#and that literally terrifies him which is so valid

[avirxy]

Since Claire's the Trollhunter in First Frost how do her and Strickler's interactions go after she finds out he's a Changeling, or sorta Changeling, like does she go after him straight away or tell her friends? Because they almost never interacted in Trollhunters.

I’ve actually thought about this because I don’t think they ever really did interact at least not after he was outed as a changeling, even when she was possessed, which is so strange.

But she connects the pieces after the Grit Shaka incident and they get the Gumm Gumm totem off another one of the kids. Jim still has no idea, neither does Barbara.

Claire does confront him alone, a very Claire move, out of blue and Strickler isn’t surprised, he drops the ball that he knows she’s cursed, but he still isn’t aware she’s the Trollhunter which comes back to bite him exponentially not long after.

I’ve got most of it blocked out and man, they’re both really cunning, and natural thinkers, the dialogue gets so snippy. And here he knows exactly where to antagonize, her strained relationship with her mom, being cursed, her little brother in the darklands, she almost goes after him right then and there for that comment. But the interaction happens in a public place so she can’t exactly get away with beating her history teacher to a pulp without running the high risk of getting hauled to the station.

Claire does actually end up telling the other kids about Strickler after she confronts him, the only reason she didn’t immediately is because one, she wasn’t a hundred percent sure and two, Jim and Barbara.

The dinner goes down a lot differently afterwards, because Strickler assumes the Trollhunter is actually Jim still, he isn’t expecting to get sacked by 5’5 of fury from the basement nor Draal more so later.

[emotional-fandom-soup]

I dont understand how some people can hate late season Neelix, like. Dude tried to check in on every crew member's background and remember their traditions and days that might be important to them. And when that didn't work with Belaana he literally offered her to use him as a doormat just so she can relieve some stress. How can you find him annoying instead of lovable?

[markleessodalite]

NCT Dream as Girl Dads

Headcanon: what would nct dream be like as girl dads?

content warnings: none that i can think of, its literally just how i think the members would behave if they had daughters so it should be fine unless you've got daddy issues (which is valid because so do i lol)

word count: 840

Mark:

Mark is completely enamored with anything his daughter does, whether it be big or small. Mark thinks that any little thing she does is a sign of who she’s going to be in life. She giggled at him when she was an infant? She must have a great sense of humor! She made him a fake lunch with her kitchen playset? She’s got the mind of a chef! She gets excited for the ride to visit grandma? She’s gonna travel the world one day! Mark as a dad can be summed up in one word– enthusiastic. His train of thought may be a bit idealistic (just because she likes playing on the swingset doesn’t mean she’ll be a pilot) but at least you know he will happily support her in whatever she does.

Renjun:

Gifts, gifts, and more gifts. Renjun’s daughter will always be dressed to the nines, even before she’s old enough to eat on her own– he’s got designer bibs at the ready. If she wants a dollhouse that’s 4 feet tall and takes up more space than her bed, she knows dad will get it for her (you told him to at least save it until her birthday, but he couldn’t wait). Renjun doesn’t see the harm in spoiling his little girl. Why would you not want to treat your daughter like a princess? However, Renjun is certainly not a pushover; his number one rule is bad attitude = no gifts, and he doesn’t tolerate brats.

Jeno:

Jeno is his daughter’s number one protector. No one is going to hurt his little girl on his watch. If any playground bullies push her out of the sandbox, it takes everything Jeno has to not lose it on the kid’s parents. In fact, he’s already… unpopular with the neighborhood parents, after he glared at a kid a little too hard for catching an attitude with his baby. It’ll get annoying when she’s a teenager and every boy at school is terrified to ask her on a date, but Jeno will say its good to be selective– because there’s nothing that would break his heart more than seeing his little girl in pain. 

Haechan:

Haechan is his daughter’s best friend. As soon as she was old enough to walk, he was planning all sorts of fun father-daughter activities. He’s gonna take her to the carnival, and the water park, and the mud flats, and the fairgrounds, and anywhere else that his daughter might want to go. Of course he’s going to raise her on good music too, and one of her favorite memories will be going to her very first concert with her dad. As she gets older it might take him time to understand that teenagers need privacy– she’s not so little anymore, and he can’t expect her to tell him everything she thought and felt like she used to. But that doesn’t mean he’ll ever stop being his babygirl’s best friend.

Jaemin:

Jaemin has very high standards for his precious girl. She’s the daughter of Na Jaemin after all– she only deserves the best! He makes sure she gets home cooked meals (and only the finest restaurants if they choose to go out), he takes advice from Renjun to get her the finest clothes, he only gets her bedsheets with a specific thread count and skincare products with specific ingredients. He may go a bit overboard sometimes, like when he tries to forbid her from seeing certain friends or from watching certain tv shows, but you know it comes from a place of care. He just wants the best influences for his little angel.

Chenle:

Chenle wants his daughter to be amazing in everything she does. He’s going to encourage her to pursue anything, as long as she’s pursuing something. He’ll have her enrolled in a variety of clubs and activities, he’ll help her study to get the best grades, he’ll do volunteer work with her so she can experience many different paths her life could take her. Sometimes you have to pull him back a bit when he’s putting a little too much stress on her, but he just sees so much potential in his daughter.

Jisung:

Jisung lets his daughter get away with everything, for better or worse. Jisung is not much of a disciplinarian… and it drives you a little insane. He just hates seeing his baby with tears in her eyes, even though you’ve explained that she’ll be fine in 5 minutes and move on to something else. She took a toy from another kid? Well… maybe we should just buy her that toy instead of scolding her. She’s refusing to lay down at bedtime? Well what if we just let her watch a movie with us? Jisung just wants his little girl to always be happy, and turning the dial from sweet dad to mean dad kills him. But he knows its his responsibility to raise his daughter, not just fawn over how cute she is. So he will turn into mean dad when he needs to. Begrudgingly.

[deusfoundry]

i've got no idea if you are writing right now but i would love myself a fem!reader x kageyama. love you xx

U KNOW WHAT NONNIE i would love myself a kageyama x reader too hehe so here u go!!

p.s. i was half asleep when i wrote this literally i was fighting to keep my eyes open so its not my best pls forgive me i tried

you remember the conversation you had with tobio so, so clearly, almost as if it was yesterday. which, you think, isn't entirely untrue considering it occurred barely two weeks ago.

tobio had outright rejected the idea of keeping your relationship a secret.

"why would i want to hide the fact that you're my girlfriend?"

and you try not to melt into a puddle over his bluntness, the way the words my girlfriend rolled off his tongue with ease. he didn't stutter. didn't trip over his words. you were his.

you cite a few reasons why he would consider it, all of which are valid in your eyes. backlash from fans. reduced sponsorships. less guest appearances on evening talk shows. factors that were valuable to his career. but he had told you, with an almost terrifying conviction, that he doesn't care. so long as he still gets to be on the court, the less-athlete and more-celebrity side of his career doesn't matter to him.

so you two agreed on a compromise. you would ease your relationship to the world, slowly letting more and more people know until it's out in the public.

and the first ones to know are the ones closest to you both. your family and his sister. your friends and his old teammates from highschool.

shoyo had been the first person he called when you agreed to be his girlfriend on one of your at-home dates. you can recall peering into your apartment's living room after a quick trip to the bathroom, watching tobio with his back hunched near the corner.

"she said yes." he whispered into his phone, and you could hear shoyo's overexcited screaming even though he's not on speaker.

next, was your boss. though workplace relationships aren't explicitly stated in your contract to be forbidden, it's highly still discouraged. in turn, you two had gotten an almost hour long lecture about policies and rules. about what this could mean for not only your careers, but for everyone else on the team as well. about the public's possible response.

and with a practiced, corporate smile, you reassured your boss that you have it all under control.

the last people in your four-part plan to find out would've been tobio's teammates and coach, before you (when you're both ready) make an announcement on all of schweiden adlers' social media accounts.

it was so easy, and tobio had agreed to follow through with it. you remember because he swore with a kiss on the edge of your lips and a shy smile that he would.

which is why you're equally dumbfounded and shocked when he announced your relationship to the public. during a post-match press conference. on live, national television.

satisfaction began to settle in halfway through the presscon. the team was doing great. they answered every question with ease, behaved as well as they could. there were moments of playful banter between the members that the fans would go crazy over. every reporter followed through the brief you gave them earlier about which questions they could and couldn't ask (heavily emphasizing no questions about kourai's height).

it was going so well.

until one of the reporters asked one particular question. it was done in good faith, you could tell by the small grin on her face and the quiet chuckles from everyone. she was playing off an inside joke from the adlers' fanbase which, to your confusion, seemed to adore you just as much as the members of the team.

"is your manager single?"

hirugami laughs, toying a bit with the microphone in his hand before he opens his mouth to answer the question in the same lighthearted nature.

except, tobio beats him to it.

"she's not."

the room falls silent. everyone, even his teammates, look at tobio with intrigue.

"r- really, kageyama-san?" she's damn near shaking, the poor lady, when she realizes tobio's eyes are on her. all bright and blue and intense.

he decides to spare her when he takes a moment to look at you, standing near the side of the stage. you're glaring daggers at him, trying to convey with your two eyes multiple warning signs in big, bold, and red letters.

please don't.

and tobio, who has grown to be perceptive when it comes to you, knows exactly what you mean. he just doesn't have it in him to care right now.

"i should know. i'm her boyfriend."

your mouth falls wide open. the only thought that runs through your mind is you two are so fucking screwed. this wasn't part of the plan you meticulously arranged and presented to your boss.

you don't know how long the silence lasts until kourai decides to break it.

"i knew it!" he says, slamming the velvet cloth covering the long panel table. the sound brings you out of your daze. "i knew something was going on between you two."

you think there's no possible way this situation can get worse, but wakatoshi nods in agreement, which brings about an onslaught of hungry reporters asking questions left and right. you take this as your cue to rush in and call off the presscon.

"is it true?"

"how long have you two been dating?"

"did kageyama-san really ask you out?"

you drown them out to the best of your abilities, ignoring the less than kind and backhanded questions directed towards you. tobio looks into your eyes as he passes by you in the line of players you're ushering off the stage, but you quickly avert your gaze.

"we'll talk later." you mouth.

after gathering their belongings from the locker room, the team piles onto the bus to head back to their home court. tobio settles into one of the seats near the back, saving the window seat for you.

he waits, watches in anticipation as you step inside the bus. you catch his pleading eyes right as you're about to take a seat in an empty row on the front.

you try to resist. really, you do. but you've never been the best at denying tobio. for more times than you care to admit had you been the subject of teasing by the team for entertaining each and every request that tobio makes.

so you sigh, before making the long walk to the back of the bus.

tobio allows you to scoot inside after helping you with shoving your backpack inside the overhead compartment. the bus springs to life right as you take your seat, engines silently roaring as it begins the trip back home.

a moment of silence passes before tobio takes your hand in his.

"i'm sorry." he says, dragging his thumb over the lines on your palm with each syllable.

"are you really?"

tobio pauses, almost contemplating. "you'd feel better if i didn't answer that."

a quiet laugh falls off your lips. of course you already knew the answer to that. tobio has always been unapologetically open about what he wants.

screw his old teammates for going with all his demands.

tobio's ministrations on your hand doesn't stop. in fact, it grows more frantic by the second. lazy movements turn into his thumb rushing back and forth against your skin. it means he wants to ask you something, and he's hoping this will silently convey his question.

"i'm not mad." in an instant, his worries are quelled. you move closer to lean your head on his shoulder. he plants his head on top of yours.

your limbs melt into each other until you're not sure where you end and tobio begins.

"but you didn't have to say that, you know. hirugami was handling it." you give him a light nudge.

"they were asking if you were single," tobio scoffs, turning his head so he can nuzzle his face against your hair. he breathes you in. your scent overtakes his senses until the only thing he knows is you. that you are his. "i think i have the right to answer that."

"god your publicist must hate you." you roll your eyes. "our boss must hate us right now too."

"don't care." he pries himself off the crown of your head, leaning down to latch his lips on your jaw.

tobio leaves one kiss, right at the very edge. you tip your head to the side so he can leave another on the flesh of your neck. he's about to plant a kiss just above your collarbone when wakatoshi chimes in from the seat in front of you.

"it's not very appropriate to make out on the bus."

you jump away from each other, cheeks flushing red now that the entire team's attention is on you. but you can't find it in you to care enough to tell them off. the hollering and the teasing matters less than the fact that you have tobio, right by your side.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[inthehouseoffinwe]

It always gets me that literally *everything* hinged on the Fellowship getting this *right.* All the battles with Morgoth, Sauron, the events of the last Three Ages and beyond.

This was the final chance.

Either they succeed. Or all those battles and all that pain was for nothing, and Middle Earth falls to darkness.

And if ME does. It’s not far fetched to assume Valinor would be next.

-

But like it was always about the value of the little people. A value which historically, most people, the Princes of the First Age most of all, didn’t really… realise.

They dragged everyone into their wars and feuds and at the end of everything, everyone suffered for it.

They were out for themselves, because *they* wanted to be kings and queens, *they* wanted revenge, *they* wanted to go back to the wilds of Endorë and doomed everyone alongside them, cajoling and convincing them until they were riled up and probably not thinking straight.

They had to be right. If the rest of their people suffered for their bad decisions… too bad. There was so much pride and arrogance across the Sindar and Noldor both that their power, the thing that made them so great became their downfall.

The people of the Third Age, men and elves and dwarves, might have been ‘diminished’ but that meant they took time to appreciate their people. It means Aragorn at the Black gate sees there are young men from Rohan who are *terrified*, and entirely genuinely without judgement, allows them to leave. It means he goes around place to place, city to city, getting to know everyone as people. Seeing their value, seeing their worth as equal to his own. And he treats them accordingly as just as important rather than making everything about him.

It’s what allows him to deceive Sauron into thinking he’s acting as his ancestors did, proud and self assured whilst the whole quest and everything he does is about helping Frodo. About making sure he succeeds.

As he tells Frodo. “Deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.” And that’s where these great heroes of the past fell short. For them, especially the elves of the First Age, everything was about valour and glory and victory. Literally Fëanor: ‘our deeds will be a matter of song until the last days of Arda.’

We needed the king who knew what it was to be a ranger, scorned despite being the only thing keeping them alive. The king who was a healer rather than a warlord. The man who only wanted his people safe, would pass all great deeds and live hated and homeless if only they could live without darkness.

The hobbits who were so pure of heart, who found joy in the little things. Even Legolas who would’ve grown up seeing Mirkwood steadily fall further and further into darkness, Spiders and orcs steadily encroaching, forcing the elves further into their last stronghold. The Dwarves who’d lost homes and knew their fortresses could only hold so long if Sauron enslaved everyone else.

All of these guys who held family and love for their people above all else. Who wanted a world free of war, who didn’t care for great deeds or ballads speaking of them. Who respected those of lesser official standing and saw them as people with opinions as valid as their own.

They just wanted their homes. They wanted their family and friends alive.

They longed for peace. Not glory or land.

And that’s where those of the First and Second Age failed.

[twomiddlefingersforthehaters]

"My boby moved on its own" is an SNS trope . Sasuke is the type of person who always does something for Naruto and then finds a logical reason to cover that up.

1. His reason for offering his bento to Naruto

2. His reason for looking after Naruto who had been training all night.

3. His reason for to Save Naruto from Haku's attack.

4. His reason for why he wasn't able to kill Naruto in vote1

5. His reason for protecting Naruto from Obito

It gets so intense every time he protects Naruto from Obito. And Naruto notices how Sasuke protecting him from the attacks every time. Even when his Susanoo is already protecting Naruto, his hand is also going there to shield him.

We've never seen Sasuke do anything like this for Sakura, while with Naruto it's pretty consistent throughout the series. And Why do you think Kishi made 5 scenarios like this to point that out? Sasuke wouldn't do this kind of thing for anyone else. Absolutely no one. So what impression does it make?

In this war arc, Sakura herself acknowledged to the fact that Sasuke didn't care about her:

When Sakura ran up to Madara to get stabbed, both Naruto and Kakashi were either terrified or shocked as she plunged on someone she couldn't deal with. And Sasuke's expression was completely different from the others, he was just focused on the opening to attack madara. Where are Sasuke's instincts when it comes to Sakura? And the one who saved her was Naruto. Look at her dejected face! Even she herself accepting the fact that Sasuke doesn't even worry or care about her. Also, Sasuke put Sakura and Kakashi in their place by calling them "useless" directly to their faces while they were being protected under his Susanoo.

You know, Naruto is the one who asks Kakashi and Sakura to stay closer to him...without knowing what's going on up there. And, Sasuke was talking specifically to Naruto to not move around when he comes down to Naruto and he didn't mention the other two. He only wanted to save Naruto with his Sasunoo from the infinite tsukuyomi, but Sakura and kakashi just happened to be near with Naruto.

