#and convinced themselves this guy was actually the one even though they weren’t

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[heavenlyvision]

replacement pairing: johnny cage/reader wc: 600 warnings: ANGST!!!!!!!, gn!reader, no use of pronouns or y/n a/n; i uhhhh, found an idea i wrote a very long time ago and thought "how fucked up would it be if johnny did this?" and then adapted it for him and rewrote some stuff :3 hehe i love you guys (please don't be mad) </3 ANGST UNDER CUT

His hands trace the curves and contours of your body slowly as you sway in the cool breeze the evening is providing. If you were to be looking from the outside in, this would look like a perfect moment between lovers and while the moment is between two lovers, to you, it feels less than perfect. His mind is elsewhere whilst yours is focused solely on him, on this moment, it hurts to know that he’s thinking about them again.

You never knew who they were, but he had mentioned sparingly that you were like them, you just didn’t know to what extent that was. Sometimes you would do something small, like laugh when you couldn’t quite line all the buttons up on your shirt correctly and he would get this sort of glazed-over look in his eyes with a small, sad smile and you would know that you had done something to remind him of them. It seemed, no matter how hard you tried… everything you did was a memory of them. To him, it was almost like you were them.

When he was with them, he loved freely, easily, limitlessly but it wasn’t enough, and they left him for someone else. He was a shell of himself… until he had met you and you sparkled, you had loved him so certainly, it came effortlessly to you, and that was one of the first times he had made the connection in his head, between the two of you. You were unapologetically yourself, just like they were, it was why he loved them, their fearlessness and ability to just be themselves in a world full of people trying to be someone else. It’s also why he loves you… because to him, you are the same.

Tonight was supposed to be about you and it had started that way. He took you to your favourite restaurant for dinner and then a blissful stroll under the night sky, where you both just talked and enjoyed the moment together. It would’ve been… it could’ve been perfect, if it weren’t for his distant gaze. You ignored it, you did your best anyways, to pretend everything was… perfect.

Back in his apartment he had taken you out onto the balcony and asked to dance, it was silly but appreciated, the soft glow of the moon, the quiet humming of music. It was everything, you had always wanted a night like this and when you asked how he knew… his reply was simple.

“They would’ve loved this too.”

It hurt, it crushed you, it was getting to the point where you weren’t sure if he could differentiate between the two of you anymore. What memories had he made of you and what were the ones of them? Does it even matter to him anymore?

You’d stopped moving and he knew automatically that he’d fucked up, “I’m not them, Johnny,” you’d frowned, “I’m me.”

“I know that, of course I know that, and I love you,” he was lying, and you both knew it, he didn’t love you, he loved the memories of them that he saw in you.

The pain in his eyes was the kind when you fear you might lose someone, he was afraid… not of losing you though, of losing them. You love the happiness you bring him; you love him, you just don’t love that you aren’t the one actually giving him that happiness.

Your head leant onto his chest as you murmured, “Don’t forget it…”

“I love you,” he’d repeated.

You weren’t sure if he were trying to convince you or himself.  

[jthealien]

To key or not to key, that is the question. (Aka I wanted to put my two cents into the “Buddy is a key” theory since Book of Deacon had more people talking about it, for good reason.)

So what do I think? Uh. Well. It’s complicated. I’ll try to keep this organized, but man do I love tangents.

TLDR: Buddy’s not a key, not not a key, but a secret third thing.

First off, Book of Deacon established some pretty major things, specifically that keys can go into books and what keys look like inside of books. I’ll focus on the latter for a bit.

While much more human looking, Silver still retains a lot of her key (ha.) features: partially gray skin, gem eyes, a general sparkliness.

She’s so shiny :D

I’m going to make an assumption that most of those traits (especially the first two) apply to the other keys’ human forms.

And Buddy? Well he doesn’t have any of those. There’s absolutely zero color on that guy that isn’t #FFFFFF, and while his eyes do kind of stare into your soul — they also look like normal human ones.

But we do know that keys can make minor appearance changes to their users. Considering skin modifications like tattoos are possible, who’s to say any key-like features could just be covered up? It hasn’t been stated otherwise, so that can’t be discounted as an option.

But, in Dreams by Night (it’s not one of my rants without me bringing up that episode) we get our first — and to date, only — actual glimpse of Buddy that isn’t in a book or dream.

From what we see of his ear, it doesn’t look very key like. Silver’s ear had some of her key skin tone, so if Buddy was a key, his ear would be a different color as well. It isn’t, though.

But, hypothetically: if Buddy was a key, what key would he be?

I’m almost certain the answer is Violet.

I’ve pointed this out before, but they look really similar. Like, down to the eye color, eye shape, and weird little smirk.

It’s likely not a coincidence. I can’t really think of a reason why Violet would make any other key look like a more masculine version of herself — or if that’s even possible for her to do.

So yeah, he’d be Violet. (I’ll get into the implications of that later because oh boy.)

If that's the case though, can keys put themselves into books? I mean, maybe?? But I feel like that wouldn’t work. Another reason why I don’t really believe that Buddy is a key.

But I can’t ignore that there’s definitely details that’d be explained by it.

That thing around Buddy’s neck in his dream? Other people have pointed out that it kinda looks like a keyring. And yeah, it really does. I’m not quite sure what else it’d be.

How does Buddy know every detail of every story Chase goes into? Keys have that ability.

Why doesn’t Buddy like water? Well, metals can rust.

There’s another thing I can’t bring up because the episode is in fastpass jail as I’m writing this. But it deals with keys not enjoying being stuck as keys with the keyring. (Other fastpassers know what I’m referring to, I think).

All that being said, I’m going to go over some possibilities. Kind of in order from how little to how much I believe them

1. Buddy is a key, but not Violet

It’s not impossible, but I’ve already mentioned the reasons I’m convinced that if he were a key, he’d be Violet. So I’m going to write this one off for now.

Well uh, I would if it weren’t for Chekov’s Gun (or I guess Chekov’s Keyple, in this case).

Why would Punko use a whole episode to establish that keys can use other keys for books, if that wasn’t going to come up again in some way? I suspect that payoff is going to happen this season. Otherwise, it’d make more sense to introduce this detail later.

Unless the focus isn’t meant to be on that ability of the keys, but rather what the keys look like. In a way this might be meant to prove Buddy couldn’t be a key.

But, for the most part, I believe this option the least.

2. Buddy is a key, and Buddy is Violet

I don’t really think this one is true, but it might be my favorite just for the pure symbolism and potential. I might make an AU about it tbh.

Them being one in the same would be the simplest(?) explanation as to why they look so similar.

It’d also mean, technically, Buddy/Violet is in some way trans. Besides me just thinking that’d be neat (source: I’m trans), it’d also have some fascinating story implications.

Like, Buddy has some pretty heavy identity issues, what with him thinking he has to fit the role of the villain, because he doesn't know how to act outside of that. Chase then shows him he can be more than the expectations placed on him by others. Buddy being transmasc would defensively fit into this too.

It also fits with the story’s themes of breaking conventions. We already see that with Chase and Buddy’s having two keys of the four keys that are gendered — and also the only two specifically stated to be for a female role. What else would be a bigger upheaval of conventions, though, than for the personification of the villainess role to actually be a man?

There could definitely be something there too, of Buddy feeling trapped in the wrong body by resenting being a key.

Do I think the story will go down this route? Eh, probably not. But it’s fun to think about! (I think that’s how I’d describe the whole “Buddy is a key theory” in general).

In terms of evidence against this, barring what I’ve already talked about, there’s one thing. However it's in a fastpass episode, and I’m hesitant to say anything about it because I’d feel really really bad for spoiling anything. It's not that major, but I’m going to be on the safe side. Just take my word that it’s pretty solid proof Buddy and Violet are not the same person. (It’s from that scene in ep. 53, if anybody wanted to know.)

Side Note: This section might be the best place to add this, but the name Violet comes from the Latin ‘Viola’. The most well known use of this name is the main character in Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. She spends the majority of the play disguised as a man to work for a duke and ends up falling in love with him. Not trying to say this is how it’ll work in Cinderella Boy, but I just think it’s interesting.

Anyway, the next and last option.

3. Buddy is not a key, Buddy is not Violet, but is related to her in some other way

Somehow the theory I believe the most in is the one I’m the least sure how to explain, lmao.

Based on everything I’ve said, I’m pretty sure Buddy is a human. At least from a narrative standpoint it’d make the most sense, because Chase dating one of the keys just seems kind of… weird? (But maybe liking keys runs in the Hollow family, who knows.)

If Buddy was a key, then the other keys would be his family. He really just doesn’t talk about them like that, though. In Rules of Engagement II, he calls Silver “it” and “your key”, and I just don’t think the keys would do that to each other.

So, my other explanation as to why Buddy and Violet look similar is that Buddy is partially a key. How? Why? Great questions because I also don’t know. The closest answers I have are almost purely speculation.

Maybe Violet is Buddy’s mom?? Walk with me here.

By mom I mean like, some kind of magic was used to either create a human version of Violet or infuse some of her powers into a human.

It would account for their positive relationship, considering she’s willing to make Buddy pretty outfits. It’d also explain why Buddy has a lot of attributes of a key (omniscient knowledge of a book, needing to see the story to completion, etc), and make all the key symbolism around him more metaphorical.

Unless she is literally his mom. (Don’t ask me how that’d work because again I don’t know.) In All That Glitters III he hesitates before he says his key did his hair.

Assuming that Violet actually was involved and he didn’t do his hair himself, what was he going to call her? Mom? Sister? Second cousin once removed? Friend? Maybe after his and Chase’s little talk at the end of Beach Boys he realized “oh yeah Violet would be a familial figure/friend.” I’m not sure, but I thought I’d bring it up.

As for the ‘why’ — perhaps Ex Libris wanted someone who is like a key but can also gather Narratonin. Yknow, for efficiency or something.

It’d tie back into Buddy’s identity issues, too. Because yeah I’d also be pretty messed up if I was created for a specific purpose that my entire worth hinges upon. I’d also be really pissed if Some Guy chose to just waltz into the stories, chose to deviate from the plots, chose to gather Narratonin — when I’ve never had those choices.

Case in point, I think this option is the most likely because I really don’t believe Buddy is a key. But I also don’t believe Buddy is completely unrelated to Violet.

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Error's Wacky Wild Plan)

Hi guys. So. Crazy Story. The crisis that stopped me from working on my banner art actually catapulted me into writing this drabble finally! (Also the wonderful @ancha-aus was also a life-saver and helped me hammer out a few plot points for this installment <3)

Currently my only context for this drabble is that Error is tiny, and ran away from home because Geno moved to Reaper's kingdom to make money to send back home, and Fresh spent too long away on his trip. Error was expelled from his magic academy and came home to an empty house, so he left! Now he's been on the road for about a month? Nightmare has been ruling for about 6-ish years now, almost 7.

(Hello @mutzelputz and @papiliovolens hi guys!!!)

     The town was bustling. 

   Error had been through a lot of towns since he’d left. Big ones, small ones, ones he was convinced weren’t even towns at all, just a few barns in a general closeness to one another who decided they needed to call themselves something besides the outskirts. Those people had been particularly hostile to his passing through.

   And, lately, they’d been really weird. People staring at him when he’d walk on the streets, or pass by shops. When they saw he had money from a different kingdom (he didn’t even realize he’d left his own, but he figured it meant he was on the right path) they’d squeeze their faces like they bit a lemon and hastily take his coin. Like it was cursed, or something. They were lucky it wasn’t cursed, honestly. He could probably figure out how to do that.

    This town, though, was filled so full with people that he imagined they couldn’t look at him weird if they wanted to. 

   People were riding horses, chatting in the streets, all sorts of stalls and merchants were peddling goods, and he was almost positive he could hear music lifting down the street over the general drone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d run into a place so busy. He’d always been told to stick to the side, out of the way, out of danger. 

   He didn’t have to listen to that anymore. Though, he did skirt the crowds. The mass of people seemed all too willing to bump shoulders or elbows with each other in the early morning sun, and the last thing he wanted was to have his magic act up in a crowd. He’d done well so far. 

   Every booth, every merchant, every passerby seemed jubilant, ebbing and flowing. It was like some sort of party. 

   That was, until, Error spotted it.

   A big building, something that Error recognized only vaguely. 

   It was an amphitheatre. 

   Geno had taken him to see one once. Or, at least, the ruin of one. It hadn’t been too far from their home, and it was pretty abandoned and lonely. Plants had crawled up its walls, stones had fallen off in chunks, animals seemed to have deemed its high windows a perfect spot to build nests. It had been breathtaking, and ancient. 

   This one? Seemed perfectly in-use. 

   The walls were all in-tact, stones, an easy to look at grey, smooth and covered in little intricate carvings. Spells, he had to imagine, in some language he didn’t know. Curtains hung over the huge arched entrances, and heavy gates seemed to be lifted, the spikes at the base loomed over the heads of every passerby. 

   He couldn’t help but marvel. Was this a restoration, or maybe it was new. Some sort of imitation. Regardless, he found that his feet carried him to one of the entrances, which stood largely empty aside from some folks who looked strikingly like guards.

   Two of them stood, long spears in-hand. They both stood stock still as Error approached, and didn’t move a muscle as he passed them. They were strange, definitely different. Not at all the town guard he was familiar with. 

   The inside of the theatre was even more impressive. Rows and rows of stands seemed to line up either side. Huge tapestry hung from the high arches past those seats, and down the runways of the bleachers, all a bright teal and dark navy blue. They seemed fancy, and much newer than the curtains which had hung in the entrance. 

   Beyond the walkway where he stood, was a set of stairs which led down a level or so, before it leveled out into an open space. Sandy, and very flat. It seemed like there were people there, too. A much smaller crowd, but still a crowd nonetheless. 

   Error was almost amazed he’d not been stopped by someone yet. Whatever was going on seemed important, and so far in his experience, people did not like him sticking his nose into important business. 

   With that in mind, he decided he’d stick to the entryway for now. He leaned his bag up against the wall and watched from a position where the sun still shadowed his form. He was often grateful for his miscolored bones. It made hiding in the dark a whole lot easier. 

   It took a bit for him to really process what he was watching in the morning light. 

   There were four people sat on a sort of raised box toward the front of a stage. A huge stage, raised up off the sand with wood slats. They had a long-table before them, and quills and ink jars in-hand. Well, three were sitting. One was standing. But the point is, they were all watching the stage very attentively. 

   On-stage there was… basically nothing. Only a simple backdrop Error had to imagine was there at all times, because it looked like it was coated in sand, even from the distance where he stood.

   A person would enter the stage, the people sat on the box would speak to them, and then there was a flare of magic. Another. Another. And then they were dismissed. 

   It wasn’t until he really bothered to think about what magic was being cast that he realized those were extremely simple spells being used. Levitate, Create Water, Mimicry. Or Flame, Gust, Light. All just three easy spells, and then they were off-stage. That was taught magic. It gave him memories of his entrance exam to his school. He’d been way overqualified to get in, Geno taught him after all…

   But, no, this didn’t feel the same. There were plenty of people who seemed to stumble at spells they didn’t recognize, or who couldn’t muster a simple breeze. Then others who were very old and obviously skilled. Obviously they found the three spells to be child’s play. Like Error would. This was no entrance exam, so what-

   “Hey, pipsqueak, what are you doing there in the dark?” A voice startled him, and it took all of his willpower to avoid jumping away from its origin. 

   Error twisted rapidly, just in time to avoid the thrust of an elbow in his direction. 

   There was a monster there. Three, actually. Two lizards, both bright green and tropical, and one who looked more like a dragon. The green one closer to him must have spoken, because he laughed at Error’s flinch. 

   “Why are you bothering me?” Error shot back haughtily. 

   The lizard seemed to grin at the response.  

   “Oh, so we’ve got a feisty little small fry here? Thinks he’s scoping out the competition?” The dragonish one hissed, voice deep. 

   The other green one tittered a giggle, “So cute! I can’t believe the King really decided to let just anyone try out for Royal Mage.” 

   Oh…

   The lizard before him seemed to take this silence as a weakness, and reached out quicker than Error could react. A flick to the middle of his forehead. 

   Error winced and pulled away, back and into the arena. He grit his teeth and clutched his skull, where at the same moment the lizard jumped back and shook their hand in the air a bit. His magic had reacted poorly again, and while it was better than it used to be, it still stung like 5 wasps touching down and stinging the same point all at once. 

   “Little freak.” Was all the monster hissed, before he fled. His two friends moving on behind him in confusion. Approaching the line to the stage. 

   Error stood there in the sun for a moment, rubbing at his forehead until the pain was more of a numb static. 

   If anything, he appreciated the little run-in with those wanna-bes. Now he knew exactly what this was, and why it had felt so familiar to him. 

   The Mage Trials. 

   Geno had to go through them, and he’s been very thorough about his every single detail while doing it. Even though he was the best mage Error had ever known, he’d still stressed and wrote page after page of plans and spells and had placed them into a folder that felt thicker than an encyclopedia. Geno had always been the only one of them who bothered studying. Fresh couldn’t go to school anymore, and Error… Well, Error didn’t need to. 

