. Like he was rearing up against the order of things. Or, like he was admitting the truth in a space where untruths were expected.

There was a pause. Peter blinked his eyes open again, and saw that Tony’s gaze had drifted away from him. He was looking up at the headboard, soft curves of sadness mellowing his face.

Finally, he breathed, eyes tracing their way back to Peter’s own, gentle yet intense.

“Why aren’t you asleep, Peter?”

It was a redundant thing to ask, and both of them knew it. There wasn’t a person in the world who couldn’t guess the why of that question. There were probably a million different people all around the world staring up at a million different ceilings, all cold-eyed and shivering because of the same goddamn reason.

“I don’t know,” he lied.

Was it still lying if everyone knew that what you were going to say was a lie before it even left your mouth?

Tony just nodded, like those three words had told him everything that he’d needed to know. For all Peter could figure, maybe they had.

“Alright.” Tony patted his thigh through the blankets, then stood. “C’mon. Get up.”

It probably said a lot about him, or maybe more about his relationship with Tony, that he was already climbing out of bed even as he muttered a halfhearted, “where’re we going?”

“On a mission,” Tony said, gently tugging one of Peter’s oldest and softest hoodies out of his closet and pushing it against his chest. “Put this on.”

He did as he was told, tottering lazily into the hallway, too exhausted to do anything but follow.

“What’s the mission?”

Tony glanced back just long enough for Peter to see the corner of his mouth quirk up. “I need to put my baby to sleep.”

If he hadn’t been so goddamn tired, he would’ve picked up on the wryness in Tony’s voice. As it was, he blinked hard, brain whirring against the fogginess.

“‘S Morgan awake?”

The question startled a bark of laughter out of Tony. “God, Pete. I can’t believe you’re even managing to walk in a straight line right now.”

They were at the front door, now, and Tony snatched the car keys off of their hook in the entryway and ushered him into the cool night air. Cricket chirps swelled all around them. Peter let his eyes drift shut at the sound, then smiled when he felt Tony snag the edge of his sleeve, gently guiding him over the gravel.

“Ought to get this paved, huh?” Tony muttered, almost to himself, but Peter let the words fall over him anyway. “Would make life a hell of a lot easier when we got those summer monsoons. Plus, less of a tripping hazards for the kiddos, especially when they’re half asleep.”

“‘M awake,” he protested.

“I know,” Tony said, almost under his breath. “I’m working on it.”

Peter heard a beep as one of the cars unlocked, and he forced his eyes back open. They were standing in front of Tony and Pepper’s minivan, something which Peter still couldn’t quite wrap his head around. Tony Stark owned a minivan. Sure, it was a nice minivan, with leather seats and F.R.I.D.A.Y. installed and parking sensors, but it was still a minivan.

“C’mon,” Tony muttered, using the hand that wasn’t braced against Peter’s back to pull open the passenger’s side door. “Slide in.”

He let Tony manhandle him into the seat, even though he could’ve easily done it on his own. The exhaustion had stripped his stubbornness away. The only thing left was a yearning urge to be protected, cradled, loved.

It was good, he supposed, that those three roles seemed to be Tony’s favorites to fulfill.

Tony got into the driver’s seat, then double-checked Peter’s seatbelt twice before starting the car. He cracked the back windows, and the cricket chirps and nature swell mixed hypnotically with the buzz and hum of the engine. Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath, turning his face in Tony’s direction when he felt the man’s eyes on him.

“You’re supposed to be looking where you’re drivin’,” he murmured, knowing that his smile was all drowsy and lopsided. He could feel them moving, though, so he wasn’t wrong.

“Nobody’s out this late.”

“Still need to stay on the road.”

“Oh, hush. I’ll take no driving smack from the child with a learner’s permit.”

He yawned. “Passed the test.”

“You sure did,” Tony murmured, pride warming the words. “I’ve got that picture that May took after hanging in my office.”

“I know.” A shard of longing pierced his chest. “Felt normal that day. Jus’ for a bit.”

He opened his eyes just in time to see guilt cascade over Tony’s face. Whoops. He really hasn’t meant to make his mentor sad. He was just loopy from all the sleepless nights, wading through the detachment weighing in his head. It was hard to stay conscious and keep his filter all at once.

“I’m so sorry, Peter,” Tony said, hands gripping the wheel so tight that his knuckles flashed white under the occasional streetlamp. “I wish I could take it all away.”

Peter just blinked. God, he was tired. His brain ached with it.

“You can’t.”

And Tony couldn’t. Peter knew that. Iron Man could do a lot of things, even survive the constriction of space, but he couldn’t void memories. Nobody could.

“No,” Tony admitted, and even through the fuzziness in his head, Peter found the wherewithal to be surprised, “but I can be here.”

Peter let his eyes drift shut again. Somehow, that was all the fixing that he needed Tony to do. I can be here.

That was it, wasn’t it? It was why the memories of Thanos rung so clear at night and pitched silent during the day. Because Peter hadn’t really been afraid of dying during the battles. He’d been terrified, horrified, by the thought of being left alone.

And at night, in his bedroom, walls and doors and locks between Tony or May or anybody else who would stave off the quiet, that fear was so much easier to taste.

He was so, so afraid that at the end of it all, he’d been irreversibly alone.

“Can you talk to me?” He whispered.

He just wanted words. Something substantive in the nothingness of night. And Tony was only ever speechless when there was something to be afraid of.

He’d... He’d been silent when Peter had died. Had been silent after he’d done the Snap, too. The look on the man’s face, the lack of speech in the haze, had rung in Peter’s nightmares ever since.

He could hear the roughness in Tony’s voice when he responded, and Peter couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about his silence on Titan, too. If he even remembered the stillness from the Compound’s dust.

“Of course, buddy.”

And he did. He talked about Rhodey and college and the first time he met Happy. Peter found himself drifting in and out as he rambled, although he never seemed to fully wrap his hand around true sleep. He’d nearly get there, Tony’s words fading into something he couldn’t quite comprehend, and then he’d recognize the shift and jolt himself out of it.

Somehow, it was even more frustrating than what he’d been doing before. At least then, he’d known he wasn’t going to get any sleep. Here, it kept dangling in front of him. And to make it worse, every aborted attempt at sleep felt like a failure. Like he’d screwed it all up, despite all the effort Tony was putting into helping him.

“Sorry,” Peter suddenly muttered, blinking away his most recent near-rest. Tony fell silent. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Shh, Pete,” Tony soothed, right hand abandoning the steering wheel and settling on his arm. “It’s not your fault. We’ll get there.”

“‘M trying.”

“I know you are. You’re doing great.”

For a breath, Tony just rubbed Peter’s arm, breath and nature filling the car.

“I used to do this for Morgan, you know,” he finally said, voice low. “Learned it within the first month. Think I must’ve put a thousand miles on the car, driving around just for some precious minutes of peace.”

“Ben used to drive me around when I was little,” Peter mumbled, twisting until he found a comfortable position: draped over the center console, head just inches away from Tony’s elbow. The console was leather and padded, which made it a surprisingly good pillow. Plus, he was close enough to pick up the steady thrumming of Tony’s heartbeat. “I didn’t like sleeping after my parents died. Car always worked, though. Dunno why.”

Tony’s hand settled on the top of his head, and a swoosh of comfort whisked from that one point all the way down to his toes. “It’s the vibrations from the engine. Low frequencies make us tired. It mimics the sensation of being rocked to sleep.”

He smiled. Trust Mister Stark to turn anything into a physics lesson. “‘S science,” he muttered.

Tony’s thumb swiped over his temple. “It’s science,” he repeated. “Do you want another story?”

Hmm. Yes. And he wanted Tony’s hand to stay right there, too. The tips of his fingers kept brushing over the nape of his neck, and the pattern was nice. Slow. The kind of monotony that was so easy to get lost in.

“Mm.”

“How about a special one?”

“Mm.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Tony said, laughter in the words. He sounded pleased, though. Peter was too busy falling asleep to figure out why. “Y’know, I never went to Queens much when I was a kid. Howard wasn’t a big fan. And then I didn’t have much of a reason to go once I was an adult. Everything I needed was in Manhattan or Malibu. Point is: imagine how surprised I was when a web-slinging vigilante actually forced me out there…”

Peter drifted off long before he could recognize that the story was about him.

--

Peter half-surfaced to the quiet thud of a car door opening, and the crunch of shoes on gravel.

It wasn’t the usual way he woke up. He’d gotten used to jolting into consciousness, sweat slicking his trembling limbs and damp sheets snarling all around him. It was a violent thing, full of heartbeat and rib-ache.

But this was soft. Warm. Safe hands slid under the back of his neck, his seat tilting back until he was lying almost completely flat. On instinct, his eyes flickered open, and he grinned sleepily at Tony, who shushed him in a barely-there murmur.

“Nice and easy, Pete,” Tony said, voice warm and safe and already blurring. “Now be a good boy and go back to sleep.”

And for once in Peter’s life, it was as simple as that.

[i-write-about-anything]

Two Betas and the Beneficial Friendships

Prompt: The reader is in not only one screwing one beta but two. Neither of the boys know, but a recent threat exposes her, what will the boys do? (WOW)

Pairings: Theo Raeken x Reader, Isaac Lahey x Reader 

Third Person POV

(Y/N) had always been part of the pack, despite her lack in being supernatural. Scott had told her about his werewolf abilities the same day he told Stiles. Isaac had made his way into the pack only a year later after discovering Scott’s secret. She had kept the secret for six months, she hadn’t thought it was going to last long, hell she didn���t even know she was attracted to the pair. It started with Isaac; she had been on a steak out with him that lasted way too long. She found him attractive, of course she did, you’d had to be blind not to find Isaac Lahey attractive. However, she never found the appeal of dating, getting your heartbroken wasn’t something she wanted to experience. So that night, while they were arguing their lips crashed, she hadn’t thought of fucking Isaac, she hadn’t even thought of kissing him, but one thing led to another and a week later, that thing happened again, they agreed not to tell anyone. It became a weekly thing, until Theo showed up. She initiated the first kiss with Theo, and Theo being the cocky son of a Bitch he is didn’t seem surprised. She meant to stop things with Isaac, but she couldn’t phantom the thought of losing him. So, she kept Theo a secret too. Theo and Isaac hated each other, so it worked out for her, neither of them had brought up their beneficial friendship with her and she was thankful for that. It wasn’t until she saw Isaac flirting with a girl that she truly felt the jealousy. She yelled at him that night, they had agreed to meet up two days before for their weekly fuck but there was no fuck that night. Instead she threw shit at him while he stood in complete shook. They had never agreed they couldn’t be with other people, regardless, she was no one to talk, she was fucking Theo behind his back. They shook it off, agreeing not to sleep with other people and when she went to end things with Theo, well, it didn’t go as planned. So, she continued to keep Theo a secret, even though she had promised Isaac she wouldn’t sleep with anyone. Now there she is, six months into her friends with benefits with both betas, she wouldn’t admit it but she had grown feelings for the both of them. She had wanted to end things with both of them, not wanting her feelings for them to continue to grow but that was easier said than done.  

She sighed for the third time as she stared into her hands, the recent threat in beacon hills getting too exhausting for her to handle. It had been two weeks, and in the two weeks she had kept her distance from both betas, her fear of being caught increasing. She took a job at a local coffee shop, to distract herself from adulthood and also to have an excuse to not see Isaac and Theo. She wanted to distant herself from them, not wanting the feelings to continuously grow. It had been a slow day causing her to overthink about the two betas, she had been the only one working the night shift and she was due to close in only thirty minutes. Her phone rang, Isaac’s face flashing on the screen before she sighed and looked at the empty café. She answered his call bringing her phone to her ear. “Isaac.” She sighed out. Isaac was relieved to hear her voice, he wouldn’t admit it either but his feelings for her had also grown, how couldn’t they?  

“Hey sweetheart.” His pet name for her sinking into her stomach causing butterflies, she loved being talked to like that, especially by him. “I haven’t seen you in a while, what time do you get off, I can go pick you up and we can come back to my place.” His happy voice rang through the phone causing (y/n) to shut her eyes.  

“I can't Isaac, I have morning shift tomorrow and all I want to do is go home and sleep.” It wasn't all a lie, she did have morning shift however she wanted nothing more than to be with him, in his arms.

“We don’t have to do anything, I can run you a bath, help you relax?” He’d try anything and everything just to see her, two weeks without her had been hell.  

“I’m sorry Isaac, not today.” She heard him sigh and her heart broke.  

“Just, call me when you’re up for it?” He waited for her response and when she said nothing, he hung up. She mentally cursed herself for denying him, she knew she needed to release some stress but she couldn't not while her feelings were involved. Closing the cafe she found herself throwing a fit and cursing at the door. The key always got stuck when she locked it.  

“Need some help princess?” She stopped in her tracks, she knew his voice, she knew his scent. She found herself closing her eyes before releasing her grip on the key loosening as she turned to see him. “Damn is it good to see you.” Theo spoke as his eyes wondered around her body.  

“Not today Theo.” She sighed as she focused her attention to the key again. She tried another four times before cursing at the key and kicking the door. Theo chuckled lightly pushing her out the way before taking the key off the door. “Thank you.” She gave him a small smile before taking the keys from his hands.  

“Why have you been ignoring me? It’s been what, two weeks?” Theo bit his lip. He found himself falling for her, even with his darkened heart, he allowed himself to feel something for her, only her.  