And Sasuke himself openly said Kakashi and Sakura just happened to be next to Naruto and that's all! Once again Sakura looked so dejected and realizes it even more in this scene. It's very clear that Sasuke didn't care about kakashi & Sakura. When Sasuke summons a hawk , and Naruto points to the right and says, "Sasuke!! Over there!!" to help Kakashi and Sakura, but Sasuke only saves Naruto

We know that Naruto cares about others and Sasuke knows this very well. And Sasuke is the character who will PROTECT those he cares about in dire situations. And who has he been saving repeatedly? NARUTO. But what Sasuke says and his actions are an underscoring for Naruto to prioritize his own safety and life in the war. Sasuke has a valid point that everything would be over if he and Naruto were to die, but it doesn't erase the fact that he doesn't care about Sakura and Kakashi and almost let them die because he was busy saving Naruto, a person who wasn't even in danger to begin with.

Simply put, he would protect Naruto, no matter what. And all Sasuke's actions are completely and purely instinctive and derived from his sub-consciousness.

To which Naruto said,

Raw: お前の言ってることも分かってるつもりだ... けど... こういう時は体が勝手に動いちまうもんだ ろ... 橋での時────

Romaji: omae no itteru koto mo wakatteru tsumori da ... kedo... kōiu toki wa karada ga katte ni ugoichimau mondaro ...kyōde no tokiーーー

Literal: I think I understand what you're saying. But...in this situation, a body moves on its own (unconciously)... Just like that time on the bridgeーーー

What he meant: " just like your body moved on its own to save me on the bridge.... my body also move on its own to save Kakashi & Sakura". Because Naruto does care about Kakashi & Sakura. Therefore, he cannot ignore them falling into the lava and dying.

The Land of the Waves arc, specifically the battle with Haku and Sasuke's sacrifice, was pivotal to Naruto and Sasuke's relationship, as they both realized for the first time how important and deeply they care for each other. It was a very emotional moment for both of them.

When they came back from Land of waves, Naruto couldn't even look at him without blushing, and then Sasuke couldn't even look at him at all. They'd rather die in this moment than admit that how much they care for each other, but their actions speak louder than words.

Whenever something happens between these two, there are always other characters pointing out what's going on. After they return to Konoha, Kishi uses Sakura to point this out, even though it's clearly visualized in the panel:

Raw: あ〜〜〜まだだわ!

Romaji: a〜〜〜madadawa!

Literal: Ahh〜〜〜 Not again!

Raw: この2人...波の国から帰って来てからちょっ と変なのよね...

Romaji: kono 2 nin...ha no kuni kara kaettekite kara chotto hennanoyone...

Literal: These two... have been acting somewhat/ a bit weird ever since we came back from the land of waves...

Raw: づ〜〜〜 何だか気詰まり...

Romaji: zu〜〜〜 nandaka kizumari...

Literal: oh〜〜〜 I feel ill at ease for some reason....

Raw: 早く来い来い! カカシ先生!! じゃーんなろー!!

Romaji: hayaku koikoi! kakashi sensei !! Shānnarō!!

Literal: Hurry up and get here! Kakashi-Sensei!!

Notes:

変な (henna) - strange; odd; peculiar; weird; queer; eccentric; suspicious; fishy; disturbance; funny; abnormal; unusual etc... It is used as a colloquial word that has many meanings.

何だか気詰まり (nandaka kizumari): somehow I feel awkward; Somehow I feel uncomfortable; I don't know why, but I feel ill at ease.

• the author choose the length of prolonged sound mark (ーーー) longer to implying that the sound is prolonged for longer than normal. e. g: Naruto saying "Time on the bridge."

• prolonged sound mark → a wave line (〜〜〜) is used instead of a straight line (ーー)...this often represents a deliberate prolonging of the sound by the character who speaks it or just a trembly, shaky voice of the character.

Only Naruto and Sasuke knew what happened on the bridge, others like Sakura and Kakashi didn't know about it or not very clear about what exactly happened there. Later, Sasuke & Naruto didn't talk about it, but this scene always comes at crucial moments that point to their "precious person". Finally after 5 years, saving Naruto from falling into the lava leads to Naruto talking about what happened on the bridge.

Sasuke saves Naruto even when he knows Naruto could have saved himself because of Kyuubi Mode, but Sasuke has been known to save Naruto even when he doesn't need saving. We also know that Sasuke would rather give Naruto a stupid and lame excuse than tell the truth straight to Naruto's face. So, this isn't the first time Sasuke prioritize Naruto over Sakura, a pattern that has been repeating since Kishi introduced Sasuke to the story in Chapter 3.

Naruto's feelings for Sasuke grew stronger at this point. After everything Naruto had been through and talking to Sasuke every time they met, Naruto knew for sure that Sasuke still cared for him. Naruto could see through Sasuke's actions. Naruto truly understand and knows that Sasuke cares for him and that's why he mentioned what happened in the Land of Waves.

Naruto only says "bridge", but of course Sasuke knows that he was talking about that time at "The Bridge in the Land of Waves."

Sasuke had a reaction to Naruto's words. No matter what Naruto says, he wouldn't say anything... Sasuke is probably trying to show that he's "unfazed," but in reality, he might be "fazed" because Naruto has seen through his heart.

Sasuke's reaction... His facial expression is hidden by his hair and "not visible," but this "invisibility" stirs up the reader's imagination

And he's confidently teasing Sasuke: "Even though I asked you to save them, you saved me...because your body moved on its own... because you cared about me. so I'm sure you understand my feelings to save them....Sasuke"

However, the "meaning" of this conversation...is something only Naruto and Sasuke can understand and it's their extremely personal thing (because the events on that "bridge" are memories shared only by the two of them). Kakashi & Sakura certainly not aware of this peculiar phenomenon that is unconsciously moving bodies.

Sakura's "inner words"... they really express her current feelings. Sakura is convince herself that what Sasuke says is "reasonable." Look at what Sakura says, she herself agrees with Sasuke: "It's as Sasuke-kun says (we're useless)... but (thank you, Naruto for caring about us)...." Sasuke didn't care about her desperate attempts to get his attention. And Even she herself acknowledged it, you know!

Years ago Naruto & Sasuke couldn't even look at each other pretending nothing happened, but now Naruto was talking about it with confidence. And he's clearly flirting with Sasuke.

[thestalkerbunny]

So truly as his song proclaimed, on one sunny day (A heat index of literally 97 degrees and climbing) I once again met with our old friend Bill Cipher by purchasing The Book of Bill.

And I gotta say.

It was like a WAVE of nostalgia.

I had forgotten how GOOD and WITTY Gravity falls had been. Not to mention the book in itself is SMART. We as a community were ENTHRALLED with the evil tortilla chip-an absurd thing to vote Tumblr's most sexy man 2013-and the book knew that and was like 'here is more of the chip man.' Like obviously there's codes and treats and what have youse for the smarter folks. But just the energy of the whole book, the fake ADS, the amazing design work, the missing pages, GATSBY, the LORE Bill gives that fills in so many blanks for us while callously poking more holes with a pencil at the same time. You read it perpetually bouncing back and forth questioning how reliable a narrator Bill is and more importantly, how much of it do you REALLY want to believe in?

It's a narrative that explores Bill as a person-at least how Bill Perceives it and with missing journal pages from Ford, how FORD perceived Bill.

The whole book in itself is a BREAK UP story, between a Man and the Monster who he unknowingly let into his life. A monster that pushes him to the brink, that makes the possession trope EXCITING AND NEW to me as he is horribly aware and actively communicating with the monster who is actively threatening his very LIFE if not given obedience and compliance. And it's not one sided yelling into the void convos-they can actually communicate and it makes the disregard so much more terrifying. It both makes you empathize with our favorite villain while not cheapening it so much to redeem him.

Reading this book validates the mania we see Ford with when we get the flash back episode of the Portal Incident. The sick sort of Paranoia that he's developed because every waking moment of his life has been ruined by someone he let in, trusted and opened up to.

The Book of Bill doesn't pull punches. There are parts in this book that go from 'comical horror' that jacks it up to 'Jesus fucking christ'

The Book of Bill does what the original show was not allowed to do-which is go further with how DAMAGING a relationship Ford had with Bill. How it was an addiction, feeding off each other. Ford in finally having someone who could in essence-REFLECT his own intellect back at him and Bill, a creature that demanded an audience to be witnessed by constantly.

Regardless, this was a FASINATING read. 110/10 totally work the trip in the 97 degree heat I made to 3 towns over JUST to get the Barnes and Noble EXCLUSIVE Copy that will now sit very proudly on my shelf. Go Buy it, Go Read it, It is WORTH it.

[deaddovedecadence]

hello ! I hope you’re well I wanted to ask you if are planning to do something about the platonic batfamily ? Thank you for your work, you’re literally my favorite blog 🥰. (sorry if there are spelling mistakes)

Ah thank you for the question i love it so much! What we’re doing today is breaking down each yandere and how they treat you in order

Alfred: very gentle, very caring. He makes you think that he’s on your side only to betray you if you ever try to run away. His loyalty is to the health and well being of the family and if you left it would nasty for all parties involved. He isn’t overly possessive, and is the most likely to let you out and about (so long as you’re with him or another trusted member of the family)

Bruce: At least you were a tool for making up with his son, but he grew to see you as his own child. You’re younger then Dick so he treats you as such, and is very unlikely to let you out of his grip,/let you out of the house because he’s paranoid. He’s the ultimate possessive yandere, wanting to keep you safe in the house at all times. He’s like this with his children too but because they’re fighters/have proven themselves it’s a lot different

Dick: Good luck with this. Dick sees you as someone who deserves childhood, who deserves to be young, so he treats you younger then you actually are. He’s very possessive, and almost doesn’t realize that you’re capable of taking care of yourself and he’s ver y smothering because of that. He’s the type of yandere to be in his own world and not really see. things as they actually are..

Jason: Caretaker to the fucking MAX. He likes. taking care of people and things that he considers his and you are absolutely one of those things to him. He needs to tak3 of things because it makes him feel real, feel. focused again especially when he’s tired of angry. The least likely to ever hurt you but will break you mentally if he has to.

Cass: does not get it, at first. She doesn’t understand why her family wants something that she perceives as helpless as one of them. Cass is all about getting her shit done and you interfere with that. It isn’t until she sees Jason visibly relax around you and stay in the same room as bruce that she understands. You keep things stable which means that you need to stay. She‘ s obsessively, can be cruel and uses physical punishment like forced dancing or sparring to keep you in check if you leave or deny your place in the family.

Tim: Oh good fuck. Tim is pretty close to yandere in canon, he’s terrifying, possessive of what he thinks is his and cruel as hell. with you he’s cruel cold, only to turn gentle when he deems it the right moment. Tim wants to break you because that means that you won’t run away and try to go and be somewhere else (with someone else). Tim is sadiastic and if he and damian are working together it’s best to go and beg jason for sanctuary from them.

Duke: Honeslty you aren’t sure whether he’s like you or like them at first because Duke is so easy doing, listens to your problems so well and makes. you feel like you’r valid for being angry. It’s all true what he says, it’s just that he also is on his family’s side about you and is slowly working his way into your heart in a way that the others can’t because they’ve never been where you (and he) has. Duke is the gentle yandere unless you really manage to make him angry by getting hurt in any way.

Damian: I wish you the best of luck. Damian is the son of thalia and bruce. His ver y nature is to be possessive over anything that he considers his and you are his. You’re his older sibling in a way that Dick is, someone to be trusted, someone to ask questions too, but that does not mean he’ll let you escape. If anything the thought makes him infuriated and he’s likely to blow up. Damian is obsessive, and sadistic, willing to do anything if it means that you’re safe at home with him.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Could you do poly Tristan and Lancelot hc with a fem s/o?

Haha, hope this was okay anon! It’s always nice to write for either of them to be honest.

Its the wholesomeness I got in spades with these two!

Individually they are very great partners on their own, but both of them? Oh wow, you got real lucky! You are the most well-protected girl in the expanse of Britannia against any opponent. They can be a bit of clashing in terms of personality, but you can tell they always mean well for not just for yourself, but each other too. It's a working circle the three of you had managed, albeit perfectly.

Lancelot is full of worries most of the time, and he worries a lot. Even if he doesn't express it, he's come to care way too much about you and Tristan alike. You both stole a place in his heart and won't move out, and that almost scares him.

Tristan sometimes is stuck between a rock and hard-place, usually trying to be the one to amend things when going through bouts of agreements or difficulties that brought out very big emotions. But still, he could understand too, the idea that you could just suddenly lose your life and leave the other two in the process can be rather terrifying.

Life with them can tend to either swing from complete peace or complete and utter chaos, you can never truly tell what to expect. But that was only part of it, and you still chose to stick with them regardless.

Bathing together is a complete and utter rarity, many do it privately for very valid reasons. But in spa's? It is very much going to be all three of you, it's nice to be content and speak about the simple things of life.

Regardless if you are as about as strong as they are, or even weaker, they will both still very much express worry over you.

Lot's of private and domestic moments, especially during cuddle sessions. You're mostly kind of squeezed in between them or even other times your spooning Tristan or Lancelot from behind while the former holds the other.

Tristan is mainly the wounds taking care of wounds, he always insist anyway, and you couldn't say otherwise - having goddess powers really did come in handy often. Yet it was the intimacy of it whenever you or Lancelot would do it for any or all three of you, it was personal, but refreshing in a way.

Between the three of you, silent rage is truly something personal if either of you got injured. You all vow for each other and protect each other, so god help the person that injured even you, Lancelot or Tristan. If it's you alone that would have gotten injured, it's two very angry and powerful boys that the opponent would have to deal with.

Your smile and laughter? Absolutely knocks them both out (not literally), its the way the lines are so ingrained, the way the light frames your face perfectly when you smile and throw your head back to laugh. Its in the way that you have stolen their hearts so completely that they look at you like you're everything to them.

When you have your days of peace, without carrying out duties or patrol, you have dates. Which most of the time you usually suggest or bring up, other times it would be Tristan marking up the idea. However, whoever actually plans is usually a flip of coin. Though between the three of you, it's surprisingly Lancelot who plans the best kinds of dates and takes both of you into consideration about what you're comfortable with.

Hand-holding, absolutely. While it is rare for Lancelot to actually take your hand or his, he does admire it from a safe distance when you and Tristan hold hands. but when it happens to be hand-holding with him, you quite literally have to hold back the urge to scream. He's an absolute dork when this happens, and it's frankly adorable.

Sometimes, though also rare, you accidentally end up mix-matching clothes. Tristan could have your shirt, and you could have one of Lancelot's many sweatshirts (listen I know he constantly wears that outfit, which he looks good in but still).

Practice and training lessons together! Perfectly ordered in actions, and the clashing of swords and magic. usually is more so one on one, but when the three of you all together want to really practice and work at it, you all train and go against each other.

Lancelot is protective of you both, but he knows better to overstep, he's got manners after all. He just can't help but worry at times if there is some bad even that is occurring, he worries about both of you and your health. Eventually breaths thats sigh of relief when he hears one or the other's mind, through the ability of his heart-reading.

In the dense sparseness of the castle hallways, you could be seen with Tristan, just simply having a delight by dancing together. There is another pair of eyes watching you thoughtfully, not a sight he expected to wake up to and find, but nonetheless a welcome one.

The shimmering rays of the sun dawned on the still-awakening land, leaving the bustling liveliness of Liones to begin airing. Filling each and every sleeping person who begins their day with a renewed sense of emotions and a new motivation to take on the day, be it quick or sluggish. Particularly in this case, it was you and Tristan who'd awoken way earlier then Lancelot had. This was a rare case, but either of you didn't want to awaken the sleeping wild prince. So the two of you had opted to simply leave him alone and not disturb his sleep.

You chuckled as you pulled along the beautiful white-haired nephilim, who was questioning at each turn where you were taking him too. You just told him to be patient and wait till you had gotten to your desired destination. Which didn't take very long to reach fortunately.

Tentatively letting go of your hold on his wrist, you stepped into the empty yet large room. it was the dining hall only used for balls and the celebrations of birthdays alike. Tristan slowed down to a stop, watching your movements as you walked around, hearing the bountiful echos of your footstep clack against the cold-hard stone. A small smile tugged on his lips, such a simple act, yet he couldn't help but find the beauty of the chastity in it all.

Like the haunting howls of a weeping ghost, yet it was such a wonderful and tearful cry. With all the stories interwoven, and one could tell, with the scratches indented into stone from numerous footsteps made in the vast expanse of the space. One could tell, he could tell, that it wasn't the ordinary everyday thing to set off such a wonderful morning.

"What'd you bring me here for?" He asked, whence finally daring to break the uniqueness of the silence, though he was dearly endowed in wanting it to last even longer. You turned your head, the flowing locks of your hair following along. Just a small smile, a barely noticeable grin as you clasped your hands tightly behind your back.

The windows were wide, and towering, leaving the light to spill in. Casting such an ethereal glow upon the colors that made up your appearance, Tristan almost seemed to be ashamed for allowing himself to set eyes upon such a sight.

It was certainly a far cry from what he was used to, and he wasn't sure if he was prepared for it. But akin to obstacles, he would push through it and succeed.

"I was wondering," You began, walking forward toward the prince of Liones. "If you wanted to share a dance?"

