#but even then???? the snippets we do see r so so so interesting

[sweetandsourcookies]

lying here in bed and thinking abt how alienated out i feel in the cookie run fandom. and then theres a polish sitcom playing in the background from a different room.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

barely alternate version of that billions 4x12 scene

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hihi slug, I love your work, and thanks for everything!! Since Matenro season is nearly upon us, I was wondering if we could get your opinion on the solo snippets🤞🤞

Matenro's new solo previews are SO GOOD, what do you think of them?

Thank you both for notifying me about them! Taking a look now...

(The album is probably already out now, but... better late than never...)

Jakurai's A Majestic Figure

Title note: 4-kanji compounds are like the SAT vocab words of Japanese; they're not super common in everyday speech and can evoke a literary or sophisticated feeling. This one is...interesting. To the best of my knowledge, it isn't a standard compound (I'm also not getting any hits when I Google it) and I wonder if that's significant. It's just two words strung together to make the appearance of fanciness, perhaps. I couldn't say for certain. At any rate, both 威風 and (especially) 颯爽 describe a majestic, often captivating appearance. This isn't to say that such qualities of dignity or majesty aren't real, but I definitely feel like both terms are defining a subject from an outside perspective. These aren't terms I would ever expect someone to describe themselves with, which makes the song title sound like it's an outside observer commenting on Jakurai instead of Jakurai talking about himself. We see this happen a lot in Hypmic, with people putting Jakurai on pedestals or Jakurai struggling to see himself as the same grand figure others perceive him as. As a result, I wrote the song title as "A Majestic Figure" to emphasize the appearance of majesty, whereas the character of the figure is unknown. Anyway, let's dive in and see what this is all about.

(10 seconds in) Vibing with these instrumentals

(19 seconds in) Not vibing with these "ah"s... but we can't have everything in life

(43 seconds in) I'm a little too tired to fully keep up (I'll look up the lyrics when I'm done) but I REALLY like the urgency in the delivery, which is so at odds with the flowing, dignified background music. In JPN fiction as a whole, flusteredness/desperation is contrasted with calmness as a synonym for imperfection and perfection. Jakurai is, honestly, really kind of a desperate character...yet one that appears outwardly calm/perfect to most of the rest of the cast, so it's interesting that we get to see his desperate nature on full display right at the start of the song.

(1:26 in) Hand motif mentioned *Cinemasins ding* (of

(End) Thank you uta-net for having the lyrics up already; ily. Let's see now... Interesting. I'll have to read them again in more depth later, but it looks like a call to forgive past wounds and seek out a better, less painful way of existence--in a societal sense, a religious (as in like, ascending or becoming enlightened) sense, and a personal sense. All great things to see Jakurai expressing. Again, it's interesting to see Jakurai expressing this with such urgency, even if these are things we know he really, really cares about. That coupled with the background music seems to match a bit in the lyrics that says "And [to end war within society, paraphrased] I take grand, dignified action mixed with the discord and noise of Shinjuku, a samsara spiral of cacophonous echoes." Mixing the stately and the chaotic, the "imperfect" and the "perfect." Really interesting stuff!

Hifumi's The Beginning of the Last Song

Title note: "Last Song" is English and written in katakana, which is a sharp contrast to the style of Jakurai's title. Creates a much younger and casual feel appropriate for Hifumi. Not much else to say here, so let's jump in.

(10 seconds in) Modern indie pop song on the radio feel. I'm not a fan of autotune in general so I'm not in love with this, but I'm hopeful it'll pick up soon.

(22 seconds in) I listen to so much "soft hiphop" (for lack of a better term) during work that my brain instantly catapulted itself into work mode and stopped paying any attention to the words. Coffee mug? Check. Emails? Check. Anxiety? Check. Let me rewind and listen to this properly.