“You’re counting?” She rolled her eyes and began walking home, Theo following her.  

“Is it so hard to believe?” He grabbed her wrist spinning her around to face him, that was one thing Isaac and Theo didn’t share. Theo was always handsy, he knew what he was doing and he knew how to do it. Isaac was a little bit more on the shy side. “I've missed you.” Theo whispered causing her to sigh and shake her head.  

“Please Theo, not today.” She pulled her hand from his grasp before continuing her walk towards her home.  

“At least let me walk you home, it’s not safe out there, you know that.” And as if it was in queue, she was thrown onto the street, her entire right-side scrapping on the pavement as Theo registered what had just happened. She heard a loud growl coming towards her as she struggled to get up, her side hurting as tears started to drip from her eyes, something was definitely broken. Theo sprang into action, tossing the unknown werewolf away from (y/n). “Are you okay?” Theo breathed out; he swore he felt his heart at the pit of his stomach. He looked around, the werewolf nowhere to be seen. She cried out in pain when she tried to sit up. “Hey, hey, stay down, I'll call the paramedics.” Theo’s hands shook as he took the phone out of his pocket. He hadn’t ever been this terrified in his life. He quickly gave 9-1-1, his heart beating faster by the minute. “Where’s it hurt?” Theo spoke as he hung up the phone, trying to get his mind to think clearly as he waited for the ambulance.  

“My whole right side, I think I broke a rib.” She hissed out; sure, she could tolerate pain but this hurt like hell. “Fuck.” She hissed out as tears continued to drip from her eyes.  

“Let me help you.” Theo gulped his hand reaching for hers but she quickly shook her head. She knew him taking her pain would be too much for her to handle. She knew Theo, he wouldn’t have done it if he didn't care about her, and she refused to let him in, especially like that. “(Y/N).” He whispered and before she could reply, the sound of sirens cut them both off. Before they knew it they were in Beacon Hills Hospital, Scott and the rest of the pack already there as Theo had texted Scott when they were in the ambulance. They wheeled her away, leaving Theo to stare after her as the pack asked him questions.  

“Theo!” Scott shook him out of his own mind. Theo turned to look at the worried pack, Isaac biting his nails as he waited for him to say something. “What the hell happen?” Scott asked and Theo shook his head trying to recollect the details of what had just happened.  

“A werewolf, it came out of nowhere, just threw her across the street and when I tried to fight him, he just left.” Theo looked at Scott, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.  

“It’s after her.” Lydia spoke and they all looked at her. “Why else wouldn’t he have stayed and fought?” She questioned Theo, his mind already thinking of what would have happened if he hadn’t shown up to talk to her.  

“It’s a good thing you were with her.” Stiles spoke patting Theo’s back.  

“Why were you with her anyways?” Isaac questioned, his curiosity getting the best of him. The pack looked at Isaac.  

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern.” Theo spoke shaking his head as he sat down on a chair. “How are we going to handle this?” He looked at Scott before they all sat down.

____________

It had been three hours when they finally confirmed her thoughts, not only one broken rib but three. The skin on her right leg and arm completely broken from the pavement, they had wrapped them, in efforts to help the healing, they had given her something for the pain so she was a little loopy. A knock on the door startled her as she looked up from her arm. The pack filling the room as multiple sighs of relief were heard. “I’m so glad you’re alright.” Isaac spoke moving through the pack to go to her side. She couldn’t help but smile up at him when he took her hand in his, his lips placing a kiss on her scratched-up forehead. Theo looked at them, his eyebrows scrunching up in confusion.

“The hell is going on there?” Stiles asked Scott who shrugged.

“You’re here.” She whispered placing her hand on his cheek, she was way out of it. She wouldn’t have done this, not in front of the pack, in front of Theo.

“Of course, I am sweetheart, where else would I be?” He gave her a small smile causing Theo to clear his throat.  

“Wait, what the fuck is happening right now?” Theo’s loud voice caused her head to snap towards him, her smile widening.  

“Theo.” She motioned for him to move closer and when he did Isaac looked at him. “Thank you for saving me.” She grabbed Theo’s hand, his confusion easing as the small act of affection cleared his mind. Isaac looking down at their hands as he looked at the pack, their eyes analyzing what the hell was going on.

“You know I'd do anything for you princess.” Theo whispered but his efforts to keep the pet name hushed was a fail, they all heard it, even Stiles and Lydia who weren't werewolves.  

“Princess?” Isaac huffed and Theo looked at him, both of their hands still resting in one of hers. “Look, why don't you and the rest of the pack go wait outside, yeah? I’ll keep her company.” Theo looked down at (y/n) her smile not fading as the medication continued to flow in her blood stream.  

“Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? Look I was the one there, I was the one who helped her, I'm not going anywhere. So, how about you, go and wait outside.” Theo’s voice was always loud.  

“Guys, calm down.” Scott whispered as he looked at Stiles who shrugged. No one knew what the hell was going on.  

“What were you doing with her tonight Theo?” Isaac spoke and Theo rolled his eyes.  

“Look, not like it’s your business or anything but I was walking her home, alright.” Theo gave in, anything to shut him up already, you didn’t need this, you needed rest.  

“And why would you do that? You’re not her boyfriend.” Isaac spat out.

“Last time I checked; you weren’t either.” Theo snapped back. They both looked at each other, their eyes darkening before (y/n) giggled. They looked down at her confused on why she was laughing.  

“This is not how I expected things to go.” She shrugged.  

“What are you talking about?” Theo spoke.  

“I may have been seeing the both of you for six months.” She smiled before she giggled and closed her eyes. They both looked at her for a second, their mouths opening in shock before they looked at each other.

“Oh shit.” Stiles’ voice broke the silence in the room, they all looked at him before (y/n) laughed at his language.  

_____

[nicollekidman]

idk how to say this without it sounding backhanded so let me just disclaim that im doing the best i can here to articulate a nicety but: i really don’t think it can be overstated how amazing it is that you are visibly “stagnant” (again, ik that sound horrible im so sry). i mean that in the most conventional way possible that you are openly chronicling your life as a 20-something that differs from a “conventional” western/capitalist/american young-mid adulthood checklist. (1/2) 🔅

you’ve got absolutely NO idea how many people are living like you and are terrified to admit it just out of fear of noncomformity. you are doing yourself and all those of us too insecure to proudly admit our DESIRED STAGNATION a great, great service. you are normal, but you are living a normal that is not Facebook-friendly, not cherished publicly, not “productive” in all the right capitalistic ways, and i just want to say UR DOING GREAT and thank u for sharing unabashedly. (2/2) 🔅

anon you are such a darling person to send me a very earnest message about being Bravely Boring slkdjfhgjfkd tbh this is why i’ve always used tumblr as p much my only social media site..... i have Goals and Dreams but i’m also a very present-oriented person and am very happy with my little life right now! the only time i start having a crisis is when i compare myself to where my mom thinks i should be or where my sister is and it’s just like!! the majority of us are just working and loving and carving out our own little space and that’s okay <3333 you can be content with where you are even if you’re not Striving. i’ll be here as everyone’s boring big sis :~)

[didsomeonesaydaddydraco]

Loving the enemy | d.m

Request: nope

Word count: 2255

Warning: betray, bit of angst, heavy heartbreak

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Note: I wanted this to be a one shot, but now I’m thinking about turning this into a mini series. Let me know what you think and if you want a Part 2 (or more). Love you all. xx

All my life, I was told to choose the right path. To do everything in my power to stay loyal to myself. No matter what others say, rather be alone than with the wrong crowd. I was walking around the Castle, always making sure the corridor was empty when I took a turn from one to another. It was in the air. Everyone knew it was just a matter of time for Voldemort and his army to come and destroy everything what was so kind to our heart. Hogwarts. The place which had been my home for seven years. I grew up in here. Found lifelong friends here. I fell in love and got my heart broken for the first time in my life. I learnt to be a great witch here. The thought that I might lose everyone and everything scared me to death.

- Hey – cold, ring covered fingers grabbed my hand from behind, and I let out a small squeak. I turned around with my wand already in my other hand, ready to throw a defensive spell at whoever tried to attack me – Easy, it’s just me.

- Draco – a sigh left my lift as a sign of relief – You shouldn’t go around grabbing people like that when you know very well, Voldemort can come any minute now – I scolded my boyfriend softly, and put my head on his chest. I could hear his heart pounding loudly against his ribs. He kissed the top of my head lovingly.

- Sorry – he whispered and held me closer to his body – I wanted to make sure you were okay, because I didn’t see you at dinner tonight. You still haven’t got your appetite back? Have you eaten today?

- Calm down – I laughed – I wasn’t hungry, but yeah, I had eaten a bit today.

- You need to eat, baby – he pressed his lips into a thin line. Worry was written all over his perfect face. The last few weeks were too stressful with schoolwork, and there was death hanging above as, ready to ruin everything we cherished in our lives, I couldn’t force myself to eat. Every single time I joined my friends for lunch or dinner, all I could do was stare at my food. I wanted to be brave and I wanted to stay strong, but after all, we were still just kids at the edge of adulthood. We were supposed to get in trouble because of our pranks. We were supposed to go on dates at the Three Broomsticks. We were supposed to make the water in our cups turn into Butterbeer or Fire Whiskey and get drunk in the Common Rooms after the Prefects finished their night routines. We were supposed to fall in love and sneak out in the middle of the night to be with our boyfriend or girlfriend. But instead of making memories and having the time of  of our lives, we spent our free hours with perfecting our duelling skills, learning defensive spells and training, so when the time comes, we are prepared to fight, or at least stay alive.

- What are you thinking about? – Draco asked. I didn’t notice when he laced his fingers together with mine and led me to his dorm room. When I was snapped out of my thoughts, I saw him sitting on his bed, looking at me with an unknown emotion on his face.

I looked at him for too long. I wanted him to be safe. I wanted to protect him. I was terrified of losing him in the battle. I was terrified because he never said anything about the upcoming tragic event. Every time I brought it up, he suddenly had a very important thing he just couldn’t miss leaving me hanging, or simply changed the subject. Draco was never the man of words or emotions. He preferred actions over everything. In our love life, school work or when he wanted to keep his reputation. But how could someone tell their fears with actions? He had never cried. Not in front of me. He had never trembled, nor had troubles falling asleep. And yet, when I looked at him, I could see his skin being even paler than his usual tone, and the circles under his eyes were way too dark for my liking.

- How can you not be afraid? – I asked him simply. My guts warning me something might be off, and my arms suddenly wrapped themselves around my body as if they wanted to protect my from something – Why can’t we have a conversation about this?

Draco’s eyes darkened and he walked to his window. He didn’t give me an answer, just stared at my reflection on the glass. I stared back. Analysing every single feature of his face, I saw how his beautiful grey eyes lost their sparkle and were filled with sorrow. I saw his eyebrows wrinkled as he thought about something. His lips were pressed into a thin line again. And finally, after all this time, I could see real emotions running through his face after each other. Worry. Pain. Fear. Love. Disappointment. Hopelessness. My heart broke at the sight of him.

- Draco – I said his name softly – What’s going on?

He turned around but didn’t come any closer to me. He was playing with his shirt’s sleeve and chewing on his bottom lip. A habit of him when he was nervous. I knew something was odd about him. Slowly, but everything came together in my mind. Draco refused to wear anything, but long sleeved shirts. He started to wear those to bed as well, even though he hated to have a shirt on for sleeping. Every time we made love, we had to turn off the lights, and he casted a spell which turned the whole room completely dark. I ignored the voice in my head, which was basically screaming at me to do not go any closer, crossing a line.

- Baby – I breathed and with a sudden movement, I pulled up his sleeve, revealing the mark on his forearm. There it was. Black ink standing out on his almost milk white skin. The Dark Mark dancing on his arm, like it was celebrating the fact the Voldemort had striked again. Gaining another soldier for his army, destroying an innocent soul. I felt empty. I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t think straight. I was terrified for him. He was just a boy. I didn’t understand anything. Was it against his own will? Did he want to join the Death Eaters? I felt betrayed. I refused to believe that he would do such a thing on his own will. Could he really throw away everything? Could he really risk our lives?

- Y/N – Draco tried to grab my hand but I stepped away from him – Please, hear me out…

- Why didn’t you tell me? – I asked him – Did you want to keep it as a secret? Did you really think I would never find out?

- No, of course not – he shook his head and took a step closer to me, but my cold stare stopped him from taking any more – I wanted to tell you, but didn’t know how. I was waiting for the right moment, I guess.

- The right moment? – I raised my voice a bit, but I had to remind myself not to cause a scene because our classmates were outside in the Common Room – And what would have been the right moment, Draco? During the battle when I see you fighting on Voldemort’s side? – I hissed the last couple of words – Please, tell me you won’t…

Draco couldn’t look me in the eye. His icy blue eyes were looking everywhere in the room, but me. I waited. I waited for him to tell me he would never go against his School. The place which was his getaway from his poor excuse of a father. It was his safe place. It was OUR safe place.

-  Baby girl – his voice broke a little and I knew. I knew that his silence what in fact the answer for my question. To the one that I had asked, and to those which remained buried in me. I stood there, completely devastated. Trying to find the boy who I had fallen in love with. The boy, who would have tried to do everything in his power to protect those who he loved. I was questioning myself. His loyalty. Every single word coming out of his mouth. I felt broken. But no matter how heartbroken I was in that very moment, all I could think about was one thing. How was I supposed to protect him from everything that was waiting for us?