"A dance?" His eyes widened, though not in disgust or reprise. It was something else entirely, you weren't sure.

You let out a hum of affirmation, cheeks colored bashfully.

"I-I uh," he stammered, before shaking his head and pulling himself together. "That sounds nice, but i'm kinda a bad dancer though." He laughed, scratching the back of his head, cheeks dusted pink with embarrassment. Oh it was a wonderful, vociferous sight to see such a bashful expression on the prince.

You had contemplated your thoughts for a moment, and the current situation of circumstances. But you decided once and for all--

"Come on anyway!" You grinned, holding out your hand for him to take. "I'll help you, promise."

He seems to be turning within himself, eyes swimming with stout doubt. One blue, one green, both colors you had almost envied him for being born with. They fit him so perfectly, like a glove. You'd stare at them for eternity if you could, for it was in eternity that you had been born with the blessing to encounter not just him, but the grumpy blonde prince as well.

It was that you had been snapped out of your daydream that Tristan took your hand, so you respond immediately, pulling him close and swimmingly performing ornate moves, and even the silliest ones. Causing to elicit laughter from both of you when either of you mess up a move.

One stamp on the foot or on the other.

"Ow!" You wince, and Tristan's expression immediately turn to concern as an apology spills out of his mouth.

"Sorry, sorry!" He said, almost frowning as he held your waist, stepping somewhat backward as he waited for you to re-adjust yourself. Tristan didn't mean to make another mistake again.

You shook your head with a giggle, pulling him close again, and holding both his hands, removing them from your waist. "I like this, it's nice compared to the stuffy royal ball kind of dancing."

His brows turned, A small smile tugging at his lips, "Oddly specific, don't you think?" You shrugged your shoulders, a knowing expression betraying the notion.

Lancelot let out a groan, noticing immediately that two bodies of warmth had disappeared from the bed. He shifts onto his elbows, raising his brows in confusion as his sight had been wrought with bleariness. He got up, shifting the blankets, but he had folded them back rather neatly. His eyes shifting, somewhat sensing the way you two had left the room. Didn't even bother to wake him up as well, he almost groans bitterly at the thought, but it was immediately replaced with some appreciation for being allowed to sleep longer.

So he finally got up, and began his quest of finding the two of you.

Which honestly didn't take very long, considering the laughter and the barely noticeable echo of steps that seemed to repeated, song and dance, he didn't even need to use his ability to read thoughts. Lancelot wasn't necessarily sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn't you and Tristan dancing together.

He let out a low hum as he encountered the sight, it was somehow in a way, refreshing. It tugged at his heartstring in a way he didn't realize they could be, as he leaned against the large doorway, hands in the comfort of his pockets.

Lancelot could notice the clear smile on your face, and Tristan's face. It was a certain he was almost sure he didn't deserve to lay his eyes on. But he was content, nonetheless in drinking in the sight of beauty and laughter.

The drawled scent of petrichor and the comforting air drafted the once musty hallways, spilling in from the vast expanse of the empty ballroom naught for the two bodies making it sing so lively. It was one spin, then another step then two steps, that he was sure that he was so, so lucky to find such a sight.

Lancelot's head was tilted in thought, the energy imbuing him with a sense of rejuvenation he never had felt before, the assurance of living as long as your partners. The excitement of memories to come, and surely he was sorely going to imbed this to memory for as-long as he lived, and Lancelot sure as hell didn't mind the thought of that.

"You're pretty silly sometimes, I swear Tristan," You comment, sticking out your tongue as you looked at him, quite a wide grin.

The whiter-haired prince shook his head at your remark, letting out a small scoff as he pulled you close. Enrapturing you in a surprise hug, then pulled back.

"I believe you are... sillier than I." He punctuates with a goofy expression, as he pats your head, and you just smile, features softening almost impossibly.

"Could be me, but there's enough of that goin' around."

You and Tristan's heads had turned to the source of the voice, finding Lancelot to be the source. You jumped in surprise, almost stammering, "What? how long have you been there?"

"Long enough to see you two prancing around." He shot back, you could almost see the expression of fatigue slowly wearing out from existence on his face, you assume he had recently awoken.

Tristan just laughs, crossing his arms, "You wanna join us? It's pretty fun." He said, a remarkably kind smile on his own face. Your eyes flit between him and Lancelot, and yet then, only you and Tristan burst out in laughter. While the blonde just scoffed, pressing forward to join you both in the room.

But, he really couldn't deny it, always enjoyed the sights of beauty.

[muzsmocsing]

Reviewing tgcf characters because I have thoughts

I finished S2 recently and I need somewhere to put my not exactly hot but like warm (?) takes because it's taking up too much storage space in my brain.

🤍 Xie Lian 🤍

It's a good thing I'm not into guys because if I was I would be on my knees for this man in every sense of that expression and his pet menace to society would mince me up like garlic.

So I'll try to be brief about my overflowing feelings about him. Xie Lian is the best main character I have come across in a WHILE. He's the embodiment of compassion and kindness. And also a cold blooded murderer. A babygirl. A father figure. A terrifying martial god. A silly little guy. A pathological liar. The most genuine man you'll ever meet. He's everything, and Hua Cheng is 100% valid in his obsession. I'm right there with him.

Rating: 10/10

❤️ Hua Cheng ❤️

Idk if we ever figured out who wrote My Immortal but I'm pretty sure we have our culprit.

"Hi my name is Hua Cheng Crimson Rain Sought Flower Red-Robed Ghost King and this is my evil weapon of death E-ming. I've killed soooo many gods with it!! My dark power is I can summon storms of BLOOD and SUFFERING. I have my own scary city of DEMONS and they all love me and think I'm HOT but I only want my BOYFRIEND who's the only REAL GOD so STOP FLAMING HIM YOU POSERS-"

Needless to say I love him. Being the 8 time winner of the Loverboy of the Century Awards with unbeatable records in the yearning olympics is truly a remarkable feat.

Rating: 9/10

(Bonus: E-ming. Cute little guy. Likes his stepdad more than his real dad. Not afraid to show it's feelings even if it makes it look like a muppet, 10/10)

🧡 Feng Xin & Mu Qing 🧡

Tweedle dee and tweedle dum gets a shared rating because they would hate to be grouped together like that and that's funny to me. Their dynamic is great, they're good characters, I wasn't sure which one was which until midway through the second season. But then also I have a pair of 7yo twin cousins who I still can't tell apart despite them not looking even a slight bit similar so that might just be a character flaw on my end. Oops.

Rating: 7/10

🩵Shi Qingxuan🩵

I'm doubling the rating because she is best boy and best girl at the same time. I love that I can use any and all pronouns for him because he's literally a pride parade personified and therefore all of them are correct. You don't get that type of chaotic fun just anywhere.

He is truly living my dream, presenting as whatever gender they want depending on what's more convenient and/or funnier in the moment. Super useful, for things like gathering intel and terrorizing Feng Xin by being a woman.

And I personally think we should crown her the new emperor. She'd look significantly better on that throne, with her Barbie-like radiance and flourishing Kenergy.

Rating: 20/10

🖤 Ming Yi 🖤

Listen, I hate to say it because I like a sunshine x grump moment as much as the next gay but he's just... not giving what he thinks he's giving. Everyone is whispering ominously about him having some dark devastating secret but MY point is no matter how big his boobs are in his female form, Shi Qingxuan could do better. I'm sorry. She really could.

Rating: 4/10

💙 Lang Qianqiu 💙

Just an honest man with good intentions and a sickass fucking sword. He did NOT hesitate to attack the infamous Crimson Rain Sought Flower on SIGHT and I respect a quick decisionmaker, even if it shows some himbo tendencies. He also has the same distinct energy as Fred from Scooby Doo.

Rating: 6/10

💚 Qi Rong 💚

He's got some odd dietary and moral choices going on. Definitely. But he's just such a fun villain!!! Being Xie Lian's nr 1 source of migraines SHOULD make me like him less but I'm sorry, every time he was on screen I was LIVING. He would do numbers on reality TV. Someone put this guy on Kitchen Nightmares, I need to see him 1v1 Gordon Ramsay.

Rating: 7/10

🌚 Jun Wu 🌚

He has his emperor status & DILF card going for him but something about this man just ain't right. If he came to a party I was attending I would cover my drink is all I'm saying.

Rating: 2/10

🔥Pei Ming🔥

I don't know much about him besides he had that one shady empolyee or whatever (could not hear the plot over the deafening sound of Hua Cheng's yearning) but I'm partial to a good manwhore character. The thought of people praying to him like "Hugh Mungus, who art in heaven-" really tickles me.

I know he's probably straight but I headcanon him as at the very least bi-curious because you can't be that hot with that much game and not use it for evil. (That evil being causing large scale gay awakenings among his soldiers.)

Rating: 7/10

❓Pei Xiu❓

Unreliable, unimportant, unattractive, unemployed.

I remember not a singular thing about him besides fucking up Xie Lian's daughter's life and also being on my last nerve from the jump. If you're going to be evil at like least be memorable about it, you know? You can't be a bad person and a bad character at the same time. Pick a struggle.

Rating: 1/10

📚 Ling Wen 📚

I heard she committed some war crimes but honestly if I had to do an entire realm's tax returns by myself AND teach Pei Ming how to read (I refuse to believe that man is literate, just look at him) I would want to rage on occasion too. I hope she has a hot wife waiting for her at home to give her massages after carrying the whole system on her back all day. It's what she deserves.

Rating: 8/10

Thank you for reading!! Opinions might change once I read the books but as of now this is it. Remembering everyone's names has been a journey and a half so this post is sponsored by @kirstenly 's character cheat sheet go look at it! and everything else too!!!

[suzukiblu]

excerpt from the one where Clark is trans and Kon isn't, but no one actually knows this:

Cadmus didn't know Superman was a trans man before they stole his dead body, but considering how many total assholes were on staff at the time they were surprisingly respectful of his gender identity. Not so much his bodily autonomy or his DNA or his potential feelings about being cloned against his will, but like, they used his preferred pronouns and whatever. 

So like . . . diversity win, Kon guesses? Or . . . whatever that'd be? 

So when they made . . . him . . . 

Kon got educated and socialized as male, when they made him. They called him "he" and "him", at least when they weren't calling him "it". They couldn't figure out how to synthesize effective hormone treatments for half-Kryptonian genes, but they had plans for surgeries they were gonna do when he was physically mature enough. Like–before the yellow sunlight could really kick in, effects-wise. Apparently they tried just tweaking the sex on a few earlier models, but by the time they got to Experiment Thirteen, they'd figured out that they couldn't work out what an actual AMAB Kryptonian's genes should look like and had just planned for the surgeries. 

Kon's not really sure how to take that. Like . . . is it good that they wanted him to be comfortable in his body? That they cared about what the fuck he'd want to look like? 

Or is it bad that they didn't ask him if he'd even want any of that? 

Kon wears a binder and a packer and acts like he thinks boys are supposed to act, tries to take charge and be tough and be confident and hit on pretty girls and not look at pretty guys, and Kal tells him he doesn't have to try so hard. Tells him to just act natural. Kon doesn't know how to do that, though. 

Acting "natural" would be . . . 

Acting natural would be a problem. 

Cissie has really long hair. Sometimes Kon watches how it moves and pretends to be checking her out when she catches him. Like the same way he pretends that he's perving on her ass when he's actually looking at the swish of her skirt, or that he's making eyes at her tits when he's really just wondering what his own would look like without the binder that he wears . . . more than he's supposed to, to be honest. 

Serling gets on his ass about it when he forgets to take it off every eight hours. She's working on synthesizing actual hybrid hormones for him, she says, but it's technically a backburner project right now because everything is always on fire and the world keeps trying to end in increasingly ludicrous ways. 

Which, well–he appreciates it, really, but that'd all be more helpful if he was actually "forgetting" to take the binder off, and if he wasn't terrified that she's actually gonna manage those hormones someday. Serling's, like, a crazy genius, after all. She might be able to pull that off. 

But Kon doesn't want the hormones. Doesn't want the surgeries he's been told Cadmus will give him as soon as he's physically mature enough. Doesn't want . . . 

Kon doesn't actually hate his body, is the thing. He doesn't feel bad or weird in it. He kind of just . . . he likes it the way it is. He doesn't even want to wear the binder or the packer, honestly. 

Literally every single fucking person who knows he’s trans has been respectful about it and has given him everything he could ever need to present as male and never, ever said anything to belittle or question his gender or his right to consider himself a man or even slipped up with his pronouns or anything. Even fucking Westfield never said anything shitty to him about it, for fuck's sake. Fucking Westfield, of all people! 

Which would all be great and good and very fucking validating, if Kon weren't fucking cis. 

There is something extremely, extremely bullshit about the fact that Kon is getting all the acceptance and support and medical care that every actual trans person deserves without even asking for or needing it. But she has no idea how to tell anyone that she's not what they think she is. Or who. Or . . .

Seriously, who else's life has ever been weird enough that they'd need to come out as cisgender? Like, who else ever?

Young Justice thinks Kon's a cis guy. The public thinks she's a cis guy. The superhero and supervillain communities both think she's a cis guy, except for the handful of people that know about Kal not being one, and even most of Cadmus does, depending on clearance levels and whatever. Tana and Roxy and fucking Knockout all thought she was a cis guy, even. Robin might "know" she's actually a trans one, being a Bat and all, but he's never said anything that's made her think he might.

Hell, the fucking Agenda doesn't even "misgender" her.

So everyone who knows has been absolutely fucking great and respectful about it and otherwise Kon passes fucking perfectly, and no one's ever once looked at her as anything but a guy. Anything but Superboy.

Except all Kon wants is for someone to look at her and see a girl. To see Supergirl.

So she doesn't really like to talk to Kara when she doesn't have to.

Or . . . ever, really.

Unfortunately, right now they kinda do have to talk.

"Well, your evil twin remains evil, no surprise," Kara says with a sigh, eyeing the walls of the containment cell that the Agenda has stuffed them into and is for some inexplicable bullshit reason slowly filling with water, who even fucking knows why. There's gotta be faster ways to kill them, especially considering Kon isn't even sure how much Kara needs to breathe at all. Like, she definitely does? But as for Kara, who knows. "Match is the worst possible version of a Superboy, I swear to Rao."

Kon has the weird urge to snap about how maybe Match isn't a boy and has anyone even asked?

No one ever asked her, for fucking sure. She didn't even know she wasn't a boy for way too long. Everybody'd always told her that she was, after all, and she'd just thought it'd felt weird to get called a boy because she wasn't a fucking little kid, she was Superman, or because she was trans and like, felt fake about her gender because she'd somehow accidentally internalized some stupid bullshit, or because of any number of other reasons that would've all made perfect sense and had all turned out to be perfectly wrong.

So yeah. Kon does kinda identify with the trans experience, ironically enough.

"Yeah, Match is usually a pain in the ass," she says instead of telling Kara how much she fucking hates her for getting to be what she can't, then starts looking for a way out of the stupid containment cell. It's not Kara's fault Kon hates her, for one thing, and also she doesn't wanna die here. Like, she definitely doesn't.

She wonders if Match might have reacted to her differently, if when they'd first met she'd known enough to ask if they were sisters.

Probably not, whether they're sisters or not. Match still seems pretty married to "I don't have free will" as a coping mechanism for all the psychological damage that being cloned and force-grown and told your only value and entire reason for existence lies in replacing someone who doesn't actually need to be replaced, it seems like.

Not that Kon would know anything about that, obviously.

Like, why would she?

She feels along the walls with her TTK and finds a frustrating lack of structural vulnerabilities to exploit. Kara punches them a few times, though they've already tried that. Kon doesn't blame her, at this point. The water keeps steadily pouring in and makes its way up to their thighs.

It is not reassuring. Like, at all.

Kon is gonna be so annoyed if she dies and gets buried as Superboy.

Though she was always going to do that, wasn't she. Best case scenario might've gotten her to Superman, maybe, but . . . yeah.

What else was she ever gonna do?

Cadmus made her to be Superman. Kal told her she could be Superboy, and named her after a boy, and named her like a Kryptonian boy would've been.

Although she guesses to have a femme-style Kryptonian name, she'd have needed to have a father.

She wonders if Kal would've named her at all, if he would've had to give her a name with a father's name attached to it. Maybe he would've just gone with Jor-El's, since technically Jor-El is the paternal donor of her Kryptonian DNA.

Or maybe he would've gone with . . .

Kon stops thinking about stupid shit she knows better than to be thinking about and feels out with her TTK again.