(32 seconds in but for real this time) So far, very Hifumi. Opening verse has some fun figurative language but essentially says Hifumi's suit is pure courage he dons like a suit of armor. In doing so, it masks him and makes him become like a whole other person. From there, he switches to addressing a listener: "I want to soothe your mental wounds. I want to change your frown into a smile. I won't let go of your hands, and no, I'm not doing this for a reward." It's something that Hifumi should be saying to himself (something Hifumi wants to hear, maybe?) and yet he says "To [Host!]me, this is happiness."

(59 seconds in) Hmm... I was going to say this song feels sad to me, because all these positive messages of "Keep going! You're safe now!" are framed as being directed at other people, and I was like..."Hifumi, who's going to say that to you? Who's going to help you feel that way?" but then the line "You made me realize I'm not alone" radically flips the framing so that it DOES become things Hifumi is saying to himself, too. How nice. :) I would not want to translate this, personally... Haha it's using the vagueness of Japanese grammar and lyrical conventions to great effect, but I don't feel comfortable touching that personally.

(1:02) Hell yeah, belt that shit, homie

(1:32) So it's a last song in the sense that it's a farewell or the final song of his old self. Now he's the new, healing Hifumi. We love to see it 10/10 bravo. The song is also a happy, heartfelt thank you to the unspoken listeners (presumably Matenrou) who helped him feel less alone. That's cute! I like it. I probably shouldn't go here, but I find it intriguing how the vagueness of listeners is utilized. The first time the listeners are addressed, the language is...if not borderline romantic, pathos-filled to the point where it's definitely evocative of his host job (hence why he's not seeking compensation for handholding, an often romantic gesture). Yet it's borderline enough that it wouldn't be inappropriate to imagine it being addressed to Matenrou instead of his patrons. Hahaha. Again, another reason I don't want to go near this one.

(Overall) I like it! A nice ballad for Hifumi.

Doppo's Andante

(5 seconds in) For a song called Andante, this has a faster tempo than at least one other song on this album lol. But it's much less frenetic than Doppo's other solos, so there's that, I guess.

(7 seconds in) This delivery is giving me anime ending made by a 2010s rock band vibes lol.

(14 seconds in) Damn there's a baller line here that I'm stumped on how to convey in Eng in a way that's both baller and sensical. Meaning wise, it's like "I want to take back the things I shouldn't have said and give them as a present to you" and in figurative language it's like "Once, I used to fire words into the air [speak things in anger or carelessly]. Now, I want to gather them up [esp. like a bouquet of flowers] after their flight and use them to decorate you [again, like flowers or like a piece of jewelry--it's a positive connotation]" Pop off, Doppo

(40 seconds in) Oh this is killer and also going to need some major explaining. Doppo's name is literally "he who walks alone" which is usually considered a positive thing--someone who "walks the path of life" alone would have gotten there by outstripping the rest of the pack. In Doppo's case, though, this is a negative thing. I think it's not as obvious to Eng-only fans, and I know I didn't really think about it for a long time myself, but Doppo considers himself a "loser" bc he didn't follow a conventional life path. It's considered atypical to switch employers, especially very early on in one's career, as he did when he stood up for Hifumi and got himself fired at his first job. Part of why he puts up with shitty treatment at EL Medical is because it's one of the few places that would hire someone who switched employers at such a young age. (Sidebar: My (probably flawed, as I don't live in Japan) impression is that this is becoming less and less of a thing as time goes on and the economy goes to shit, but I think it's the self-stigma more than anything else that's affecting Doppo. To me, it feel similar to the societal pressures in the US to attend and graduate from a four-year college. Plenty of people don't for all sorts of reasons, but because that's so ingrained as the default life story for Americans in a lot of communities, Doppo's dealing with the kind of disappointment and self-hatred someone who dropped out before getting a four year degree might feel.) Doppo beats himself up about that a lot, but here we get that lovely line of "In the waves of people (hitonami) passing all around me, I no longer see anyone who looks like me. It's a shame, because I always wanted to be just like everyone else (hitonami)." Outside of that beautiful wordplay on hitonami, we're also treated to the figurative language of hitonami being literally "in line with others." Doppo, a character who walks through life alone, wanted to walk through life at the same pace/reaching the same milestones at the same time as everyone else.