- Y/N – my lips rolled off of his tongue as a silent prayer – Love, please…

- You’re weak – a bitter laugh fell out of my mouth. I was mad. Mad at him for not standing up for himself. Mad at him, for lying to me for weeks. Mad at him, for putting himself in such a dangerous situation. And I was mad at my own self, because even though I wanted to hex him right there and then, I still loved him with every piece of my heart – It all begins and ends in your mind, Draco. What you give power to and has power over you, if you allow it. And you did. You let Voldemort to have that damn power over you.

- I had no choice. Believe me, if I had, I would have choose differently and… - his voice was desperate, but so I was. I was trying to pick up the pieces of my broken heart. All those pieces were still beating for him and hoping that this whole thing was just one terrible dream and I’ll soon wake up in his arms. But deep down I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t even know if that time will come one day, when I can wake up from a nightmare free dream, wrapped in his loving and protecting arms, listening to his light snoring, and the beating of his heart. Feeling him hugging me tighter when he was waking up, or dreaming. Smiling into our morning kiss, and admiring his beautiful face. Getting lost in his dreamy blue eyes, while we’re talking about our future together. Where we want to travel. Where we want to live…Live, how funny. Like we had any chance of that.

- Bullshit – I snorted – You are free to choose, but you are not free from the consequences of your choice.

I knew it must have been hard for him. Everyone in his family was a Death Eater, but so were my ascendants. I chose. And I chose the right path as I was taught when I was little. I was in the impossible situation. My mind and my heart were in a huge war, making it extreme hard to choose, but I had to. One of us in this relationship had to be on the right path, and make the final decision.

- What do you mean? – his eyes were filled with tears, and that was the moment I realised, I had been crying this whole time. Everything was too overwhelming. My head was spinning from the million thoughts chasing each other, and my heart was pounding way too rapidly, I was scared it might explode in any seconds. My whole body was shaking from fear and my fist was numb from the too tight grip – Y/N?

- What I mean is – I took a deep breath, knowing very well that I was about to make a decision that will affect both of us in a bad way – I have made my decision a long time ago. I know who my ascendants are, but I’m not one of them. I’m Y/F/N, and I can choose freely. And I did. I love you, Draco. Salazar is my witness that I really do. I love you so much it literally hurts me, but I have to break my own heart now. This is a serious situation, and you know it too…

- So you choose Potter over me? – venom filled his words and his eyes darkened even more. He was in pain. I broke him. But I had too.

- No, Draco – I shook my head at him – I choose my friends who became family to me over the years. I choose Hogwarts, which was my home away from home. I love you, Draco, but they were here for me way before you made up your mind and decided you wanted me.

- Baby – he choked out from his sobs – I love you. I love you so much, please…Please do not leave me. I need you – he fell on his knees – I’ll go crazy without you… - I was sobbing with him. My whole body was aching and I didn’t know if I could make it out alive – Why?

- Because I’ll always protect my family, Draco – my voice was only a whisper. And with that, I left his room.

I left his room, leaving Draco screaming in his hands, in the middle of his room. I was running down the empty halls of Hogwarts. I should have admire its beauty while I had the chance, but my tears blurred my vision. I tore my heart out from my chest and left it on the bedroom floor. Completely shattered. Shattered by me. I knew I couldn’t have protect him out there. Just like him, I had no choice…

[darlingsdevil]

Of The Valley (Joel x Reader)

Chapter 3: Slipping Back

Summary: Life in Jackson is never easy. Consoling angsty teenagers, wading through the mysterious waters of Joel’s romance language and with a child of your own on the way? Life

Chapter summary: A concert. Stew. Back to the old routine.

Of The Valley Masterlist

RDR2 Masterlist

Taglist (please comment to be added or removed): @sidepuff @joelsheartache @fangirl-inthe-us @cowboyfrazer @scarletpines

A/N: This chapter is.. more of a filler. It just got so long, I didn’t want to rush next chapter. Which is.. a big one.

•••

You were reading a magazine when Ellie, Joel and Tommy got back. Something about fashion trends in the 80’s, you weren’t too interested though. You had finished your candy bar ages ago, wondering just how much candy Mark had hidden here.

Their loud arrival caused you to jump, you were so caught up in your magazine you briefly forgot where you were. Ellie was the first one through the door, you went up to greet them.

“Ellie, it’s been awhile,” You smiled at her, bringing her in for a hug. Ellie looked older, you were surprised, you had thought she stopped growing. That little girl was getting too old for your liking.

“It has been. I have some new tricks I want to show you on the guitar,” Ellie said. You looked to Joel. You knew they were having problems before, Joel never really mentioned why, teenagers were a complicated bunch regardless. You remembered all the teenage angst from your years too, it seems the apocalypse hadn’t taken that trope out of the remnants of society though.

“Any new songs you’ve learned?” You asked. Tommy and Joel walked to the kitchen, leaving you with Ellie by the door.

“Yeah. I’ve written a few actually,” Ellie said sheepishly.

“Played them for Cat yet?” You winked at her with a smug look on your face, talking quietly so Joel would not hear. Ellie blushed and looked down.

“No.” She shook her head, trying to hide her blushing face.

“Well come on, I want to hear some new songs you’ve learned,” You said, leading her to the couch. You sat down and waited for her to get her guitar. It was becoming easier and easier to forget that you were outside of Jackson. You were still shook up, but it was easy to pretend you weren’t. Fake it till you make it, right?

She sat across from you on the armchair and picked up her guitar. Tommy and Joel were talking about something in the kitchen, but you couldn’t quite make it out.

“How many songs have you written since I’ve last seen you?” You leaned back into the chair, waiting for her to begin playing.

Ellie shrugged, “Three or so? I don’t write very often. I write lyrics a lot, but I don’t really write music for it.”

“Okay, well, play me the song you like the best, newly learned or original.”

Ellie nodded and rested her hands on the guitar, waiting to play.

“I know you’ve heard this song. Maybe it will even be better than the original.” Ellie looked at you before she began playing.

“It’s always better acoustic.”

“I’m sure I’ll woo you with my melodic voice then, and my guitar skills,” Ellie joked with a twinkle in her eye. It had been a long time since you’ve seen the spark in that girl’s eye. You remembered when she was younger, a fresh new face at Jackson and a wild thing. There was a lot to catch up on with her. Guilt struck you as you realized you had not only abandoned Joel, but Ellie too.

Ellie began playing a song, you immediately recognized it.

“Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,” Ellie sang, focusing on the chords. You leaned forward, resting your head on your hand, watching her intently. Ellie was a good singer. You always looked forward to her mini concerts.

“It's not warm when she's away

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

And she's always gone too long

Anytime she goes away.” She continued playing. You smiled at her as she looked up, encouraging her to continue.

It was a song you always enjoyed. You had a Bill Withers record at your house. Mark loved Bill Withers, he used to play that record nonstop. Even used to beg the party organizers at the seasonal dances to play it for him.

When Ellie finally finished, you clapped for her, a bittersweet smile through it all.

“That’s a really good song. Mark really likes it,” You told her.

“Yeah, he’s played that record for me a few times.”

“I actually have a few records to give you. Mark decided he didn’t want them anymore,” You said.

Ellie’s eyes immediately lit up, “Which ones?”

“I’ll let you pick out a few once we get back to Jackson,” You promised.

“Anyone I want?” She questioned, making sure you weren’t lying.

“Anyone you want. Except for Bill Withers, Mark would probably chop your head off,” You repeated back.

“And Mark’s okay with me taking his stuff?” Ellie raised her brow.

You nodded, Ellie smiled.

“That’s awesome. Mark’s got a big collection,” Ellie replied, setting her guitar to rest on the couch. She leaned back onto the couch.

You looked over your shoulder to Joel and Tommy. Tommy was gathering things from the refrigerator to make a stew.

“You’re not touching this stew, Joel, pretty sure you would manage to burn water.” You heard Tommy say, you looked over at Ellie and she confirmed Tommy’s comment. It was true, Joel was an awful cook.

“Which is why I’m leaving it up to you,” Joel said to Tommy. You got up and walked over to them.

“What type of stew are you making, Tommy?” You asked him. If they were making stew, it meant you would most likely be staying the night here — or at least for dinner.

“Vegetable. Nobody brought meat up here,” Joel replied. There was rarely ever food in the lookouts, even as big as this one was. There were supposed to be supplies brought up monthly to each lookout, either someone ate all of it or it was never brought up.

“Ah, good old vegetable stew,” You said sarcastically.

“Something wrong with it?” Tommy quipped.

“No, just wish I was back at the bar eating a sandwich right about now.” You shook your head.

“Can’t go wrong with a sandwich,” Ellie called out, flipping through the magazine you were reading earlier. Joel laughed lightly. Ellie and Joel were growing farther and farther apart, it was normal for a father and daughter to have a rocky relationship, especially at her age, you just hoped it didn’t last into her adulthood. Joel mentioned it to you once. You had been meaning to ask Ellie about it, but you got sidetracked.

••

Time passed quickly, soon enough you had forgotten all about what had happened in the morning, that was until Tommy asked if you wanted to go out again to finish off the rest of the infected. It was easy to get caught up in the normalcy of your friends, especially while in the comfort of a lookout, but outside there was a raging storm of pain and suffering, and you were caught in the midst of it all.

You were reluctant to leave the lookout, it was a good idea to face your fears in theory, but terrifying when actually going through with it. Tommy assured you everything would be fine, but you weren’t entirely convinced.

“I don’t know, Tommy,” You sighed while you threw away the rest of Mark’s stash that you had brought out for Tommy, Joel and Ellie to enjoy. There was a confectioner in town who made chocolates, Mark was always there buying candy. You found three candy bars, a box of caramels, chocolate covered pretzels and some peanut butter fudge. You wondered how it had managed to not spoil, but more so wondering how Mark had bought that much candy and hid it from you.

“It’ll be easy. Joel will go out with you,” Tommy assured.

“I don’t know, Tommy,” You said quietly, glancing over to Joel with Ellie. Joel was showing Ellie some trick on the guitar.

“I already told him to back off a little, he should be fine,” Tommy replied. Joel was angry, upset, you weren’t sure he would be as understanding.

“Why can’t you just go with me?”

“You haven’t talked to Joel in three months, I think you two need to do something catching up.”

You sighed. That was true. There was a lot to discuss, you just weren’t sure where to start on any of it.

“You guys better not start eating without us, Tommy,” You said, walking towards Joel. The stew would be done soon.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Y/N.”

•••

You knew the spot where the infected were at. They were usually up there this time of the year, it was about a ten minute walk from the lookout. The walk on the way there was silent, but you could tell Joel was waiting to say something.

“What is it Joel?” You finally ask, looking over your shoulder at him. He held his rifle tightly to his chest.

“Nothing.”

“You’re not acting like it’s nothing.”

Joel sighed before speaking, “I just want to know why you have been avoiding me, avoiding everyone for the past three months.”

“I wasn’t deliberately avoiding you. I just.. I got busy,” You said quietly with a sigh. Today was just one big headache.

“Okay. Can you tell me why you wanted me to come out here?” Joel replied softly. He was being suspiciously comforting.

“I need someone I trust up here.” It was a vague answer. In case things went south, you would much rather be comforted by Joel like he had so many times for you before, then Tommy or Ellie. Tommy and Ellie were like family, but they did not compare in the way that Joel did.

“I guess that is fair.” You knew he had questions, you would answer them when you were ready.

You continued walking for a little while. It was hard to imagine yourself ever shooting a gun normally again. It would be a constant reminder of what had happened. You knew what you needed to do, you knew you had to do it, to put it simply, it was a job that needed to be done regardless of your stance on it. It was still a question as to why you were needed for a simple job like this, you would have to get it out of Tommy later. Maybe Ellie knew something too, you suspected the least.

Joel was off your case, for at least a little while it seemed. You knew he was confused, you knew he had questions. It was all one step at a time, and now you were out here facing your fears that had crippled you for months. It was insane to say the least.

The small area devoid of trees came into view. It overlooked a group of houses and a gas station. You took out your binoculars as you came closer to the ledge, looking out towards the buildings. There were a group of infected, just like you had thought. Fifteen or so. It would only take you a short while to pick them all off, that was if the job went on without a hitch.

You could feel your hands shaking even as you slung the rifle off your shoulder. Heart pounding so loud you were sure Joel could hear it too.

“Now this is a one person job,” You laugh nervously. Joel eyed you cautiously as he leaned against the tree behind the ledge.

It was now or never. As much as you wanted to throw the rifle off the cliff edge, run straight back home with your tail between your legs, you knew you couldn’t. You owed Maria. You owed her more than one simple job. You had to do it.

You swallowed your fears, telling yourself to just fuck it and shoot the damn things like you always used to. But ‘fuck it’ wasn’t going to cut it this time. It would take more than that.

“Joel?” You asked, facing the cliff edge, overlooking the terrain where nature had reclaimed the earth.

Joel hummed in response.

“If I do this, can we go out to the lake again?” You looked at him, your eyes saying everything that needed to be said.