[stringsbasement]

i have more to say, mainly about peri and his parents' initial separation, as well as the parallels that can be found with this version of peri and hazel, but i feel it would be best to end it here :)

I would love more to hear about this.

cosmo and wanda's form of affection comes in constant and excess validation for every little thing peri does. they're clingy and suffocating with their love, and as much as peri grew to dislike it, he can't help but become dependent on this validation; it makes peri absolutely terrified of doing anything wrong which might disappoint them, and everyone else who perceives him

timmy might be the only one that would treat him normally. timmy's rough around the edges, but i can also see him being a jerk in the typical big brother style. being purposely annoying and rude, but loving and genuine enough to be real with peri when he needs it

they compliment each other— the worst godchild to ever exist, and the ultimate golden child

timmy doesn't expect anything of peri. he thinks he's special because he's family, not because he's a fairy baby, or because of some vendetta against his parents. and peri doesn't think timmy's a horrible person who ruins everything he touches. they see each other's flaws, and loves each other because of them

in "timmy's secret wish," peri is the first and last to successfully defend timmy's court case. (which, i mind you, he did by going poof poof poof in the speeches he made after timmy's other defenses utterly failed. he was able to just... do that. the judges didn't need to hear a single thing more because they all automatically trust him) (even if they did send him to the hocus poconos right after lmao) he's literally the only reason timmy's free at all. i have no doubt there's plenty of other, off-screen occasions where he uses his "status" to protect timmy

on the other hand, timmy enables peri into his antics, allowing him to just… goof off. have fun; cause chaos to his heart's content. he does things that he wouldn't otherwise, and it'll always be timmy who takes accountability so he wouldn't feel bad for it

so when timmy leaves, it undoubtedly affects him. it affect his freedom. it wouldn't matter how old he was— they were together for the first 8 (technically 50+) years of his life. that stuff sticks, subconsciously or not

so it comes time cosmo and wanda has to do something about it. what to do when a child's missing their brother?

hazel's case was straightforward. she needed companionship, assurance to ward off her fears, and a healthy dose of fun to loosen her up and take her mind off things

but what can you give a child who already has everything he could want? you give him as much love as you can, but wait, he pushes you away for it. shoot. so now you give him space, but he grows ever more distant, and when you realize you might've given him too much space, he's already off on his own, out of your reach

so you decide to go as well. you retire and take a long vacation with your partner, and you have faith that your child is doing something he loves and that he'll come back to you in his own time

and when that child is finally, utterly alone... there's nothing he can do but regret

peri wouldn't have much, if any, close friends he can truly confide with. not if he pushed them all away too

(with the way that fairies, pixies, and their respective antis are the dominant species, i'm guessing that the main reason is because other species don't live nearly as long. so usually, fairies rely on each other as forever companions. except no one but irep is even within peri's age group, (irep, who is antagonistic towards him on a good day,) which we know is an issue because of "poof's playdate," where they felt the need to turn other fairies into babies to get peri some socialization)

for hazel, she was able to acquire close friends over time through her own efforts. it's apparent in the finale just how much hazel has grown over the course of the show. at the start, she had difficulties overcoming her dependence towards her brother and coping with the changes in her life, but she adapted and turned that into her strength. she put herself out there and formed new bonds that, in the end, was the reason they were able to save fairy world

right off the bat, hazel and anthony parallels peri and timmy

anthony moved onward with life, while timmy wanted to stay a kid forever. the difference between them is that anthony knew he had a home to come back to, a family that will always be there to support him when he returns. timmy felt that once his memories are gone, he'll have nothing, because his fairies didn't just help him cope with his life, they replaced it entirely, to the point that timmy has no legs to stand on if they were to disappear

timmy loved too much, and cosmo and wanda had too much love to give. it ended up hurting them instead

cosmo and wanda learned that lesson, but peri didn't.

(i already have more ideas for him and dev and oh do they wound me...)

peri becomes a way hazel gets to see what it would be like if she never let go of anthony, and peri would see a glimpse of his younger self in hazel, who is happy and content with the life she was given despite the way things had to be

(peri and hazel understand each other the most, which is exactly why they wouldn't get along. i can imagine an interaction between them with hazel calling peri out, and him ignoring her)

when the cosma-fairywinkles reunite, cosmo and wanda's overbearingness after their reunion takes on a different light. it would be two parents trying to connect with the only child they have left when all he wants is for them to go away

(if cosmo and wanda tried to address timmy's bad influence in the past, it would be like pouring salt over a still-open wound. in peri's perspective, it's like they're trying to ruin timmy's image now that he's gone to so peri can get over him. it's kid logic. peri is too caught up in himself to remember that cosmo and wanda was with timmy first. they all love him. they all miss him)

peri had reinvented himself and has become someone else. someone cosmo and wanda might not like. he has run through every single reaction and still wasn't ready for immediate and unconditional acceptance. "i go by peri now!" and they don't even think to question it, they just love him like they always have. like they always will

and maybe it's in that moment that peri begins to think that his fears might have been for nothing

[delightful-chaos-collection]

Douxie Headcannons

● He is a terrible cook. Not as bad as Barbra but he can only cook basic things. That why he eats a lot of take out and instant ramen. Jim is horrified

● He's not a fan of horror movies. Zoe makes him watch cause his reactions are funny.

● Douxie loves music. All types of music not just punk. Jazz, pop, blues etc. He loves all genres of music and while his main is a guitar, he can also play the banjo, the flute, acoustic guitar, bagpipes, the accordion and the trumpet.

● He has not been all over the world. Yes, he has been to a lot of places in the world but not all of them. He tried to lay low for a long time and has moved around but he's mainly stayed in Europe most of the time. He avoided getting involved in world politics, wars etc. While he joined the occasional protest, he really tried to keep it low

● He has not been to all the major historical events. There is a trope with immortals that they were present at EVERY major historical moment in history and had relationships with every major historical figure. But nope, not Douxie. He's been to like 3 but otherwise, he's either doing his own thing, like monster hunting, learning instruments, playing at concerts or just staying under the radar and living.

● He's also only had a handful of relationships. Like you would imagine he had a lot of relationships but actually he only had a few. Like 7 or 8 relationships. He has fallen for two mortals and the relationships didn't end when they find out he's a wizard, they freak out and break up with him and call him a devil spawn. He also dated a few other immortal wizards of his physical and mental age but after some time they broke up. His longest relationship was with an immortal which lasted for 4 years.

● He is desperate for love and validation. He loves Archie but this is a different kind of love, but he is also terrified of relationships because of his past ones.

● He's stuck. Like literally he is stuck looking like 19-20 years old physically. He's more mature than a regular 20-year-old and has been through some stuff but even still. Being physically and mentally stuck as a 20-year-old for the rest of your life kind of sucks.

● People constantly talk down to him due to his age, they think he's only trouble and a college dropout and dating kind of sucks because falling in love with a mortal is a big no-no for him because of the whole no-aging thing and he doesn't want to go through that, not again. And there are only a handful of wizards in the world that are actually physically 20 just like him.

● That is why Archie is his best friend. Another immortal, his best friend. who has been with him through so much. he cannot be apart from Archie for more than 2 days otherwise he starts having a panic attack. Archie is his emotional support animal both to Douxie and legally.

● He's a massive bisexual disaster

● He loves musicals

● Writes songs and lyrics and poems

● He has a bunch of old diaries that he has kept, which include his own thoughts and feelings. some of which is severally depressing

● He has severe abandonment issues. with how Merlin kind of just left him for 900 years. him being an ageless immortal in a world that changes so often with people that grow old and leave him.

● Has a of anxiety and insecurities. His mental health is not the best in the world. He keeps it hidden

● Most of his socks are those fluffy cat claw socks. He loves wearing them. It's honestly unironic.

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 8; "My reputation's never been worse."

“This is so fucking stupid.”

I shoved my hands into my hoodie pocket, eyes rolling at the sight of the boys, noise makers between their lips, some jank ass sign unraveling in the wind.

“Your mom’s fucking stupid,” Max fired back with his usual goofy smile, words muffled from the noise maker in his mouth. His knocked his fist against my elbow gently as he passed by, moving to help Cy hold up the poster board.

They’d bought it at a random Walgreens, after having forced the Uber driver to pull over, abruptly. Then, with bumpy hands and terrible penmanship, they wrote out some sarcastic for Sam about returning home from prison.

“Don’t be a sour puss, dude,” Adam replied. His brows were furrowed, chin dipping side to side in disagreement to my negative statement.

I looked to him, watching as he pulled a cone shaped hat down onto his hair, the rubber band snug against his chin. The meer humor of the too-small hat on his head made his words lose any meaning. I wanted to laugh, but instead I shot back, my brows skeptically, sarcasm quick as air, “Who? Me? No, never!”

Adam scoffed a laugh. His hat was finally adjusted now, hands falling to his sides exasperatedly. “Seriously. Just try to be nice, for once. Sam said Daisy’s, like, so sweet.” My skepticism only darkened my gaze, sarcasm sinking into genuine wonder, “So, what, we’re gonna be dancing around some child all summer?”

It was a valid question. When Sam asked us about Daisy joining the tour for the summer, everyone else just jumped on board. I, however, took a little convincing. What business did she even have here, 5,000 miles from home? It’s not like she had any professional connections to touch on, nor was London that interesting. Or, maybe I was just being a pessimist, again…

To say the least, I had trust issues. Or, in my therapist’s more light turn of phrase, I was cautious, careful to new people because I had a lot on the line with my career and had been through numerous situations with others that ended up with me, well…in therapy.

Max battled with the cardboard sign as the wind seemed to be winning the war. He struggled to get the words out as he scuffled to straighten its edges, which seemed to take more work than it needed to, “She’s literally only 5 years younger than you.”

“So, a child?”

“So, a 23 year old, grown woman. She’s really smart, Sam said. I’m sure you can have some fun conversations about the elements and shit.”

“Sam’s biased,” I murmured, focused now on the cigarette between my pointer and middle fingers. I dallied with lighting it, displaced energy in the act. It was early. I was tired.

“Sam’s one of your best mates,” Cy shot me a look. “Listen, just give her a chance. Stop moping just because you think some woman’s gonna take away from our guy time this summer.”

I straightened up, offense hitting my features like a stone wall, “When did I say that? I’m just worried we’re gonna have to cater to some child while we’re trying to literally do our jobs. She’s gonna be pursuing around like she’s in some Taylor Swift video while we’re going to be trying to earn our income. It’s just…weird.”

I’d never mention that fear to them- the fear I had of this trust. I think maybe if they all looked at me a little more closely, they’d see it. They’d see the fear in my eyes. But, I was really good at displacing my anxieties onto a separate, less pressing issue.

If I was ever terrified the sky was going to fall, then, suddenly, I was lashing out about the uncut grass in the front yard, randomly. Gotta love unhealthy coping mechanisms. Cy was still looking at me all judgmentally. I knew he wanted to lecture me further, but he simply reached over, patted my shoulder, and said, “Just…try not to be a dickhead, okay? Let the girl enjoy her summer.”

Max continued on, blabbering about something or the other. “I’m, like…Ollie, have you ever even seen a Taylor Swift video? I am pretty sure not a single fucking one takes place in Europe. They’re all super conceptual and abstract. Honestly, you might actually love some of ‘em. What’s that older one? With the trees and shit?”

“Out Of the Woods?” Adam was quick to fill in the blanks. I looked to him out of the corner of my vision, gaze narrowed. Of course he knew which one it was. He held his hands up, defensively, “What? My little cousin loves her.”

“Mhm,” I nodded, slow.

He trailed off, looking away, “And, maybe, you know, I do, too.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Max latched onto Adam’s help, continuing his rant about Taylor Swift, of all things. “Fuck! Out of the Woods! It reminds me a lot of the Fall for Me video! There’s, ya know, water…lots of running…self-deprecation. Fuck, a Sleep Token/Taylor Swift collab would go so hard!”

“Shit, could you imagine some real drums on one of her songs?” Cy perked up at the thought, fingers thrumming against the corner of the sign that he’d now laid his clutches on. “Sick!”

“Oh, God,” I rubbed my forehead, itching more and more to finally light up my cigarette, puff out a few smokey deep breaths. “I can feel the glitter and sparkles starting to fucking suffocate me! Can we please talk about something else?”

“Whatever, Ollie,” Adam flicked his hand towards me dismissively. He went to change the subject when his phone dinged from his pocket. He pulled it out, in one fluid motion, and read whatever text he’d gotten. “Shit! They just got their bags! Quick! Hold up the sign!”

Max shuffled around, all energetic, trying to make everything look perfect. He quickly tried to put a party hat on my head. I had to shove his entire body into Adam to stop him from getting the string down over my chin.

“Fuck off!” I cursed, brushing out the torso of my hoodie. He giggled, annoyingly, knowing he’d successfully gotten on my nerves. Again.

Max turned his attention away from me and to the two people who had just walked out of the airport, suitcases rolling behind them, backpacks looped around their shoulders. I noticed Sam, first, his head dipped down into his phone, curly blonde hair mopped up atop his head. He was dressed, head to toe, in all black. It was a welcome site, the fifth member of our posse back in our home country, our original stomping grounds, even if he wasn’t from here.

I let a smile overtake my features, excitement bubbling in my cheeks. It was actually really good to see him.

I wouldn’t have even paid any attention to the girl standing beside him if she didn’t stick out so much, like a sore thumb. Her bright pink sweater, gray sweatpants, the purples and greens swirled around her suitcase. Every single thing touching her was just…so colorful. Even the expression on her face, wide grin, cheery eyes- though they were circled by tireless bags- it was all so glaring.

I narrowed my eyes skeptically.

As Sam fumbled about on his phone, she stepped forward, excitedly taking an extra noise maker, my left over party hat, from Max. She barely got the hat on before Sam was looking up, our small crowd erupting into joyous ruckus that caused him to nearly drop his phone.

I don’t know why, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I watched her, carefully, as she went through the motions of greeting everyone. Adam was his shy, introverted self. Cy was charismatic, Max obnoxiously flirty.

And she was just…constant, through it all. Upbeat, grinning, encouraging to every single average word that my friends told her.

And then she was looking at me, offering her hand. My head shook slightly as if to unscramble my consciousness. I glanced between her hand, her own gaze, unsure of what to do or say. I had been too busy watching. I barely brought myself out of that entrapped stare before my name came fumbling out of my mouth.

“Oliver.”

She seemed a little put off, taken aback, after I blatantly ignored her outstretched hand. But, I didn’t want to shake it. I was afraid that, if I touched it, she might shock me, sting me, scorch me with that bleeding sunshine she seemed to have sticking to her skin.

Besides, I couldn’t trust her, right? Right.

I turned my head away, feeling somewhat ashamed for the way I brushed her off. There was a rejected twinkle in her eyes, one that I could not handle. Moving on from that interaction, or in an attempt to do so, I tilted my chin down, glazing my eyes to the concrete. I shrunk beneath the cover of my hood. I didn’t need to feel bad for anything. I didn’t even know her, nor did she know me.

As the others finished up with their exchange of greetings, the group itself began making its way back to the Uber, with Sam and Daisy now a part of the flow.

The car ride back was objectively short, though it felt longer than the time on Apple Maps said. I rode in the back with the guys, pressed up against the door due to the lack of space. My long knees jutted out awkwardly. The bone of my leg ached from knocking against the door with each bump in the road that the car hit.

I stared out of the window, hoping the painful time would pass quicker. The ugliness of London stared back at me. A small, curious part of me kept darting my eyes towards the front seat, where she sat. But I stilled my gaze on the city.

That was maybe part of the issue- I just didn't understand why Daisy was so interested in visiting this place anyways. It was boring, bland. I associated the cloudy gray skies and rainy summers with some of the worst times of my life. This city looked the way I felt for most of it, too. The people were shit, too. Rude, always in a rush, unforgiving and untrustworthy.

What adventure could one find in this wet, concrete maze of hell?

Bored, I moved my attention back to the interior of the car, still resisting that urge to look forward. Adam, Cy, Sam, and Max were a cacophony of lost conversation, catching up, rumbling laughter. I listened for a moment, intently awaiting her to throw in her two sense. She seemed like the type to talk somebody’s ear off. Perhaps I could read between her sentences, find out her motives, her intentions, find something to use against her, so I could easily hate her and put distance between us-

Oh.

She was sleeping.

Her body was slumped against the door, neck pillow twisted around to support her forehead from the glass of the window. She cradled her hands to her stomach, the blanket she had just up underneath her chest.

The curve of her face caught my eye the most, the simple stillness of the lines around her lips, the peaceful flutter that ruffled her lashes every so often. I wondered what she dreamt of- rainbows, sunshine, lollipops. I bet she was the type of person who would respond, "World peace," when asked what she would wish for if she had a genie.

God. I really was an asshole. Here was this stranger, this beautiful, seemingly kind stranger, trying to catch up on sleep after traveling nearly 20 hours…and here I was, creating an entire persona around the two facts I actually knew about her. Maybe I should give her a chance, like the guys said. Maybe I should let her in, even if it was barely past the surface, and try to be amicable.

Maybe she wouldn’t sell my name to the paparazzi. Maybe she wouldn’t leak photos of me online, or call news sites to gain traction on social media.

I nearly flinched as she shifted in her slumber, so lost in my thoughts that the disruption was a panic. Her lips parted, just so, as air deflated from her lungs. The hair that curled around her face ruffled from the gentle gust.

Though she looked like Sam, she really was beautiful. Sure, Sam was attractive, in his own way. But, uniquely, Daisy was…honestly, gorgeous, all doe-eyed, rose lips, freckled cheeks.