(1:04 in) "Life is a tightrope act; it's like walking a balance beam [lit. "average beam" aka a beam where everything is averaged/balanced]. In a country where not everything can be average (narasarenai) and where even if the things that [I] can accomplish (narasareru) don't matter [in the eyes of society], sometimes the sounds I want to make don't come out right (narasarenai). When that happens, I can call myself pitiful--or I can feel the breathing of the beautiful flowerbed that is this city, and when someone's humming under their breath disturbs that short break [lit. breath], I ask them 'So, what is this happiness thing anyway?'" I would rather die than TL this song but I'm LOVING the creativity and depth of the lyrics.

(1:27) WILD! FUCKING! CHEERING!!! "You fake smiles in a mirror to make other people happy and call it love. It's a form of hypnosis, and I've made a go of falling under its spell because I just want to be equals [on par with, balanced], and so if you and I can walk these crowded streets together, then I think I don't mind as much that I'm always walking alone." THE GROWTH! THE GROWTH!!!!

Damn, this album's lyrics go hard. What a feast.

[unecoccinellenoire]

A change of luck extra snippet? it’s still my favorite fanfic of all time 🙏

Ironically this isn't a fic I had anything to hand for, and while it was pointed out to me the Ladrien storyline in it was never really wrapped up and I do plan to do something for that, have a quick unedited post-fic Gabenath snippet.

"Wait-" Nathalie pulls out of his kiss, "Gabriel, wait. I- I think there's things we need to dicuss again before we go any further."

He frowns. Everything had seemed to go well he'd thought. Her health, Adrien, Ladybug's magnimanity so, "Things? What Things?"

"Earlier." She has that cute line he wants to kiss away before her eyebrows, "Ladybug- when you asked about the risks of getting me pregnant, I don't think she understood what you were getting at at all."

She might well have a point. But, "At least if she didn't then Adrien doesn't."

"Much as I agree I'm not sure Adrien is that naive Gabriel. He knows I sleep in your bedroom."

"Our bedroom." He corrects her.

"OK," but her lips tilt into a little smile. "Our bedroom."

"And I'm sure that my son has the sense and the respect not to think about it."

"hmm. He is your son. But on the other hand, god knows what he read on the internet speculating about what Panthera and Shadow Moth got up to out of sight."

He shuts his eyes and pinches at his nose and tries to forget some of the very interesting storylines he'd come across looking for information about Panthera himself. Things he'd never want his son to see regardless of her being Nathalie.

"That's a wonderful thought to have in my head when I see him tomorrow at breakfast Nathalie. Why would you tell me that? And why wouldn't you block any sites talking about that from his computer?"

"I might have looked a little suspscious if I blocked all speculation about Panthera." She points out sounding annoyingly reasonable in that way she has. "I was already lucky Adrien was more worried for me that about me."

"Adrien loves you. Of course he was. You know you've become another mother to him."

"And that's why we should be thinking of him here."

"I don't follow."

"If I- we, did concieve how would that make Adrien feel? It's not as if we've fixed things with him. He just- just isn't ready to lose us. He needs our attention not a baby sibling that would take that away."

"I'm not unware of how complicated it would make things. Especially with how uncertain your health still is. There's a reason we're not letting nature take it's course here." He'd been the one to ask Ladybug after all.

He knows everything she's saying. They'd agreed this. He doesn't want a baby right now.

And yet for some reason hearing Nathalie make the same arguments outloud he had in his own head has him feeling unmoored somehow. Like there's some empty hollow in his body where his stomach should be.

It worsens at how she's frowning more deeply now and drawing back. "Including the fact that we're only just started dating."

Now he's the own frowning. "Do you really still worry we won't work out?"

"I don't know. This still doesn't even seem real."

The scabbed over injury in his heart wants to break open.