Joel nodded, a small smile on his lips. Joel was beginning to piece it all together, there was a reason you were so shook up by being out here. Avoiding him for three months, something had definitely happened like Tommy had said. Besides, Joel owed you a trip back to the lake regardless. He didn’t mind taking you out for the day, he just hoped Mark wouldn’t be around when he did.

You bit your lip, and swiveled around to face the group of infected below. Taking a deep breath, you pulled your rifle up to your shoulder and put a bullet into the chamber.

You blinked away any intruding thoughts and focused on the task at hand. If you did this, you had a date with Joel, a chance to repair any relationship you had with him prior to the incident. It was easy, you had done this a million times before, you reassured yourself.

Hesitatingly, you looked out into the scope, raising your rifle so your bullet would hit its mark. You focused on a clicker next to a building. It was standing still, an easy shot. You pushed the air out of your lungs and pulled the trigger. The bang went off and your mind went into a frenzied panic, as if your brain was screaming out and only you could hear it, but you weren’t listening to this time. The recoil was barely noticeable.

You repeated the action. It was easier than the first. You slipped into that role of a seasoned sniper quicker than you thought you would have. It was muscle memory now. The runner you took down fell with a bullet between its eyes. Even Joel let out an impressed whistle. That memory was an inkling in the back of your mind now.

Then you shot another, and another, and another until there was all but one. A runner, newly infected by the looks. Not quite battered or bloodied as the others and the clothes looked fresher. At least a month or two before it had been turned. You wondered who the person was before they became infected, what their story was. But it didn’t matter, you were here to protect your town and put the infected out of its misery.

You loaded your gun and aimed at the infected. The infected head twitched in unnatural ways a few times before it looked your way, seemingly staring at you for a split second until you shot it. It’s body fell to the ground, blood pouring out of the wound, you aimed for the head, but only shot the stomach. Cursing yourself, you loaded another bullet.

This time, the infected look straight up at you again. Your breath hitched in your throat, you knew it wasn’t truly looking, it just happened to look your way. You wanted to put it out of its suffering as quickly as possible.

But god, did it look like him. It laid the same way he did. This time though, you hesitated, perhaps it would die on its own. You waited a few seconds as it twitched and thrashed on the ground, realizing it wouldn’t die too easily. The bullet hit its mark and the infected became a lifeless body.

You grimaced at the sight of the carnage below. At least it was over. You were getting better at controlling your panic, earlier today was a mistake, a slip up. But truth be told, you felt like the life had been sucked out of you at the sight of the runner.

“Goodjob,” Joel said, patting you on the back, pulling you back into reality. You immediately jumped at the feeling.

“Jesus, Joel, you scared the shit out of me,” You pant out.

“You knew I was there,” Joel replied slowly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just scared me, that's all.”

Joel nodded, “Okay, well let’s head back, I’m sure the stew is done.”

“Sure thing.”

You couldn’t help but remember how that runner stared at you. Perhaps it remembered for a brief moment who it was, begging you to shoot it. Maybe there was still a person inside, waiting for the moment to be freed while the disease ran rampant outside, controlling its every movement. The look it gave you reminded you of someone you knew. The reason you were so scared to be out here in the first place.

•••

[isinkwiththeship]

I’ve written Dasey at different ages. I’ve written them getting together in high school, college, and later in life. I’ve read a ton of fics, too, in all those different stages, and I have come to the conclusion that Derek and Casey would have had to wait until college, minimum, to get together. That’s not just because then they would be away from their friends and family with a little more room to breathe, but for a few other reasons.

1. If we look at their start from season 1. They are young, they are immature, and they are often obnoxious. As much as I love the show, some episodes I rewatch and I think that they are both overreacting. Which is fine. They’re teenagers, that’s sort of their job. Everything is Big and Dramatic when you’re in high school and it’s hard to see a bigger picture at work.

But.

But.

That kind of attitude does not make for a healthy relationship. Casey’s on-again, off-again romance is a good example of this. A lot of Dasey shippers will point out that she was only with Sam to cover for her attraction to Derek. This might be true, but I also think she genuinely liked him. He was softer, kinder, and the kind of person that Casey thinks she wants at that point in her life (he’s ultimately too passive for her, which I can relate to, and Derek acts as his foil in that regard... or vice versa). Anyway, a lot of her arguments with Sam are over something so small, so little, but they seem like a big deal to Casey at the time.

I think she’d look back one day and feel embarrassed at some of the fits she threw during that relationship, but I may just be projecting.

At any rate, Derek and Casey are more dramatic, I think, at that age then a lot of teens as well. There are often moments where even Emily, Lizzie, and Edwin think they are overreacting about something. Their youth and their personalities contribute to this, and it’s just not a good time for a relationship that is going to last.

Derek, at the time, is more concerned with his reputation than settling down. We see him try for Kendra and Sally, but ultimately he would rather just make out with a cute girl and call it a day then have to answer to the demands and expectations that come with a relationship (I say demands which has, like, harsh and negative connotations, but I just mean being in a relationship requires more than thinking about yourself and he is, inherently, pretty selfish, even if he has many redeeming moments--more and more of them as the series goes on). The Derek we see in the last episode (”Yeah, same difference” ugh, my heart) is very different from the Derek we see in episode one. He’s grown. He’s been hurt. He’s hurt women. He’s grown closer with Casey. He has more and more moments where he does something genuinely honest and good without an ulterior motive. He is growing to the point where he could manage a relationship on top of his ego.

Their time together those first few years help to knock some of the sharper edges off of their personalities, softening them both into something resembling what could be a healthy personality into adulthood.

(then we get the movie which just regresses them a bunch, but whatever)

2. In high school, Derek and Casey both have unrealistic expectations about relationships and how they should work. Again, youth and inexperience contributes to this. Casey, especially, have these romanticized and idealistic expectations of relationships and how they should work. She wants everything to be done her way. Like Derek, she’s often selfish, just in a very different way. She also has weird expectations of the kind of person she wants to be with. At first, it seems like she wants someone a lot like her. She wants someone into poetry, etc. etc. The problem is, when you put two people who are too similar, you get no chemistry. There’s a whole lot of agreement, and I’m not suggesting that you ought to actively disagree with your partner to have a good relationship, but I think that there should be some differences. You don’t have to be interested in all of the same things, and you don’t have to do everything together. Spending time with people who have different interests than you is great, because then you get to learn and experience new things, and you have stuff to talk about other than agreeing on the same opinions at every turn.

There is some truth to opposites attract. I’m not a relationship expert or anything, this is just what I believe, but I think your core beliefs should be similar (again, not exact, just similar), and everything else can have variations of agreement and disagreement.

At her early stages in life, Casey has yet to realize that having someone like Derek around to challenge her, to make her chill out now and again, is good for her. If she were to be with someone as tightly wound as she is, it wouldn’t go well.

Derek, too, doesn’t understand how relationships work. When he does try for a relationship, he doesn’t handle the breakups all that well. He lets Kendra boss him around, and to get her attention in the first place, he tries to become something he’s not (even though that wasn’t what she was interested in). If you believe that to be with a person, you have to change who you are that extremely, then you don’t have a solid foundation on which to build a relationship.

3. Most people are not ready for a life-long commitment at 15, 16, and 17. Or even a few years after that. Derek and Casey have a lot of chemistry, they provide a balance to one another, and they are the reason that the other has bettered themselves over the years.

They have the potential to last.

That’s a terrifying thought when you’re still in high school, at least for most people. There are some expectations to this, and I know a handful of people who are happily married to their high school sweetheart, but that is not the norm. I think as much as Casey talks about love and whatever, that she’s just as afraid of commitment as Derek. There is a lot of self-sabotage in her relationships--but that’s a conversation for another day.

They aren’t ready for a commitment at that age. That age is such a weird, hard time. Not to mention that people change as they age and go through more experiences. Most people are not the same person at 25 that they were at 15.

People do not always change in the same way, either. You might be more prone to growing apart than growing together, depending on personalities. Granted, that likely wouldn’t be the case for them but they couldn’t know that at that age.

I think they need more life experience, in general, to be ready for the kind of relationship they have the potential for.

4. Dating is for Dumping. This is a kind of weird concept, but bear with me. I wound up going to this seminar type thing when I was in high school, called dating is for dumping. The basic premise was that its okay to date. As much as breakups suck, they’re okay, too. The idea behind dating is that you are looking for a potential partner in life, but you have to find that through trial and error. You figure out what you want in a partner, the kind of person you want to be with, through trial and error.

The first time you go on a date with someone who is rude to the waitstaff, and you sit there uncomfortable and with this vague idea that you don’t even want to be on a date with a person like this, let alone a second date, you’ve just decided that you don’t want to date a person who treats service works shitty.

If you are a church-going person, and you start dating a person who doesn’t go near church, then you might realize that you’re okay with that or you might realize that you would rather share that experience with someone.

Casey has a series of monogamous relationships, and it starts to paint a picture for her of the kind of person that she wants to date which, I think, is how she winds up with Truman. People have drawn parallels between him and Derek over and over again, and they aren’t wrong (though the two have very different fundamental beliefs). Derek has way fewer actual relationships.

Basically, the two need time to date people, to see what they want in a partner, to live life and grow up before they would ever be ready to put in the work for a relationship with one another.

This has turned into a very long, unexpected essay but these thoughts have been floating in my head a lot lately, and I decided to put them down for someone to possibly read one day. I dunno. I’ll still read fics that have them get together in high school, but at the moment I think MOST of my fics will center around them getting together in college or later.

[twrp-act-your-age]

The Big Scary What-If

Was going through old files and whoops! I found a whole bonus scene I wrote and never posted. So... here ya go!

Spoilers under the cut for the near-end of the story!

This scene takes place around the vicinity of pages 114-116. For those who don’t remember (it’s been a while!), Deimos has been defeated, the gang is back together, and they’re taking a few days to fix the Time Crystal.

Havve’s optics blinked, taking in the small form of Meouch sitting curled up on the couch. It was midnight--rather, it would have been midnight if they had been on Earth--and his three boys should’ve all been in bed. “You’re supposed to be asleep,” he said, keeping his volume down for the sake of the others.

“I know,” Meouch said, seemingly having fully expected that from Havve. “I can’t stop thinking, though.”

Havve could have sighed and sent him off to bed anyway--if Meouch could think out here, in front of the muted TV playing intergalactic infomercials, then he could think in his room--but he didn’t. He sat down next to Meouch and got comfortable, leaning back and lacing his fingers together over his stomach. “What’re you thinking about?”

“It’s nothing,” Meouch said, shrugging one shoulder. “I mean, it’s… Y’know.”

“Clearly it’s not nothing,” Havve retorted, “if it’s keeping you up half the night.”

“It’s…” Meouch sighed. He crossed his arms over his chest and burrowed his hands inside the sleeves of his t-shirt. He looked at the TV, defeated. “It’s stupid.”

“I bet it’s not,” Havve said. Meouch didn’t look at him, eyes vacantly stuck on the infomercial in front of him. Havve sighed then, a tinny, half-real, half-robotic sound. “You can talk to me, you know. I won’t judge. I mean… you’re a kid for crying out loud. Of course you’re worried about stuff you wouldn’t be normally.” Havve’s optics drifted to the TV for a moment (something about air fryers. He couldn’t believe they were still hawking that crap this far in the future), and then turned back to Meouch. “If something’s got you concerned, and you care about it, then that means it’s important. I won’t think it’s stupid. Okay?”

Meouch pursed his lips into a line. He blinked, his eyes reflecting the screen in front of them, and Havve realized he was trying to push back tears. “If we don’t fix this,” Meouch croaked, his voice rough and barely above a whisper, “if we have to grow up all over again from scratch… I did the math, Havve. I have the shortest lifespan here. I’m… I’m not gonna live to see Phobos and Sung get back to normal.”

The dam broke. It was quiet, Meouch still trying to hold himself together, but his eyes were gushing tears and his lips were trembling with cries trying to pry their way out. Havve sat up straighter and scooped him up, pulling Meouch into his chest and holding a hand on the back of his small head. Meouch choked out a high-pitched sob, muffled by Havve’s shirt. “Oh, bud. It’s okay. It’s okay,” he said, rubbing his thumb up and down on Meouch’s back. Havve couldn’t cry, as he didn’t have the eyes or the tear ducts necessary, but he could still feel his chest grow tight and his breath hitch in his half-metal throat. “It won’t come to that, I promise. We’ll fix this, Meouch. It’s okay.”

“I know. It’s like, so many what-ifs all piled on top of one another,” Meouch squeaked once he gained a little bit of his composure back. He sniffled, trying and failing to not get Havve’s shirt all wet. “Of course we’re gonna fix it. But I can’t get it out of my head, man. For fuck’s sake, Phobos is, what, twelve hundred years old? That's twice as old as I’ll ever be. I don’t wanna grow up and have him still be a little kid. I can’t, Havve, I can’t…”

“I know. God, if there’s anyone who understands that feeling, it’s me,” Havve said. “I honestly don’t mind taking care of you guys like this, but… I need you back, too. I can’t… rust away into nothing before Sung even hits puberty. I need you guys back.”

“Mm.” Meouch crawled further into Havve’s arms, burying his head in his hoodie and wrapping his arms tight around Havve’s chest. “I know they're gonna outlive me,” he muttered, barely audible. “I’ve always known that. S’just how shit goes. But I… They’re my… All of you are my best friends, and if we can’t tour together or do music together or just… hang out together without having to worry about babysitting… I can’t…”

Havve hummed in agreement, a strange mix of breath and white noise, making his chest vibrate. Meouch leaned into it, and Havve cradled him there. He needed this hug so bad that he was practically trying to crawl into Havve’s chest plate, and if Havve could have, he would’ve let him.