   Thinking about it, Geno had been very quiet about it, but Error had looked into his folder a few times. Just out of curiosity. It’d been split into three rounds, something Geno had said was standardized. The first was a test of someone’s basic magic skills, the second were more complex spells which the mage has practice in, and the third, the one that had given Geno the most grief, was the personal spell round. In the last one, there were no restrictions to what someone could do, so long as they had done the work themselves, and that it mostly used magic. 

   If he was right, and he usually was, then this was the first round. Eliminating those with nothing but a hope and a prayer in their pocket before they got embarrassed before the one looking for the Mage in the first place. In this case, whoever this kingdom’s king even was. 

   In just a few moments, Error had decided. 

   This was how he’d prove himself. 

   The line was already starting to get longer, and he didn’t want to be here until nightfall in a queue. He dusted off his scarf, his shoes, his bag, and set off into the bright sun to secure his place in this contest. No prep. No warning. Just with his raw skill and what he’d learned so far. Nothing could possibly go wrong. 

.

   Finally. 

   Error felt like it had been hours in the warm sun before he was finally up next. 

   He’d been watching, of course. Watching as the people before him were passed or failed. It was just as he’d expected, and he couldn’t help but be a bit giddy as the two green lizard who’d bothered him earlier both failed. Though their dragonish friend had passed, it was still enough of a victory for him.

   Along with that, he noticed that the three people sat were all in robes of nobles. Something the wealthy and lofty would think to wear in a blazing hot arena all day. The one standing, though, was wearing all black. A hood was over his head, but Error thought he might be some sort of cat-monster. Very stone faced, very still. The only time Error had seen him move was seemingly to veto whatever choice the other three were making. He thought it was interesting. 

   That didn’t matter, though. 

   Based on what he’d seen, these people wouldn’t have any qualms with his magic. He was much better than half the people who’d already been passed, and knew he could keep him calm up on the stage. It’d be just like his entrance exam. 

   He watched as the monster who’d gone before him, a skeleton who was twice his height and twice as animal-ish, bowed gratefully to the people on the boxes, the evaluators, and exited. She’d passed fairly easily, Error thought. Though, her focus seemed elsewhere based on how shaky the hold on her last flame had been. 

   “Next!” 

   The call was shrill, and Error had heard it over a hundred times already today, but this time it bounced in his ears as he lifted himself up the steps and strode onstage. 

   If he’d thought about it, he would’ve tried to find a place to stache his bag, but it was too late for that, and frankly he didn’t trust it not to get stolen once it was out of his sight. Not with how busy the city seemed. 

   When he was stood in the center of the stage, he looked out across the way to the evaluators. They seemed closer up here than they did when he was on the ground. Interesting. 

   “First spell,” The person on the far left called, though Error could tell now that it was a voice projection spell. So they didn’t strain their vocal chords, “ Levitate.”

   That was simple. One of the first spells he’d been taught as a kid. 

   His eyes skimmed briefly, there had been a few props on stage that he only noticed once he was closer that were meant to be used with this sort of spell, but Error wasn’t for that. Instead, he muttered the words under his breath, outstretched a hand, and felt his magic reach out around him. Beyond the stage. 

   There… There was a barrier of some sorts, pushing back against his magic, between himself and the evaluators. He furrowed his brow and urged his magic forward. He didn’t have to break through it. He just. Had to- His magic felt like it was looping and wriggling like a worm through the dirt, but when it broke through on the other end, it felt so much more clear. He could feel a potent magic there, something raw and wet, like the air before a storm. 

   That didn’t matter, though. None of it did, because he was on a mission. His magic finally found its target, the stacks of ink bottles which the middle evaluator had just before their parchment. The magic latched on, and Error finally allowed himself a grin as he tugged his hand upwards. They floated calmly into the air, three of them, and did a quick spinning motion, before settling back down just where he’d found them.

   He didn’t catch the looks on the threes faces, but he had to imagine they were priceless. He was more focused on letting the spell dissipate and preparing for the next. 

   It took a moment, before, “Second Spell,” They said, “Create Water.” 

   Another easy one. 

   Error held his hand out again, though this time his palm faced the sky rather than the ground. At the mutter of his words, he could feel the water manifesting. Tiny droplets leaking from his fingers and into the air above his open palm, where he let it gather into a nice, easy sphere. 

   It hovered, and for this one he could see the nods from the three evaluators. The fourth, the cat monster, didn’t move an inch. A good sign. 

   Error, after a breath, moved the orb of water and simply set it on the stage floor. If he had to release it, he didn’t exactly want to get his clothes wet. That orb tended to shoot outwards when he released it, and the water would go everywhere. 

   “Third spell,” They must’ve been contented with his simply setting down the water, for they continued, “Flame.”

   Ah, one of his favorites. He was never very good at it, of course, but it was certainly very fun. If nothing else it’d be a taste of his raw power.

   He rolled up his hanging sleeves, quickly using strands of string to wrap them in place, before he picked back up the water orb in one hand. With the other, he faced his palm toward the side of it, and spoke the words for the flame spell. 

   The heat gathered in his wrist, and all at once shot out of his palm, like a cannon blast. The heat was intense, and Error laughed quietly to himself in pure elation as the fire did exactly what he was hoping. All at once, his glasses fogged, and a burst of steam blew past his face, off to the exiting side of the stage. He’d evaporated his orb, no longer needing to risk someone seeing him fumble with it and soak himself. 

   He let the fire die after a few second, and quickly grabbed the hem of his scarf to wipe down his glasses from the fog left behind on their surface. 

   The moment the red rims were back on the bridge of his nose, the voice spoke up again. 

   “Name?”

   Error cleared his throat, before calling back his name in response. Just the first one, the last one didn’t matter anymore. 

   There was another few breaths of quiet, before, 

   “Age?”

   Error hadn’t heard them ask anyone else for their age, but he figured they’d noticed. How strong and talented he was at such a young age. 

  He puffed up his chest when he announced, “Twelve!” to the arena. 

   There were a few muffled murmurs from the line, but Error was too busy grinning across the way at the evaluators as they seemed to talk amongst themselves. 

   He was ready to hear the word that would mark him to continue. The next part was tomorrow, after this round was concluded and the king arrived. He’d heard about it in the line while he was waiting. 

   One of the evaluators lifted their gaze back to him. Opened their mouth.

   “Disqualified.”

   That.

   Huh?

   Error must’ve visibly glitched at the response, because one of the evaluators seemed to flinch. Ever so slightly. 

   “How come?!” Error called back, reservations immediately fleeing his mind.

   How could they disqualify him? He hadn’t heard them do that to literally anyone else so far today. 

   The evaluator on the far right spoke up, “Too young. Now please move off the-”

   Error might’ve let his mouth speak before his mind, if he hadn’t seen the way the mysterious cat monster seemed to slink forward. A simple tap to the evaluator’s side and they stopped mid-sentence, attention drawing to the person. 

   He waited with balled fists. Hoping, against it all, that this person was using his mighty veto powers to get him his passing review. 

   “The Knight wishes to speak to you further.” They said, when the person, the Knight, took a step back. “Exit the stage.” 

   Mm. 

   This was his chance. This was his moment. He was being allowed to move on, he was sure of it. It had to be. 

   He practically scrambled off the stage and down the steps, and found that the Knight had closed the distance very quickly. He gestured silently for Error to follow him off to the side of the arena, seemingly outside of the voice spell’s range, as the noise of magic and calling for the next viewer seemed all muffled and contained. 

   Something Error noticed about the guy, now that he was right beside him walking along, was also that he wasn’t a cat monster. No, he had some sort of mask shaped like a cat. Black spots painted on black fur, with piercing white eyelights hidden in the darkness cast by his black hood. A cloth mask covered the lower half of his face, so Error would’ve had no idea what kind of monster he was, if he hadn’t left his hands uncovered. They were grey and grimy, but they were most certainly bones. 

   The other thing he noticed, was the magic. That damp, airy magic was no-doubt from this guy. It practically enveloped the both of them until they were stood in the shade of the wall separating bleachers from arena floor. 

   “You said you’re twelve?” He finally asked, shifting on his feet to look at Error. 

   The last thing he noticed, which only happened once he was able to look past the aura, was that. Well. He was a bit taller than this guy. Not by much, but there was certainly something stark about having to look a bit downwards to meet his eyelights. 

   “Yes, I am.” He claimed proudly, still convinced this was to be his ride to the top.

   The knight seemed to skim him with his eyes. Surely taking in Error’s clothes, his bag, his glasses, the weird bones. Though, it didn’t feel pervasive. 

   “Impressively strong for a kid,” He praised loosely, “And probably talented in spells if the nerds were any indication.” 

   His voice was quiet and raspy, but Error had no problem listening to it. This strong and very cool guy who was called a ‘knight’ was praising him. This was much better than getting yelled at by his professors. Much. 

   “Does that mean I passed?” He asked impatiently. 

   He needed this. He needed this. 

   The guy’s eyelights lingered on his face a bit, and it was then that Error finally noticed how virtually unreadable this guy was. Impossibly quiet, posture unmoving, all facial features shrouded in shadow and covered by masks?

   “I’m not sure what kingdom you’re from, but you’ve got to understand that the folks up there didn’t say no because you’re bad. They said no because the king made a new decree. “No soul under the age of 16 shall be put to work under the crown.” They’ve gotta take it seriously, just like everyone else has to follow the new rules about their own shops and businesses.” He said evenly, eyelights never leaving Error’s face. “You’re a couple years too early is all.” 

   It felt like he’d been shoved into a ditch, and he could already feel his right hand starting to tremble with the beginnings of a glitch. He was furious! How could they possibly say no to him because of some stupid rule about his age? 

   “No!” He exclaimed, trying to bite back the distortion on his voice, “I’m not going to just walk away. If I could just move on to the next round, they’d see I’m different! I’m not some weak little baby!” 

   He clenched his fists, driving his jittering one forcefully into his pocket. 

   The knight didn’t even flinch at his declaration. 

   “They’ve already seen that.” He said easily. “Listen to me. Error, right?” 

   Error hesitantly nodded. 

   “Error, ‘m sure that if my Lord saw you in action, he too would agree that you are very strong and resourceful.” The knight said, and Error hated that it sounded earnest. “But, he set that law into place for very good reason. If by any means those folks back there were to let you through, to pass you, and you made it before the king next round? They’d have committed treason, and I’d have their souls on the end of my bone in three seconds flat.” 

   His voice was hard and serious, and Error held strong as a loud crack echoed out beside the knight. A bone raised from the ground, sharp and jagged on the end, absolutely radiating magic. 

   “Do you really want their blood on your conscience, just so that you get sent away by the King anyways?” The knight offered. 

   Error hunched his shoulders a bit, and he felt his static worsen as he let his eyes linger on the bone. Yes. He muttered inside his head. He wanted to scream it at the man before him. Tell him that this was his one golden chance to prove himself. 

   But to who? He would ask, and Error wouldn’t be able to say it. It’d be a wasted sentiment and wasted time and wasted lives just for his temper tantrum. 

   “...No.” He bit out meekly. 

   He stood there, feeling a familiar shame creep up his spine. The knight made no move to leave, though he did let his bone disappear. The ground looked untouched from where it had split out of. Just more sand. Sand that was getting into Error’s bones. That he’d have to clean out later. Swinging in his hammock, lonely and moping. 

   “Heh,” The chuckle was almost inaudible, and Error was almost ready to let his distress turn back into rage, but, “Better kid than I was.” The Knight mused into the open air.

   He seemed to shift his stance again, and Error took a half step back. 

   “You’ve got your life ahead of you, kid. Don’t let this keep you down. Take the road less traveled by or whatever.” He said then, waving a hand loosely before him. 

   Error stared at him, trying to even his breath, before he had an idea. 

   “The other two rounds will be here, right?” He asked, voice still harshly stuttering and screeching. The Knight seemed unbothered.

   “Yeah. Planning on sticking around to watch?” The knight questioned, though it felt more like a warning. 

   Error nodded in agreement without hesitation. “If these geezers can get the job, I need to see what kind of tricks they have up their sleeves.” He agreed. 

   That earned another little chuckle, before the knight looked back to the stage. 

   Up in the center was a new mage, a human who seemed to be making a pretty wild wind that was whipping the sand around, bothering the people in line behind him. Error heard the knight make a scoffing noise, before turning back towards the stage.

   “Go hang around somewhere else for a while, why don’t you? I have to go make sure those nerds don’t pass that guy.” 

   Error didn’t even get to say a farewell before the Knight was off. 

   It seemed like every stride he teleported a bit further, building speed until he stopped cleanly up on the pedestal. Just in time for the sandstorm to die down. 

   Error didn’t want to walk away from this, he didn’t, but staying would only waste his time. It only took a few more seconds, to watch the knight nudge the evaluator and hear the muffled call of ‘fail’ ring out across the arena before he was turning tail and moving out of the sandy paradise, back into the bustle of the living city. 

.

.

.

   It was impossible to miss it. The sounds of celebration as the monarch entered the town. 

   Error could see the royal carriage from his perch, an old temple tower that had at some point lost its bell. It seemed untouched, birds nests and cobwebs, so he’d set up a hammock and a little makeshift shelter inside using his strings just before night fell. 

   He’d snatched some food from the town as dusk was setting in, and he’d been comfortably whittling away the dark hours, working hard on his plan. 

   With the King officially in town, that meant the second round would be starting up shortly, taking the numbers of who would be in the third round down by hundreds. He hoped the king was stingy about it. He hoped that dragonish monster would stumble on his spell and turn someone into a frog. 

   The thought humored him, and he cackled quietly to himself from his makeshift room. 

   The sun was high again, and he was only a part of the way through. His spells required a lot of his magic to be woven into them, and while it was much much faster than what he’d heard was the usual, it was still difficult to make. 

   Weaving the blue strings from his sockets, to his fingers, around his fingertips, and into the shapes he needed. It was monotonous, and boring by all accounts, but with every strand there was a new flow of power. A new pump of adrenaline into Error’s soul as he recognized his creation becoming more potent. Intent, intent, intent, every loop and knot was filled to the brim with it. His frustration sat at the core. Much more volatile and destructive than his usual intent, but it would serve him well if he wanted this plan to go well. Around it was his determination. The strings woven in with a sense of stubbornness which refused to let go, like a snake swallowing its prey whole. This would compress the first layer into a proper state. Let it coil and coil and coil until it burst. It’d be big, and loud, and send out that message he so desperately needed to be heard by the king. 

   Skipping the second round would probably hurt him in the long run, but… That knight had said he’d have to kill those people if he showed his face in round two. So, he’d just appear in round three instead, and make up for missing the second one. A final act, of sorts. 

   He’d have to be at this all day to make the time crunch. The orb was hardly as big as his palm, not nearly big enough. Though, he had wasted time making the shelter and finding food. He’d just have to skip a couple meals to make up for it. He didn’t really need to eat that much anyways, he’d known that for years. He just tried to make an effort when he smelled something tasty. 

   He knew he could manage. 

   It was late in the night when Error finally started on the outer layers. Those which would be filled with his patience, so that the potent insides would not be sensed as he moved with it among the many magic users. 

   The town had begun to line the streets with torches and party as the stars arrived. No doubt celebrating those who would be at the third and final round tomorrow. The ones who would be competing to become the new Royal Mage. 

   To Error? Every single moment down there was dedicated to him. They just didn’t know it yet. 

.

.

.

   The morning came, and Error only had a few more layers. 

   By the time the sun was almost in the center of the sky above, he had finished it, and carefully tucked it into his backpack. He unraveled the strings and carefully wrapped them, shaping them, changing them into a thin net with long ends. This was shoved into his jacket sleeve, the ends clutched tight in his hand. 

   It took him hardly any time at all to get to the arena, and he was early. 

   Good.

   He settled himself up in the stands, as close to the stage as he could get. Many people seemed to be staying outside the arena, sticking to the streets, but there was still enough of a crowd in the bleachers that Error had to be careful as he worked his way along the edges. He needed to be closer. Closer…

   There. 

   He stood at the railing behind the stage. 

   From here, he could see the line to the left, and he could see the people who had finished lingering on the other side. None of them spoke to each other, only standing about, icily, waiting for the rest to finish so they’d know which of them was chosen, and who was not. Error had to imagine that these folks were just as lame and boring as the seniors from his old academy. No fun at all. 

   He waited, so, so patiently, for the next few people. The last few. 

   Though he couldn’t see the spells themselves, he could certainly feel the pressure coming off of them. The control that they’d need to balance it. How much it might’ve drained their energy to do it just once. He was attuned to that sort of thing, he had to be. 

   His assessment was that all of these last few folks weren’t bad, but they were no match for Error’s raw talent. 

   Each spell cast seemed to tick away at Error’s patience, until it finally happened. The last mage went on-stage. It seemed there had been 15 of them. 

   He’d have to make 16, then. 