I kept staring at her, analyzing, accidentally memorizing.

As I felt myself sinking, into my seat, into myself, into this stare I had on her, I straightened up, shoved myself back in the door.

The poor girl wasn’t even awake.

And I was being far too open.

When we reached the hotel, everyone piled out of the Uber. I went to step out, myself, to begrudgingly helped with luggage. But after I cast a casual glance over my shoulder, I noticed Daisy was still asleep. As though she were his responsibility, I found Sam and went to vocalize the issue with him. But he was busy with their bags.

None of the others were really familiar enough with her to consider her.

No one but me, I guess, because I was reaching out my fingers, touching her shoulder, telling her, "We're here."

I swept myself away before she could wake up and look me in the eyes. - "Where's your sister?" Cy inquired, poking at his dish with the fork in his hold.

Sam shrugged as he continued shoveling french fries in his mouth. "Sleeping, I think. She was fucking exhausted. Could barely get herself to bed this morning.”

"Poor girl," Max pouted his bottom lip. "Has she ever traveled this far from home?"

"Nope."

"Damn. Good for her, then. It's hard to just leave everything behind, to leave your everyday life for this type of thing for this long," Max continued.

I listened intently, though I made it seem like I wasn't even conscious of the guys seated at the table with me. Where they thought I was mindlessly stirring my drink, I was reading between the lines of every vague fact Sam dropped about Daisy.

"Well," he held a hand before his mouth as he chewed, swallowed. He sat back as he began to unload more information about his sister, "No offense to her, but she doesn't have much of a life. She works, like, two-three jobs at any given time. She works at some clinic during the day, waits tables in the evening, then does some stuff on campus here and there."

"Shit. Hope she's taking care of herself," Adam commented, thoughtfully.

"She does. I think. I don't know. We don't really get much time together anymore. Ever since mom died...I don't know. It's been hard to stay connected."

"This summer's gonna be good, then, for you guys to get to see each other," Cy touched Sam’s wrist with his fist, encouraging our friend with his response.

"Yeah," Sam's eyes seemed a little distant then, like there were foggy memories, regrets clouding his consciousness, "Yeah, I hope so."

Max went to speak again when Sam's phone went off. He pulled it out, scrolling through the texts he'd received. "Speak of the devil."

Sure enough, Daisy came padding into the hotel bar. Her hair was damp, twisted up behind her head by some clip. Her features were more prominent this way, skin shining with the care she must have just put into it. As she approached us, her perfume breezed off her skin, off her stupid Taylor Swift hoodie, right past my nose.

It smelled so sweet that I had to look away, focus on something else.

Everyone else greeted her, asking about how she slept, how she felt. I was inattentive, attempting to make it seem like I hadn’t just been thrown off balance.

I needed to do something, say something to her, to be welcoming. To make it seem like I wasn’t such a dickhead, even though I pretty much was. So, I worked on some phrases in my head, hoping to catch her in a side conversation, so there wasn’t so much tension with the others listening in. But, she walked out of the bar as quickly as she'd come.

I found the air to be cooler without her occupying the space.

I shivered and turned my chin towards that freeze.

-

Later that evening, I found myself on the hotel roof.

It was one of my favorite spots, no matter which city we were passing through, which state I found myself to be stuck in. I could go up to the highest floor, even if it wasn’t too far off of the ground, tune out the stress that came with work, and relax into the peace and quiet.

It was one of the healthier coping mechanisms my therapist and I had been working on. I was an antisocial person, to say the least. And when I’d had to be around others for too long, working literal overtime to just function like a normal person, I’d become irritable, withdrawn.

So, stalking off in the late hours of the evening with a book in my hand and some lyrics in my head became a usual, practiced ritual that I was comforted by, especially on tours.

The breeze of London flew past my face, braising goosebumps on my neck. I tucked my chin into my hoodie more. There were these tiki lights, all around me and the intimate seating area I occupied, but the little bits of light did nothing to help me see the book in my hands.

I tucked it away after straining for a few moments and settled on just resonating with myself for a bit. I watched the flames of the fire pit before me, listened to it crackle and pop. I was so focused on the peacefulness, that I hadn’t even noticed the elevator ding, nor the person scuffling across the concrete of the roof.

In fact, I didn’t even notice her until she was sitting across from me, these little alcohol bottles in her hands. The movement of her sitting before me flitted my gaze up, edges of my vision blurred slightly from the intensity of the flames. My hearing focused after. There was music streaming from the speakers on her phone, some Taylor Swift song I didn't recognize. I withheld the urge to roll my eyes and studied her movements.

She read the label on the mini shot of Jack Daniels with squinted eyes. I'd never seen someone pay so much attention to a simple liquor Maybe she'd never drank it before. That would be a strange fact, considering she was 23. Every 23 year old I knew had gone through every liquor known to man. Then, she drank it and I realized why she was so observant. Her face turned up in this grimace, lips puckered, brows furrowed. She just couldn't handle her liquor. Her examination of the bottle was really just a hesitance to consume it in the first place.

I stifled a laugh and instead found my words, urged to tease her for this occurrence, "Gonna share?' Maybe I should have intruded her peace more gently, or maybe I should have said something sooner than I did. Either way, I had spooked her enough that she jumped.

Her once shocked grimace twisted into a deep frown, like she was annoyed I had disturbed her. "How long have you been sitting there?"

My grin widened, though it didn't seem like she found much humor in the situation. "Long enough to know you can't take a shot." I held out my hand, awaiting her to hand over one of the bottles. She didn't do that Instead, her face hardened a bit and she made another comment, “Sorry I’m not an alcoholic. If you want one, you have to come get it, by the way. I’m comfy now.”

I was taken back by her crudeness. Everyone said she was so kind, so sweet. I'd even overheard her niceties earlier, at the airport, at the bar. Had I done something?

Instead of setting the record straight, communicating, though, I became defensive to her jabs. As I reached for one of the bottles, I said, "Comfy with this trash music playing?"

Funnily enough, this made her face sink more, if at all possible. Her frown was deep as a river, and murky as one, too, "Real men listen to Taylor Swift."

I tried another joke, hoping it would salvage the wreckage we were feeding, "Hey, haven't you heard? I'm a vessel, not a man?"

I don't know if it did, but she at least continued speaking to me. "So, vessel, what are you doing up here? Can't sleep?"

I tossed my hand in her direction, speaking with my casual satire, "Obviously." I looked away from her, breathless. I was trying so hard, so incredibly hard to seem careless, chill. I didn’t know why I couldn’t just, actually, genuinely not give a fuck.

I reached for my cigarettes, too stressed out to handle a head that was some sober from nicotine. After a long drag, I felt that familiar buzz of a clear head, the temporary reduction of anxiety.

Cigarettes were always a killer ice breaker, helpful in even the toughest, most awkward conversations. So, when my eyes popped back open and met hers, I offered a hit.

If her face had been disgusted before, it was even more so now. "That's okay, thanks," she almost sneered.

I pursed my lips. Okay, I wasn't the only one killing this conversation. She acted like she was just too good for anything that I had to do with. Like if she were to take a drag from this cigarette, she'd be infected with my sickness.

I voiced the concern with my snide tone again. Her response nearly made me choke on my own spit, “More like my mom died of lung cancer because she smoked for thirty years.”

As quick as possible, I stomped the butt into the ground. "Sorry."

She hummed some sort of response, looking away so uncomfortably. I wanted to grovel, to beg for her forgiveness in the case of such a small moment of misunderstanding, but I settled on another painful jab at a nice conversation.

“I’d ask what you’re doing up, but I figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep after the day you had.” She responded in that same dry tone, "Yeah, no."

Annoyed, I began to wonder where all this sweetness had gone. Earlier, with the guys, she had spoken like she'd known them for forever. Here, with me- she acted like I'd spit in her coffee this morning, like I was holding her at gun point just to have this conversation.

I gave up on trying to be overly considerate and shot straight to the point. I wanted answers anyways, and now I had a good reason to search for them, "What's your deal, Daisy?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" She responded.

I shrugged as I crossed my arms over my chest. What did she want it to mean? "Why are you here?" Instead of just answering the question, she countered me, echoing the question. Good fucking game, Daisy Hallett. Good fucking game.

I stretched my body out as I thought, unsure of how to answer. What was I here for? To do my job, obviously. So, I told her that. But, I should have known she would pry deeper. That were her job, after all, to observe, analyze, pry.

“That’s not what you’re here for,” She rejected my words, shaking her head just slightly, “That’s what everyone else is here for. What about you, Oliver?”

I started making music for myself, not anyone else. In the darkest, most terrible parts of my life, it had gotten me through to the other side with ease. It was my biggest coping skill, sitting at a clear number one on the list my therapist and I had outlined.

Getting paid for it, getting to tour and travel cities…that was all a plus. Touring, performing itself, were two things I was still trying to get used to. It was awesome to get to play my music life for others, to help them through to the other side, but it was sometimes…overwhelming, a hard pill to swallow.

So, I answered honestly this time, “To…worship. To celebrate my music, myself…life.”

She was impressed by this answer, pleased, and I could tell this by the stretch of her lips. That sweet, enticing smile did something to me.

As she held up the shot bottle in a gesture to cheers, I returned the smirk. We danced on the edge of some invisible line.

"To life."

I wanted to hear more of her voice, more of...her, more about her. So, I scrambled and said, "Wait, what about you?"

“There’s no deeper meaning to anything I do,” she waved me off.

I understood her more in this moment than I sometimes understood the people closest to me. She was like- she was insecure, she was scared. She was a little kid with monsters under her bed and in her closet.

So, I affirmed her existence with words that seemed so simple, yet would have meant so much for me to hear, too. “Oh, Daisy, there’s always deeper meaning to everything humans do. Think. What’s yours?”

This threw her off balance, yet somehow kept her from falling off the edge. It made the gears in her head turn, made her question her own thoughts. "I guess…I guess…to find that deeper meaning. To find what I’m looking for, maybe.”

She still didn't seem too sure, but I knew that, once this summer ended, once the leaves turned brown, and she returned back to a place called home, she would know it in her bones.

And I think, maybe, I might know it, too.

Sooner, rather than the later that I hoped for, we were in the elevator. Hours of breathless conversation sat, stale in the air on the roof, abandoned as the steel doors trapped us in silence.

The more she told me, the more terrified I was of her very existence. She was smarter than me, and very good at returning snide comments. Her wit was so profoundly intelligent, that I found myself silenced on more than one occasion.

Above all this- she was a disruption- she was chaos. She made me think differently, harder. She made me laugh.

I was drawn in by all of this, by her eyes, by the way the corners of her pink lips curled up into her cheeks. It took me a second to realize that she was staring back up at me, that our shoulders were turning to face one another, that my fingers were grazing the sleeve of her hoodie.

"You're very pretty, Daisy," the words fell out in a dangerous whisper. I loved the way she blushed, the way the tip of her nose scrunched, and she fell back onto her heels a bit.

I would have kissed her, I knew that for sure, had the elevator doors not opened up, had we not parted ways there, in the barren hallways. And I would have sought her out, would have reached for a simple phone number, another moment on the roof, another conversation about life and college and her favorite fucking color...

had I not made it back to my room and looked myself in the eye, through the smudged reflection of the bathroom mirror. The painful eye contact brought me back down to Earth, reminded me of the ugliness swirled up inside my chest, the bitter desire of my own self interest, selfishness.

I was...I was the chaos. I was the disruption. Here was this beautiful, interesting, smart girl...and here was me, this man-giant, who could barely hold a conversation without feeling like he was going to have a panic attack. Besides all that, her brother was my fucking best friend. I was his boss.

This was territory that I could not enter, not without a guilty conscience and someone's broken heart. So, I would proceed with caution, although it ended up making me seem like the worst person in the world.

-

I knew I could no longer keep up the act only a few weeks in, all thanks to Whitney Houston and this stupid pink fucking dress.

I watched her parade herself all night, guzzling drinks like they were air, batting her stupidly prim and perfect eyelashes my way. She knew exactly how to get me going- how to lock me in, most of all. And I was playing right into the fucking game, weak signs and Achilles heels all exposed from the second that she stepped out of that hotel room.

When I saw that knowing, vivacious smirk- I knew tonight would be different.

It wasn't until she was passed out, in my bed, with my hoodie on, that I realized I was falling for her. I had been able to subside the hunger that I felt, the hunger I felt to speak to her, to consume her with my eyes, my teeth, my hands, my body- God. It was easy to push all these thoughts away when she wasn't there- but then, she'd show up at breakfast or dinner or in my dreams and thoughts and desperations and I'd spiral again.

It didn't help that I was letting it get to me so much- and she was literally trained in analyzing behavior. I exposed my curiosities with even the slightest dip in my gaze or lift in my shoulders. There was a moment, during breakfast, when she told us of her plans for the evening of one our first shows- that she wasn't coming to.

Max had to go and make a stupid joke when I just barly glanced up from my plate, "Even Ollie's hurt!" I stopped coming to so many social gatherings, at least where she was concerned. And, then, I got all the space I needed when we took off on the buses.

Everyone flocked to her side, wanting even a second of her attention, while I kept to myself on the other bus. Because I thought the guys might leave me alone about it, I could almost reside in absolute peace.

But, then, Ronnie came knocking on my bunk.

It was early morning. We were stopped for gas, somewhere in Northern Italy. The bus was deadly silent, with nothing but my own quiet breath and the hum of the outside world to keep e company. Ronnie came in, bounding, like she always did. She slammed the bus door shut, jarring me from the focus I'd had on the game of Mario Kart pulled up on my Switch. Next thing I knew, she was ripping open the curtain to my bunk.

"Why the fuck are you rotting in here like a mummy? I'm close to wrapping you up in toilet paper and shoving you in with the suitcases!"

I rolled my eyes as she spoke and slouched my shoulders away. The hood of my sweatshirt dipped enough that she was no longer in my view. "Sam needs to stop gassing up your jokes. It's getting to your head."

"You're literally just jealous because your jokes are only ever mean and borderline tone-deaf," Ronnie grabbed the lip of my hood and tugged it down over my face.

I wriggled away from her, Switch dropping towards the inside of the bunk. I shoved her hands away. "Says you, Miss Jimmy Carr."

Ronnie's jaw jutted open a bit, "Now that's fucked, Ollie."

I went to jab back again, but she held up a hand, head tilted like she was a tired, annoyed mother of a band of men babies. "Stop while you're ahead, dude. Back to what I came in to harass you about- you need to come join us! We're playing Mario Kart with peaches- Daisy, sorry. You guys would get along sooo great. I know you're, like, weird about new people, but she's so fucking funny. Please, please just come over, hang out, be chill for once in your life."

Peaches. They had given her a nickname. Peaches, as if she weren't already sweet enough to sour the cuts on my skin.

I huffed and puffed at the rant as I pulled my hood down the back of my head. "First of all, I don't play Mario Kart-"

"I literally hear the music coming from your Switch," Ronnie pointed with a dead stare at the device, muffled humming rumbling from beneath my blanket.

I met her eye, absent any shame of my white lie. I took a breath and dove back into my rejection, "Second of all, why the hell do you guys give out the cringiest, most ridiculous nicknames? Like, peaches?What even is that?"

"It's called joy, magic, and fun, you grinch," Ronnie pinched my elbow. I flinched away from her touch again and she snickered. "If you don't like Daisy, just say so. I won't tell anybody. I'll just resent and judge you in silence- silent words, not punches."

What did she mean, that I didn't like Daisy? I knew I'd been passive towards her, but I never made it so obvious-

The expression on my face must have read confusion or shock because Ronnie popped a hip and crossed her arms.

"Listen," she added, "I know that she probably irks you. I get it. You're the bad boy, dark soul type and she's this ray of fucking sunshine and, yes, peaches. Just- give her a chance before you rain all over her parade."

"I literally never said I had a fucking problem with her. Why does everyone think I hate her guts when I've literally only ever had one conversation with her?" I frustratedly spoke, words rushed together. Ronnie stood back a second, reading the scrunch of my brows, the way I pushed myself up onto my elbows. Then, her offended frown morphed into something knowing, as though bits of information clicked in her head.

"Oh," she rhythmed, grinning now, "I see what's going on here. Hey, she's gorgeous.” "Oh, my God, here we go," I stood from my bunk, now, unwilling to just lay there and listen to her try to evaluate my behavior.

Ronne didn't follow me as I made my way to the back room, "Ollie...just remember who you are. And who she is."

And this sentence alone threw me for the biggest loop.

I didn't even know what she meant by that, but as well I knew Ronnie...it was definitely more than met the eye, deeper than any surface level warning anybody else could give. Not only did I know Ronnie well, but she could read me like a book. She knew what to say to make my skin crawl. Who I am...who Daisy is.

Analyzing the statement from top to bottom, general to specific, it was simple. She was my best friend’s brother. And I was his boss.

It meant more than that, though.

Ronnie meant that Daisy…Daisy was delicate. Daisy was meat, fresh off a shattered bone, and I was a hound.