“I know you’ve prob’ly already been thinking about this a lot,” Meouch mumbled, his voice still wet and thick. “About what happens if the Time Crystal doesn’t poof us back to normal. This is old news for you. ‘M sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Havve shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry about. There’s been so much going on… The whole thing with Phobos and Deimos… This is something we should’ve talked about days ago. The big shitty ‘what-if’ hanging over everyone’s heads. I hate it, you hate it, and no doubt Sung and Phobos hate it too. It’s hard to think about. Phobos is… tiny.” Havve ran his fingers gently through the fur on Meouch’s head, partly to soothe Meouch and partly to steady himself, and he spoke quietly, the bass of his speaker rumbling low in the top of his chest. “Seeing him get that small was… terrifying. I can’t imagine him staying that young for a hundred years. I don’t want to think about what that would do to him, what that would do to you or me… And Sung…”

“I don’t know how old he is,” Meouch whispered, “but he’s old old, isn’t he?”

“I can’t say.”

Meouch gripped the fabric of Havve’s shirt tighter, his small fingers digging into the warm metal of Havve’s stomach. “I know you know.”

Havve sighed. “I can’t say because that’s Sung’s secret to tell, not mine. But… yes, he’s old old. If he has to grow up again ‘from scratch’ as you called it… We’d all be long gone before he reached adulthood again.”

“God,” Meouch whimpered.

They sat there in the quiet for a good long while, letting it all sit. It was dark, save for the blue-light glow of the TV and the bright red of Havve’s optics, quiet save for the TV humming and Havve’s inner mechanisms humming and Meouch’s shaky, wet breaths. Havve could faintly feel himself starting to get a headache, something he rarely experienced. He could feel the pressure building up behind where his eyes used to be, in the little that remained of his sinuses, and he knew he would have shed a tear by then if he could have. Part of him wished that he could. The other part, the part that was holding a small, crying child in his arms, was relieved that he couldn’t. He needed to be strong, and sure, and confident that things were going to turn out okay. He needed to do that for Meouch, even if he was barely able to do it for himself right now.

"It’ll be okay,” Havve said, his voice louder and more confident coming from his speakers than it could’ve possibly been if it had come from his aching lungs. “We’ll get you guys back to normal. Hell, even Phobos’s little crystal shard is working on him already. You’ll all be back to normal in no time,” he said. “And no matter what happens, we have each other. I’ll always be there for you guys. And I know you’ll be there for me, too.”

“Yeah,” Meouch said, and then trailed off. His mouth hung open like he wanted to say something more, but then he closed it and swallowed. It took him a moment to find his voice again, and when he spoke, he lifted his face away from Havve’s chest and looked up at him. “You can say if you’re hurting, too. Your breathing’s all shallow, Havve, I can feel it.”

“Meouch… I’m okay, really,” Havve said. He wiped under one of Meouch’s eyes with a finger, brushing a fresh tear away from the streaks of already-wet fur.

“You just said that I’m here for you, too,” Meouch huffed. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not just a kid, man. I’m your friend, too.”

“I know you are,” Havve said. He felt something catch in his throat, something that maybe could have been a sob if he still had vocal chords to make the sound with. Running on long-forgotten instinct, his hand reached up under his mask and rubbed at one of his optics, as if that would relieve the pressure that was still building. “Seeing you cry like that, it just… I hate to see that. Makes me want to cry, too, even though I can’t.”

And then Meouch did what only a child would do: he pulled Havve’s mask off of his face, gently and with both hands, and then wiped the imaginary tears under his eyes with his thumb. “It’s okay, Havve,” he said, and Havve could’ve sworn he felt something break in the 808 drum machine where his heart used to be. The pressure built up harder, and he blinked uselessly to try and fight it off. “It’s okay.”

“Y’know,” Havve said, his robotic voice calm and steady even as his breathing was shaky and quick and his shoulders quaked, “I can only think of one other time when I wished I wasn’t a damn robot. You know what that was?”

“What?”

“Airport security,” he said, and then laughed a wet, shaky, electronically-tinged laugh. Meouch laughed too, the sad smile fighting its way onto his face. “Honestly, I like the way I am. Nine times out of ten, I wouldn’t want to be any other way. And I used to think x-rays and metal detectors and the post-9/11 TSA were just the banes of my existence. And they still are. But it’s shit like this. Shit where my body wasn’t built to handle having too many emotions inside of it. And god, since you three turned into kids?” He laughed again. “I swear, it’s like my Grinch heart grew three sizes and I have no place to put it all.”

Meouch smiled. “I heard being a dad’ll do that to you,” he said, and then hugged Havve even tighter, resting his head in the crook of Havve’s neck. “When Sung’s bigger, you should ask him to fix that for you. To make more room for your heart.”

“That is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Havve said, making Meouch burst out laughing. “No, I’m serious. That was such a triple-whammy. Each sentence was a one-hit KO. Why can’t you be this cute all the time?”

“Hmm, can’t be this cute when you’re that sexy,” Meouch hummed, and it was Havve’s turn to laugh. It relieved a little bit of the pressure, and he almost felt like he could take a deep breath again. “Once I get my mane back, it’s over for you fuckers. Cute adorable tiny Meouch will be no more, and sexy beast Meouch will reign supreme once again.”

Havve rested his head on Meouch’s shoulder, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Thank you.”

“Hey, no problem. I’m the one who got you all upset in the first place, so…”

“I think I was upset anyway. It was just hiding.”

“Oh,” Meouch said gently. “Then… You’re welcome. Wait, no, I should be thanking you! I was freaking out and now I’m not! How’d you do that?”

Havve chuckled, and they both knew he would’ve smiled if he could. “Secret dad powers,” he said simply. Meouch looked up at him and beamed. “Speaking of which, my dad powers are telling me that it’s way past your bedtime.”

“Aww, come on, no it’s not!” Meouch whined. “We were just getting somewhere! C’mon Havve, I’m not even tired.”

“You sure? Because I’m spe-ent,” Havve chimed. He stood up, bringing Meouch with him, and started carrying him back towards the bunks. “I need to recharge, and you need to get some sleep.”

“Fine,” Meouch said. His head was resting on Havve’s shoulder, and he was already quieting down. “I guess.”

Havve padded across the ship to Meouch’s room, and the door opened automatically as they got close. It was dark inside. Only Havve’s glowing red optics illuminated the space, showing off the piles of flannel shirts on the floor and the mess of charging cords by his bed. “You need to clean in here,” Havve said, and Meouch only replied with a hum and a small nod. He had gone from energetic to almost-asleep in just a couple of minutes. Seemed like the crying had finally caught up to him. Havve laid him down in bed, pulling his covers up to his chin. Meouch rolled over onto his side, burying his face in his pillow, and was out before he could even say “goodnight.”

Havve patted him on his head and tousled the small fluff of brown that was his mane. “Sweet dreams, bud,” he said softly, his volume just a notch above muted. “Everything’ll be fine. I promise.” He adjusted the blankets once more, stood up, and left Meouch’s room as quietly as he could. “I promise.”

[jcmorrigan]

What movie or tv show scared you the most?

OH HEEHEEHEEEEEE MY TIME HAS COME

I think this was probably the sign I was meant to be a horror fan, because I'm gonna talk about two movies here and neither one is a standard horror film. Now, I avoided horror films like the plague, but I now realize that's because of my aversion to jumpscares and gore, which have very little to do with actual scary stuff. I feared actual horror imagery as a small child, but basically once I read Coraline it all just turned around because that book gave me nightmares but I actually WANTED those nightmares and kept going back to the book. So what are the movies I just COULD NOT contend with?

First up, I have found that a lot of people have said this one, but really and truly, fuck Chicken Run.

I was...maybe ten when I watched it. Signed up for a goofy claymation adventure. What did I get? First of all, a whole lot of bleak color palette that warned me that this was not going to be a happy story. We are then shown the stakes right away: our entire main cast lives in a dystopian prison and if they do not find a way to escape, they will die. One DOES die. This is where a lot of people say they noped out right away, but actually, the execution of the dinner chicken in the first scene was tame for me compared to what would come next.

The pie machine. It's assembled, it's talked about, and eventually our two leads fall into it in a way that is designed to be fatal. Look, there are a ton of horror tropes in this scene alone. I haven't seen it SINCE THE ONE AIRING and I can still vividly tell you a lot of this. And if I walked into a horror film and asked for this, I'd come out super satisfied, but I was not expecting horror from this. First of all, I remember vividly the shot where you're looking from Ginger's POV falling down the shaft and the divider comes up to shunt her into the "meat" line. It's incredibly claustrophobic and you just get this almost jumpscare reminder that the character through whose eyes you see is regarded as nothing more than meat to be consumed. There is then an array of blades designed for close calls, and dough that essentially glues the lead characters down to a conveyor belt so they have to helplessly watch the death machines that are coming. Sticky stuff that roots you to one spot; that's another thing that just REALLY unnerves me and I love it if I'm reading CreepyPasta but I was not reading CreepyPasta; I was watching a children's film. The leads escape certain death by jamming the gravy system, causing the machine to overload on pressure, and here I feel like I should've been relieved that they escaped but instead I was the most unsettled of all when the pressure meter started climbing. I don't know if this film *gave* me a phobia of industrial accidents or if it just awakened what was already in my OCD little brain, but suffice to say that after this movie, I was hyper-aware of my own fear of things like hissing steam, rising pressure meters, and being in a room where large metal things were clanking. (I'm since over it; I've been exposed to it in enough things.)

Now, I was no quitter. I should have just noped out. But I didn't. I continued to traumatize myself. The next part of the film until the climax I don't remember so well - it wasn't as traumatizing - EXCEPT for the part where Ginger finds and rebuilds Rocky's circus poster. And now, as an adult, I can see how that was kinda supposed to be funny, like, "The goddamn chicken padded his résumé and the way they found this out was a circus poster." But little me was invested in these chickens, I wanted them to be happy, and what I saw was basically their death notice being signed with that scrap of paper with a cannon on it. I FELT that in my bones.

STILL NOT HAVING THE GOOD SENSE TO JUST EJECT THE TAPE ALREADY, I proceeded to the climax, in which what happens to Tweedy might be one of the most fucking awful things I've seen ever? Pinned upside-down in a superheated, confined space with rising liquid from below as the pressure meter starts climbing again. And her husband arrives just in time to see her like this but not in time to actually stop the explosion. Thank God it didn't actually kill her because even though I was already traumatized, that would've absolutely made it worse.

Thing is, ever since this movie scared the absolute shit out of me - and was probably the cause of the weird stomachaches I had for A WEEK after - I've kinda had this thing about reclaiming the scary parts and stomping on them while laughing maniacally. I feel like every time I've done a crossover project, there's been a temptation to write in an arc where the mains go up against THE PIE MACHINE and fucking win. And also there's whump with tons of comfort in my version to mitigate it all. I haven't done any such thing for TBTC...YET. But I know what I must do. I know who must destroy the machine and the Tweedys along with it. Buckle your seatbelts.

My final word before I move on is that as I ascend into adulthood, I think that for the most part, a rewatch of this film wouldn't traumatize me so badly. It'd still be gross and creepy in a way I think shouldn't be sent to children without warning, but I could deal with the imagery, maybe enjoy using it as whump fuel even more, maybe my horror side would really get into the peril this time. But the one thing I've realized is that this premise is fucked EVEN MORE if you're a grown-up, because as a child, you're sympathizing with the chickens. You want them to get free of this death camp environment. But as an adult, you start to realize that all Tweedy wanted to do was be a chicken farmer who sold pie, and her supposedly nonsentient animals ganged up on her in a display of unheard-of intellect among farm stock. This would then lead to her undergoing at least one near-death fate. Think about being a farmer in our world and the animals you keep GANG UP ON YOU LIKE PEOPLE because you're killing them for food. No thank you, no THANK you.

But surely this was a one-of-a-kind phenomenon. Surely, after this...after so many other people agreed with me; "Fuck Chicken Run"...no animation studio would ever pull shit like this again.

I had hoped that was the case until Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs.

This is one I don't actually see lambasted as often. Maybe because the Chicken Run trauma crew grew thicker skins before this movie. I only sort of did. Maybe because no one ever actually invested in this film, having already predicted how much it would be garbage from the dumb humor in the trailers. Oh, but not me. I was a fool. Also my family picked it for a movie night so my fate was sealed anyway.

The original book is actually pretty frightening on its own. Food falls from the sky in such great numbers that it starts to destroy the world. Okay, that's terrifying. But kind of in the alluring way. I would keep coming back to the one page about the giant pancake on the school because the way it was drawn unsettled me so, with something huge and immovable blocking off the way to a building that usually has hundreds of innocent children inside. The film built on this and made it a thousand times worse.