"I love you Nathalie Sancoeur." He promises her, taking her face in his hands. "And I'm very hopeful that one day, when you're ready for it that you'll be Nathalie Agreste, and that perhaps we'll give Adrien that little sibling after all."

Nathalie is very still, and then she blinks and blurts, "I'm sorry- you'd actually want to have a baby with me?"

"Why is that so strange?" He can't help but sound a little offended.

"I mean, we're lucky Adrien doesn't hate us. We're hardly parents of the year are we?"

"Mistakes have been made. I concede that. But we're still beating our parent's aren't we?"

She snorts. "Such a high bar to clear."

Carressing her cheekbone with his thumb he says. "I'm not going to force you my dear. But I thought- after this therapy you and Ladybug are forcing on us, it might be a coversation we'd revisit."

"That's...not crazy. But are you ready for if my answer's still no?"

"I have Adrien. He was always meant to be enough, "and that's true," but..."

Nathalie eyes search his face, "But?"

"You wouldn't feel...I wouldn't want you to feel less than Emilie for us not sharing a child."

"I'm not Emilie. I don't have the same desires as her."

"No. That's becoming strikingly apparent. I'm not going to push you if this is something you don't want. Though there's not much I can do if the Ladybug Miraculous decides otherwise for us."

Nathalie's hands return to where they'd been on his hips before they'd stopped. "I'd cherish any child it gave us. I'm just...it doesn't seem like a good idea, but then I've only got so many years I can change my mind in, and- I don't know. Maybe I'll know once I work everything out."

"We'll work it out." He reminds her.

She smilies again but this time it looks forced. "Together this time."

"Yes." He agrees.

She relaxes against him, "And at least I know you won't be angry if our protection fails. That's one less thing to be worried out."

"You thought I'd be angry?"

"Not at me I don't think. But- maybe. I mean you can't have a child more planned than Adrien."

"And as you've pointed out that's hardly worked out perfectly. No, if the past years have proven anything it's that one has to run with the unplanned. Like a beautiful woman in a suit that shows off every contour of her body."

Nathalie groans. "Please don't remind me of that outfit."

"I liked that outfit." And- he'd

"I'm aware. All of Paris is aware."

"Hmm, and I'm sure most of Paris liked it too. But I'm," he says it with a smirk, "the only one who gets to see you in nothing."

"That's true. And...you could go back to kissing me again now. If you want."

"Now that my dear Nathalie is not even a question."

[miss-revy-1412]

A letter to Tumblr fans of 7 Brothers

I'm gonna manifest Queen Megaris in me to actually read to the filth to some of you people regarding 7 Brothers. You may see I'm going all out that I'm about to say.

You know it's really toxic and pathetic when fans are forced by some people here to write a long arse essay to explain that : "Hey I may not romance Grant but, I'm not racist."

Few days ago, I read a blog done by someone and I felt really sad and uncomfortable for the user (I'm not taking name to save her privacy) imagine the fandom putting you in such a position where you have to explain yourself why you don't like certain characters. No, it's not racism if you don't romance Grant. Grant lacks an arc or something going on with him.

Let me explain it to you: Tristan , Lillian and Chloe are romance options yet they got some arc going on with them: hacking the rich guys for ending capitalism is Tristan's arc, fighting against addiction and recovering her true self again is Lillian's. Trying to break off from her toxic dad, spying and put the criminals to jail is Chloe's arc but, What about Grant? He doesn't even have a proper arc nor his tensions with dad is ever noticed which itself is saddening. I romance all these people and heck it's really sad what is going with Grant even the new branch has issues and drama given his parents are literally involved in smuggling and corporate capitalism.

Same applies to Chloe and Lililan. I haven't seen any rude comments or mockery for them but, no these two are actually good branch and just because, people aren't romancing them doesn't make the fans as homophobic nor racist respectively. This fandom has majority of girls who are straight, it just people want to aggresively use these things rather than addressing the real flaws and issues with the story. Not everyone will love the cup of tea that you are having!!!

Let fans love their characters please, like stop being such a moodkill or toxic. This is FICTIONAL it's not so serious.