I was always the hound. The Albatross, even. A winged creature always coming in to swipe shiny things off of stormy shores.

Ronnie didn’t want to harm me with the statement, but she sure as hell wanted to humble me. And that she did.

Each time I found myself aching to find Daisy’s gaze, I’d shrink back into myself. Remember my place. Remember who I was.

And, then…that damn Whitney Houston song. That damn pink dress.

Ronnie knew I was slipping, when I first spotted Daisy, in the doorway of her hotel room, long legs on display. I caught my lips beginning to party, drool beginning to pool in my teeth. This appreciative smirk came upon my face until I met Ronnie’s frown.

And I moved on.

I kept trying to move on, to fly away, leave the gold necklace on the beach for some other lucky, hopeless idiot to clean the sand off of, treasure for the rest of their sorry days.

I paid for her meal, as some sort of reparation for the damage I must’ve done all evening, being the hungry being I was while she toyed with the lock on my cage.

But, I just couldn’t . Especially not when she was running from the bar, sickness visible on her face. I could’ve left it where it was- Max was shuffling after her, ready to help, ready to hold her hair up.

Before I knew it, my feet were racing me out of the door, my hand was on Max’s shoulder, a kind smile was reassuring him that I could handle it, that he could go back to having fun.

My hands were in her hair, my neck was cradling the crown of her head, she was reaching for my wallet, letting us into the hotel room, laying down on my bed. I was giving her my hoodie, placing a bandage on her leg, caressing her fruity skin.

And then…just like that, as quickly as the rain began, like when you can see it in sheets, pounding into the Earth, just there, off in the distance…then it’s splattering on your windshield, the sound jarring you from your tired drive, the blur harming your vision of the road.

It was raining in my hotel room.

I didn’t have an umbrella.

I spent the entire night, laying there on the bed beside her, faced away, tensed up. Every breath she took stopped my heart. Every wrinkle from the white sheets made my eyes blink.

I was spending so much of my thought process trying to remember the taste of her fleeting lips on my own, pressing my fingers to them as though they were stained from her, as though I could close my eyes and taste them, again and again and again.

Then, in the morning, she returned my hoodie. There was this…look…this distant, worried look. Had she remembered? Had she remembered the words I said? Was this going to change anything? Everything? At breakfast, I ignored her persistent eyes, the gaze burning into my soul for answers. When she told us she couldn’t remember anything, I was little relieved.

If she didn’t remember, I could put distance between us, try to forget it myself- try to forget the way her fingers buried themselves into my hair. Try to forget the feel of her nose, pressed into my cheek, her chest, warm against my own.

While I was able to put physical distance between us this week, being that work kept us busy. But, the mental, emotional yards were harder to climb.

Once we made it through the airport, to Italy, I began my practice of celibacy, against the thoughts of her, against us.

I think part of me knew it wouldn’t last. I think part of me didn’t want it to. I think that’s why I was there- in the elevator, headed for the roof, in hopes that I might find her there. I didn’t even know if it was a place she frequented, but my intuition told me it was a good place to look.

And I was right.

I acted shocked when I first saw her, like it didn’t help my blood pump, seeing her, feet in the water, hair curling around her forehead.

She looked so…tense. Stressed. There was this permanent furrow in her brow. Did she really not remember…anything? At all?

Though it was a relief, I wanted to jog her memory (I wanted to kiss her).

I asked Daisy, barely glancing over at her in the seat beside me. From the corner of my eye, I watched her chew upon on her bottom lip, “Not really.”

Why did it feel like a lie?

She must’ve remembered something. Sure, she had been drinking, but…she was smarter than that. “Okay,” I choked, snatching another look at her.

I noticed Daisy turn her chin to return the gaze and I looked back at the city. I couldn’t look into her eyes, look at her face. I’d crumble.

“Is there something I should be remembering?”

It was timid, shy. But bold.

Bolder than I could bring myself to be right now.

Unable to find my own words, unable to form my own lie, I echoed her.

“Okay,” she copied.

The moment swelled in my mind. I wanted- needed her to remember. I wanted her to feel the ache in my bones at the thought of our lips pressed together. Wanted her to feel the longing Maybe then, she’d be the one to break, and I could blame it on her. Make her out to be the bad guy, going after me.

What a fucked up thing to think about.

Before I could catch myself, I blurted, “You don’t remember-“

At the same time, she went to push further on the topic.

I excused myself, motioned for her to continue. But, of course, she let me go instead.

“You don’t remember coming back to the hotel?”

I knew I was confusing her.

“Not really. you’re sure there’s nothing you want to tell me? Something important I should be remembering?” her knuckles, clasped together, were turning white.

I shrugged and pretended to be unaware, “I don’t think so.”

“Why did you tell me to come sit with you?”

She really knew how to make a guy question his own thought patterns. It would make her a really great therapist- but it just made me want to run.

To hide. To slip away from this disruption in my damaged peace.

I sighed, thoughtful, though still unsure, “I don’t know. Thought it would be nice. Like when we were in London-“

“Like when we were in London and you proceeded to pretend like we never did this? Like when we were in London and you kept interrupting me, so I couldn’t tell everyone we had been up on the roof together?”

So, she was pissed.

I knew she would be. She acted like she didn’t care, but I saw through the disguise. It reminded me of me.

I shrugged, putting on the same play, “Like that.”

I guess that was the comment that sent her off the edge, though. She was too guarded, too respectful of herself to take the bullshit I pushed. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

That wasn’t it for me. I needed to know what she knew. She obviously remembered more than she was letting on.

I slid into the elevator behind her, “Daisy-“

I swear to God, the rhythm of her breathing palpitated when I said her name-

“I need you to be honest with me. What do you remember?”

“Oh, cause you’re such a conscientious person yourself?”

I pulled at my hair, stressfully, “I really don’t think we’re on the same page right now, Daisy. Please, if we could just talk about this, if you could just tell me what you remember-“

Gears seemed to click in her brain. Something I said, the way I moved, the flash of the stars in her eyes, something had triggered a memory in her head. Something suddenly made sense.

I tried to help, though I was probably just being an asshole. “I want to figure this out, okay?”

I wanted to figure her out.

Whatever clicked was- it fucked things up.

“Oliver,” she frowned, “I can’t play this game with you.”

Game?

What game?

I was only ever playing defense- keeping to myself, keeping her away from my heart, trying to maintain distance. She had kissed me- I was the one to turn her away.

My shoulders fell, “What game? Daisy…I’m confused!”

“So am I, Oliver!”

Fuck. The way she said my name-

“I’m- you’re fucking with my head!”

Like she wasn’t fucking with mine?!

I went back to my original question, hoping to continue digging there, instead of worrying about this new hole she was unburying, “What do you remember?”

“It doesn’t matter, Oliver! I just don’t want to do this with you. Max is right. I should listen to him.” What the fuck did Max say? Why was he involving himself in this? How did he even know about- us- when we didn’t even- what?

What was happening?

“I’m not doing this with you.”

The doors opened, and she was leaving me. In her dust. In the swell of her words.

I retreated back to my room, throat tight, chest contracting for any gulp breath I could get. I fell back against the door like there were bullet holes bleeding out of my chest. I wanted to just...be honest. To be honest with her. Tell her what I really thought, what really happened, how I felt about her.

It wasn't the boundaries holding me back now. All my senses of morality and respect for our situation were dead. It was me. I was the iceberg. I was the gun.

I found my way to the bed, lay there like an empty casket. Dead, hollow, shards of wood. Why was I so afraid of her?

Maybe she'd be good for me...better than the last relationship I had, that much I could already tell. But, maybe she didn't want me for that.

Maybe she wanted to scalp me for my money, for my fame, dish out the gossip to the tabloids. Maybe she wanted to love me.

Maybe I deserved something good. Maybe I deserved to take a risk on something. Maybe I needed to. I was outside her door, before I was really conscious to my own movements, knocking, waiting. For barely a second.

She was opening the door, standing there in this barren light like an angel.

"Daisy."

I was kissing her.

Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, whatever cruel fate she may prophesize or goodness she may expose to my paled skin- I didn't care.

Because she was kissing me.

-

I hadn’t been with someone for over a year.

That was what was so jarring about the entire situation.

It made me cautious, held me back. I’d been on a dating ban since I switched to my new therapist, who wanted me to focus on myself more than I always did on another person.

And for a while, it was going well.

Until Daisy disrupted that.

I knew, for as long as she was alive, breathing my air, I just could never be alone.

Usually, when I dated someone, when I was with them…I still felt that loneliness because I would give so much. And that person never returned it.

Daisy did, by a tenfold. She was…present. She so easily showed up, made time for me, chased me down when I went into those bouts of self isolation.

It was difficult to let her in…to let her join me in the dark.

But she made it feel less lonely. She made me feel…whole.

I started going to breakfast more often, started including myself in the group activities. Not only did she make me feel less alone, but she made me feel like I needed human connection.

“It’s warm, isn’t it?”

I scoffed at my therapist’s words, so simple for something so complex. “Warm. It’s hot. I feel like I’m on fire.”

“Good. Burn,” she responded. “You’re in the light now, Oliver. How do you feel about it?”

“Wow, what a question,” I teased.

Dr. Grime sighed heavily, crossing her arms over her chest. The movement was delayed, due to the time zone different, the laggy wifi in the hotel room. “Seriously, Oliver. Is it…do you feel like you want to snuff it out?”

“Of course I do,” I shuffled on my bed, “you know me. Something good comes and I feel like I don’t deserve it. But…I think it might be okay if I hang around in this for a while.”

“I think so, too,” she smiled. “I like how your language has changed, too. You’d tell me, ‘I don’t deserve this.” Now you say, you feel like you don’t deserve it. You’re recognizing rational thoughts from emotional ones. That’s very important. I’m proud of you.”

I offered a strained smile in response, uncomfortable with her praise. It was appreciated, though, and gave me body a sense of accomplishment.

Maybe I was getting better.

“So, this Daisy,” she leaned forward, more intrigued with the personal aspect of my love life, like some maternal figure.

I chuckled, shaking my head approvingly, “Daisy.”

“Do you…love her?” Dr. Grime poked.

I blushed, deeply, but quickly shoved the thought away, “Oh, no. No way. I…I barely know her. That’s- that’s crazy. Definitely not. No.”

My phone dinged in rhythm with the end of my sentence. It was her.

Daisy: soon as sam goes to bed, i can be over

My eyes lingered on the text, more concerned with this situation now than the accusatory, knowing tone of my therapist’s words.

“Mm,” she paused, “no, of course. So, is this just…a casual summer fling for you? A way to get over everything this, figure out what it is you want out of a relationship? It’s important to have something like this, a stable ground to work up off of for the future, considering you don’t have a great idea as to what love should be like.”

“Maybe,” I shrugged, toying with my phone. I stared at the message, reading and rereading the message again and again.

What…was this.

What was this to me?

What was this…to her?

We’d established some boundaries, mostly that I couldn’t really commit to anything to serious. And she said that had been okay.

Was I still okay with that?

Was that still what I wanted?

I was so obviously falling in love with her, but I would never tell anybody that.

Especially not her.

But it didn’t matter if I loved her- did I want her that way? Did I want this to last past the summer?

I did.

And that’s what scared me the most.

Loving her beyond the swept up dream we were caught in, back home, domestically. Loving her casually, routinely, in the kitchen back in my apartment, through school, sharing plants and bath towels.

I wanted that.

I wanted her…her ends and odds.

I lied, “No. I don’t want that right now. Got tour going on, new album soon. You know. Busy.”

Long after therapy ended, I stared at the message. The sun had set, the day had died…and I just couldn’t think of anything to say.

I think if I were to be around her right now, I might blurt out some passionate, mindless thing that I couldn’t bring us back from.

I needed to do…what I always did. Be alone. Ruminate in my thoughts in the darkness of a foreign hotel room in a strange city. All alone.

This felt…easier. Comfortable. What I was good at.

Yeah…this was easier.

The next day, I couldn’t stay from her any longer.

I needed her and she was needed that, too- however we could get each other.

So I pushed aside the feelings I had for her- put up all my walls and boundaries, and took her into my arms-

We would have this summer, even if it killed us.

–

"Hiya, Ollie, dear!"

My mother's voice was a sweet symphonic sound to my tired ears. We were in near opposite time zones, hundreds of miles apart, and I missed her more than anything. Touring usually took everything out of me and she was the one, separate, stable person I could turn to.

We'd only called once or twice the past few months due to my obsessed perversions with a certain best friend's sibling who had been taking up all of my time- not that I was complaining about who.

It was only recently that my mom and I had established such good rapport. Since I was young, she'd struggled to wrap her head around my career choices. Now that I was fully devoted to the act, and quite successful, she pushed aside her disagreement with it and chose to just keep supporting me.

Though I couldn't always answer, her calls were welcome.

"Hi, mum," I sat up in the hotel bed, my back sighing in gratitude at the change in posiiton. i had been rotting in here for a few hours, a little bored since Daisy was out with her friend. I could've went and hung with the guys, but I honestly needed some time to myself. That time was starting to really feel like loneliness, though. I guess before I met Daisy, they were empty hours full of empty feelings. Now, I was waking up to the reality of my existence. I'd made it so dull.

"Are you in Paris yet? Or are you still travelling?"

"We made it a few days ago," I replied. “Show’s tomorrow."

"Oh, I love Paris," she remarked. I could hear her lovely grin through the tone of her words. "I remember when we went there on a school holiday. My favorite part was the Eiffel Tower. It's so big. Now, I hear that it sparkles. You'll have to take a photo for me."

"Sure, mum."

"Have you gotten out much or are you holing up in your hotel room?"

Sheepishly, I scratched my neck. My response was delayed a bit; we both knew the answer. “Uh...I’m getting out there. Ya know, hanging out.”

“Ugh, Ollie,” I could nearly hear the roll of her eyes through the phone. “You know need a lady friend. Someone to drag you out of your bed. I mean, how many times do you get to see Paris. And get paid for it!”

At the mention of a ‘lady friend,’ I blushed. I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell her about Daisy, and damn did I want to. Though we weren’t even officially together. I didn’t know how to explain that to my mom, so maybe I’d just shy away from the topic, talk about something else.

But I guess my lapse of silent thinking made her think that there already was a lady friend.

“Oh?” she questioned with a cheerful lace to her tone. I didn’t say anything, my brain was unable to come up with anything in response. Acting defensive always made people think the opposite of what I said. Should I just tell her? Get it out of the way? Let her lecture me about my poor choices.

“Well, I won’t badger you. When you're ready,” she was already responding.

I was surprised that she was going to leave it there, to say the least, which only furthered my sentence. She usually pushed until I gave her some semblance of the truth. As she was getting older, I’d realized she gotten more relaxed and didn’t push as much as she used to. I think it was partially due to the guilt she felt for everything between us growing up.

So, I just went to move the subject along when she jumped back on it, “Just- please don’t tell me it’s that Fiona girl. I’m so sorry if it is. I just can’t sit around and watch you be treated so poorly by someone so...so awful. Again. Her personality is just- wow. Though, I shouldn’t be surprised. I went to school with her mum, and she was awful towards me. Apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree-”

I had to stop her while she was ahead. I guess some things never really, truly changed. "Mum, please! I’m not seeing Fiona again, I promise. I’m not...”

I wasn’t offended that she thought I was. It was just...more or so shocking. Shocking that she thought I’d put myself back in that. I had, a handful of times before. But...I was different now.

I guess she hadn't been around me these past few months, but I had truly changed. This past May’s Oliver very well could’ve let Fiona waltz back into his life. But July’s Oliver? He would’ve been hesitant.

And, even more so- Daisy’s Oliver...Daisy’s Oliver was a changing man. Daisy’s Oliver was a better man.

And I wanted to tell my mum that, I decided. She needed to know- it would ease her mind, along with my own. I know she was always worried for me. So, I told her-

“No, I’m seeing someone else. Her name...her name’s Daisy,” that felt good to admit, to put into the Universe, that I was seeing her, and she was seeing me, even if there were no labels attached.

“Daisy?” she perked up at the name. “That’s a pretty name. What’s she look like? You got any pictures you can text me?”

I realized quickly that I didn’t. In the near two months that we had been sleeping together, consuming one another’s souls, we hadn’t taken a single picture. It was probably for the best, just in case they somehow fell into the wrong hands. But- there were so many moments I could’ve- should’ve- captured. Moments of Daisy, hair whipping past her face on the roof, the lights of Italy glowing behind her like she had angelic wings. Daisy, in my hotel room, in the early morning before she had to sneak away. Tired eyes and an even more exhausted smile as she laughed at something stupid, I’d done in my sleep.

I wanted one. I wanted a picture of her, a picture of us, whatever I could get.

For now, all I had was my memories to help me describe her to my mum. It was easy to do so, considering she was etched into the very nerves in my mind.

“No, I don’t,” I breathed out, “but she’s beautiful. She’s got this-this- God, I can’t even describe her to you. Her hair’s darker, like yours. She’s got these brown eyes. Shorter than me, of course. You can always tell it’s her, though, just by the way she carries herself. She’s got this energy. You’d just have to see it to believe it.”