Let's start with the goddamn Spray-On Shoe. Our main character is a mad scientist (but the good kind, apparently) whose list of bumbling failed experiments dates back to when he was a child and invented a spray you could put on your feet to coat them in shoes. He then gets laughed at because he didn't engineer a way to get the shoes off, and runs home in humiliation. Guys, the teasing/bullying factor is...not the most worrying thing about this story. There's a throwaway line about how Flint wears THE SAME SHOES into adulthood because to that day they simply cannot be removed. This seems like an incredibly urgent medical problem? Having your feet encased in the same rubber for years? The same rubber as when you're a kid? I just found myself thinking "What if my shoes never came off one day" and that terrifies me, okay? It's stupid and it's silly and it scares me. Even more than that, though, is the canonization of a polymer in this universe that can be sprayed on sticky and will literally never break no matter what you do to it, because that goes back to the pie machine dough principle. Being glued to a surface permanently is inherently terrifying and we'll go over this later because this is not the last fuckin time the glue shoes get brought up.

Flint invents a food-spewing machine. It ends up in the sky. He rides his popularity as it rains larger and larger food down upon the town and also the world. Most of this film up until the climax is unsettling but not AWFUL. Where it starts to go to shit is when Flint realizes his machine is too dangerous and shuts it off, only for the town's local greedy politician to switch it back on into an apocalyptic mode. So can we start with "Local town finds out its elected official is willing to sabotage their well-being in order to capitalize on the fame of a disaster-causing object?". Like, the whole film would've been solved so much sooner if there hadn't been a saboteur in the works - not a fun campy villain, mind you, but a saboteur who exists to drive the plot to the scary place. But I guess we need that narrative tension to justify having a film in the first place, so fine, I'll ride it out.

The main crew saddles up to fly out to the machine, which is now encased in a FLESH LABYRINTH of food, and...I'm just gonna rapid-fire the shit that happens at this part:

-The food turns sentient in order to defend itself. The cute animal sidekick brutally dismembers an army of gummy bears that is fully sentient and rips them apart to devour them.

-We enter the flesh labyrinth and it's exactly as much a horror RPG setting as you think it is.

-Now sentient cooked chickens besiege the party. The comic relief character is consumed by one, only to kill it from the inside and decide to WEAR ITS SKIN in what is seen as his defining character arc's conclusion. Wearing the skin of a dead monster allows him to forge his new identity.

-One of our party has to go back because of a tight passage lined with her deadly allergen, causing her to undergo anaphylaxis after an accidental mild nick. In the flesh labyrinth.

-The entire horrific journey is instantly INVALIDATED when it turns out that instead of the kill code for the machine, all Flint has is a file of a cat video. Which he finds out as the town is about to be obliterated off the face of the earth.

-So he solves it by jamming the works with the spray-on shoe and DID I NOT JUST GO OVER HOW HORRIFIC INDUSTRIAL EXPLOSIONS ARE IN KIDS' MOVIES? DID I NOT? ARE WE REALLY DOING THIS AGAIN? Anyway it's canonical proof that NOTHING can break the shoe glue and I should be happy for the town and happy that there's no more flesh labyrinth of living meat but instead I'm just terrified because of the door we have opened. We have imparted the existence of an indestructible sticky polymer upon the world.

-It's later seen used in a credits sequence to repair damaged houses. Which, first of all, given its flexible nature, is fuckin stupid. It won't serve as an actual wall. Second, that got me thinking about construction accidents involving the fuckin shoe glue. If that stuff gets dripped on a person's face -

-So then cue me sitting awake in bed later thinking wide-eyed about Cloudy with a Chance of Fucking Meatballs and realizing that this compound that is essentially a chemical weapon in the making is now in the hands of the mayor who deliberately caused an apocalyptic event over the town because he wanted the food rain. And THAT'S not going to lead to pretty circumstances.

I think you'll see that a lot of my fears with these two movies is "THINK OF THE IMPLICATIONS!" and I think that just shows how my mind works and why I'm drawn to fanfic so much. I'm all about diving into a universe, exploring its corners, analyzing it to death.

And with the industrial horror stuff, I kinda wanna bring it around to two other films that actually really subverted my expectations and made it fun. 102 Dalmatians was a fave of mine through middle school, but I remember when the climax took us to a big ol' factory and I got plumb nervous. After the usual blades and ovens of horror, the fact that it concludes with Cruella basically wearing a cake and a lengthy montage of the dogs kicking toppings onto her is just one of the most wholesome imageries. She survived the thing and now you get to watch her be decorated Lisa Frank style by her victims who are more interested in humiliation than murder, and I love that.

But maybe more prevalent is that I'm well aware that if certain filmography or plot points had been handled in different ways, The Boxtrolls might've actually frightened the ever-loving fuck out of me what with all the industrial stuff and medical horror, but I just...felt like that film was holding my hand the whole way through going "It's okay." The industrial stuff was framed in a way that was just campy enough and yet also taken seriously. Putting a really charismatic villain - ACTUAL VILLAIN, NOT CHICKEN FARMER OR CORRUPT POLITICIAN SABOTEUR - at the wheel was just such a mitigating factor that it gelled the whole thing together and I ended up LOVING what was done with giant machines and garbage crushers and explosions. And as for the medical body horror, I really appreciate how it was so baked in that Snatcher did that to himself - that everyone, EVERYONE warned him "Do not do this, you will probably die, I'm serious, bad fucking idea" up to the point of Eggs trying to plead him during an anaphylaxis attack, one last time, DO NOT continue down this path, we can find a way to heal you psychologically and get you some self-fulfillment. And Snatcher fully chooses hubris over the many, many opportunities offered him to be able to step down onto a safer path and that removes the fear and pulls it more into a tragedy for the villain. Not at all the same thing as "Sam the reporter is trying to save the world and doing her best until a fixture of the landscape accidentally sends her into anaphylaxis."

(Oh, and by the way, can I just - when I do see CWACOM brought up these days, it's always in the context of "This is the one movie where the guy tells the girl it's okay to look nerdy!". Well, no, not the way I remember it. The way I remember it, Sam basically tells Flint "I used to have really tacky style but have since changed it up of my own volition" and Flint is just like "NOOOOO YOU NEED TO WEAR GLASSES AND A SCRUNCHIE. I WANT A HOT NERD GIRL." This could've been pulled off right with some more introspection into female beauty standards, even in a tongue-in-cheek way, but right now it really looks like Sam just wanted to make herself more glam for a new image and Flint bullied her into regressing her style. Which I've also realized meant he bullied her into dressing more like she did as a teenager and normally I think that kind of shit is just "You're overthinking it" but since it's CWACOM and I spelled it out on paper like that, I'm just now realizing how that can be seen as pretty...icky.)

The one saving grace of CWACOM is that I was older by that time, and so it didn't affect me as hard as Chicken Run. But I still hold it dearly to my heart as one of the MOST DISTURBING movies I know, and by "dearly" I mean "fuck this movie, really and truly." I want to extend my thanks to 102D and Boxtrolls for giving me industrial-horror-based climaxes that were actually really comfortable, and again, probably what drove both of these was the fact that we had a campy diva villain in the lead for the potential scary stuff to surround and radiate off. Not a fuckin...ordinary chicken farmer who is just trying to make bank but is somehow passed as a Nazi allegory for trying to live her life as a farmer? I dunno, maybe if I rewatched that film I'd see she has a thirst for human blood too, and if I could fix fic Chicken Run my first order of business would be to give her a thirst for human blood instead of/in addition to chickens.

Anyway. Fuck both these films, EXCEPT for the fact that traumatizing scenarios can always be recast as whump material, and the next time I wanna do some crossover aftercare from a physically and psychologically damaging mission, I have a pie machine and a flesh labyrinth to exploit. REALLY HEAVY ON THAT AFTERCARE COMFORT THOUGH!

[lihikainanea]

Could we please have some angst?? Maybe Bill was spotted out with a beautiful actress or his ex, but Tiger wasn’t aware of that meeting which breaks her heart because she thinks that their thing is probably going to end now that Bill is interested in going out someone else.

oh fuck, my poor wee heart.

I’ll bet it kind of happens when he’s away too, right?

Follow me down this angsty rabbit hole. Let’s go with the ex theory. The Case of The Ex (where my early 2000s kids at? Anyone?). Maybe it’s one of those terrible ex’s too. I low key kind of love Alexis Knapp--girl’s got some fucking edge to her, something just a little insane--but apparently she’s the one he was talking about when he referenced some seriously fucked up, dangerous relationship in a few interviews. Which isn’t cool--but let’s go with something like that. Maybe it was when Bill was in his early 20′s, there’s still a lot you learn about yourself in that time and you get into bad relationships. Damaging relationships. You’re still figuring yourself out, still figuring out this whole adulthood thing, and you’re bound to make mistakes. I don't think anyone can be faulted for being a shitty person on some level in their early 20s, and for some reason I think Bill might have been a big time shitty dude.

But look--his ex is some big time actress. Beautiful, by all accounts. Maybe their relationship was pretty hyped by the press too--the paps would legitimately follow them, mostly for her, whether or not they were called. And tiger’s at home, missing her big dude, catching up on trashy reality TV and that’s when she starts to see it--pictures. A picture of him, hugging her. Laughing. A lot of pictures.

And what tiger doesn’t know is that Bill was out to dinner that night, a cast dinner, and his ex happened to be at the restaurant. What tiger doesn’t know is Bill’s blood ran cold when he saw her, he tried to avoid her, did anything he could to just leave before she saw him--but it didn’t work. What tiger doesn’t know is that Bill cringed, gritted his teeth, tried to step away from the hug but the girl flung herself at him with too much enthusiasm. Tiger didn’t see his grimace, didn’t see that the hug lasted barely a nano second before he pulled away and stepped back from her. Tiger didn’t see his eyes noticing the paps in the bushes, tiger didn’t see that that’s what made him force a smile. Tiger didn’t see that the entire interaction lasted about 4 seconds.

And tiger didn’t hear the conversation, didn’t hear the girl tell Bill that they should reconnect, go for dinner while he’s in town.

Most importantly, tiger didn’t hear Bill’s venomous response.

“No,” he deadpanned, “And get fucked.”

Tiger didn’t see him walk away and not even spare the girl a glance.

Tiger only saw the pictures.

And listen, I talk a lot about tiger wallowing in her own emotions, becoming a martyr. But let’s talk about tiger’s fire here. Because she’s still her, she’s still every bit the terrifying ball of fury that Bill fell in love with, and the one thing that will get tiger’s blood boiling every fucking time is competition. And women don’t compete with women--that’s lame. But tiger only ever HEARD of this girl from Bill, knew how she hurt him, knew the kind of hell he fought through, and this girl is now thousands of miles away putting her hands on what is tiger’s.

Tiger wants to kill them both. And she doesn’t even bother taking a few calming breaths before she calls him--is it a FaceTime? Oh, it’s a FaceTime. She wants to see his face while she destroys him.

And he answers--happy and cherubic, a big smile on his face.

“Hi kid,” he says cheerfully.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she seethes.

Bill is confused.

“You tall fucking fuck,” she says, “Fuck you, you seriously think that--”

“Whoa, kid,” he grimaces, “Easy on the fucks.”

“Easy?” she spits, “Oh, okay. Let’s talk easy.”

And I’ll bet she just goes off. And somewhere in there, Bill finally figures out what’s going on. Because in between all the fucks, she relays the story as she knows it--just you know, it’s a much more elaborate version than what actually happened. And Bill? Ohhh, tiger’s anger is revving him up. But it’s revving up every single dominant trait in him, and all he’s trying to do is get to a place quiet enough where he can snap back--put her in her place the way she’s practically begging for it, and not be heard. He finally ducks away somewhere isolated.

“Enough,” he interrupts her, “You really think this is the way it’s gonna go, kid?”

“You’re the one who--”

“Listen to me,” he hisses, “Tiger, there is going to be a boarding pass in your email in the next hour. If you want to come at me like this, then you can fucking do it to my face.”

“Fuck you,” she spits, “I’m not fucking--”

“You’re getting on the plane, tiger,” he snaps.

“Fucking make me.”

“Fucking try me, kid,” he growls.

She hangs up. The boarding pass comes in 10 minutes later, without a note. And later on that night, before bed, Bill calls her again--because he won’t ever let her go to bed without calling her, but tiger is MUCH more petty and she lets it go to voicemail.

“If you’re not in my hotel room tomorrow night, you’re in big, big trouble kid,” his velvety smooth voice threatens, “Goodnight, I love you, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And she almost doesn't do it. She almost stays home--but her only motivation is that she wants to look at him, wants to stand there in front of him and rip him apart for this.

And Bill’s not stupid either--he recognizes her anger, but he also recognizes its true form. Insecurity. Vulnerability. (And it’s not ever an excuse to yell, but tiger isn’t yelling at HIM. She’s also not calling him names, because that’s never okay.)

And ohhhh boy, when tiger gets to the hotel room the next day, Bill is just waiting for her. Already nursing his third glass of scotch, tiger opens the door and unceremoniously throws her bag to the floor. Whips her jacket off, slams it on the bed.

“You want to talk, bud?” she snaps, “Let’s fucking talk.”

“Oh no no, kid,” Bill says with mock amusement, “You seemed to have so much to say to me yesterday, so you’ll be doing the talking.”

But look, tiger is just...tiger is a little less bold when she’s there in front of him--just like Bill knew she would be. She’s a little less courageous, like he knew she would be. And the power dynamic is shifting again, back to its natural state when it comes to these two, and both can feel it. Bill stands then, draws up to his full height. He walks slowly towards her, glaring her down the whole time, and suddenly tiger is losing her nerve in a big way. He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of her, glowering down at her, their chests touching.