   It felt like a blur as he jumped the rails and let his strings carry him across the open space, much to the shock of the few who had been watching the competitors from around him. The blue lines snatched at the wooden supports of the stage, and he swung right over top, landing a bit messily in the center of the stage.

   He didn’t have time to look at everything. All he knew was the crowd was much larger than last time, that there was a shout of ‘Hey!’’ from somewhere to his left, and that the box across from the stage now held only three people. Monsters. One Error recognized, the knight in shadows who’d spoken to him. The other two he didn’t know, but he had to assume the one in the middle, tall and imposing, and dark, with an eyelight the same colors as the tapestries, was the King he was looking to impress. That was all he needed to know. 

   “M’lord, my name is Error!” He called out across the sand, and in one motion he shrugged the bag off his shoulders and used his strings to tug the orb out of its canvas body. “I want to prove that I’m more capable than any of the adults who just went before me! I could be your mage!” He would be the mage. 

   The orb sat cradled in Error’s hand for only the briefest moment, before it was inside the little net he’d made. He swung it in circles. Again. Again. Again. 

   He had to be fast. He had to do this quick.

   Error spent one last moment, extending his reach through his strings, muttering words and igniting an intangible spark. 

   For a brief moment, he watched as the King seemed to ease forward. A hand now raised, seemingly calling off his knights, who had been almost in motion. 

   He released the orb directly upwards, momentum carrying it up. 

   Up.

   Up.

   Into the blue sky. Practically into the sun. 

   Error watched it rise above him. 

   Only. 

   “Shit.” 

   His calculations must’ve been off. He must’ve added a layer too many, or maybe he released it a swing too soon. But he could tell that it wouldn’t clear the top of the arena. 

   Maybe if he had a few more seconds he could’ve used strings to boost it. He could’ve sent a magic gust to lift it further. 

   Not the case.

   He watched as the orb detonated, just like it was supposed to. 

   The wave moved horizontally through the air, and swept across the air above the arena so quickly that it sucked the sand from the top layer and threw it against the tall walls. Error’s footing slipped, and he stumbled to his knees on the stage as the wind whipped and tugged the heavy curtains into the air current as well. 

   It was an almost invisible force, Error had to imagine anyone without a solid grasp of magic would entirely miss it as it spread out. 

  He winced as it finally reached the edges of the arena, where he had just barely managed to fall short of clearing. 

   As the magic passed over the stone and mortar, he saw as it fell. Not in chunks, but crumbled like dust into fine particles. The upper half of every arch at the top of the grand amphitheatre, turned pitch black, then wasted away. 

   He hadn’t meant for it to come in contact with anything. It wasn’t supposed to do anything but harmlessly wave over everyone’s heads. As a show of his strength. That was all.

   Error could only think back to when this had happened before. When he’d accidentally exploded Geno’s favorite mug while metering the strength of his strings. When he’d broken the wheel of a carriage passing through the woods with a wayward slingshot blast. When he’d broken all ten of the large windows in the lecture hall of the academy when he failed to complete a spell the way it was written. When he’d done it too well.

   As he rose to his feet, he half expected the nagging voice of his older brother to be there, chastising him for not being more careful, before taking him home and making him dinner. 

   It wasn’t that, though. 

   He watched out across the sand. The king had his head tilted only slightly, looking up at Error’s lofty mistake. At the clean cut where stone now met unbothered air. His knight, the one in all black, was leaned ever so slightly towards him. They must’ve been speaking. Or, at least, the knight was. 

   About Error, he had no doubt. 

   He stayed in place, watching, swaying a bit with the residual force of his own spell lingering in his fingertips. Every instinct which told him to run and to hide were smothered and stamped out by the ligering fact that he had nowhere to go. Without his brothers, there was no one to help him. He knew it. 

   Even in front of this crowd. These mages. This King and his knights. He couldn’t bring himself to move offstage. Some part of him, deep down, childishly wanted the King to announce that he was impressed. To parade him offstage and let him experience what Geno had. Let him know why Geno left. 

   The King’s single eyelight swam back over to look at Error in the silence. 

   Error felt like the world had stopped. 

   It hadn’t.

   There was a clattering of armor and rustling of fabric, suddenly loud in his ears, and he had no time to react as everything came rushing in all at once. 

   Hands. Heavy, gloved hands. Two sets, two hands each wrapped one of his upper arms, and immediately lifted him off the ground. Into the air. 

   Pain flooded into his bones from his soul, like twin lightning strikes, trying to singe the bone and the magic in its core. The pressure wasn’t much, his mind knew that, but his body usually didn’t listen to him. He tried desperately to hold it in. The rampant part of his magic that had been hurting him since he could remember. That made it hard to touch anyone. To shake hands. To hug his brothers. 

   “Let go!” He pleaded, though he wasn’t sure if his voice made any sense. Fresh always told him they couldn’t tell what he was saying when his voice got too bad.

   More pain. He kicked his legs at the open air, and tried to muster control over his strings, just for a moment, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t focus. 

   And all at once it stopped. 

   Error’s feet were on the ground again, though that promptly became his knees again as he swayed and wavered in the sudden aftermath of his active magic dying down. Receding back into his soul. Because it didn’t need to ‘protect’ him anymore.

   He spotted then, as his vision returned to something aside from the gloves or the sky, that the King was no longer in his throne. In fact, there was a heavy, encompassing, magical weight behind him now. Somewhere very, very close-by.

   He took a deep breath, grounding himself. 

   “We are taking a recess.” Announced a booming voice. Very nearby. It was deep, and felt almost the same as the projection spell from two days prior. Then, more quietly, “You will leave the boy to me. Go ensure no one was injured, then manage the crowd. I’ll make my choice tomorrow at sunrise.” 

   The second bit felt quieter, an edge to the tone that Error didn’t quite like. Considering he must be the boy in question. 

   It was a moment, a few muddled ‘Yes, my king’ s, before Error found a pair of boots stepping before him. His head swam as he looked upwards. 

   The King, he figured that had to be him, was dark. Very dark. Like a living, dripping, shadow. Magic seemed to be all he was made of, an aura radiating from him. Dripping off his back into long slimy worms, twitching as they sat near the ground. He wore a fancy cape, too. One with huge gold clasps on his shoulders, one was shaped like the moon. 

   Error looked to his face last. In hindsight, something that could’ve been very, very bad. He was met with a dripping face. Skeletal. The place where his right socket should’ve sat was covered in that dark substance. The other hollow, with that bright cyan orb staring right back at him. 

   “Can you stand?” His voice came easily, and Error braced himself. 

   Could he?

   He had to, he didn’t want to be touched again. 

   Error took another breath, and managed to rise silently to his feet. 

   “Good,” the King said once he was standing, “Follow me.”

   It was an order he didn’t dare refuse. 

.

.

.

   Error found himself in an odd position. 

   He’d been given time to sit and recover from his magic’s outlash, and now he was sat in a room beneath the bleachers of the arena alongside the King and that knight he’d met before. The other one was guarding the door, he thought. 

   It’d been silent for a while, and it was almost expected when the silence was finally broken. 

   “You said your name is Error, correct?” The King asked, and Error gave a nod of yes. He forced himself to meet the King’s gaze.

   “Dust says that you’re only 12, and our people disqualified you in the first round. Is that right?” 

   Error nodded again. 

   “And Dust even explained to you why you were disqualified?” 

   Another nod. It seemed he’d at least made an impression on the knight. Dust. 

   The King tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, eyelight holding Error’s tightly. 

   “Then, I’ll ask, what brought you to think this was a good choice? To try and become Royal Mage above any cost it might bring?” The king asked, and Error was surprised to find it was a shockingly gentle tone. “Your home, your family, your life. You are so young, why put it all on the line like this?” 

   Oh. 

   It was almost funny. Was this whole thing because the king was some sort of charitycase? So disillusioned by his perfect life that he couldn’t even think of the hardships any random kid could go through? He almost grinned at that, barely keeping his mouth from twitching in a mix of frustration and humor.

   “I wanted to prove myself,” He muttered, “And besides, becoming the Royal Mage would be great.” 

   He waited, waited for the King to inhale, to say something, before, 

   “I’m an orphan.” He spat, finally. “Family abandoned me, house is left behind, expelled from school. I don’t want to keep wandering.” 

   It was basically the truth. This was his big break. His one last chance before he became a hated little vagabond. Maybe even a criminal. Maybe he’d have to go on the run for the rest of his life, live as a nomad. Join a caravan. Those people got stopped a lot though, kingdoms didn’t like them. He’d probably explode some city’s bakery by mistake and get put in jail for-

   “Wait!” Error suddenly exclaimed, breaking free of his thoughts, “Am I in trouble? Am I going to jail??” He asked then. 

   His worries slammed to a grinding halt and he stared wide-eyed at the two before him. Geno had always told him not to go making his big stuff near town, because if the guard caught him he wouldn’t be able to bail him out. He’d end up in jail. Of course, it’d never happened back then because he was always fast enough. Always smart enough to get out of dodge when he broke something or made poor decisions. Here? Here he hadn’t run when he had the chance. 

   The King stared at him, his one eyelight nearly mirroring Error’s in surprise at the question. 

   “I mean,” he started, “You’re young. If I wont let you work for me, I wouldn’t dare put you in prison either.” The King stated, “Though, you did do quite a bit of damage to the theatre.” 

   Error watched him break eye contact finally and look over his shoulder to the Knight stood there. He’d been silently watching Error too. 

   When he had no insight, The king seemed to heave a sigh, and the shadowy extra limbs which draped around him twitched. 

   “You’re sure you have no family? No home?” the King asked him again, and Error nodded.

   The king muttered something under his breath, and shot the Knight another look. The knight shrugged. 

   “I… Will not employ you. Though, I do see talent in you, Error.” the King said carefully, a bit slower in his words than he had been up until now. Almost… unsure. “I will, however, extend to you the title so that you may conduct…” He waved a hand before himself, as though searching for a word, “ You may conduct independent research. If you accept, of course.”

   “You would be free to resend your acceptance at any moment, no strings attached, and may take any work you complete along with you, and any pay you receive would be given to you after your 16th birthday, if you stay that long.” He added, “I’ll have to rewrite the contract, but-”

   “I accept!” 

   Error couldn’t help himself. He was so excited he could puke. The last thing he’d expected was to pull this off. This shitshow of a scheme actually got him the job? He could scream. He could jump up and down for joy. He didn’t, he sat eagerly and tense in his seat instead, but he could’ve. 

   The King seemed to hesitate, for a few breaths, before relaxing. He stood, and offered a hand out slowly to Error. 

   Error stood too, grinning. He could manage this one. He could do it. 

   It was brief, but he grasped the King’s hand and shook it firmly.

   “Dust, will you help Error locate his belongings, and escort him to wherever he is staying tonight? I’ll send Cross to swap with you a bit later. We’ll reconvene in the morning just before sunrise.” 

[sunshineandspencer]

Not in Kansas anymore (Iridescent, Part 9)

Let me stress, this is not Maeve from the show, but my own Maeve just named the same to send Spencer into hell whenever he thinks about it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!OC.

Summary: They get sent out undercover for a case, and Spencer makes full use of his role before they have to go back to normal.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of stabbing and blood, general cm violence

Parts: Pt1, Pt2, Pt3, Pt4, Pt5, Pt6, Pt7, Pt8, Pt10

be added to the taglist

Almost a month later, and they’re given another big case. Somewhere out in Kansas, another small town where everybody knows everybody else’s business.

A man, still unknown, had been targeting newlywed couples in towns bordering the one they were now stationed in. The geoprofile that Spencer had drawn up told them that he almost certainly lived in this little town. So far he’d killed seven ‘unfaithful’ newlywed wives, who hadn’t been unfaithful - as far as Penelope could find out.

They know it's a man because he leaves the husbands alive, injured so they can’t intervene, but awake enough to watch. Apparently, the man approaches the house the morning of the attacks, and if the woman answers and talks to him then she’s classed as unfaithful, but if they call for their husband, or the man answers, then they’re spared.

Returning hours later, under the cover of darkness, to attack the couples and have the man watch him ‘save’ their marriage by taking away the ‘problem’.

It’s been brutal.

And undiscovered for so long since the small towns didn’t know where to put all their data into one place. Once a tech analyst in one of the towns realised the connections, the BAU were contacted immediately.

To avoid more deaths, Spencer and Maeve were sent in as a newlywed couple, to lure this guy out as the BAU hadn’t visited any of the towns yet and didn’t know the team members. 

Even the local PD weren’t informed either, to make it as realistic as possible.

Which is how they found themselves standing outside a pretty house in Kansas in a small town that she’d never heard of, his arm around her waist and their matching gold rings glinting in the warm sun. Plus her pretty engagement ring Spencer had produced for her to wear seemingly out of nowhere.

It really is gorgeous, and silver, which is her preferred jewellery type - the gold wedding ring made her very unhappy.

With a soft sigh, she scanned over the house once more, a smile tugging at her lips.

“You know, this house looks too nice for the BAU budget.”

Humming in agreement, he tugged her that extra bit closer to lean his head on top of hers. Hand settling comfortably on her hip.

“I convinced Rossi to hire it out. I’m collecting his dry cleaning for two months.”

Laughing, she slapped his chest lightly with the back of her hand, even as he pouted at the thought of his next two months being entirely taken up by collecting Rossi’s dry cleaning. It’s worth it though, very glad that he’d sacrificed his time for them, because this place is gorgeous. 

She’s always lived in the city, but she could easily see herself settling down somewhere like this.. with someone like Spencer.

Thankfully their neighbours came out to stifle that line of thought, greeting them happily over their white picket fence. Spencer kept his hand on her lower back the entire time, hell, his hand didn’t actually stop moving.

Even as they introduced themselves as Walter and Valerie Reid - both their middle names - his hand smoothed down her spine and then across the small of her back until his fingers ghosted her waist. Somehow able to keep up conversation with their neighbours as he dragged his hand slowly back up her spine, feeling out every ridge as if to convince himself that she’s in one piece. And it just doesn’t work in her brain, how the man who wouldn’t have shaken her hands a couple months ago was now memorising the feel of her.

It had been a month since they made up and sure he had been more tactile with the occasional hand to the small of her back or over her shoulders, but not this much. Forcing herself not to enjoy it since it’s only for the case.

There’s no way he feels even remotely close to the way she does.

“--that right angel?”

That snapped her out of her own head, not even realising she’d started daydreaming about him again. But the silly bastard doesn’t make it easy to focus as his hand brushes hair from the nape of her neck before sliding down her back again.

Smug smile telling her that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and she blinked softly to answer him.

“Sorry love?”

Dammit, not it’s his turn to melt, managing to hold the stupid grin off his face, but the smugness fell into something a little more real as his hand slipped to squeeze the dip of her waist.

“Asked uhm.. if we wanted to look around at kindergartens with them, since we’re trying for a baby. Aren’t we, angel.”

Rolling her eyes, she smoothed her hand down his chest to look at their neighbours, giving them a smile.

“We will be. After we’ve settled, he’s just a little excited.”

The thought of having a kid together should not make her as breathless as it did. Talking with the neighbours for a little longer - even though she’s absolutely not fully with them - before going inside. Where he quickly kissed her temple before getting on with unpacking his bags.

She fully believes she isn’t going to get through this in one piece.

It’s now been two days, and there’s been no sign of their UnSub, which led to them going all out.

They got a large advertisement in the local paper celebrating their newlywed status and having moved in, with a sappy photo of them together. Attended any sort of club or event that had been running to make a big thing about themselves, and loudly went shopping together in the local market that had popped up in the afternoon. Every and each interaction underscored by Spencer’s constant touching and affectionate little kisses to her head, hair or temple.

He is loving every second of having Ava as his wife, introducing her as such every time he gets the chance before launching into their ‘love story’ that felt a little too real. According to their backstory, they worked together as professors at a college and eventually fell for each other after a long period of work rivalry.

Over these last two days, it became so natural to have Spencer practically attached to her hip, that it felt wrong without him. It felt odd to not have him holding onto her or kissing something soft against her temple.

Even in their house, away from anyone that needs to be fooled by their undercover story, he’s no different. It’s hard to convince herself she doesn’t love it.

Unfortunately, he’s had to sequester himself away in their study to do somecase work, keeping a log of everything they do while undercover - and completing hers after losing their card game last night. But then someone knocked on the door, swiftly following that with the doorbell.

Getting up to answer the door, she didn’t even consider that this wouldn’t be one of their neighbours, like it had been for the past two days. However, with the town’s deputy standing on her doorstep, the case flew harshly back into the forefront of her mind. The man had been described as wearing a uniform, this could be it.

Leaning on the door, she smiled out at the man, hoping Spencer wouldn’t wander out to see what it was and blow the whole reason they’d gone undercover.

“Good evening officer, is there a problem?”

“No ma’am, just wanted to introduce myself and make sure you folks are settled in. I’m John Brown, Deputy. Saw your ad in the paper, congratulations.”