“She sounds amazing, Ollie,” she sighed distantly then giggled, “Well, if she’s so pretty, where are the pictures? I need to see her! Need to see what this talk is all about.”

I chuckled in response, “I know, I know. I suck.”

“It’s alright. I’m sure it’s difficult, with you on tour and her...what does she do, exactly? Where is she from? Would I know her?”

Here came the long winded, shameful explanation of everything between Daisy and me. The feelings that weren’t feelings, the girl who wasn’t mine, the upset sea tumultuous between us. Her brother. Sam.

I tried my best, “Well, she’s working towards her counseling license. So, she goes back to school in the fall. But right now, she’s on tour with us. Her brother works- um...Sam’s her brother. She just wanted to do some traveling before getting tied down for the next few years.”

“Sam? Sam Hatlett? She's his little sister?” There was a bit of shock in her tone now like I imagined there would be. Sam was like a brother to me, and mum knew that. In fact, she loved Sam. She always had.

When she first met him, she’d pulled him under her wing like a mother bird, like she could just feel that he needed her. So, to imagine that I might go after his little sister is rightfully shocking. It was close to home.

“I know, I know. Again, I suck,” I laughed, though I felt so tense. Rubbing my neck didn’t ease the tension in my skin.

“You don't suck, darling. It’s just a precarious situation, I’m sure. How does Sam feel about it all? Was he weird when you first started dating Daisy?”

When I first began to tell my mum about Daisy, I doubted whether or not I wanted to be completely honest. But I easily fell into the comfortability of her warm conversation and realized I could not bend the truth. Not only did she deserve to know it, but she needed to. I knew, too, that she wasn’t going to judge me, tell me I was making a bad decision. It took three times with Fiona for her to begin voicing her opinion.

Above all, I didn't need to jump through any hoops to win her approval. I didn’t have to play a role, fill a part. I was me. And she loved that man.

I realized, subconsciously, that this was how I felt about Daisy, too. Comfortable. Easy.

Loved.

I explained things to my mom, carefully, making sure she knew of the endless boundaries Daisy always ensured we had and the sweet, delicate moments that made everything worth it. I nearly fell into myself, swept up in the reminiscent beauty of it all. God, I missed her, even if it had been only two days since I’d seen her. Her friend Sasha was in town and took up all her time.

I didn’t know what I was expecting my mom to say, so I held my breath after I finished saying, “But, I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s just a summer thing or what. We’re both kinda in weird positions, so we’re not too worried about that, I guess. We’re just...having fun, ya know?”

As the insecurity rose up my throat and choked me out, I sighed out the rest of the air I had in me and added, “We’re not, like, in love or anything.”

I hadn’t expected her to laugh, that’s for sure.

But she laughed. My mum giggled, like things were well and truly hilarious, like I had just told her a joke. I waited there in silence, waiting for her to make fun of me for being so stupid as to let this situation occur. Laugh at me for being terrible at love and life. There goes Oliver again, breaking hearts, getting his heart broken. He can’t even be in a stable relationship! Laugh, laugh, laugh.

She said, “You are crazy, Ollie,” but it wasn’t meant in a harsh manner.

It wasn’t condescending, it wasn’t mean. She wasn’t making fun of me. She was...she was laughing because it was funny.

“You are usually so good at going after things. I mean, look at you with your music, darling. I said no, how many times? I insisted you do something, anything else. I never supported you financially. I never...I never supported you. I was the odds you were testing yourself against and looking at you now! I mean,” her voice cracked. A sniffle followed. My muscles eased from the discomfort I felt into something that wanted to reach for her through the phone, hug her.

“I know your father and I didn’t give you the best example for love. I know we weren’t some movie star-couple that everyone always knew would last forever. We fought. We weren’t there for you when we should have been. Your father left you. And then I held all these stupid expectations up to you, to try to make you better. And you! You’re successful!”

“And I give you all the credit for that. You are...my pride and joy, Ollie. My life. I am so proud of you, darling. But it breaks my heart, still, that you have not been able to find happiness. That you must spend so much time repairing what I broke. We cannot blame everybody else- you can...you can blame me, Ollie. I know I am to blame. And that is okay.”

“So, forgive me for laughing, forgive me for calling you crazy and stupid and wild, darling, but- it's right in front of your face, Ollie! She’s right there in front of you. Daisy. Darling, if you’re still questioning what love is, what it’s supposed to feel like...please let me knock some sense into you! You are wasting so much precious time on believing that it can only leave. It doesn’t have to stay for long for it to be important. If she leaves at the end of the summer, you will regret not telling her.”

I didn’t have to ask her what she meant; what she knew I’d regret not saying. I knew it, I knew it as well as I knew Daisy’s face, even more clear in my memory now.

“You can beat around the bush some more if you’d like, or you can carry on with this facade you’re so deeply transfixed by. Darling, I know it’s hard to let the chaos subside, to let the goodness in, but as I am getting older, I am realizing that it is bright. It is...comfortable. It is good. You deserve to have a lifetime of that. Don’t waste any more time, Ollie. Please tell her, please let her tell you. Please just...hold what you have.”

I had borne a hole into the wall, but snapped out of my still position when I felt a tear roll down the side of my nose. “H-how? How do I tell her?”

“However you need to,” she chuckled lightly. “Although, here’s a hint, Ollie: you are in the City of Love. Take advantage.”

I knew our call was ending and didn’t know when we’d get to speak again. So, like she had told, I took advantage of the moment and I held what I had; “Mum, just so you know,” my voice came out as a whisper, a gentle patter of rain on the roof.

“Yes, Ollie?” she whispered, too, like there was a gentle card deck stacked between us. I think maybe there was- I think there was always some sort of tension lingering from the harsh moments we’d beat into each other; the fighting, the leaving, the crying. I don’t think she ever felt like I’d forgiven her, as if I really needed to. She had been growing up, too, after all.

“I love you, you know that?”

“I know, baby,” I felt relieved that there was a smile in her tone, “now, go. You have some more dreams to chase down. And, Ollie?” “Yeah?”

“Get some pictures for me.”

-

I was lucky that, the next day, everyone was busy with their own plans on opposite sides of the city. So Daisy and I were able to spend some time together, outside of this drywall prison. I was a pretty good listener, too, and remembered all the spots Daisy had gushed about seeing in the little time we’d had together these past few weeks. I was being given the perfect setup to do what I needed to do: we were going to be alone, in the most romantic city on planet Earth. I could finally tell her how I felt.

Of course, so much of me shook with anxiety. What if- she didn’t feel the same way? She didn’t want to risk it? She didn’t want to commit to someone this close to school? Let alone someone who lived across the world from her? These weren't my only fears. There were so many revolving around my career that I could’ve drowned beneath their weight.

Yet, each time I looked at her, I was anchored to her shoes. I couldn’t drift out to sea. I was grounded. Though my fears about how she would react sank, it took another amount of effort to get the words out.

I could’ve done it right away, gotten it out there, cleared the air, so we could enjoy each other even more. That would’ve been the best way: I would've gotten answers, started the day out on the right foot. But, when we got out onto the streets, I was swept up in the busy buzz of the crowds. It was loud in the cafe we grabbed breakfast at, loud on the sidewalks, overly crowded by the river. We finally found a place to sit, breakfast sandwiches and drinks in hand. Though there were still throngs of people all around us. So what good was the City of Love when it was full of ignorant tourists?

The anxiety of what I wanted to do was making me feel grumpy. I shut down a little bit, unable to really engage in much conversation, let alone tell her how I felt. I think it just looked like exhaustion to Daisy, so she didn’t really notice. I did- I was hyperaware of every short sentence, every avoided gaze. All of these people are going to be standing here when I tell her. They’re going to watch her reject me and they’re going to know. They're going to know I’m not good enough. She’s going to walk away from me, leave me stranded in the park, alone with my own rejection and denial. I’m not good enough I’m not good enough.

I thought about what my therapist would tell me, ways to snap myself out of this maladaptive pattern of behavior. My brain lies, she always said. It makes things up, creates false realities based off things others have said to me, or moments of true insecurity rooted in no sense of truth.

Daisy would want me, even if I wasn’t good enough. That was the one assurance I could tell myself to shake off the weary thoughts.

And if she didn’t- well, I don’t think thinking about that was going to help me very much. So, when we got back into the hustle and bustle, shopping around the city, visiting the sights, I opened myself back up.

I didn't know if I’d ever find the confidence. I was on the precipice again, after lunch, when I began spewing cheesy pet names as a sublimation for the words I needed to say. It shocked her at first, hearing such sweet things coming from me. And that stung a little. Was I that monstrous towards her that simple affections made her brows shoot up? Was I that bad? I repeated them once, twice, just so she really knew I meant it.

The day went on and on and I cowered in on myself even more. There were plenty more ample moments, but I just kept letting the clock tick down. I knew we were running out of precious time. If I didn’t tell her now, we would go straight back to secret moments in a hotel room, balancing on a tightrope, pretending like the moment the leaves changed color, we wouldn't be losing each other. I just knew Daisy wanted that about as much as I did.

Just when I was giving up hope, I found my moment, finally. Just after we had stopped to view the Eiffel Tower, some street side scam artist grabbed some pictures of us and was trying to convince me to spend $200 on the copies. At first, I brushed it off, until I caught a small peak at the images on his camera. Before he could spout another line, I was giving him $100. He gave me three photos.

Where my words may fail, these pictures couldn’t. You wouldn’t have to know Daisy and I personally to well and truly and see how infatuated we were with each other. I wasn’t even worried anymore that she wouldn’t want me. I was worried she wouldn’t want the risk, the jump, the caution of a fall.

These would be to convince her to leap. These had to be.

I stopped us outside the hotel, knowing if once we stepped inside, our memories might as well be cleared of the day's events. We would be going back to normalcy, to the real world. Our friends would be waiting there, we would allow the gap between us to grow. I would swallow my words and choke on them.

“I love you,” I pictured myself saying. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you, I love you in London, you in Paris, you at home. I love you from the hotel rooms we’ve indented to the streets we’ve wandered. I love you in the plane, on the bus, in every inch of this world.”

But it just wouldn’t come out.

I tried to encourage myself by thinking of who I was just a year ago. By thinking of how I was a year ago, the person I was dating, the situation I was caught up in. Fiona, the endless hours of fighting, of begging. Crying, screaming, the blood sport we played. Hunter and prey, me the victim and yet the one wielding the sword. I thought of Daisy when I first met her. The scent of her in my nostrils, like a clue that I was to hunt for as long as I could run. Of her in my teeth, when I first caught up to her incessant running. The satisfaction I felt, how disgusting that was. How horrible it was that I loved the taste of her blood on my lips.

And how much better I could breathe knowing that I had let go, that I had put my claws away and instead threaded a needle to stitch her skin close. How beautful that was- the beast retracting, the mask falling away. A true creature coming to light, renewed and willing.

Tears welled in my eyes. The words were there, finally, waiting just atop my tongue. She was leaning closer, clutching my hand, clutching those photos like a rosary, like she would sacrifice herself for me. I would, too. I would I would I would I would.

I think I hesitated a moment too soon, or I think she could tell what was happening. I think tha- that, I think that she was running again.

I think she wanted me to chase her or to stop, or she was placing traps in the woods, waiting for the wolf with a bow in arrow.

Because she was pulling away. And our friends were calling our names.

I didn’t have time to think, wrapped up in the swell of the arrival of our friends.

But I felt the death of the moment. It was heavy. It was rotten.

Later, I sat alone in my dressing room before the show, the photo I had kept between my fingers. I swear I could hear her breath, echoing from inside the paper frame of us. Swear I could feel her hands on my arms, grasping as though the wind would take us away from each other. Her lips on my cold ones, warm and fueling like a kindled fire.

I wondered if she threw the photos away. If she stared at them, with resentment. If she wanted to burn them.

Yet, I could’ve lived and died in that moment if I had to. If I was never able to tell her how I really felt about her, I’d be content to waste away, hanging on her lips like a vine, rotting from indecision and cowardice.

Eventually, Sam poked his head in to let me know it was time to go on. I flinched when he first spoke. It drew me back to reality in harsh, cold lighting. I drew the photo from my face, met his eye, and nodded.

I was lucky he didn’t ask any questions about my reserved response, though I knew he was aware that I was getting into character as this vessel. Part of me wished he had asked, though, if only to have someone to share the darkness with again, if even for just a second. And maybe outing Daisy and I to Sam would force me to tell her everything. Force some sort of decision to fall from the loitering hammer that hung above us.

Sam left. I set the photo down on the counter, not even thinking straight enough to put it away somewhere. Then, I hung the mask on my face, edges of my eyes darkened, just like my mind.

Part of me wished I didn’t even have to perform tonight. Every time I put on this disguise, I was reminded of those dark parts of me, the parts of me that were too much like this creature the costume made into. When I’d first come up with the character, I felt so strongly that I was just like Vessel- nothing but a pit of black, music transporting through me like some god had planted it there. I hadn’t been aware of my very real feelings. I just sat there, in that emptiness.

Things were different now.

Maybe I just needed a break from it all, from the costumes and the concerts and Daisy. Well, not Daisy. Not her. Just...everything involving her.

But never her. I just wanted her always, everywhere.

I didn’t get to have that, though, the break nor Daisy.

In fact, all I got was a slap in the face. When I went on stage, I spotted Daisy in the audience. For a split second, there was a lift in my heart, a fire in my bones. She was here. She hadn’t pulled away- she wanted me. She wanted me.

Then, as the lights flickered, I noticed the look of guilt on her face and the hand around her waist, She was here...with someone else.

I felt myself retracting, cocooning, not for growth, not for birth into something good, something with fluttering wings...but into that moth. Into that darkness.

Into that vessel.

In my fury, I laid claim to Daisy in all the wrong ways. I held her by the throat and let her dangle from my lips, reminded her how desparate she was for me, reminded her just how much she relied on my game. It had never been and never would be our game. I was the villain. I was the hunter.

She was my prey.

I was losing hope for my own reconciliation, for my own change. Maybe I would just always be detached, dark, monstrous. Maybe I would never be able to commit, to give in, to be someone’s something.

Maybe I was just this vessel, and maybe this vessel was just me.

Maybe I was never good enough for Daisy, but just enough to satisfy her furious need for that bad. And that was enough for me.

-

Things got worse when Fiona started blowing up my phone.

I wasn’t sure how she had gotten my number. I had changed it back in March, when I’d ended- really ended- things with her. And, with my career, it wasn’t like I’d just handed my number out to any person on the street. I had, maybe, ten contacts on my phone.

Daisy was one of the few I responded to.

But, somehow, someway, Fiona had gotten hold of my number and began blowing my phone up with messages. I blocked her the minute I noticed, after a show when I had time to get on my phone. Then, a few days later, she started messaging from a different number.

They were innocent claims- she kept saying I had left things at her flat and needed to come pick them up. But I knew her better than that. She was trying to use this to weasel back into my head, my heart. She’d convince me to come pick everything up and then, when I was there, she’d start crying. Start saying how much she loved and needed me. She’d convince her into her bed, and we’d start spiraling down into that same old waltz we both knew too well.

After I blocked this contact, I guess she evolved. She started using an unknown number, so I couldn’t even block the contact. I called my manager immediately and told him I needed to get a new phone number. Apparently, all the stores around us were closed for a few days, which just so happened to be my fucking luck. But he promised to get something for as soon as possible.

In the meantime, I just had to ignore her.

So, I booked a last-minute therapy appointment.

I glossed over everything with my doctor, telling myself that things with Daisy were hopeless. She obviously thought me to be disposable. I mean, I had watched how quickly she’d pulled away, how quickly she found another empty face in the crowd.

I didn’t want to admit that shameful situation to my doctor. I didn’t want her to know I’d let myself fall again.

Instead, we talked about Fiona, about the temptress knocking on my door. My doctor kept reminding me to, “Stay strong. Know your worth.”

Easy words for someone in a healthy, happy marriage.

All it would take was one more wrong look from Daisy and one wrong text from Fiona, and I’d end up back off the cliff.

So, I clung to the guys. Daisy had been...not so distant but detached. Cautious. She was taking the lead, so I followed. We still hung out, still fucked like we had been doing. Still had these meaningful, deep conversations that made me wonder, over and over, what the fuck was going through her head. But honestly, I now spent some of that extra time with Max, Cy, Adam, or Sam. We were due to begin working on the next album and I had plenty of ideas floating around in my head.

It was peaceful, quaint. Something I’d missed. Maybe I wouldn’t be ready to start dating again if something like this caused me so much stress.

Adam was texting me now, wondering if I wanted to hang out sometime this morning, talk about the album. I told him I’d let him know what time, considering Daisy was in my bed. And Fiona was blowing my phone up like fucking crazy.

The whole situation threw me off. She wasn’t really concerned about it, but made numerous, passive jokes about me having a secret girlfriend. I don’t know if it was because she really, truly wanted me to be exclusive to her, or if it was just something to do with her pride.