“Talk,” he demands. Tiger swallows hard, tries to grasp on to any ounce of anger that is rapidly leaving her body.

“She--”

“Who?” Bill snaps. Tiger makes a frustrated noise.

“You know who,” she says, shoving at his chest and turning away--but he grabs her elbow, whips her back around to face him.

“Who, tiger?” he asks harshly.

“Her,” she barks out, “Your ex.”

“What about her?” he says.

“The two of you,” tiger tries to keep her tone harsh, accusatory, angry--but it’s not working.

“What about it?”

“Fucking having dinner like old times, eh?” she snaps and shoves him away, but Bill’s not having it. He regains his footing and slams her back into the wall, grabbing her face in his hand.

“What did you see?” he asks. Tiger tries to shake out of his grip but it’s too tight.

“The two of you,” she snarls, “At dinner, having a great time.”

Bill jams his knee between hers, pinning her.

“What did you see?” he demands again.

“You and her,” she says, “In love like you used to be, you fucking--”

“Tiger,” he snaps, “I don’t give a shit what you think happened. What did you see?”

He’s trying to get a point across. Trying to make her realize that her mind filled in a million blanks for her, and blew this entire thing way out of proportion.

“Photos,” she says, and her answer this time is much gentler, “Photos of you and her. You were laughing, and you hugged her.”

He steps away from her then, shoves down on her shoulders to put her on her knees.

“No,” she fights back, swats him away. But he overpowers her, hooks a foot behind hers so she falls in a heap, and he grabs her face in his hands. He looks angry, he looks like a man on fire, and his grip is harsh.

“Four seconds,” he growls, “That entire interaction lasted four seconds. I wasn’t at dinner with her, I was at dinner with the cast and she happened to be at the same restaurant.”

Tiger swallows hard, but he’s not letting up. She reaches a hand up to try and touch him in some way--his chest, his arm, but he smacks it away and grabs her face again.

“Look at me,” he demands, “I didn’t hug her. She saw the paparazzi and went for it--I tried to step back, step out of the way, but she lunged. I laughed to not cause more of a scene, tiger.”

His eyes are unblinking, intense as they bore into hers.

“And when she asked to see me again, you know what I told her? I told her to get fucked, tiger. I don’t ever want to see her again,” he says.

Tiger stays silent, tries to hold his gaze.

“Four seconds,” he repeats.

He lets her go then, releases his grip on her face and stands back up. He goes to pour another scotch, but when tiger puts a foot on the floor to stand he snaps his fingers at her.

“No no, you can go ahead and stay like that for awhile,” he says. But tiger can’t.

“Yellow,” she mumbles, and Bill turns to her immediately. He softens, walking over to help her stand and she keeps her hands on his arms so he stays close.

“Is that really what happened?” she asks lowly, “That’s all?”

“That’s all, kid,” he says.

“I thought that...” she pauses, takes a deep breath, “I thought that you maybe started to want...something else. Someone else.”

“I don’t,” he says softly.

“I thought that maybe we were...that this was done.”

“It’s not.”

“I thought that maybe you didn’t want me anymore,” she says, and it breaks his heart. He ducks his head, bending to catch her gaze. 

“I do,” he says, stroking his thumb across her cheek.

“And god she’s such an asshole,” tiger says, and Bill chuckles at that.

“She is,” he agrees, but then he takes her face gently in his hands again and gives her a sweet kiss.

“You, kid,” he says simply. 

Tiger sighs, nodding as she pulls him in for another kiss.

[novantinuum]

Shattering Atlas (a corrupted!Steven one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (TW: depression and body horror)

Words: 4.2K~

Summary: A boy can only carry an entire galaxy upon his back for so long before the weight of it all finally becomes too much.

Folks, here it is! I’m finally finished. AO3 link to be posted in the reblogs.

Disclaimer: This is absolutely far darker and more drastic than I believe canon would EVER tread if this theory had the faintest chance of being anywhere close to the truth, but sometimes you just feel like being super angsty for angst's sake, y'feel? It was an interesting writing experiment nonetheless. Not gonna lie, this is kinda a vent piece. Please do heed those tags. This delves into some difficult territory both mentally and otherwise, as it's written entirely from Steven's POV.

_____

Steven knows he’s messed-up.

It’s not something he tries to advertise to all the sweet, innocent people who somehow after all this time still choose to stand by his side, but he can’t lie to himself. Spending a significant chunk of your childhood actively doubting your own personhood shatters you in ways no amount of unconditional love can ever hope to mend. And sure, he’s not his mom. He knows that. Been there, had the mental breakdown, seen it, done it. The proof’s in his gem half. He knows. But as much as everyone in his life coddles him, gently tries to reassure him while he tirelessly works day and night to realign the foundation of an entire ancient civilization...

“You’re almost an adult now, isn’t that exciting?”

“Don’t worry about the future, the futures I see for you are as limitless as they are bright.”

“Take a break if you need to, ‘kay? You totally deserve one, little man.”

“Y’know, Schtu-ball, the wonderful thing about adulthood is that you can choose to fly wherever the wind takes you!”

...it’s clear none of that matters anyways. Because it’s not true, not for him. Because beyond his identity as a Crystal Gem, beyond that bottomless desire for belonging he’s been chasing all his life, ever since the fateful moment early in his childhood in which he finally realized— small, pudgy hands clutching at the oversized hand-me-down shirt right over the pink hand-me-down gem in his belly— that he isn’t like anyone else and never will be, the truth is that he genuinely doesn’t know what he wants. Who he is.

Everyone else does.

Connie has plans. Hopes, dreams. A future. She’s already thinking about college, and aims on double majoring in political science and environmental science. (A combination only she’s daring enough to pursue, but if anyone’s got the drive to succeed in that it’s her.) Dad’s still manager for Sadie Killer and the Suspects, and they’re going strong. Amethyst has been playing tour guide to all her fellow Prime sisters lately, galavanting with them all around planet Earth. Garnet is currently on the search for terrified cross-fusion Gems still in hiding across the galaxy. Pearl, Bismuth, and a number of the boardies have spearheaded a campaign to help slowly teach and integrate the humans of the Zoo into modern day society. Lapis and Peridot recently built another barn in the outskirts of Little Homeworld, and are enjoying each other’s company.

But him? When all is said and done, as the restructured Gem society stabilizes and soon no one will need him for anything anymore, when Gems and humans alike stop knocking on his metaphoric door with handfuls of their problems for him to drop everything and solve, he has nothing left. He’s no one. No future, no clue. He’s been drained empty.

He’s just drifting through life with the parking break on, continuously waiting— his nerves jittering at every quiet moment— for the next big crisis to crash into his universe and drop feed him even the tinniest shard of purpose.

After all, what is one to do when they’ve spent their entire life training to save the world, but the world has already been saved?

_____

He can’t recall exactly when his current predicament began anymore.

Time’s been hard to keep track of as of late— the days and weeks blending together in an incomprehensible fashion— and yet simultaneously, he might as well have lived a lifetime in the span of the blink of an eye. That being said, he’s pretty sure his most recent gem troubles didn’t truly kick into gear until after the incident with the, erm... cactus monstrosities.

He genuinely didn’t mean to hurt anyone, he didn’t. He only wanted to help... to heal. To try and repair but a shred of the damage Homeworld wrought on this innocent world. It worked when Earth was poisoned, so it should work in the Kindergartens too, right?

Wrong. Very wrong.

His stomach churns as he catches a glimpse of a silly photo of Peridot and himself hanging on the wall by the stairs. A static monument to his shame. Lapis is (still, days later— or is it weeks?) taking care of her gemstone at this very moment, sure, but remembering what happened before that... holding Peridot’s cracked gem in his quivering hands, biting back cries of hopelessness as he ran to the nearest warp pad, escaping from the malformed, hurting creatures born of his own magic... it‘s the kind of horror that he’s sure will linger in his dreams for a long time yet.

It’s like he’s broken. Like his powers just aren’t coming as naturally to him anymore. It’s not quite like that time with the rejuvenator. There’s no sickly glow flickering in and out of existence. No external force acting upon it. No, it’s deeper than that. It’s not a gem sourced problem, it’s him. He’s just... wrong. He’ll try to use his healing ability and it’ll backfire, he’ll summon his bubbles and shields but they’re noticeably less durable, he’ll birth life from his very soul and it’ll grow bitter and corrupt, every bit a mirror of his present mental state. He’ll jump up high in the sky to burn out years of repressed stress in semi-peace and before he can actually do so gravity will grab ahold of him like he’s a petulant, disobedient child and drag him back to the shore. It makes him want to scream, to grind his fingers into the sand so hard his knuckles go white as he sobs out every last one of his stupid, meaningless frustrations, but instead his house is always swarming with people, and his bedroom has no real door, (and he’s too embarrassed to ask for one), and in sum he can never find enough time alone to freely be his genuine messed-up self. It’s fine, though. He doubts he’s capable of crying at this point anyways.

“Dude, you okay?” Amethyst asks with brows furrowed in concern, snapping him back to reality.

His GameStation controller rests precariously in his loose grasp, entirely forgotten in the previous moment. The game they’re playing is paused. He must have blanked out again, and completely ruined their co-op fight. He lets out a shaky breath as he tightens his fingers around the plastic grips, digging into them as if they’re his sole handle on reality.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says swiftly, plastering a smile on his face with the ease of someone who’s been growing adept at this endless charade for months and months. “Didn’t sleep too well last night. Muscle cramps from training, y’know?”

He watches her closely, catalogues every minute shift in her features. Her eyes narrow so slightly that anyone else might’ve missed it. But he doesn’t. He’s observant. He’s gotta be. It’s the only way he’s kept going for this long, the only way he can ensure no one else knows. They don’t need any more worry. Regardless, Amethyst’s lack of subtlety betrays her, because it’s clear she’s searching his expression and body language right back. His chest pounds. Hastily, he holds up the controller, feeling his face go pale under her scrutiny.

Geeze, how pathetic.

No matter how hard he tries to mask it, he‘s already falling apart.

“So... we gonna play another round, or?” Right as he says this, his stomach chooses to let out an inopportune gurgle. He bites at the insides of his cheeks, inwardly cursing at the bad timing.

It’s thankfully enough to divert Amethyst’s attention from... other matters, though.

“Yo. Ste-man. Your stomach’s straight up monologuing. Have you even eaten today?”

He dimly considers this as he tries not to focus on how empty and faint his body currently feels, mind turning to fuzz. “Uhh...”

She frowns, and promptly pulls herself to her feet. “Yeah, so I’m gonna take that as a no. I’ll be right back, ‘kay? Gonna get us some cheese!” she declares bombastically, putting on a mock announcer voice.

He watches her leave his room, prancing downstairs like she doesn’t have a care in the world. A faint huff of sheer relief passes through his nostrils. Absentmindedly, his thumbs jiggle the controller’s joystick, unable to strike the earlier image of Amethyst— concern engulfing her usually carefree self— from his mind. He really should be more careful about what he says. How he acts.

He honestly couldn’t live with himself if he slipped up and became yet another emotionally taxing problem for them to deal with. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl... all his family, his friends. They deserve peace. They deserve to be satisfied, they deserve their happily ever after. They certainly don’t deserve him, self-destructing all over the bright and shining future they’d won.

Or nearly shattering them.

Putting them in needless danger, danger that’s all his fault, because he’s broken.

His throat grows tight, airway constricted, images of black beady eyes, razor sharp fangs, and malformed limbs invading his thoughts, clawing away at insecurities long scabbed over until they ooze a bitter red. Peridot’s shrill yelp as she’s overtaken in an instant. That dreadful, immediately recognizable sound, a cracking Gem, seared onto his heart for the rest of time.

He... he can’t deny it anymore. His magic’s gone toxic. He’s toxic, bringing suffering and decay where once he brought healing. All his Gem powers are fading, maybe forever. And with them fading, he’ll soon be of no use to anyone, and when they realize why they faded they won’t want him around anyways, and y’know, it’s probably for the better they’ll have a concrete reason to finally push him away. He’s not stupid. He’s always known what an emotionally taxing strain he’s been on everyone, ever since the day Mom died for him to be born.

Steven grips the controller so hard that his fingers grow numb, mind stewing in the dark fantasies of what he’d like to do with himself when he’s left behind for good.

And then... his heart leaps in his throat as he dimly hears Amethyst begin to whisper to the others (they’re back? They’re back?? When did they return, why didn’t you notice them, how could you just miss—) downstairs.

“Y’guys,” he hears her say frantically, under her breath, “I think we really gotta talk with Steven. Something’s seriously wrong, and he won’t tell me what.”

“What, you mean to say he’s in danger? Garnet, do you see anything?”

“Hmm. I don’t foresee any external threats to Steven’s safety in the near future, but...”

“Amethyst, he’s clearly still upset about Peridot. And once she reforms in a few days, when she’s ready, he’ll be fine! Trust me.“

“No, trust me, I genuinely think this is more than just Peridot! It’s getting me super worried. He hasn’t been eating like he should, y’guys. I don’t think he’s showered in days. Sometimes it’s like he’s... I dunno, like, he isn’t even fully present. And y’know, thinking about it now? It’s been like this for a while. Since before all the cactus stuff.”