Maeve thanked him softly and he held out a hand for her to shake. She saw the way his eyes glinted, knowing this was part of his test to determine whether or not she would be his next victim. A test she has to fail so that he would target her instead of another defenceless woman.

Shaking his hand a little longer than he probably found appropriate. His eyes darted to see if Spencer was going to turn up.

“That’s kind of you Deputy, I’m Valerie. My husband is busy right now, I hope you understand.”

Putting on a bashful smile to appease to the part of him that had to see her as unfaithful. The man is attractive, she’ll give him that, but isn’t anything special compared to her husband down the hall.

It worked, John squeezed a touch too tight before stepping back, hand falling to his badge. 

“No problems at all ma’am, I hope you won’t mind me checking in again sometime.”

Laughing softly, she moved to stand and change her hold on the door, ready to close it and sprint back to Spencer now that she’d spoken to the UnSub. But she needs to maintain this a little longer.

“Please, call me Valerie, I’ll see you soon John.”

Using his first name to really ram it home, and then shutting the door. Calmly turning to walk down the hallway to the study, knowing he could see her through the window.

Turning down and out of sight, she walked straight into Spencer, and he moved to gently hold her against the wall. Hand on her shoulder to hold her still while he finished his phone call, eyebrows drawn together as he scanned her face, making sure she’s okay.

“Yes, I’m sure. Get a team in place for tonight Emily, he’ll be here.”

Christ, he’s looking at her so ardently, she’s not sure that she quite remembers how to breathe.

But then his phone is shoved into his pocket and she has his entire attention - constricting her lungs even further. His hands snaked their way to her hips to hold her still, to ground her back to Earth. Eye contact, steady breathing to coax her own back to normal, the gentle squeeze of his hands to remind her that she’s okay.

“Are you alright angel?”

Honestly, she still melts utterly when he calls her that, and this time he can feel it, the relaxation under his palms as she finally meets his gaze.

“Mhm, I’m alright Spence.You know the profile, he wouldn’t have attacked me at the front door. He’s never done that before.”

“He’s also never hunted in his hometown before, we’re forcing his hand and we don’t know what else he could change.”

Tugging her forward into a hug, one arm wraps around her back, snug around her, the other holding her head to his neck. Breathing her in and just staying like that as her arms immediately wrapped around him. Fisting his shirt in her hands as she leans into his touch.

“Emily has already mobilised a team, they’ll be in place for tonight. I won’t let this guy hurt you. I promise.”

Laughing softly, she practically nuzzled into the skin of his neck, breath warm as she spoke. 

“Careful, I’ll hold you to that.”

Something went wrong. Spencer had been blitzed from behind while they were eating dinner. It had been too soon, they weren’t ready.

Now, as he slowly forced himself up from the floor, something clearly wasn’t right. Picking himself up, trying not to look at the blood that had pooled on their kitchen floor, he scrambled over to the drawer where they’d stashed an emergency gun.

Holding back the sigh of relief at the cool metal reaching his palm, but as he picked it up it felt too heavy - like he was going to topple over.

Probably had something to do with the blood dripping down the side of his face, staining his blue shirt.

Brokenly calling it in to Emily, he realised that the ringing in his right ear was going down - making him aware that there had even been a ringing in the first place. Letting him properly focus on the sound from upstairs, crying. Sobbing, really. But that shouldn’t be Maeve, he’d promised that she’d be fine.

He promised.

Causing him to blatantly ignore Emily and hang up the phone, stuffing his phone in his back pocket and stumbling to the stairs. Ambling up with the gun heavy in his hands, finding the source from their master bedroom.

Wishing they’d never gotten up this morning - or that he’d intervened at the front door. She isn’t worth this case.

Through his hazy vision as he pushed the door open, he saw the UnSub holding Maeve up by the window. Facing the door and waiting for him. Fuck.. he makes the husband watch.

Coming upstairs might’ve just killed her.

“Hello Walter, pleasure to finally meet you. Don’t worry, I met your wife earlier.”

Digging the knife a little harder into Maeve’s side, finally making Spencer aware of the knife pressed into her side. He desperately tried to figure out where it would hit her if he stabbed her, but he couldn’t. He can’t think, Maeve is in danger. His wife.

“Give her--”

“Funny, even with a head injury, you come to save her, gun and all. But she didn’t even call out for you, you know. I dragged her off and she screamed for a Spencer. Bitch was more unfaithful than I realised.”

Panicking, Spencer took a step closer, wanting to bargain and plead and shoot this fucking bastard. For Maeve.

“No, no. That’s- That’s me, Walter is my middle name. Please don’t hurt her, I promised.”

Maeve hadn’t stopped looking at him, so desperately. She had screamed for him, he had promised to keep her safe, holding eye contact as the UnSub laughed. A horrible sound right now as he just wanted this all over.

“What good are promises and vows, when your wife talks to any man that comes to the door, like a common whore.”

“Don’t call her that.”

“I can call this traitorous bitch whatever I want, this is what’s best for your marriage.”

The knife dug in deeper, cutting through the pretty blue sweater she’d worn just to match with him today. All he could do was watch as blood started to seep through, not enough to be serious, but it was still too much for his heart.

Hazy brain trying to sort through what to say. The UnSub’s hatred probably began with his mother leaving his father, regardless of whether or not she cheated - and that pure hatred was cemented when his wifely likely cheated and left him. As if it rationalised his hatred because they’d proved he was right.

But he also knew this kind of man can’t be talked down - his hands were too fucking shaky, and his vision too blurry to try and do anything physical.

Maeve, Jesus, she’s smiling at him softly, even though she had a knife cutting shallowly into her gut and an arm locked around her throat. Her voice wasn’t as level as she had hoped for, but at least she wasn’t crying anymore as she spoke to Spencer.

“It’s alright sweetheart, just take the shot.”

The man doesn’t even seem fazed, as if knowing how unlikely it is that Spencer would get a decent shot off, if any at all. And his grip tightened on the gun, raising it just a little. The action did make him hold Maeve tighter, but there’s no point, he really can’t safely make a shot.

Fuck- he’s terrified that he’ll hit her.

“I- I can’t. Angel, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sirens finally sounded from outside and the man clearly bristled, looking nervously between him and the window. Spencer was going to fucking throttle whoever just set off those sirens, knowing that it was only going to make the man panic. The police had never arrived so quickly before.

As he was looking for the right thing to say, the man gave Spencer one last look.

“We both know, you’re better off.”

Drawing back the knife and stabbing Maeve in the side, quickly managing to pull it out and get another one in before Spencer’s heavy reactions finally kicked in.

The pain had Maeve doubled over and Spencer fired now that the shot was clear, hitting the man clear in the heart and sending him over - dead before he even hit the floor. Impressive considering Spencer was aiming for his head. 

There had been a scream, and it wasn’t until he was cradling Maeve on the floor that he realised it was coming from him.

Making sure the knife hadn’t been jolted as he violently kicked the man’s body away to make enough room for him and Maeve were on the floor, grabbing for whatever clothes they’d discarded the night before. Desperately trying to stem the bleeding.

Maeve’s hands travelled up his arms, leaving smears he’s never going to be able to tear from his memory, eventually settling in his hair. Until she let out a sad whine, pulling her hand back, all bloody from the injury to his head.

“Spence, sweetheart, you’re bleeding.”

“You’re a little more important than me right now baby. Stay still for me okay, fuck, fuck-- not again, not again--”

Her words were all slurred, and she just continued frowning, not caring that all his focus was on trying to stop her bleeding. Whereas she was trying to get him to refocus, not understanding why she was so important to focus on right now.

“No you- you need to be checked out. You’re so clever Spencer, you need to- you need t’ protect your brain.”

As he was trying to focus on her, he could feel her hands lax from where they’d been smoothing through his hair. Eyes darting up to her face as she started to mumble her words, eyes slipping shut.

“Maeve?! Angel, baby, c’mon, stay with me, help is coming.”

“Oh~ you called me Maeve! It sounds so pretty. ‘M sorry love, I need- I need to rest my eyes, won’t sleep, promise.”

He moved his hands to her face, inadvertently smearing her blood across her cheeks, but he needed her to open her eyes. He can’t lose her - he fucking refuses to lose her.

This woman, carved so perfectly into his heart, isn’t allowed to leave him yet. There is so much more he wants to do with her- hell, he wants to tell the stupid fucking woman that he loves her and he’s an idiot for leaving it so long to tell her. That he’s sorry that she has to be in danger whenever he realises his feelings for her.

Tapping her face lightly while her eyes darted underneath her eyelids.

“Uh huh, it’s real pretty, just like your gorgeous eyes. Keep them open for me angel. Maeve, come on now.”

It had calmed down, the bleeding, the trousers that he’d grabbed from the floor were completely soaked but the blood wasn’t flowing as violently anymore and he could ease some of the panic in his heart.

The knowledge that Emily was outside, the house had already been breached, and there was an ambulance waiting for them was the only thing he was holding onto to avoid breaking down.

But he damn near sobbed when she peeled one eye open to look at him, a few tears dropping onto her face, but she didn’t seem to care.

“You’re lucky you’re cute Spence. But it’s too bright to keep my eyes open, please can you turn the lights of love, please.”

“The lights.. the light is off babygirl, keep that eye open for me anyway. Please Maeve, I can’t lose you.”

Scrunching her face up, ignoring the stab of pain that flickered through her as she gazed up at him. Forcing the other eye open even against the blaring light, trying not to hold it against him for not turning it off yet.

Reaching up, she cradled his face carefully within her hands, like he’s doing with her. So gently, as if she thought he’d break. As if he were the one here so close to dying.

When she smiled again, it took all his willpower to ignore the blood between her teeth.

“You won’t lose me sweet thing, I’m jus’ a little sleepy. Let me have a nap and then we can go back to being married, yeah?”

“No- No! Maeve, come on, eyes open.”

But it was no use, her hands slipped off his face and falling to her chest as her eyes fluttered shut. Smushing her face into his palm as the pain and light started to dim underneath her eyelids, her lips brushing his hand.

“You keep calling me Maeve, I love it so much. I uh.. can we talk about it later? I really like it, but I prefer- I prefer angel.”

Breathing finally evened as she passed out, going limp against his hand as he finally stopped trying not to cry. Pulling her up into his arms and sobbing into her hair, hearing the paramedics scaling the stairs out in the hallway.

Pressing small kisses to her hair over and over, as if he could ever start to make up for not being able to keep her safe. Voice breaking through his words.

“I’ll call you angel forever Maeve, I promise, but you have to wake up. Please- please don’t leave me.”

Want more?! Good!

taglist ( ˘ ³˘)♥ @peachsodameg @angelinajolie0213 @jiggly-puff-12 @khxna @kennedy2156 @trulycayla @none-of-your-bullshit @alexxavicry @meg-black (please tell me if this works because I have never done this and google is useless)

[imwintr]

cold

pairing | corky x reader

prompt | “it’s a camping trip, and one character’s forgotten their sleeping bag” by scealaiscoite wc 1406.

Deciding to join the vandals on their Dayton run picnic was a last minute decision. Having never spent a substantial amount of time with any of them other than seeing a couple of them over your neighbor Kathy’s home in passing, it would be fair to say that you were skeptical about attending. Though Kathy’s husband Benny seemed friendly enough, no amount of friendliness would be enough to convince you that hanging out with a motorcycle club that had been recently accused of arson was a good idea. 

The only reason you even initially even considered the idea was because although you and Kathy had been neighbors for well over a few years, you hadn’t become friends until recently when she stopped by asking to borrow some sugar. She confided in you about Benny’s injuries and the whole Lakeside ordeal, so you decided to attend on behalf of her “moral support”. It wasn’t like you had much of anything else to do in the coming days regardless, having already taken several days off from work. 

Since you weren’t staying for the entire duration of the run–and obviously didn’t own a motorcycle–you settled on staying for two nights before heading back on the road. Already not being the biggest fan of camping in general, you attempted to shove down the ensuing dread that was bubbling in your stomach to no avail. That feeling only intensified when you actually arrived on the grounds and saw the copious amount of people that were already there. 

Thankfully, it didn’t take you long to locate Kathy, who quickly introduced you to some of the other wives and girlfriends who had rode in with their partners. She furthermore introduced you to the Vandals’ leader and founder Johnny Davis, who you were initially wary of because of what you learned beforehand, but meeting Betty made you believe he still had to have some decency left under all of that bravado. Afterwards, you started getting approached by some of the members themselves despite Kathy’s attempt to swat the majority of them away–especially one Vandal in particular.  

This wouldn’t actually be your first time meeting Corky, though all of your other interactions were in passing with only a few words spoken. He asked you to remind him of your name before taking a seat next to you, causing Kathy to roll her eyes before resuming her conversation with Gail. Knowing that a good bulk of the guys in the club were bums who had no foreseeable future other than risking their lives riding motorbikes, you could understand why she was trying to steer you away from getting involved with any of them (not to mention the present circumstances she was dealing with in her own marriage). 

“Enjoying yourself?” he questioned, pushing his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose from where they had begun to slide down. You had to admit it, you found him pretty attractive, although you would never admit that out loud, nor would you willingly allow yourself to develop any feelings for him. He was probably just humoring you or trying to be cordial since it was technically your first time at one of their events. Little did you know that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“I guess so, is this what you guys call fun?” you attempted to joke, which he thankfully seemed to pick on and gave you a laugh in return. Someone else decided to sit down on the other end of the bench, causing him to scooch over to where your legs and arms were brushing up against each other. Surprising yourself, you didn’t immediately move away from the contact. That awful feeling of dread you initially held when you arrived was long gone, replaced with an odd giddiness that made it difficult to keep a smile off of your face or keep yourself from laughing at each dumb joke he made. 

Never having been the type to hastily fall in love or believe in something as ludicrous as love at first sight, this was entirely foreign to you–and made your current behavior borderline unrecognizable to anyone that knew you beforehand. It wasn’t like you were constantly irritable or anything of that nature, but it wasn’t uncommon to see you donning an unamused expression when someone attempted a romantic advance. If someone were to tell you a week ago that you would be practically cuddled up next to a member of the Vandals a week later, you would have asked if they were feeling alright. As the day went on, you spent the rest of your time witnessing some of the club members’ absurd antics and listening to the girls conversate about what was going on in their relationships. 

By nightfall, groups had begun to break out and settle around individual campfires before turning in to go to bed. It was only then when you noticed how cold it had gotten with the sun having gone down, leading you to venture out to your car to retrieve a blanket. Noticing your return, Corky gave you a teasing smile before he asked “Still enjoying yourself?”. Rolling your eyes, you took the seat he had saved you between Wahoo and himself, and nodded before pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Are you cold?” He questioned, his smile fading and his eyebrows raising in concern. 

“A little bit.” you admitted sheepishly, suddenly feeling foolish for not packing better and being more prepared for the weather. “But I’ll be alright–” you were cut off mid sentence when you felt him gently grab your elbow so your arms and legs were touching just like before. 

“Better?” 

“I guess.” responding with a shrug, you giggled when he rolled his eyes in response, mirroring your actions from earlier. Around a couple of hours later, you guess he had gotten tired because he eventually decided to lay down on the log and propped up his leg behind you. You did your best to ignore Kathy’s playfully judgemental stare but it was kind of challenging when you were practically sitting in between Corky’s legs (which are quite long by the way). 

By the time everyone had decided that they were turning in for bed, you had really begun regretting your decision to just sleep in your car instead of bringing sleeping bags like everyone else and sleeping closer to the campfire. You weren’t looking forward to the cold leather in the backseat of your car, especially after sitting next to a human body heater and a campfire for several hours. Once you bid Kathy goodnight, you began walking out past everyone rolling out their sleeping bags to your car that was about 30 feet away. Hearing someone softly call out your name, you whipped your head around to see a familiar face removing his sleeping bag from his bike. 

“Where you going?”

“I didn’t bring a sleeping bag so I’m just gonna sleep in my car.” Saying that out loud caused you to cringe internally. Why didn’t you just bring a sleeping bag to a camping trip? 

“You’re gonna freeze, just take mine.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t.” Apparently your back and forth was getting bothersome because someone from a nearby sleeping bag hissed for you to quiet down and go to sleep. 

“We can just share it.” He suggested before picking a spot to roll it out for the night. Despite not wanting to cause anymore of a commotion than you already had, you were still milling over whether or not to just share the sleeping bag with him or just head back to your car–but you made the decision to stay. If it was anyone else you would have been overwhelmed and anxious–but to your own bewilderment the man who was beckoning you to lay down next to him, whose legs were comically too long for the sleeping bag he owned–did no such thing. 

Squeezing in next to him you were immediately met with an arm snaking its way around your shoulder to pull you closer to him. Rolling onto his back he left the arm around your shoulder and placed the other one behind his head, leaving you enough room to rest your head on his chest. There was no nagging feeling deep inside telling you to get up and run away, instead–you felt oddly at peace. 

Maybe hanging out with the Vandals for a few days wouldn’t be so bad.