Signals were still mixed, even after we’d had a conversation about how committed we were to each other. Part of me wondered if it had just been an act, her agreement to never see anybody else, her admittance that she was, “mine.” If it had just been something brewed from the heat of the moment. But, when I answered the phone, set it back on the nightstand, I swear to God I saw something in her eyes shift, like she had been bothered at the thought of me with someone else.

Or it would be shitty in general if I was seeing someone else.

I weighed telling her, every single, how I felt about her. I don’t know that if I told her I loved her it would change anything. I had all but done so, and she still was unmoving. She still had gone and found that faceless nobody in the crowd.

Today, I felt like maybe I should. Tell her.

As soon as she had left, someone knocked on my door. I didn’t think it was Daisy, considering Sam would be waking up soon and she needed to get back into bed. When I looked through the peephole, Adam was there, staring over his shoulder sort of strangely.

“Hey, dude,” I started as I opened the door, then turned to make my way over to the bed where my book bag was. I reached in for my notebook, continuing, “so, I’ve got a few good ideas rattling around-” probably a few too many about Daisy, “that I wanna show ya.”

He slowly entered the room, shutting the door softly behind him, “Yeah, uh...” he approached me sort of hesitantly, distant confusion in his pupils, “I think we...should talk about something first.” He didn’t seem too sure of himself and the words he was saying were cautious. So, my tone slowed, hardened “What-what’s up?”

He finally met my eye and I felt like a sword had been shoved down my throat, “I just talked to Daisy...out in the hallway.”

I set my book bag down, hands having been frozen around the straps like someone cursed me into the stoic, icy position. All I could think to say was, “Oh.”

Adam nodded half-heartedly, “Yeah. Oh. I... don’t know what to say, really. I knew you guys had been...like, it was obvious. To me and I think Max, at least. Sam is kinda clueless and, he and Ronnie are totally sleeping with each other.”

Well, that was obvious. So obvious that I could have snorted, but I was too focused on the wild realization that everyone basically knew. All of that sneaking around, trying to be secretive- well, it didn’t fucking matter. And it didn’t seem like it really mattered that much.

“Are you gonna, like, scold me or something?’ I sat on the edge of my bed, running a wary hand through my hair.

“No, I’m gonna tell you that you’re fucking stupid.”

“What?” I looked up from the ground, shock widening my eyes.

Adam finally softened his expression and chortled, though it was short before he was in on me again, “You’re stupid, Ollie. I don’t think you’re doing it on purpose. I think you’re just...Fiona fucked you up. And I’ve watched you slowly start to heal over these past few months. Daisy has everything to do with that. And...she fucking loves you, dude. She thinks the world of you. And you’ve both, I guess, been dancing this dance with each other, walking around the whole thing. I just told her, like- stop thinking less of yourselves. You both deserve something good. You’re both worthy of each other. So, stop being fucking stupid and just tell her.”

My face was hot. I clenched my hands together, knuckles turning white as all these rampant, loose feelings released in my chest, in my head. “She doesn’t love me.” Adam chuckled again, “That’s a bold fucking statement. She just told me herself how much she adores me.”

“Well, yeah, she likes me, that’s obvious,” I waved him off, “she wouldn’t be sleeping with me if she didn’t. But...I think I’ve made it clear so many times how much I want her. And she, just, doesn’t care. Or she turns away.”

“She’s scared!” Adam exclaimed, making me flinch just slightly. “Sorry,” he spoke quieter, like he had shocked himself with his tone of voice. “She’s scared, Ollie. She’s...she doesn’t know who she is. That’s why she came here. That’s why she pulls away, why she seems unsure.”

“Well, I know that,” I scoffed, “I know her better than anyone. You haven’t seen the way she...how she denies it. I know she denies it. She denies us- me.”

“Okay, tell me,” Adam nearly popped a hip at this, a sassy tone overtaking his authoritative one. “Tell me how she denies, what she says and does that makes you think she doesn’t want you. Tell me that she doesn’t love you.”

I thought, long and hard. I could've mentioned the very recent time when she had been dancing with another guy, at our concert, a prowling look in her eyes. Or, of the time when I was on the brink of telling her how I felt, then she pulled away. Or-

Wait.

Am I fucking stupid?

I’m so fucking stupid. I am the dumbest, stupidest idiotic idiot to have ever existed.

It was all right there, clearing up now like I was wearing new glasses. I had a new perspective- I had an unbiased, outsider’s view of the world I had been suffocating in. And Adam’s view was- a breath of fresh air.

I was so obviously the one turning away from her.

From the beginning, I’d been denying her, us, for fear that she wouldn’t want me that way. For fear that someone would find out, for fear that I might die if she ever looked away from me. And I’ve been covering it up with the excuse that I was broken, or hurting, or-or...worthless.

I knew differently. I’d known it differently for a while now but had been unable to act upon this rationality. I was too emotional, too, in my head. And that made me seem manipulative, and asshole-ish, and- fucking stupid.

Adam watched me carefully, watched me as I processed these past few months. My eyes were narrowed, confused, though they widened as the information unfolded in my mind, as the notches clicked together.

“You’re…right.”

Instead of worrying myself with the evidence that she, too, was afraid, I felt my head flood with memories, as tangent on my skin as the cool air of my hotel room. Memories of her devotion, her promise, her love. Memories of us in the stale morning, sharing stories of her mother and that little apartment back in America. Memories of us on the roof, atop the world, atop the feeling, a private sanctuary where even just the flash of her eyes should have told me everything that I needed to know. I was going to tell her I felt the same. I was going to pull her up to the roof, one of our most sacred secrets, and pour everything out onto the barren concrete between us. And I knew she would say that she loved me, too.

It was delicate and I would have to handle it as such. Any sudden movement, and we’d be falling apart, all over again.

But, then Max was bombarding my hotel room, spewing some nonsense about Daisy and Ronnie getting tattoos. He was dragging us to Sam’s hotel room. I was practicing the lines in my head, over and over, a prayer.

Daisy was looking at me with these doe-innocent eyes, like she, too, was praying to some old god. Altering herself for a breath that he may resurrect what was dying between us even now.

I found more words, new words- lyrics, pummeling my skull in wondrous discovery. It was right there- everything was- My phone wouldn’t fucking stop ringing and I thought that I might explode into atoms. I ignored the call, watching as Daisy’s face fell each and every time that it did. She well and truly thought that I was seeing someone else.

Enough was enough.

I took a step towards her, fully intent on putting a rest to the strangeness and awakening what was already there. But, then my phone rang again.

And Sam began making some joke about Fiona calling me, a knowing, devious smirk on his features. He didn’t know- how could he know? I couldn’t be upset with him, but I wanted to strangle him into the carpet.

But I couldn’t focus on that anger for too long-

Because Daisy was leaving like we both always left, one too many times, in one too many silent glares of this something that we just may never get right.

The delicate threads of us bent and snapped.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Let's say S/O has pissed off Torpedo somehow and now they want to kill them. What does their skeleton boyfriend do to save them?

For those who don't know, Torpedo is Mafiafell Papyrus. He's known around as the original troublemaker. He hates everyone, doesn't want to be friends with everyone and he somehow managed to make an enemy out of everyone, more or less.

Undertale Sans - Sans is slightly panicked. I mean, he could probably piss him off even more by dodging his attacks for hours but that would just mean he now wants to kill the both of you. Uh. How about... vacations? Very, very far away. Just a few days, while you both wait for him to calm down a little. It seems like a good idea.

Undertale Papyrus - Why are you worrying so much? Just go to him and ask him not to kill you, he's sure nothing bad will happen. Papyrus always thought the guy is all bark no bite, and he's not scared of him. He can even do it for you if you want. You nod eagerly. Later that day, Papyrus comes home with a huge crack on the skull but tells you you won't have any problem anymore! What happened is that Torpedo hit as soon as he saw his face, but he might have underestimated how strong Papyrus really was and found out. Yep, Papyrus beat the crap out of that guy.

Underswap Sans - So what you're saying is that he attempted to murder you? Man, that's Christmas! He finally has a valid reason to arrest him and charge him for literally all the crimes in the city! Well, Blue kinda forgot that, before that, Torpedo has to surrender, and finds out pretty quickly that he's actually not ready to do that. At least, the threat of being arrested is enough for him to leave you alone, so that's a good thing! Blue is still so frustrated though.

Underswap Papyrus - To the Horror farm you both go. Honey is terrified of Torpedo, but he knows Torpedo is also terrified of Oak, Willow and their friends. You're spending a few days in the farm hoping it will be enough for Torpedo to leave you alone and survive a few more days in this horrible world. At least you have free food before you die, that's not all bad!

Underfell Sans - Now, he can understand why you come to him to search for help and everything, and he's flattered, really, but you maybe need to understand that the guy has ten times his LV and that he would probably die before his first attack even reach the guy. Red knows his limits, and Torpedo is definitely a big no. He knows a guy though... He sends you to Wine lol. Good luck trying to convince him.

Underfell Papyrus - Well, duh, he's going to defend your honor. You do not like this, but Edge is stubborn to begin with, and even more so since Torpedo is one of his rivals. You watch Powerless as Edge comes to fight the guy and gets absolutely destroyed because his LV and technic are way weaker than Torpedo ones. You drag poor Edge to the hospital while Torpedo decides to let you go because you brought good entertainment as a way to pay him. Edge is so mad he's shaking.

Horrortale Sans - That's fine. Oak is not scared of that guy. As long as you stay on the farm, he knows he won't dare to show up. Oak and Willow made it very clear he was not welcome there and showed them a few times they're actually not the weak skeletons he thinks they are. Oak messed him up quite a few times and he will do it again. You don't want to face an angry Oak, that's one of the scariest fighters around and he's completely unpredictable. The only problem is that he can't fight for long. He's literally all bluff.

Horrortale Papyrus - He's not too worried either. Sure, the thought is scary and he really doesn't like the man, but Willow knows he's strong enough to give him a good scare and makes him leave. He's not the best fighter, but his attacks are scary and super strong, which often takes everyone by surprise.

Swapfell Sans - Nox is not scared of Torpedo but he's not too happy to potentially have to fight him on his own. So he calls Wine and promises him some money if he comes to beat Torpedo's ass with him. Wine can't refuse anything to Nox (well, he can't refuse the money more especially) and so they both beat Torpedo's ass. Torpedo can maybe hold on facing Wine, but Nox's technic is scary good and he has no chance when the two of them combine their attacks. Torpedo agrees to leave Nox's S/O alone after only an hour, to his relief.

Swapfell Papyrus - I mean, he can pay for your funeral but that's the best he can do. Have you seen him? He can't fight Torpedo, he's just a little man. He still has many years to live and he hoped to go through them with his head and both of his knees working. He's sure you can find a way out of this situation, he believes in you. He pats you on the head and he's out of here lol.

Fellswap Gold Sans - YES! He's so happy! You give him a weird look but Wine ignores you. That's ages he didn't fight Torpedo and he was missing it. Wine kisses you, tells you to not worry about everything, then he runs outside to kick Torpedo's ass. You're pretty sure that a 4-year-old rivalry where you're still happy to fight your rival is a gay relationship but what do you know.

Fellswap Papyrus - You did WHAT?! Oh... Oh no. Oh no, he doesn't want to do this. Coffee puts a hand on each of your shoulders, tells you he was glad knowing you and that he will miss you. He then teleports away and good luck with that. You can still try to convince Wine, but Wine doesn't like you and you're pretty sure he would be happy to see you die, so... Uh. You can still buy a bunker or something, you guess.

Other mentions:

Horrorswap Sans - Oh yeah? He's going to show that asshole what he can do! It takes you and all the Horror skeletons on the farm to hold him back to avoid him getting kill stupidly. Nugget really wants to hurt him, but the last time he fought with Torpedo, that didn't went well.

Horrorswap Papyrus - Why did you do that? Are you crazy? And more importantly, what do you want him to do about this? Have you seen him? He can barely function as a monster, what do you want him to do about this? Pumpkin just has a panic attack and he's going to be paranoiac the next weeks lol.

Horrorswapfell Sans - Well this is probably a big misunderstanding. Somehow, Torpedo likes Bear so he's willing to not kill you to not hurt his friend. He still warns you to never to cross the road with him again as your boyfriend won't always be there to save your life. You are quite terrified, but happy to be alive.

Horrorswapfell Papyrus - Oh man, you're so screwed. He laughs at your misery and wishes you good luck. He met the guy once and that vaccinated him enough to never cross roads with him.

Ink - Oh? That's easy, he can deal with that! He shows up and tells Torpedo to stop bothering his S/O or else with a creepy face. Torpedo gulps, nods, and disappears. All done! Torpedo is terrified of Ink since that day he randomly sent him into space and kinda abandoned him there for three whole days.

[obae-me]

Omg Hi!!! It has been so long since I have seen you on my dash! How are you doing love? I hope you are doing super well ^.^ I recently saw your Mc with trauma post. I loved it so much, and it has also given me a lot to mull over the past few days lol.

Honestly I love the idea of a traumatized Mc and the brothers feeling like absolute shit for the way they treated them in the beginning... but yk another part of me wonders when I imagine my own traumas in that scenario... that for people (the bros- literal demons) who have faced so many things and traumas in their own lives, whether my feelings or pain is even comparable to that. Ik you can't compare things like that and the brothers would probably even be mad if I think of my feelings this way since it's the "Ohhhh someone always has it worse. It's not even that bad so just suck it up" self-deprecating part of me. Despite knowing ALL THAT I can't help but think that I am not traumatized enough to deserve empathy lmao (I realize how stupid it sounds saying it out loud).

So that is what REALLY got me thinking. What about an Mc that is genuinely terrified of scrutiny, being a nuisance and just basically inconveniencing anyone for things that are just basic needs. Idk if I am explaining it well enough oof and a mc like that (like me lmao) certainly won't bode well with Lucifer. Atleast not in the beginning. I could hate him (I could never but if I did) but still be terrified of disappointing him. This is what I mean when I say I love him but he reminds me too much of my father habits wise 🤢.

I am thinking a Mc who is afraid of asking even their basic needs at the beginning once Lucifer mumbled about them being too much trouble. Mc who feels so extremely guilty when the brothers get anything for them, cuz they feel like they have to work for it or they don't deserve it. Mc whose blood freezes over when they break something and try to replace it as quick as possible so no one blames them. Mc who never expresses their concerns so as to not add to the brothers' already full plates or worry them. It hurts to bottle it all up but seeing the brothers' concerned faces with so much PITY is a thousand times worse. Mc who never complains and adjusts to even unfair situations so as to not be a bother. Mc who just takes, takes and takes everything bad and doesn't say a word cuz they feel like they deserve it. Mc who tells little white lies to hide their flaws and be the perfect exchange student and avoid scoldings and criticisms ; only to stew in shame, disgust, self-loathing when someone eventually catches up on one of the lies (the person probably didn't even make a big deal of it/ was only mildly disappointed but Mc feels their heart breaking in two as they think they have broken their trust forever and would never be trusted again)

Gosh this got way longer than I was expecting >.< and a lot of signs like these aren't really obvious until you are close to that person. I think so many of us are so hard and rutheless to ourselves when sometimes the thing we need the most is a little compassion and understanding ;-;

Hi! I love seeing you in my inbox and thank you! I've been in recovery mode for the last few months but am finally coming back out of that cave and working on my hobbies again (seriously going too long without writing almost feels like going without food for me)! I hope you've been doing well too!

And oof, yes, I understand what you're saying completely. I'm like that too in a lot of ways, keeping certain details or complaints to myself because "Oh surely what I've been to is really nothing". And sometimes I let something slip and people get very concerned. Which is validating in a way, not that I need to be validated for it, everyone goes through their own pain and awful things SUCK no matter to what extent it is and I've had to learn that through my life.

(Wow that MC really is just me, huh? Calling me out are you? /j)

Honestly this type of MC is just canon to me. (I mean, the more pithy responses the MC has in original OM might just be due to writing but to me it just seems like the calm and general response of someone throwing out NPC answers as a survival tactic.)

They suck things up and soak up everything that's been said to them and work hard to remain a normal functioning being.

And of course Lucifer is an interesting character to think about with this MC because on one hand the human could absolutely despise him for the way he treats them. Or on the other hand (if you're like me I guess, which I realize is hella unhealthy, oops) the MC could look up to him and work extra hard to try to gain his validation, because getting praise from someone like that means you must not be a failure, right?

And just...the dynamic of that is so appealing to me, because Lucifer loves when people work hard and do what they're told, but then if he finally comes to the realization that they're burning out and actually almost putting themselves in more danger and harm because of HIM? And at the end of the day he's doing more damage than any of his chaotic brothers? (I like to have him spiral and be humbled just a bit)

Just all of the brothers doing some deep introspection once they come to care for MC and needing to sit down and realize that probably made their human feel so much worse and then spending the rest of eternity trying to fix that. And then the "I can fix him" mentality from MC turns into the "I can fix them" from every other character. A special Uno Reverse, if you will.

Oops, this turned into a fairly long ramble of my own...

Thanks for popping into my inbox with your thoughts! Traumatized MC deserves some extreme love