“Well, if he doesn’t want to talk about it, I’m not sure how we could—“

“We need to call Greg over,” Garnet interrupts Pearl, a new, thinly veiled panic rising in her voice. “Right now.”

His eyes stretch open wide.

Oh.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no... Not here, not now, not— please, not now!

His breath hastens, his body outright shaking now. He curls tight into himself, the game controller dropping from his slackened fingers onto the floor as he clutches his knees to his chest. Sweat beads in droplets on his forehead. He outright yanks at his hair.

Amethyst, she can’t just waltz downstairs and!—

I don’t want to—

Peridot, getting cracked, I- it’s all my fault and she didn’t—

I- all of this- I’m so useless, careless, l- I’m losing my mind, what’s even wrong- why are you panicking!- I don’t—

T-they can’t know, they can’t know, they CAN’T—

He can’t fully bite back his cries as his gem flares burning hot, a rush of pure, unadulterated agony spiking through his hard light veins in an indescribably eternal split-second, the very experience of hypocrisy. Every single muscle in his body seizes. His ears ring, filled with a cacophonous clamor of sound that slashes through his mind with the deadly force of a long blade. Crippling. Debilitating. All-consuming. Hell. This is hell. Because then his head is pounding, and his limbs are all weak and shaky, and for a moment he’s bathed in a faint wash of pink, the glow enveloping him like his own corona of sickness as he succumbs to the pain he’s sequestered inside, bitterly festering for all these years.

Hell eventually recedes, both its note and its physical touch, but the dark clouds looming over his mind do not. Slowly, he loosens his grip on his curls, trying desperately to bring balance to his breathing. His ears are still ringing. His head is still cotton. Questions abound. For instance: what on Earth was that?? Stars, is something else wrong with his gem now, too? Thoroughly disorientated, he yanks up the hem of his shirt.

“Steven?!” Pearl calls frantically from downstairs, right as his trembling fingers gently trace the exposed facets of his gem. “Are you okay up there?”

He squints, features compressing in his sheer confusion. Visually, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it. No imperfections, no flickering light, nothing. So then what’s—

“Hey, Steven? Yo?? You, uh- maybe wanna come eat downstairs, or?”

A shudder runs clear through his form, starting from his gem and coursing outwards to the furthest extremities. He grits his teeth as he rides through the stabbing discomfort, clutching at his stomach. It’s like he’s about to vomit. Sure, so maybe he was really hungry before, and maybe that has a little to do with what he’s experiencing now, but... this... still doesn’t feel right. Spots swim in his vision as he glances down again.

And that’s when he sees it, slowly creeping across the skin of his bare forearm as clear as day.

It’s a patch of dull, pinkish hide. Not human skin, hide. He runs his index finger along its perimeter, all of reality screeching to a halt as his brain performs somersaults in a desperate last-ditch attempt to contextualize the information his eyes are sending him right now.

“What?” he whispers in disbelief, (even though he has a few terrifying theories), frantic heartbeat pounding in his ears like a drum.

“I’m checking on him,” Garnet says, just loud enough that he knows for certain she intends him to hear. Solid footsteps creep across the floorboards, advancing towards the foot of the stairs.

It’s frankly impressive how fast a single stimulus can turn panic to outright paranoia.

He almost trips over himself diving to retrieve his jacket off the floor, forcing his arms through the sleeves faster than any of the Gems could ever summon their weapons. Hide it. Hide it away. They can’t see you, they can’t know you’re corru- NO! Stop.

Bathroom. He needs to get to the bathroom.

His bare feet solidly connect with the floor, toes curling inwards as he shudders again. A pulsing ache settles into the bones of his skull. Then a prickle at his neck. Reflexively, he slaps his hand against the affected locale. There’s another spot steadily growing there.

Alone, NOW.

The whole world’s spinning as he turns on his heels and flies across the length of his bedroom— sprinting past the TV, shoving past Garnet, who’s already halfway up the open stairwell, and leaping clear over the couch from midway down the last set of steps. (Everyone’s shouting in blind panic as he enters their sight. Fear. Needless, unwanted worry. Calling his name, calling for peace, but his ears are still ringing and their voices are overlapping and he can’t distinguish any of it.) When he reaches the bathroom his hand grips the knob so hard that the metal almost crumples under his force, and he swings himself through the doorway, slams it shut, and turns the lock with pink-splotched fingers faster than any one of the Gems can move to stop him.

For a split moment, things are okay. He’s alone. Moreover, he’s safe.

(But are you really?)

His head is pounding again, the pulsing at his temples soon coalescing into a constant inescapable misery. Letting his eyes flutter shut, he lets his forehead lull against the door. Flexes his knuckles, imagines the splotches disappearing from sight as easily as eye bags under makeup. He tries to calm his breathing in the meditative way Garnet once showed him. In for four counts... and out. In... and out. Come on, just ride it out, Universe. You’re a Gem- a diamond, for cripe’s sake! Control it. Conceal. Move on.

“Steven?!” Amethyst calls from outside. “Please talk to us, what’s goin’ on?”

"Whatever it is, you don't have to be alone!" Pearl adds. He doesn't even have to see her face to know that she's crying.

A renewed burst of panic spikes through his veins at this realization.

“Stop worrying about me, I’m fine!” he bites back on impulse.

“No, you’re NOT!” Amethyst hollers, and then... after a thoughtful pause, her tone softening: “I- I know you’re not.”

He stares down at his hands, brows threading together, watching as the patch of hide continues to inch across his skin. The genuine concern interlaced in every syllable of her speech is enough to make his gut churn with guilt.

“Steven, I... stars, I know you probably overheard me talking to everyone jus’ a second ago, and I know I probably betrayed every scrap of trust we ever had ‘coz of that, and I wanna say I’m sorry, but I can’t just stand aside and watch you treat yourself like garbage. Please, the door’s jammed. Let us in. We just wanna help!”

His lip quivers, despite himself. “I don’t need any help!” he insists, stubbornly pushing past the crack in his voice. “I’m just—“

He’s interrupted by a rush of crippling agony radiating upwards from his gem once more, the ache at either side of his head intensifying into three points. Hands rush to the site on automatic. Fingers grasping, searching. Discovering.

There’s something growing at his temples, he realizes with a rush of horror. Something hard, faceted. Disturbingly cold to the touch.

There’s no way to bite back his screams as the growths fully protrude, none at all, even with his mouth clamped shut, and even though he can’t see them he can sense their weight as they wind upwards and back, up and out of his curls, and he’s shaking, oh stars is he shaking, chest heaving up and down so hard he’s not sure he’ll ever be free of these awful tremors ever again, and— A hoarse sob forces its way to the surface as a third growth crowns his forehead. Trembling fingers scrape down the length of the door as he collapses to his knees, nails sharpening into gnarled talons as they sink further and further into the wood, carving through it like butter. He clenches his jaw back together so hard that with any greater pressure he might shatter his own teeth.

Still quite woozy under the threat of hyperventilation, he slowly turns his head. Extricates those dreadful claws from the door. Dares himself to look. Forcing himself back up to his feet, he gazes deep into the depths of the mirror. And as the creature trapped on the other side stares back through sickeningly pink irises— blotches of color steadily creeping up their jawline and across their cheek, inching to meet the base of those glistening crystalline horns— all known reality shatters into smithereens.

Not me, not me, not me, is the mantra he chants to himself like a prayer, stubbornly clinging to any vestige of normalcy as if this is all but a vivid nightmare he can stir awake from.

(As if deep down, a tiny, beaten-down part of himself still wants to believe he deserves a future too.)

But the darkness reflected in that mirror is following his every jerky, erratic movement as all the despair and guilt and self-hatred festering within continues to consume him like a matchstick to fire.

Not real. It’s not real! I don’t need help. I don’t need the Gems, they don’t need to know, I’m fine, I’m FINE, this isn’t corru - NO, DON’T THINK ABOUT IT! YOU CAN’T—

They’re yelling outside. Arguing, probably. (And true to form, Pearl‘s cries are the shrillest.) But he can’t be certain of anything anymore while smothered under the fog’s thickening surface, with the rest of the world relegated to mere static and stimuli. Not a word, not a clue. No way to know if it’s an argument about him or with him.

And in his mind their distress stands as yet another sign. Just another slice of proof that they truly are at their happiest without him, that his continued existence only serves as a complication. He can’t deny it anymore. He can’t lie, can’t tiptoe around the inevitable truth; like this, he’s nothing but a liability. A ticking time bomb, set to shatter everything and everyone in his path. Shaking like a leaf, he unfurls his fists, watching as the dull pink hide overtakes the last clear patches of flesh upon his misshapen, monstrous fingers.

They’re better off without you.

The passing seconds cease to exist as he convulses again, this time centralized at the base of the spinal column. He doubles over, leans into the pain. Rides it through vertebrae by vertebrae, raking his claws deep into the wood floor as a fifth limb emerges from where the spine left off, steadily lengthening— fortifying itself with jagged crystalline spikes as it grows ever longer. Its weight is entirely foreign, yet it shifts upon his slightest command. Panic overruling all logic once more, he thrashes about, the tail swinging across the bathroom counter like a whip. His toothbrush, comb, and other various toiletries he hasn't made use of in days clatter to the floor, abandoned.

R u n.

The thought rampages through his shattered soul like an avalanche. Yanks him by the horns. Consumes his mind and body like a trance. He has to escape from here, from the house, the Gems, has to run quick, before it’s too late and you can’t do anything more but wordlessly scream.

He doesn’t stop to question this impulse. Doesn’t stop to peer at that poor tortured creature in the mirror again. For a moment his claws struggle to grasp the crumpled door knob, fumbling in failure’s wake.

When he finally forces the door open, the whole world holds its breath.

Pearl’s eyes blow wide upon the no-doubt horrifying sight. Her hands fly to her mouth. “Steven?!”

Even Amethyst reacts in an adverse manner, stepping back towards the support of the wall. “Holy...” she breathes, face paling.

And just knowing he’s out here now, every gnarled, nightmarish feature exposed in front of his family like a raw nerve, makes his blotchy, spot-covered skin crawl.

“DON’T LOOK AT ME, I’m FINE!” he hollers as he sprints to the warp pad, barbed tail whipping wildly behind him. Pearl yelps in alarm as she only barely dodges its mace-like swing. Unable to hold back his sobs anymore, he collapses to his knees on the hard crystal. Coils his tail around himself by sheer instinct. Hides his face away behind arms. Hot tears spill from his eyes, vision blurring and sharpening in rhythm to the unbearable ache pounding in his head. “I’m fine,” he whispers pathetically, voice catching.

He can practically feel the vibrations through the floor as someone approaches. It’s Garnet. He doesn’t know how he knows, but it can only be her. His breath hastens against his better wishes. Can’t stop, won’t stop, can’t stop... The vision of the temple door begins to pirouette in dizzy circles around him as he arches his back, and with a sharp gasp feels something tear its way through his shirt and jacket right above his spine, all jagged and spiked and— NO! He grinds his jaw together, shrinking further into himself. Not real. It’s not real, not real, not—

“Steven,” she says in a measured tone as he heaves for air. (No, with hesitation. Fear. She’s hesitating because she’s afraid of you, she’s afraid because you’re a monster NO.) “I know you’re hurting, but I need you to take a deep breath with me, and try to calm down. Please, let us help you...”

A heart wrenchingly familiar hand reaches out to him, adorned by a ruby gem and a golden wedding band. His fingers clamp around thick, greasy curls, brushing against the horns protruding from his temples. A keening cry slips out from his mouth against his better wishes. They want to help. They only want to help...

He peeks at her through the crook of his arm, his most likely reddened, blotchy eyes meeting hers. She’s taken off her visor. She’s crying too.

For a glimmer of a second, he considers reaching out. Taking her offered hand with his own clawed one. But then...

Haven’t you been a burden enough already?

His face screws up, and his hands clench into fists.

“NO,” he shouts, slamming them down upon the warp pad. It activates, (blessedly still accessible at this early stage of corruption NO don’t think about it!!), glowing a bright cyan as he envisions where he wants to go: no particular destination in his mind but away, away, away.

After all, he already knows he’s a monster.

So... he might as well become one too.

_____

Notes:

Some days you just gotta have an entire mental breakdown and go full wyrm, y'hear?

HCs I tapped into for this fic:

After being healed, formerly cracked Gems take longer to reform than Gems who were only poofed. Peridot will be okay eventually, she just hasn’t reformed quite yet.

Steven is still able to warp because he hasn’t quite passed the threshold of corruption that prevents a Gem from accessing the warp stream. I imagine it's very much a matter of mental connection, and having the right presence of mind to tap into it. Probably a few minutes after this, if Steven were to continue going downhill and his mind fully fell into the fog of corruption, he’d no longer be able to warp. He got super lucky here.

This potential future blindsided Garnet because previously- like how Steven’s newfound maturity threw her off as discussed in Pool Hopping- she hadn’t factored in the idea of Steven being in such a low mental state. Amethyst was the first to really see past his attempts to mask it because she personally had dealt with depression like this before and knew what it looked like.

Maybe one day after SUF airs I'll write more on this topic, but as for now this will remain a one-shot. I 100% imagine Steven would ultimately be okay in this timeline, though. They'd be able to help him, stop the corruption. Steven goes to heckin' therapy. He'll live on, he'll begin to recover and cope. But that's a whole 'nother story.

Thank you for reading!