[pansy-picnics]

Helloooo I just wanted to say that your trans Varian art is very special and comforting to me <3 it gives me warm soft feelings and it always makes my day thank you very much. The little details you include like what he uses to bind and his family supporting him and also him feeling comfortable enough to take his binder off at the end of the day or around certain people just makes me feel so seen and happy <3 I hope you have a lovely day

AUGHHGJGG THANK YOUUUU you have no IDEA how happy these kinds of comments make me,,,, 🥹🥹🥹🥹 i don’t even really identify my gender myself and im definitely not transmasc but varian is just So violently transgender to me and it doesn’t feel right to not portray him that way. i put a lot of effort into my portrayal of it so when ppl say my art makes them feel seen i literally. scream and cry and throw up /pos

and YES you get it omfg…..the little freak plagues my mind constantly he is SO loved and supported by his family. he’s a very practical guy to me so unless he’s going out for work or has visitors or something he can’t really be bothered to get dressed up or bind. he used to when he first started working in the castle,, but now he feels a lot more comfortable there and if he’s just gonna be hanging around at home he’s not gonna go through all the extra effort. and him feeling safe enough to do that is SO important to me!!!!! it makes me so unbelievably happy that people are able to notice all those details and i’m just so,,, oughggghh

ALSO!! the detail of the binder in particular is actually one of my favorite things i haven’t really gotten a chance to talk about it here…..i’m kind of a history nerd also and although tts doesn’t really have a set time period (and i honestly don’t want it to), i enjoy adding in some historical references here in there cuz i just think it makes the world feel a lot more immersive. but heres a fun fact for you if you want to read:

most modern binders are made up of some kind of nylon or spandex, both of which weren’t invented until around the 1930s or 50s. most people use bandages to portray trans characters in fantasy settings, but bandages by themselves wouldn’t really do much unless they were compressive, and compressive bandages as we know them today also weren’t invented until around WW2. THIS is where corsets come in.

corsets get a rlly bad rep most of the time honestly, because for some reason most people are still convinced they were like. medieval torture devices. and they were used to promote a slim silhouette a lot of the time but so were a LOT of other garments!! corsets alone were undergarments worn on a day to day basis, both by rich and working class women and even by some men in the victorian era. they were just used the same way we wear bras today!! it wasn’t any different!!!

but boned garments like this also had the ability to shape and form the body, and though obviously i can’t confirm anyone was making corset binders in the 1800s people have been able to make modern replicas with similar materials that have almost the exact same effect as a modern chest binder, which tells us that it would’ve been completely possible for someone to hide their chest with a corset like garment AND!! it was quite literally PROVEN to us during the 1920s flapper era!!!

i could go on and on about the flapper era and it’s influence on the general social culture but basically, a LOT of inherent gender roles were being challenged, so women were wearing shorter skirts and haircuts, and women’s fashion trends in general started to take on a much more androgynous silhouette to reflect that. a boxy, more boyish shape was actually strived for and a lot of women with larger chests would wear bodices advertised as “bust reducers” to create this appearance, a lot of which were made with similar materials to corsets of the time!!!

they obviously aren’t exactly the same as a binder we would have today but its shockingly similar i think, and it’s just neat to know that people really have been doing this stuff for centuries :’3

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

Ok, so, I’m gonna spill my silly little interpretation of 6EM’s and SWK’s (Too lazy to type their full names.) childhood/relationship. I know I’m probably not right, per se, but I just really want to spill my thoughts about them.

You guys knows those families with the one “troubled” kid and the one “just fine” kid? Like the “I know you’re a child but your sibling needs more attention than you because they’re worse off.” kinda thing? And the kids too young to say/understand otherwise so they just kinda… deal? THAT’S how I see SWK’s and 6EM’s childhood. (Minus the sibling part, I don’t personally view them as having a familial relationship, but it’s the best example I could think of that made sense.)

I view it as like 6EM was the (more) reasonable one. The one that was pushed off to the side and left to deal with the background problems so other people could focus on the more important “problem”. A.K.A SWK. It left him neglected and feeling used, and because of how he just took what people gave him (Again, so SWK could be the main focus.) no one took his advice seriously/they just brushed over him. But he didn’t care (That much.) because he had SWK. He had one reliable in person his life, one constant that would always be there for him not just with him. It was probably a really codependent thought process. (And SWK was really greedy so he probably didn’t notice any real stress, and was probably convinced it didn’t matter what he did. 6EM would always wait for him after all.)

Then it was just gone. Everyone has a breaking point and 6EM’s was building for literal centuries. Seeing SWK with other people was probably like hitting a horribly cracked pane of glass with a sledgehammer. SWK was one of the only, if not the only, person 6EM probably felt like actually cared. And now he’s been replaced. I imagine that 6EM felt used for a long time and the only person who didn’t make him feel like that was SWK, but seeing that? Him just chilling with new friends? Not even a thought towards his most loyal friend? I imagine it’d make him feel like a toy thrown out when a child got bored.

I don’t think 6EM or SWK were responsible for the formers death. I think they were both kids (YOU CAN NOT CONVINCE ME THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS WERE ANY OLDER THAN 25, in celestial years or whatever, YOU JUST CAN’T.) who didn’t have literally any form of guidance and grew up with each other, but with very different social expectations. 6EM was horribly codependent and SWK was horribly selfish. The difference is that SWK was given a chance to grow and learn, and 6EM just… wasn’t. I assume that they just thought the other had similar experiences and thoughts as themselves because of how closely they did everything together ‘n stuff; but that just wasn’t true. You can grow up close to someone, maybe even in the same house or town and with the same people, but that doesn’t mean your experiences were anything alike.

I think that’s were it actually started to go wrong, it’s not that they were hiding things from the other, it’s just that they thought the other already knew because they were going through the same thing; even though they actually weren’t going through the same thing.

SWK grew up strong with the idea that he was unstoppable. That he could just take anything he wants. That people would just support him no matter what, that they’d be there no matter what; but he also grew up with the expectations of a king. He grew up thinking he had to be the strongest, he had to protect his family. That lead to his greed and need to protect mixing. He went to Heaven so his family could live a secure life but also because he was power hungry.

6EM grew up as an outcast, he was not well liked and the only person who was truly his friend was SWK. His best friend who literally promised him everything he could ever want. (Read: staying on FFM together forever.) He grew up with the expectations of being someone who would always be there for the other. Someone who would do anything for the other, someone who would just take whatever was given to him. Good or bad. He had a best friend who promised, and promised, and promised. A best friend who seemed capable enough to actually keep those promises, a best friend who 6EM gave his everything to and expected the other to just keep said promises. 6EM made himself a warrior, a tool essentially, for SWK because he was content just being dragged along. So when it all fell he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t allow himself to have a different purpose.

Two very different people who both expected the other to be there but in different ways. 6EM expected SWK to always come back and SWK expected 6EM to always be waiting. They were kids who took on roles too grand for their age and were given no guidance. SWK was given the chance for guidance when 6EM was not, I highly doubt it would have been any different should the roles have been reversed. I’d bet money that SWK would have attacked 6EM’s new friends to. They were both possessive, just in different ways. 6EM wasn’t ok with the change because SWK was the only thing he thought he knew, so he lashed out. SWK had changed since their last interaction and he defended.

I don’t think SWK meant to kill 6EM, either he was too blinded by rage to stop, or the final strike was a miscalculation. Maybe there’s a completely different reason for 6EM’s death, I don’t know. That’s just my thoughts on these silly little dudes. (I know I explained more of 6EM here but that’s mainly because we don’t actually know much about his childhood. Like, sure, we mainly have 6EM’s side of the whole death story, but that doesn’t mean we actually have his backstory. We know more about SWK’s childhood and shit than 6EM’s, so I wanted to focus more on the latter. Also because he’s my favorite and I’m very biased.😌)

Conclusion: 6EM was codependent and dedicated his everything to SWK, being brushed off as the lesser version while doing so many unnoticed things for SWK; he didn’t see a purpose outside of SWK. SWK was selfish and possessive/protective, just expecting things to go his way because he was strong, expecting 6EM to just be ok with whatever he gave him no matter what; but also had a lot of expectations to be the best. SWK and 6EM’s relationship was (almost) always unhealthy, it just didn’t look like it. Two enablers with different roles, a possessive leader and his most dedicated follower.

(Additional thing I want to add here: I think that if 6EM was given the chance to properly learn/process shit before LBD yanked him from the soil, then he wouldn’t have tried to get revenge. Dude was sent to the Diyu, not therapy, of course he’s gonna come back with an even worse mindset/“coping skills”.

Edit: I forgot to add that their past dynamic made it achingly easy to view 6EM as a victim and SWK as an abuser, when they were actually both in the wrong. Guilt isn’t an easy emotion to deal with. I think that there might have been a point where 6EM knew he was just as guilty as SWK, but no one likes the thought of turning out like their abuser. I think it was just too much so he kinda just forcefully blocked it out, ultimately stopping himself from healing properly and letting his spite for SWK fester.

Edit 2: … I can’t stop talking about them. My brain is filled with these gay ass monkeys and I keep realizing more. Where 6EM can’t stand guilt so he passes on blame, SWK just ignores it or denies it. They both can’t take guilt but in different ways. Head in hands, flailing and wailing, ugly sobbing. THEY’RE SO SIMILAR IN SUCH DIFFERENT WAYS AND I’M JUST AHAHAHWHGSJSNJXBSKMSKS

Edit 3: OK ISTG THIS IS THE LAST ONE, I PROMISE I WILL EXERCISE SOME SELF CONTROL AFTER THIS! SWK got self esteem issues from having too high standards from others but too low standards for himself. While 6EM got self esteem issues from having too low standards from others and too high standards from himself. I don’t know if that makes sense but I am fighting my ADHD rat brain to leave it at that.

Edit 4: I lied, I don’t have self control. 6EM likes being on the stage because he was neglected as a child [Craves attention he wasn’t properly given.] and SWK has stage fright because he had too many expectations as a child. [Fears attention that he was given too liberally.])

[magnolia-sunrise]

The way you explore Bastien’s sense of identity through his presentation reminds me of an OC of mine, so they might see eye to eye in at least some respects! My guy Evan (he/him) is a fat trans man who figured out he was trans a little late into his teenage years because he was too preoccupied being the third parent to his three younger siblings. Eventually this fact about himself was too strong for him to ignore, though, and thus he quickly began the process of socially transitioning and gradually sought medical transition as well. He changed names several times throughout this period (Callum, Beck, Rory, and many others among them)

His parents… They weren’t *un*supportive, but in the very least his mother, who saw a lot of herself in her oldest child, indulged his desire to transition while never quite shaking his deadname out of her vocabulary, you know? Especially with him changing names *so* often, it’s just *so* hard to remember which one is right these days. And Evan wanted to maintain a relationship with his parents for a long time (honestly what he wanted was to stay close to his siblings, the youngest of whom is 13 years younger than him). It wasn’t until after he met his eventual spouse, Isador (he/she), who called him by the right name consistently, who encouraged him to experiment and figure out what he liked about being trans, and who showed him what supportive family looks like (Isador was raised by her grandmother who absolutely loves the hell out of her grandkid), that he eventually got the courage to confront his parents. This eventually leads to him going no-contact with said parents, although his siblings reach back out to him on their own

It takes a WHILE for Evan to feel comfortable circling back to femininity for himself, and to feel totally comfortable in his body even then. He grows out a beard and dresses in layers to kind of hide how his body looks underneath. He pushed his feminine hobbies and interests to the side Hard when he started socially transitioning, because he convinced himself he Had to, and instead leans hard into new hobbies like handiwork and cars. Once again he’s content to simply push through the feelings as though they’re small, until they’re too big to ignore. Years down the line, after he and Isador are married, he can admit to himself that Christina Aguilera may still be one of his favourite artists. After they have a daughter together, he comes back to the mending skills he learned as a kid in order to fix her dolls — and maybe even make her some, when he feels brave enough

Evan also tends to be good at reading people and social settings, and if he knew Bastien to any degree, I think he’d be thrilled to see how their sense of personal style and the way they carry themselves changes over time. It’s good to see :)

(Wolfgang and Isador would also absolutely queen out. That’s a separate thing skhdjssjg)

(sorry for getting to this a bit late i got this ask as i was heading out!)

helloooo Evan(and Isador!!) so nice to meet them :") <3 !

really really love how much care and love you put into his story and the realistic and long identity journey (some of the family stuff really hits so hard).

i don't post about this stuff much since its not relevant to the story and i like exploring my characters identities in relation to each other but Bastien left his family when he was fairly young to get himself out of that town and that deeply supressive environment and off to med school as far away as possible, and they've been no contact pretty much since. he used to be a twinkish dyke, and then a dykish twink early on in university and that environment was really fundamental in experimenting with gender and sexuality for him. he was also really lonely, and unsure of anything - getting himself DIY testoterone and then waffling whether he actually wanted to go on it, then waffling about some of the changes, then waffling about top surgery (so he spent some years walking around with mustache and tits) just. a lot of anxiety and stress all the time, they preferred to just put their studies ahead of anything else and only engage in sexuality in terms of one night flings on campus. then after one dramatic event and a shoulder injury, continuing studies was no longer an option and his life just. shattered.

this is where Matteo came into his life in a bigger way, and immediately he was someone really attractive because he seemed so confident, his life figured out, future lined out. it was intoxicating to be in the presence of someone so self assured without a care in the world. who in turn also accepted Bastien - at least back then, when he was a depressed twink Matteo could "save"- and motivated him. but ultimately it was like jumping from one form loneliness and isolation into another form of it, now depending on his cis partner, surrounded by Matteos cis rich friends. his body still changing, gaining weight, feeling unattractive to his partner and locked into specific way of gender and sexuality expression, losing sense of his identity and what they even wanted to do with their life. its so alienating.

all this is to say-- i think if Bastien knew somemone like Evan early on, he would have really loved to have a friend like that - someone going through similar experiences i feel like they could have found a lot of strength and support in each other :") i think if they stayed in touch and friendly over the years, they could have been really positive influences on each other and maybe Bastien would not have such deep seated issues opening up to other people and even to himself. lost in the thought imagining the happiness Bastien would feel visiting Evan's family and seeing the pure love and joy there and what it took to get there its just :"))))) maybe he even would have the strength to leave his unhappy relationship seeing what it's like to be *actually* really accepted when seeing how Isador loves Evan :"))

thank you for sharing!!

[obsessedwithitall]

Water Under the Bridge (Eddie Munson x oc)

I wrote this years ago as a short part of a long story I had in my head, and woke up this morning thinking it would make a good Eddie fic. So here it is again. Bet you can't guess who it originally written for?

Also it originally had 2 different part 2 endings. So what are we feeling, happy ending or sad ending?

Background: Eddie and Amelia dated in highschool but Eddie dumped her many times. When they left school Steve offered her a job working with him abroad and she took it to get over Eddie.

One part 2 is happy and one is sadder, take a risk here or choose which at the end

Part 2a

Part 2b

***

The cocktails were good, but the whiskey was better. It reminded you of school parties and doing stuff you weren’t meant to be doing, when you and Eddie were good and you were being childish because you were a child and not because he brought it out in you.

After suggesting some drinking song she’d learnt whilst travelling and singing it very loudly and forcing yet another load of whiskey down her throat, Amelia started on the cocktails again. People were getting up to dance but she wasn’t sure she could even stand.

Amelia put her head on the table for a second, just to shut her eyes, a quick power nap before going to the bar again.

“Mi? Are you alright?”

She shot her head up again, too quickly, and it made the room spin. “I’m brilliant.”

“I think it’s time to get you home.” Eddie said. He stood up next to Amelia’s seat and put his hand on her arm to help her up.

“I don’t want to go.” Amelia protested. “I’m fine. I don’t need to go home yet.”

“Mimi, I think you’re done.”

“Well, I don’t care what you think.”

“Come on.” He picked up her jacket and gently started lifting her arm.

“Get your hands off me.”

“Stop it, come on.”

“Stop touching me, who do you think you are? Get your hands off me.”

Some strange girls came over to the couple, looking mad as hell.

“Is this guy bothering you babe?”

Amelia straightened herself up. “He is actually, yeah.”

One of the girls took Amelia’s hand and pulled her over to their table, while another of them squared up to Eddie. She looked in his eyes and glared, before turning away and going over to the table with her friends. They got Amelia a drink and just chatted with her for a while.

Eddie tried a couple times to go over and convince Amelia to stop being so stupid and just let him take her home but every time he was met with the girl who squared up to him before.

“She doesn’t want to go with you. Leave her alone. Now fuck off before we call the police.”

That was it for him. He tried to help her but she wouldn’t listen. She was basically passing out in the booth with the girls and all he wanted to do was get her home safely.

He went outside the bar to try and find Steve. She’ll go with him no problem, Eddie thought. It broke his heart a little, that she no longer trusted him, and even after all this time they couldn’t seem to come together enough for even friendship to work, let alone any kind of relationship. But she would do anything for his friend. Maybe they were meant to be, he thought, and there was nothing that he could do.

Steve was stood outside with some other friends.

“Eddie, what’s going on?”

“Amelia is so drunk, she keeps drinking and I tried to get her home but she won’t even let me help her up. These girls took her to their table because she wouldn’t stop shouting at me like I was some kind of pervert touching her up.”

When Steve went inside he found Amelia easily. The girls around her were talking amongst themselves but her eyes were basically closing.

Amelia felt a tap on her shoulder and she woke fully up with a fury in her she’d never felt before. She turned her head, ready to give Eddie another mouthful but instead saw Steve stood there.

“Heya Steve.” She said giving him a sloppy thumbs up and winking.

“You ready to go home?”

“I suppose. Can I finish my drink though?”

“Something tells me, you’ve had enough.” He took her drink out of her hand and placed it on the table in front of her. “Thank you for taking care of her, ladies.”

Outside the cold air hit Amelia almost instantly. Steve was supporting nearly her whole weight. Luckily the bar wasn’t too far from home but Steve wished he had brought his car. Every hundred meters Amelia was stopping the throw up in the gutter of the street.

“I didn’t know I had this much liquid inside me.” She whispered the fourth time she stopped. She put her head on Steve’s shoulder to try and compose herself a second. “How much further? I’m tired”

“Not too far. Do you think you can walk on your own a bit? You are getting a bit heavy.”

She nodded and attempted to walk the rest of the way on her own, only half managing it.

The next morning Amelia woke with a banging headache. She didn’t even attempt to sit up, as she thought her head might have just exploded at the pressure change. She suddenly became very hot, so removed the bed covers from herself, to find she was wearing a new set of pyjamas. She had no memory of getting into them, or even getting home last night. She couldn’t remember most of last night actually. She just hoped she hadn’t done anything too bad.

A knock at her door woke her again from her half hangover sleep. She shouted at them to come in and Steve entered and sat on the end of her bed. He looked knackered.

“Feeling alright?”

Amelia just groaned, fearing shaking her head would make it hurt more.

“Why have I got these pyjamas on?”

Steve sighed. “You threw up all over your other ones.”

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly. I was surprised you had any vomit left in you, the amount of times you threw up on the way home. I had to come find you, you started screaming at Eddie to get off you apparently. When I got there you were sitting with these girls I’ve never seen.”

Amelia groaned again and threw her hand over her eyes. She didn’t want to be seen right now. How could she really be that stupid?

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t even planning on drinking that much.”

“It’s not me you should be apologising to. We’re going to sort this today.”

The duvet was removed from the bed, making Amelia’s leg unpleasantly cold.

Steve took hold of her hands and pulled her upright. “Come on.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re going to talk to Eddie.”

Amelia shook her head and resisted. “No, Steve. I don’t even remember last night, I’m sure he doesn’t. It’s all water under the bridge at this point.”

“Not about last night. All of it. You’re going to tell him how you feel now.”

She stopped pulling back and let her arms go limp. Steve stopped pulling and just let her sit for a second. She couldn’t do that. Amelia thought she’d got over everything and stopped pining when she went to work for Steve overseas but it was starting to seem like she hadn’t stopped at all. She was that same 16 year old upset her boyfriend had left her to work on his band, she was that same 18 year old crying over their breakup and the same 20 year old who waited a year to be told the same thing all over again. She wasn’t over him.

“I can’t. It’s all too much. The past is the past and all that.”

“Bullshit.”Steve swore.

“Ste-“

“If you don’t go and talk to him now, you can’t come back with me. You will no longer have a job.”

That comment made her sit up straighter. “You can’t do that.”

“I can. You’re my assistant. I’ll do what I want.”

***

Happier ending here

Sadder ending here

Feedback is always welcome xxx

[natalynsie]

Noah is Not Pathetic (Noco Oneshot)

[Before reading, please keep in mind I post all of my Noco oneshots on ao3 as a series. I recommend reading the first part of the series, Boyfriend, first, but it isn't required. Boyfriend provides more context for what will happen in this and if you do plan on reading Boyfriend it includes spoilers. You obviously don't have to and it will be understandable. Every part of this series can be read as a one-shot.]

“Dude, Adam, you suck at this,” Caleb laughed.

“Yeah, that’s because I’m not a nerd, and I don’t play video games,” Adam sputtered. “I actually have a life outside of my basement.”

“I doubt that,” Noah responded.

Family reunions were always chaotic. Even though Caleb and Adam were Noah’s favorite cousins, they definitely brought a good bit of chaos themselves. Cody being locked out of his house dragged Noah more into the chaos. Noah had been interrogated three times about whether or not he and Cody were dating.

And yeah. Maybe there were some gay occurrences earlier that afternoon. Maybe he kissed Cody just to see what it was like. Maybe Adam and Caleb walked in. Maybe he had to convince them that he and Cody weren’t dating and it totally wasn’t weird and to please not tell anyone else.

And maybe Noah had a not-so-small crush on Cody.

But it was fine.

And they weren’t dating.

And romance was still stupid.

Even though his thoughts were all over the place, Noah was definitely winning most of the rounds. Bayonetta for the win.

He should’ve expected Cody to be a loyal Kirby player. Cody was taking a good amount of losses, but he was always close to winning. Unfortunately, Caleb and Noah were just better.

And Noah had absolutely no idea what Adam was doing. He assumed he was just button mashing and praying, but he always died way before the end of the games.

“Have you ever even played Smash before?” Noah asked.

“Yeah, like twice!” Adam defended. “You guys are just serious nerds.”

“Don’t group me in with Noah and Cody,” Caleb said. “They’re like a thousand times more nerdy than me. I just play video games with my friends once in a while.”

“Yeah, you guys live in your basements. I refuse to believe otherwise.”

Cody giggled. “Look man, I don’t play Smash much, but you’re so horrible it’s hard to believe.”

“Adam, you haven’t won a single game,” Caleb stated. “I’ve been keeping track. I won 17, Noah won 12, Cody won 7, and you won 0. It’s getting kinda pathetic.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Like I care. Cody hasn’t won a game since like, eight games ago.”

“I’m getting tired,” Cody complained. “I still wanna play but I’m tired.”

“It’s only 9:15,” Caleb stated.

“I didn’t sleep good the past few nights, leave me alone.”

Just after he said that, Noah felt a weight drop on his side.

Cody was resting against him.

Noah’s heart skipped a beat.

He started to fumble with the controller.

Keep it together, he scolded himself. It’s not even a big deal.

“Hah!” Caleb exclaimed. He had killed Noah while he was off guard.

Adam continued to smash buttons. Noah guessed he didn’t even realize he was dead.

“I was distracted!” Noah responded.

“By what?” Caleb snorted.

“...I dunno.”

So, Noah lost a game. Nothing new.

So he lost seven games. He was entitled to his bad moments.

He didn’t win any other game. Maybe he was a little sidetracked.

“Dude, what happened?” Caleb asked. He had become the sole winner, besides a few of Cody’s wins.

“I’m getting tired too,” Noah lied. He would not let anyone know the reason he was failing left and right was because Cody was just leaning against him. That’s pathetic. Romance is pathetic. Noah was not pathetic.

“You look fine to me,” Adam said, glancing at Noah. He had died- again, so he didn’t need to look at the screen. Noah darted his eyes at Adam, and then back at the screen. He had seen a hint of a smile on Adam's face- that stupid little shit had the wrong idea again.

Noah wanted to jump off a cliff.

Because Adam actually had the right idea.

Yeah, Cody wasn’t his boyfriend, that was wrong. But Adam knew that Noah at least liked Cody. At this point, who didn’t know? Izzy, Gwen, and Owen knew before Noah did, Eva knew, his sister Ava knew, pretty much half of Noah’s suspected it by now, and there were probably more that Noah just hadn’t picked up on yet.

Noah sighed as Caleb won yet again. “I think I’m done for the night.” He placed his controller down, and stood up, beginning to walk away from the TV. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

“‘Kay,” Cody responded.

Noah entered the bathroom and washed his hands. He stared in the mirror for a second before closing his eyes.

This is pathetic, Noah thought. He really spent his entire life mocking romance, just to set himself up for failure. Little eight-year-old Noah really believed this wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass. He really thought he would be immune to it. It was kind of embarrassing.

When the rest of his family found out, he would never hear the end of it.

Noah washed his hands again and exited the bathroom.

“I think I’m gonna head out,” Cody said, standing up. “It’s almost ten, my parents should be home by now.”

“In the dark?” Caleb asked.

“Yeah. How else am I gonna get home?”

“Aren’t your parents gonna come pick you up?” Adam questioned.

“They don’t even know I’m not home. They never check their phones after work- I learned that the hard way. I’ll be fine, it really isn’t that far of a walk.”

“No way,” Noah said. “We’ll drive you home.”

“You sure?” Cody asked.

“Dude, it is ten o’clock at night!” Adam exclaimed. “You are not walking home in the dark. Absolutely not.”

“I don’t wanna be a problem.”

“It is not a problem. You getting kidnapped is a problem.”

“Yeah,” Noah agreed. “My parents won’t mind. Let’s go.”

The group ran up the stairs and into the kitchen where the adults were talking, a good few of them drinking.

“Mom, Cody needs a ride home,” Noah informed.

“Oh, okay. Where are his parents?” Noah’s mother, Barbara, asked.

“They don’t check their phones,” Cody responded. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize hun,” Barbara assured. “Come on kids. Adam, Caleb, do you want to come?”

“Yeah!” Adam exclaimed.

“Why not?” Caleb replied.

“Okay, let’s go.”

The kids followed Barbara to her car. Noah sat in the front seat and everyone else got in the backseat. There was bickering about who would take the middle seat before Barbara told Adam to get in the middle because ‘Caleb’s too big and Cody is our guest’. Reluctantly, Adam did what he was told.

“Where do you live, hun?” Barbara asked.

Cody recited his address and the group headed out.

The car ride was pretty mellow, just consisting of a few last jokes. Noah found himself smiling almost the entire car ride.

When Cody was dropped off, Noah sighed, letting his smile fall. As Adam moved seats, Barbara smiled.

“I never see you smile that much,” Barbara stated. “What was that all about?”

“Oh for god’s sake,” Noah complained. “Can I just have a friend in peace?”

“Noah we all know something’s up,” Adam said, thankfully not bringing up the ‘incident’.

“You aren’t slick,” Caleb added.

“Ughhh,” Noah groaned as they began to drive off. “I hate all of you.”

“You love us,” Adam smiled.

“So my little baby has finally given in to the force of love.” Barbara wiped away a fake tear. “I knew the day would come.”

“Woah, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself,” Noah said. “Am I really that obvious?”

“Baby, I know you like the back of my hand. And yes, you are obvious.”

“Well, that makes eight people that I know know.”

“Who else knows?” Adam asked.

“Izzy, Owen, Gwen, Eva, and Ava.”

“You told Ava before us? I’m offended.”

“She was persistent. Nobody figuring it out was intentional. Except sort-of Owen but he already knew? Whatever.”

Caleb and Adam smiled at each other. “Well, hopefully by the next get-together he’s there as your boyfriend,” Adam grinned.

“Shut your mouths!”

[sunshinejeonglixie]

Only You

tags: sfw, gender neutral reader, !!eating disorder!!, sad but comfort (if that even makes sense, like its sad but changbin makes it better), supportive helpful bf changbin

description: reader struggles with an eating disorder after comparing themselves to the other idols changbin is around all the time, he comes in and takes care of them and gets them back into a more positive mindset and healthier habits

a/n: i'd been thinking recently about how much i love changbin & his health positivity and how much he preaches a "take care of yourself don't worry about the amount of food" kind of mindset and i just love it so much so then this idea came to mind. anyways, y'all please take care of yourselves please know that your health is so much more important than any number, any looks, anything & you are so loved just the way you are.

!!Everything written here is fiction, not meant to be taken as real life, if anything here makes you uncomfortable please just block & move on!!

“Only down 4 more pounds?” you whisper to yourself, staring at the scale in front of you.

Every week you check, and every week there is more disappointment.

Over the past 2 months you’ve lost about 5 or 6 pounds a week, trying more and more to get that number to go up. You’d wanted it to be more, trying more to get past a certain mark. Only having one light meal each day and working out more than you should. Is it a healthy thing? No, and you know that. But it’s what needs to be done in your mind.

This habit started after you went to music shows with your boyfriend, Changbin, more often recently. You’d seen some of the other idols, admired them, saw how everyone loved them and chased after them. Consistently complimented their bodies and their looks. You’re not sure why it got to you so much, it’s not like anyone said anything bad to you, you just wanted people to see you that way too. Maybe if you lost weight, they would look at you like that, treat you that way too, you thought.

You decided from that point you’d cut down on the amount of food you eat and increase time at the gym with Changbin. You’d already been going with him pretty regularly, so the increase wasn’t too suspicious or anything. The difficult part was hiding the fact you weren’t eating more than a small meal each day. Changbin was very attentive, especially with food. Always trying to get you to try new things, share his food with you, and make sure you were well taken care of.

You’d been able to brush him off a bit, which you felt a bit bad about if you’re being honest, and just convince him you were already full or didn’t want to try what he was offering. You’d hoped he wasn’t catching on, but you started to wonder if maybe he noticed more than he let on. When you’d have food together he always started by trying to feed you first, trying to get you to have a little more, things like that.

Your secrets and plans all came crashing down in one day. It started in the morning with you going over to the dorms to hang out with the members, at this point they weren’t just his friends they were yours too. Lee Know had made a special breakfast and immediately brought you some to try. The look on his face when you told him you didn’t want any definitely made your heart sting a bit, he always showed his love through providing for others so when his friend didn’t want any it hurt him a bit, even if he tried to hide it.

“Changbin already headed off to the gym y/n” I.N says through a mouthful of food.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full” Lee Know scolds.

“Thanks Innie, I was actually coming here to hang out with you guys though.” You smile.

“ooo, come with us to dance today?” Felix asks.

“I don’t have any dance clothes with me. I’ll watch though!” you explain, trying to make any excuse to get out of it just in case it could reveal any of your bad habits.

“You can borrow some of mine if you want.” Felix smiles at you, always a helper.

“Oh… yeah alright I’ll go then.” You start to become nervous, damn Felix and his consistently helpful nature.

They all smile, glad to have an extra friend coming with them today. You can’t help but become a bit nervous though, show any signs of weakness or any of the habits you’ve created, and they’ll all know.

After everyone is done with breakfast you all get ready for dance and head off to the company. You in some shorts of yours you found in Changbin’s room and one of Felix’s T-shirts he let you borrow.

Once you get to the company some of the other members meet you there, all of them except Changbin and Chan are there, they were running late after finishing at the gym.

You all started warming up, stretching so there wouldn’t be any injuries. Lee Know decides they’ll just start without Changbin and Chan for a bit and they can catch up later. They ask you to fill in one of the spots since you know almost every Stray Kids choreography.

Everything is going fine for a bit, you’re tired and it’s hard since you’ve not eaten anything to keep your energy up today but it’s fine. You can work through it you think.

That is until you start to get a fuzzy feeling, the room starts to spin. You try to step to the side and sit down but it’s too late. You pass out and hit the ground, hard.

Of course, everyone immediately becomes super concerned. Lee Know stopping practice and taking charge, telling Felix to find out where Changbin is and having I.N run downstairs to the medical office in the company.

You’re not out for long, 5 minutes maybe, but that feels like an eternity to the panicked boys.

As soon as you start to wake up you see the JYP nurse sitting on one side of you, Lee Know on the other, and Felix running back in with Changbin and Chan directly behind him.

“Hyung what happened?” Changbin asks Lee Know

“We were doing dance practice and they just dropped, we’re not sure.” Lee Know explains, moving out of the way for Changbin to take his spot sitting next to you.

“Baby what happened? Are you ok?” Changbin takes your hand, almost in tears with worry.

All of it is very overwhelming. Your whole body filled with panic, knowing that you’ll have to explain something and that all your unhealthy habits will be revealed. Everyone is watching you with concern, not sure how to respond to anything.

“All your vitals are ok, have you had anything to eat within the past 24 hours?” the nurse asks.

“Um…” you hesitate, knowing you need to tell the truth, but at the same time ashamed of the truth.

“No. I haven’t.” you stare at the floor, not willing to look at anyone around you, feeling they’re all going to be disappointed.

“I imagine that’s the problem then. Have a good meal, get some rest, and you should be ok. Don’t do any more intense physical activity without proper amounts of food and water.” The nurse scolds before packing up her things and tells you to come visit her if you have any more issues.

You nod, tears filling your eyes, no words to explain the feelings going through your body right now.

“Nothing in the past 24 hours?” Changbin whispers

You can’t bear to listen to his disappointment. Before anyone can react you push yourself off the floor and walk out the door.

Back in the practice room everyone has different levels of shock and confusion. No one knows how to react until Lee Know speaks up.

“Well go talk to them, aren’t you going to?” He looks at Changbin.

“Yeah, right, of course I am.” Changbin stands up, following Lee Know’s instructions, as if he hadn’t even had a full thought until Lee Know said that.

Changbin walks out of the practice room, walking down the hall to find you sitting at the top of the stairs, crying.

“I know you’re mad, you don’t have to tell me.” You say before he can even get a word out.

“I’m not mad.” He says while sitting down next to you and grabbing your hand.

“Yes you are, I made a stupid decision and got myself hurt because of it. You have every right to be mad.”

“I’m not mad.” He repeats before continuing.

“I’m concerned as hell, but I’m not mad.”

“You should be mad.” You say through more tears.

“No. I shouldn’t be, and I’m not.” Changbin says, trying not to cry just from seeing you struggle.

“y/n when was the last time you had a meal? A real full meal?”

“Tuesday evening when we had dinner together.” You mutter, almost quiet enough he’s not sure he heard correctly.

“Baby it’s Thursday morning. Have you had any sort of snacks or anything since then?” he asks, growing more and more worried.

“I had a piece of toast yesterday morning.”

Changbin is speechless, trying to find the right words.

“We need to get you something to eat baby.” He says, standing up.

You nod, knowing he’s right but still too nervous to look at him.

“Lee Know always keep snacks in his backpack, I could get those from him and then come back and we can talk more before we go get lunch?” He asks.

You shake your head; you don’t need everyone to know everything yet.

“I can’t tell them… they’ll be mad too.” You whisper.

“Baby I won’t tell them anything you don’t want them to know. They won’t be mad at you, just like I’m not mad at you. We’re all just worried.”

“I wanna go home.” You cry, grabbing his hand to pull him back next to you.

“Ok, we can go home. I’ll take you home, we can order some lunch to be delivered, and we’ll talk.” Changbin says, wrapping his arms around you.

He picks you up off the floor, holding you in his arms before setting you back on your feet.

“I’ll go get our stuff and then we can go, yeah?” He asks.

You nod and let him go to walk back to the practice room.

Once he walks back into the practice room, he’s met with a mixture of many different things. Questions, worries, and even some tears from a worried Hyunjin.

“Is everything ok?” Felix asks.

“I’m working on it; I’m just coming to get our stuff and then we’re going home for the day.” He explains.

“We’ll keep working here, we’ll stay out of the dorm for a while so you can talk.” Chan says.

“Thanks, hyung, coming back around dinner time is fine.”

He takes both of your guys’ bags and heads back out to you, grabbing your hand and taking you home.

The walk home is hard, both mentally and physically. The exhaustion is still getting to you and mentally your brain won’t stop moving. Once you guys get back to the dorms Changbin leaves your stuff in his room and brings you to sit at the table, quickly ordering food to be delivered.

“How long have you been doing this?” Changbin asks.

“A bit over 2 months…” you admit, no point in lying to him about it now.

Changbin’s heart shatters into a million pieces at this point, his baby has been feeling this way and not taking care of themselves all this time and he didn’t know.

“I’d noticed you’d lost weight, but I thought it was just because you’d been coming to the gym with me so much.” He says, his voice filled with guilt.

“Binnie you couldn’t have noticed.”

“What changed? What made you start feeling this way?”

This question brings more tears, knowing you’re going to have to tell him the truth and confess all the terrible thoughts you’ve been having is hard.

“When I went to the music shows with you, I saw everyone there and how good they looked and how much everyone complimented them… I figured if I lost weight, looked like them, maybe I’d be better for you. People would look at me like that too.” You confess.

“But you’re so beautiful baby, you don’t need to be like them. Especially not for me. I chose you; I didn’t choose them. I chose you because I want you exactly as you are.” He comforts.

“But you’re so perfect Binnie, and I’m just-“ you start before he cuts you off.

“Don’t you dare say anything negative. You’re absolutely beautiful and amazing and I love you so much. I’m not perfect, no one is, but that’s ok. I don’t need you to be perfect I need you to be healthy and safe, I need you to be you.” He says before pulling you from your seat at the table into his lap in his seat.

Instinctively you hold yourself up a bit, not relaxing all your body onto him. He immediately notices this and pulls you closer before speaking.

“Relax, don’t hold your weight off of me, you’re so gorgeous.”

“I’m too heavy Bin” you mumble.

“No, you are not, I lift more than this in the gym every day.”

“I was gaining too much before.”

“Baby no you were not, you were gaining whatever your body needed. Healthy bodies aren’t always tiny and that’s ok. That’s still beautiful.”

His words really do bring lots of comfort, even if you don’t fully believe him yet. Finally, you hear a knock at the door and the food is delivered.

“Let me make your plate for you please.” He asks, and you nod. Knowing it’s probably for the best.

He sets a plate down in front of you, not an overwhelming amount of food, but enough.

“When you’re finished with that if you’re still hungry there’s more.” He says

“Thank you Binnie.”

“Anything for my baby.”

After you guys eat, and he very closely monitors all that you ate, you guys decide to watch a movie to take your minds off the stress of the day.

Once the movie is over he tells you that you guys need to create a plan. One day of talking isn’t the end of this and you both know it.

“I want you to stay here for a while.” he asks, wanting to be able to keep an eye on you when needed.

“Binnie this is so much farther from work I can’t walk all that way.” You remind him.

“You can take my car; I’ll walk to work or take Lee Know’s car when I need it.”

“Alright. I’ll need to get a lot of stuff from my apartment if I’m gonna be here a while.”

“That’s fine, I’ll make space in my closet, and we can go pick stuff up tonight.” He agrees before continuing.

“I don’t want you eating by yourself for a bit.”

“Binnie I can eat a meal by myself.” You say.

“Love, please, just for some peace of mind. I want you to eat with me, the members, your family, your friends, someone just for a while. I need to make sure you’re actually eating.”

You understand where he’s coming from, agreeing that it’s probably a good idea.

“Anything else?” You ask.

“Not at the moment, if I think of something else I’ll come to you.” He says.

“I appreciate your concern Binnie.”

“I just love you so much baby I have to take care of you.”

Later that evening the rest of the members return from the JYP building, by that point you’d fallen asleep in Changbin’s room, exhausted from the day’s events.

Changbin walks out to greet the members, asking what they got done during dance practice.

“Absolutely nothing.” Lee know says with a slight irritation in his voice

“Where’s y/n?” Felix asks Changbin.

“In my room sleeping.”

“Are they ok?” Hyunjin asks, stress still in his face.

“They’re fine, we’ll talk about it later. Why didn’t you guys get any work done?”

“Why do you think?” Chan laughs

“You guys didn’t have to spend the whole day stressing I have it under control” Changbin is thankful they worry about you like he does but also worried they didn’t get any work done all day.

“I tried telling them that but apparently I ‘don’t know shit’ according to Han & Felix” Lee Know says with an eye roll.

“Hyunggg we said we were sorry for saying that” Felix whines.

“Yeahhh we were just worried we didn’t mean it.” Han agrees.

“Whatever I’m not really offended but don’t you people think that if something was a major emergency that Changbin couldn’t handle he would ask for our help??” Lee Know says, sounding like this is a point he’s made about a thousand times today.

“Let it go. We’ll get stuff done tomorrow.” Chan says before anyone can reply to Lee Know.

Slowly you wake up after hearing the voices in the living room, worried about what everyone has to say, but glad they’re home. You’d felt a little bad basically kicking them out of their house for the day. You decide to just get it over with and head out there, any questions you can’t answer or anything that becomes too overwhelming can be taken on by Changbin. He’d already promised he’d help you talk to them.

As soon as you walk out the bedroom door you’re met with smiles and hellos from everyone.

“Hi baby, did you sleep well?” Changbin asks, coming over to hug you.

“mhm, your bed is so comfy.”

The silence from everyone is a bit awkward for a second, no one knows quite what to say until Lee Know walks into the kitchen to do dishes which seem to unfreeze everyone, and they all move to do their own things.

The next couple days are slightly stressful, having to explain what happened to everyone and Changbin recruiting them to what he calls the “y/n protection squad”. When you asked what he was protecting you from he responded very seriously with “your brain” which made you giggle.

There’s always someone there with you when you have a meal, even if you both just eat next to each other while you do separate things, there’s always someone making sure you actually eat the meal. It’s not easy at first, getting back to eating more than one meal a day is a slow process, so your body doesn’t react too weirdly to it. The first day you ate more than 2 meals a day you got a stomachache for the rest of the day, so you’ve decided it’s gonna be a slower process.

It's also a difficult process because of the stress and anxiety you still feel eating “so much” even though it’s a healthy amount. Changbin has forbidden use of the scale for a while, just to keep your mind off the numbers and back on the health side of it.

“Numbers on a scale have nothing to do with how you feel or what your body needs” he reminds you when you think of weighing yourself again.

It’s nearly a year before your eating habits are more stable and healthier again, and even at that point you can still have some rocky moments. Over that year you’ve gone back to those bad habits twice, always saved and pulled back by Changbin and the other members. You still eat with someone else for about 95% of your meals, not because Changbin tells you to anymore but because he was right, it really does bring you comfort and help you finish a meal without panicking too much about it.

One of the biggest struggles came when they had another comeback, and you went back to the music shows with them. Changbin told you he’d understand if you didn’t want to go but that you were more than welcome to come. Seeing some of the other idols talking about their diets and how much they’ve lost really sent you into a bit of a panic.

You’d walked back to the Stray Kids dressing room in tears, just looking for anyone to try and pull you out. You found the whole group there, immediately you grabbed on to Changbin, explaining what had happened.

“Honey don’t worry about them and what they’re doing, ok? You do what’s healthy for you and your body. You’re so gorgeous and beautiful and I’m so proud of how hard you’re working to take care of yourself.”

“Why are you with me when you could have any of them? They’re better, prettier, smarter-“ you start to ramble before Changbin cuts you off.

“I don’t want any of them. I want you. Only you. You are special, I love you because of who you are. I don’t want you to be like them, if I wanted someone like them I’d find them. I found you because I want you.” He says before continuing.

“And for the record I think you’re the most gorgeous smartest best person in the world so don’t you dare say they’re better than you.”

He holds you close running a hand up and down your back. His words are comforting and reassuring. It makes you realize that he’s right, there’s a reason he chose you and not anyone else.

“Thank you Binnie, I love you” you say, hiding your face in his chest. Slightly embarrassed to let your insecurities get the best of you in front of everyone.

“There’s no reason to thank me baby, I will tell you these things every day until my last breath if it’s what you need to understand that I love you and you’re perfect the way you are.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt but we gotta get going soon.” Chan says before everyone starts to grab their stuff from around the room.

Once everyone is packed up and ready to go you all head out to vans to go back to the dorms. The whole ride home you just think about how loved you feel. Not just by Changbin but by all the members, of course their love is in a different way than Changbin’s but it’s still love. The amount of time, energy, and effort they’ve put into helping you all this time makes you feel so good. It’s a long road to being ok, and it’s ok to not be ok, just knowing you can ask for help and that they’ll be here to catch you when you fall is enough.

[radskull-69]

explaining a oc thing I made for undertale (or any fandom really)

I’ve made some videos about them on my tiktok if u wanna see them! Kinda wanna make this a ARG or smth

silly guy named [REDACTED] is not from anywhere, technically their outside it all. Their only limit to existence is technology, not able to leave devices but can travel within it.

[REDACTED] is an entity really, and entities can go into fandoms and insert themselves into it as a character. But it acts more as a vessel for them, they do this for many reasons.

Food (different entities feed off of different things, emotions, attention, etc.)

For their or the viewers entertainment (they are aware they’re being watched)

they need a home and a fandom or place, it helps them exist.

they get a attachment or infatuated with the fandom or character(s)

some entity’s can take a liking to a character so much they insert themselves into the characters body, altering them depending how good they are at possessing someone:

if they’re sloppy it’s fairy obvious since the character will have some features the entity had.

if they a expert you wouldn’t notice any changes aside from small habits that can be brushed off.

all entities have a ‘human’ form, or at least a form that fits into the world’s aesthetic they’re currently in. So they can’t change Willy nilly into whatever they want, it’s either their true form or their human form.

[REDACTED] didn’t have a home to settle in for a while, hopping between several that none caught their eye. But eventually found UNDERTALE, the one world they became infatuated with.

[REDACTED] forcefully inserted themselves into that timeline, altering the memories of the characters into believing they’ve been friends for years even though they just met.

But of course eventually thanks to sans natural awareness he was able realise [REDACTED] wasn’t the friendly human they made themselves seem thanks to the slip ups they constantly made.

he couldn’t remember how they met, when they moved in with sans and his brother. Whenever he calls their ‘name’ (rad) they are often slow to respond, as if it’s not their real name.

when [REDACTED] see’s he’s catching on they immediately ‘reset’ the world, how they do this is by killing all the characters and then rebuild them from the pieces. altering the world and the characters slightly each time so they only remember what they want them to remember

it’s basically this video here

Y/n is a entity that lives in undertale before [REDACTED] had came along, though y/n did not know they weren’t originally from this world and also a entity, this whole time they thought themselves human.

[REDACTED] Watches from the sidelines when y/n’s vessel dies of old age due to being so convinced their human their body follows along with the role. A entities mindset affects their life gradually.

[REDACTED] re-inserts themselves into sans life to ‘bring y/n back to life’ despite not particularly liking them, only doing it to bring out the vulnerable feelings of sans desperately trying to get his lover back, At the cost of [REDACTED] possessing his body slowly over time.

ofc [REDACTED] isn’t really gonna bring y/n back, making sans have false hope and a reason he can’t leave [REDACTED] or else there’s no chance to bring back y/n

During this phase whenever sans messes up or tries to stop [REDACTED] will kill him before resetting and trying to start again, each time the universe is a bit more different than the original. And each time sans remember’s the resets and what [REDACTED] did to him bit by bit

whenever sans dies he briefly meets y/n in limbo, and always forgets about it when he’s brought back.

eventually sans remembers too much and actually snaps from the intense feelings and having a part of what [REDACTED] in him, sans was tipped over the edge and killed [REDACTED] by pushing them off the bridge, making it look like a suicide.

traumatised with awareness of the resets, how he’ll never get y/n back, just killing someone AND having a piece of that person still inside you sans slowly started to succumb to the urges [REDACTED] still had over him through the unfinished possessing thingy.

sans is unfortunately able to see visions and hallucinations of [REDACTED] so commonly he’s only annoyed by it at this point, kinda like dust sans and papyrus.

sans doesn’t tell anyone about this and keeps it to himself while [REDACTED] slowly takes over him.

!uoy teem ot eciN

[cuoredimuschio]

part two of the guitar lessons au (feat. a side of buckingham)

A shitload of doubts had reared their reasonable, humongous heads the second Steve walked out of that clearing with an agreement to meet on Friday night and Munson’s address tucked in his wallet. 

What did you just do? He’d asked himself with every step, all the way back to his car. 

His guts sloshed around in his shoes, nearly tripping him up, while his heart lumped in his throat. It was the same bucket-of-ice-water-over-your-head, door-locking-behind-you kind of feeling he imagines you’d get seconds after you signed a contract with the devil. A sort of gaping, full-body, no-going-back regret, radiating out from the stomach, spackled over with hasty, flimsy confidence as you try to convince yourself you made the right choice, that it’ll be worth it in the end, that there won’t be any hell to pay, even as the shackle tightens around your neck and the flames lick at your heels.

He was being overdramatic—piling heaps of dirt onto not even a molehill, an anthill at worst—and he knew it, and Robin repeatedly seconded that opinion. But it was like a rock had been kicked over inside him and some scaly, sinuous thing with too many legs had skittered out into the light and made a point to clamber over every one of his organs, vital and otherwise, leaving a slimy trail of unease in its ceaseless wake. 

Thirty bucks a week. Thirty. Three-zero. And who knew how many weeks it would take.

That insect had been swiftly, beautifully obliterated, though, when Jenna stopped in on Wednesday to return the Last Unicorn tape she’d rented for her little sister. One smile, that’s all it took. One dimpled, heart-stopping smile, handed to him like a fat slice of starlight pie on a plate of roses, one laugh that lit up her June-sky eyes, one whiff of her billowy, flowery perfume as she swept out the door he’d held open for her, and he’d understood why all those Greek dudes in that poem started a whole war over Heather or Heidi or whatever her name was. He could and would face a thousand armies on his own if only Jenna was waiting for him on the other side of the battlefield, if only she called his name and asked him to find his way to her. Munson, he’d realized, was nothing but a small, small roadblock on the way to eternal bliss. Just a speedbump, really.

That courage lasted for all of two days.

On Friday, the doubts come roaring back. Louder than ever. Near deafening, ripping that insect from the grave, as he jams the Beemer into park outside Munson’s trailer. At least, he’s pretty sure it’s Munson’s trailer; the guy’s directions weren’t exactly useful. Or entirely legible. Light green, white stripe is the only real clue the paper gives him, but looking at it now, bathed in the glow of his headlights, Steve would argue it’s more on the blue side of the spectrum. Doesn’t help either that the trailer doesn’t have an actual address, only a lot number which, in Munson’s handwriting, could be fifty-three or eighty-three or eighty-nine or S-eight or five other numbers. But at the end of the day, there’s no mistaking that piece of shit van. 

He’s in the right place, whether he wants to be or not.

He turns the keys. Pulls them out of the ignition. Clicks off his seat belt.

But his hand doesn’t reach for the door handle.

Maybe ‘doubts’ is the wrong word. 

Maybe what he really means is ‘dread’.

Not because he’s scared of Munson. Let’s get that straight right off the bat: he is not—in any way, shape, or form—afraid of Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. The guy’s all bark, too much bark, and no bite. Like one of the yappy little rat dogs his mother’s friends drag around everywhere, the ones that snap at anything that moves but shiver and piss themselves the second you take a step toward them. 

So, no. It’s not fear-based dread. It’s just regular dread. The dread of being stuck in a glue trap that, admittedly, you laid out for yourself. Hours, days, weeks on end, subjected to the wonders of Munson’s winsome personality, stuck alone in a room with a guy who hates his guts, and he’ll be paying—dearly—for the privilege of his own torture: he’s not sure he’s ever made a worse decision in his life.

But Steve’s never backed down from anything, even when he probably should have, even when walking away might have saved his bright shiny future. He’s got almost twenty years of pigheaded determination in the face of abject stupidity behind him, and he’s not about to let a loudmouthed loser get the best of him now. He can make this work. He can steer them back on track, keep things civil, maybe even win Munson over in time. Who knows, stranger things have happened.

The porch steps squelch and squawk under his feet as he marches up to the front door, head held high, fingers skimming along the rickety, ice-cold iron rail. Already, he can hear the thunderous pound of the abrasive, screechy garbage Munson mistakes for music, thumping against the thin door like it’s trying to break out. He stops on the top step, squinting at his dim reflection in the glass, and shuffles a hand through his hair before he pastes on a breezy smile and knocks, nice and loud.

There’s no answer.

He knocks again, harder. The glass clatters under his knuckles.

The music gets louder. Still no answer.

He’s a fucking child, Steve thinks, clinging to that smile—though it’s less breezy and a bit more at-gunpoint now—and his newfound sense of bonhomie by the skin of his near-chattering teeth as he raps against the door once more. This time, he doesn’t stop until it’s yanked open.

Munson looks pissed already. But that might just be the natural state of his face. 

Steve would probably walk around with a permanent scowl too if he was living with a whole, pretentious tree shoved high-and-mighty up his ass.

Either Munson’s really committed to constantly maintaining his aren’t-I-so-cool-and-rebellious-and-definitely-not-just-a-total-tool aesthetic, comfort be damned, or he just got in from his little nerd game session. Because he’s still decked in denim and leather, sporting that hideous t-shirt that he forces all his lackeys to wear like they’re some kind of tacky cult, and still speckled with chunky silver jewelry, gaudy rings glinting on his fingers and wallet chain jangling at his hip. He drops his shoulder against the door jamb, one ankle kicked over the other, and runs a less-than-kind, soullessly dark eye over Steve. 

“You got my money?”

“Yeah, relax. I’m good for it.” Steve starts to step forward, angling to slip around his ungracious host and out of the cold, but a blunt hand rams into his chest, pushing him back.

“Not so fast, Harrington,” Munson says, and Steve’s pretty sure he’s meant to find that withering tone and stony glare intimidating; he doesn’t, not in the slightest. “Money first.”

For the sake of trying to start things off on the right foot—or at least the not-actively-hostile foot—Steve doesn’t laugh in his face, and instead asks, light and polite, “That’s a bit backwards, don’t you think?”

Munson’s hand hangs in the space between them, palm up and adamant, waiting like it isn’t below freezing and he’s got all night. “I’m sorry, they let you eat your Whopper before you pay for it, your majesty?” 

What annoys Steve most is that it’s a fair point. A petty, prickish point but a fair one. Doesn’t stop him from grumbling under his breath and calling Munson a few choice names in his head as he digs out his wallet and pries it open. It’s almost physically painful, to pull those three bills out and hand them over into Munson’s greedy paws, and it leaves him high and dry but for a tattered one and a sloppy-edged coupon for forty cents off Tide. Great.

Munson, being the obnoxious prick that he’s obnoxiously proud to be, makes a show of counting the bills, licking his finger as he flicks through them, one by one. When he’s satisfied that Steve hasn’t stiffed him, he folds them up and shoves them in his back pocket, slithering into a smug smile that Steve wants to smack off his face with the business end of a shovel that was most recently used to muck a full-capacity stable. 

“Your generous donation is much appreciated, sire.” He bows and steps aside, an arm swept out with a looping flourish. “Welcome to Casa di Munson.”

(read the rest on ao3)

[theoddcatlady]

I’m spitting out teeth that aren’t mine

I had thirty one teeth. I know, the average is thirty two. When I was seventeen, I got hit in the face with a soccer ball, full force. Knocked out my upper right incisor.

Yup, just thirty one teeth. Made for a good story, whenever someone asked about the gap in my mouth.

Then that gap vanished about three weeks ago. Right after a visit to the dentist’s.

What a time to go to the dentist, right? But I felt a hole in one of my molars, and I couldn’t put off getting it looked at. My normal guy was out with the flu. New dentist was this chick named Dr. Mills. She didn’t seem so bad, I think she was kinda pretty, but I was more focused on the pain in my tooth than the attractiveness of my new dentist.

Maybe I should’ve paid more attention. The day after the appointment, I woke up with thirty two teeth.

I didn’t even notice at first. I mean, why would I? I don’t count my teeth. I doubt you do either. But I did notice something looked weird. I couldn’t put my finger on it of course, not until I was having a snack. Apples with caramel dipping sauce, I was on a diet and that was my cheat for the day.

I bit into the apple when I felt it. That small, hard object on my tongue that had that oh so familiar bloody taste to it. Immediately I spat out everything onto the table, and among the bits of chewed apple and spit infused caramel was a bright white tooth.

Ew. I know. Disgusting. I picked up the tooth, running my tongue alongside the remaining ones in my mouth to see which one was missing.

You can imagine my surprise when none of them felt like they were missing. None of them at all. I headed for the bathroom to double check, still keeping the tooth clutched tightly in my hand. I opened my mouth, wide as I could, shined a flashlight down there to look for any gaps.

Nothing, zilch, nada. No gaps. None at all. That’s when I realized that yes, there was in fact, thirty-two teeth in my mouth. One more than previously, instead of one more missing.

I rationalized it of course. I mean. I was eating. Maybe it was a piece of an apple, I told myself as I chucked the tooth away in the trash. Of course, I didn’t have an answer as to why I had my incisor back, but who knows. Maybe I miscounted. Maybe there was only thirty-one teeth and they’d just readjusted themselves while Dr. Mills was handling my cavity.

I know, I’m stupid. I don’t need your sass. Just work with me here.

By the time I went to bed that night I was almost convinced that this was all just a massive overreaction. It was nothing. I hate being a bother, you know.

When I woke up the next morning, I sat up and almost choked to death on a mouthful of teeth.

Six teeth, to be exact. The feel of all the small hard objects flying into the back of my throat immediately had me gagging and heaving, I was lucky not to actually throw up. Still, all those teeth scattered across my bed, two of them actually landing on my floor to be batted around by my cat Socks.

Yeah. I gathered them up best I could, I possibly missed one but I was still more focused on the fact that no matter how much I felt around with my tongue, I couldn’t feel a single missing tooth. My gums did feel sore and oversensitive, but what the hell, what were those things if they weren’t teeth!?

I went to the mirror again, clutching the handful of ‘teeth’. Three molars, one canine, two of my front teeth. Yet even as I opened my mouth to look in the mirror, there was nothing wrong. I had thirty-three teeth in total, each one looking fine, if not a little crooked here and there.

The ‘teeth’ I now kept in a small bowl, in the fridge. I immediately tried calling my dentist to make an appointment, because I just had no idea what those things could be BUT teeth. For the first time since I’d started going to that office though, I rung out. No one picked up. No machine, nothing. I called again, of course. I called six times that day, and I’ve lost count of the times I’ve called since then.

I work from home. I don’t see people often, and I’m not close to my family. I’m what most might call a hermit. I didn’t really have anyone to turn to with all of this. And what else did I do? Of course, I googled. There’s lots of reasons people can lose their teeth. Poor dental care, which, no. I brushed twice a day, flossed, try to avoid too many sugary sweets and I don’t smoke or chew tobacco. You can also lose your teeth when you get older, which is also not fitting for me. I’m only twenty-nine. And other than this new teeth issue, my health was reasonably good.

Also, there’s the completely unexplainable fact that I wasn’t missing any teeth. I just kept losing them. I had thirty-four mostly normal teeth in my mouth, save for a few that looked strangely sharper than your average human tooth.

I was considering going to the doctor a few days in, because of course, why shouldn’t I? But it’s really hard to get a doctor’s visit where I live right now, and because I felt physically fine, it was hard to rationalize taking a slot for someone who actually needed help. Maybe I’m an idiot, but that’s just how I am. I keep making excuses. I don’t like causing a fuss.

Well, I’m sure you noticed there’s been a small… inconsistency with my tale, as of this far. I didn’t even really let it sink in until I felt my jaw start to twinge, like I’d been grinding my teeth in my sleep. I spent an hour in the bathroom counting me teeth. I was up to forty-two by then. Forty-two teeth. People should have, should have thirty-two teeth. Ten more than needed. And my jaw is having to expand to fit the new additions.

Upper jaw, mostly. I am now rocking one hell of an overbite. I haven’t gone outside since, grocery delivery is a savior in these dark times. This is past… natural. I’m still spitting out more teeth, even though there’s even less of a gap. They’re all running into each other, so crooked and ragged. I never thought I could loathe my face more, but with my upper jaw overhanging the lower jaw by a good three inches now, I do hate it. My skin’s all stretched, and some of my new teeth are actually poking out from between my lips, like some fucked up crocodile. If you look at me straight on, it’s not nearly so bad, but my profile is just… oof. I’m a monster now. Losing and gaining so many teeth, my jaw aches so badly I can barely sleep. I spit out globs of red whenever I chomp down a bit too hard on something, blood along with white shards and splinters of what are no doubt pieces of bone.

I finally snuck out last night to talk to my dentist. They hadn’t answered my calls to the point I was getting paranoid, like they saw it was me and chose to ignore me.

I’m thankful for the whole mask order in my state right now. It’s easy to hide my mutant fucking face like that. I drove through town, heading right for my dentist’s office.

Huh. How strange this adventure had gotten. I get to my office, and guess what? It’s vacant. Up for sale. It’s no longer my dentist’s office. It’s just an empty building.

I’m up to sixty-eight teeth. My jaw hurts so bad. I can’t get my personal dentist on the phone, it’s like they’re just gone… and as for Dr. Mills, well, I don’t know where she went or what she did… but I have a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t your average dentist.

[lavender-creame]

hope you had a great holiday, whatever you celebrate! if you're feeling up to it, how about a couple quick headcanons about spending the holidays season with each of the guys? I just know those two make Christmas a blast

Thank you so much, I hope you had a fun holiday too! This is such a fun idea, I just had to do it!

Holiday Season headcanons

Matt and Ryan Included

| Minors DNI | 18+ only |

1.2k words

Warnings: Just tooth rotting fluff and some kissing

a/n: Happy Holidays everyone! Sorry it took me a while to get to the last couple asks, but here they are, just in time for the New Year! Thank you all for the love and support as I'm working on the Ryan slow burn. You can also find my stuff on a03 at lavender_creame

Ryan Magee headcanons

Ryan likes a quiet Christmas, but there are traditions that he definitely likes to do every year

He loves going out to look at all the pretty lights, and he always goes out to the local growers to get a real tree

Ryan is absolutely awful at decorating the tree, he just doesn’t understand the concept of where to put certain ornaments, but he loves doing it, nevertheless

He loves putting on Christmas music and making cookies and hot chocolate for when you two are decorating the house or apartment

He always puts up a piece of mistletoe in the most ‘easily accessible’ places and makes sure to point is out and kiss you every single time you guys walk under it

“Babe, I know it’s the third time today, but it’s Christmas tradition, we have to”

On Christmas morning, Ryan is up super early making you breakfast and placing the gifts under the tree (he insists on doing it the morning of so you can have the Christmas magic of waking up to presents that weren’t there the night before lol)

Ryan loves giving gifts, but prepare for the wrapping to be atrociously bad

Ryan keeps a list on his phone in the Notes app throughout the year of every little thing you mention you like or might want and he gets them all for you on Christmas

As much as Ryan loves Christmas, he can’t stand how many events he has to go to

Ryan ‘Always Fashionably Late Only to Later Take a French Leave’ Magee

Basically, Ryan isn’t the biggest party guy lol

If it’s a big party, chances are he’s going to be standing against the wall with a beer, talking to you, and you alone

The only parties that he actually wants to be at are ones that are smaller and pretty much only have people he’s close with

At parties like these, you can usually find Ryan on the couch talking to the others, making jokes, and telling stories

Ryan’s idea of a perfect holiday party is watching Matt and everyone else get absolutely plastered and making a fool out of themselves, as you snuggle up next to him on the couch, giggling at them

The good news is, you’re having a great time, the bad news is you’re having such a great time that you want to join the idiots like Matt who are dancing

Inevitably, you end up dragging Ryan onto the dance floor, and although he’s hesitant at first, you totally convince him to dance with you

Once you’ve had your fun though, he’s itching to get out of there

As for New Years Eve, Ryan refuses to go out to a party and instead spends the night pampering you

“We have to end the year on a good note, right?”

Sometimes you guys go out to a nice restaurant, other years, you guys just order an insane amount of take-out and watch a movie

Unfortunately, that much food almost always means a food coma

You guys somehow manage to fall asleep on the couch during the movie and wake up at like 3 in the morning, missing midnight literally every time

Like it's basically tradition at this point

When you guys finally wake up, Ryan apologies (even though it happens every year) and kisses you before carrying you to your shared bed so you can fall asleep more comfortably

Matt Watson headcanons

Matt LOVES Christmas

Every year, you guys take a trip for a weekend to somewhere it snows so he can take you sledding and make snowmen and all that cheesy stuff

When it comes to decorations though, Matt is lazy as hell

You guys have a fake tree, but he always puts off putting it up because he doesn’t feel like dragging it out of storage

One day, he tries to surprise you by having the whole house decorated by the time you get home from work, but he totally underestimates how long it would take and you walk in on him pathetically trying to hang up wreaths

“Shit. Babe. You’re already home? What time is it? Oh my god, I’ve been doing this for four hours and I’m only like a quarter of the way done??”

You definitely end up having to help him, but you don’t mind lol

It’s more fun together anyways

Matt’s favorite part of the holiday season is definitely the parties

Hopefully you like parties too, because he plans on dragging you to all of them

And there are a lot of them

Matt insists on calling you his ‘trophy wife’ and shows you off to everyone (even if you guys just recently started dating)

Even when his friends tease him for ‘being a huge simp’ he doesn’t care and only makes it an even bigger point to brag about you

One time at a party, he got absolutely wasted and started a fight with a dude who was mocking him for showing you off

“Okay yeah bro, say whatever you want, but is your girlfriend the hottest in the room? Yeah exactly, that’s what I thought.”

Needless to say, he walked out of the party with a black eye, but at least you know he’s genuine when he says that you’re ‘the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid his eyes on’

Matt somehow always manages to forget whatever side or desert he was planning on bringing to the party so you guys have to turn around half way there

If you like drinking, then you two are definitely getting wasted together

If not, then be prepared to babysit your stupid, drunken boyfriend

Matt is an awful dancer

Absolutely awful

But he still never turns down a chance to show off his ‘moves’

You bet that he’s pulling you over to dance with him too

Do you guys look like idiots?

Yes.

But you’re idiots together!!

Matt swears on lowkey matching outfits

By all means, they aren’t obnoxiously matching, but they definitely match

You’re at a Christmas party? You have ugly sweaters that either match, or go together in some way

It’s Christmas morning? You guys have matching couples pajamas

Speaking of Christmas morning, Matt gets literally so many gifts for you

He couldn’t chose a normal amount, so he just got you everything he thought you might like

This heap of presents also consists of joke presents though

Signed art by Chris Chan? Of course. A weird ass t-Shirt he found while thrifting? You betcha. Supermega merch? You already know it.

The only holiday Matt likes even close to as much as Christmas is New Years Eve

First, you guys spend the day out, then you guys go out to lunch, then Matt always has some kind of special date planned, then you guys go out to dinner, and lastly you guys finish the night at another party

Of course Matt kisses you at midnight

He makes a huge deal out of it too

He makes sure to do it where everyone can see it and he always says something gross and cheesy too

“This must be the best year of my life yet, because I just started it by kissing a total babe”

Then he kisses you again

And again

And again

Then you gotta stop him or he’ll just keep going with the PDA lol