Moving on : we wanna just f*ck white men, we don't give a f about Langley's story. Oh look they forced her to do this, we are begging for James, shaming the fans. This is peak toxic behaviour.

No, there are people who didn't played 7 Brothers because the plot didn't clicked to them, the FBI kidnapping thing was seen to be absurd especially a barely legal girl investigating her seniors not many people liked that aspect and that was the highlight for not getting into this story secondly while, the plot was called 7 Brothers people thought we would sleep around with every guy or something but it didn't sure this part might be a nitpicking but, honestly because of people criticising some aspects besides the LI made please for once do look at from others view too rather than putting these victimhood mentality.

Langley improved her story by 3rd and 4th update respectively. We stared having more interaction with other brothers and people who weren't LI. I mean Simon should be a Li Only came into debate when we started getting more scenes with him and all (Hypocrisy)

Now, moving on to the biggest elephant of this room. Jesus Christ!!! Can I understand why there was so massed up pent up aggression the very day Langley announced back in September that James' will be a fling.

I swear so much attention and confessions were bought who would romance this dude, he's so sh*t and all. I understand your confessions but, some of these literally forgot we have Mehmed, Amrit, Zain, Deigo and Masked Man as love interests who actually were killers (not Zain) , potential r*posts and even the hell were sleeping with MC whom they would qualify to be their uncles, cousins? You people don't have seen this? Not ya all seeing James worse than Amrit , Mehmed or Deigo

James literally said one freaking scene at stables also, can I ask for snippets where he shows r*cism openly or call certain Jaynies as by racist tags, or scenes where he humiliates Logan and Grant or maybe wearing an offensive outfit or putting a theme at Halloween to target certain people of race?

Also no, I don't believe in I can fix him mentality. He can look for a therapist rather than asking me to do so. Never I asked for that

He's a classist asshole that's the thing I see. He atleast didn't try to r*pe Jaynie (Mehmed) nor undressed her while unconsciously (Amrit) or decided to go trying to murder Ray. That whole estate thing was his dick parent's doing and he tried to take fun of this sufferings because he's an asshole

but, I pray for you haters that you get a scene to kill him off and even get satisfaction and all for that. Killing him with an axe , Poisoning him or pushing him from Bahamas Cliff or even Dr*gging him to death , etc etc and I'm pretty much sure Langley will deliver that!

Imagine getting blocked because, saying: "They will make a hot/interesting/ dynamic couple." That's just so be fr. I would hear everyone's fantasy rather than being a d*ck because, freedom of speech and expression is a basic thing for all.

Also white cis man 💀 ya all would really take it if we go call other POC guys as Greg and Vincent like this? No that be racism. They got a name you know, etc etc. Seriously give them a nickname God or just call them by name labelling them for skin colour is a hypocrite behaviour if you believe racism and colorism is wrong.

7 Brothers is literally a story about from Rags to riches either you wanna do it unfairly or on your own merit or wanna use the money for humanitarian goals (this is the theme)

Also, we are here for the romance and drama. The drama is about exploitation of the hard working citizens by the rich people. It's about classism not politics. If It was then this book would had been called : "Vying for Whitehouse" instead.

Also, this is romance club a game that sells you romance and love interest . No one here begs. It's a customer's request and RC can do where money talks. Could be a slap at the wrist but, if RC sees a certain character bringing them fans, money and all they can do that. Langley was never forced.

There are scenes where James follows Alexandre's path and even Jaynie saying in "I" not certain that I like James, her trying to change her wardrobe in Episode 5 to look classy after that James remarks. Like why do you care what that asshole says??? Alexandre was a scumbag too and his first s*x scene also had no strings attached thing .

Some of you also want XYZ character to be a LI yet, you go mock others for doing that (hypocrisy!!). Mocking someone for loving James or even trying to silence them isn't very liberal thing to do. People were scared? Hello. please learn to take other people's liking rather than blocking them off or just mocking behind their back.

Finally, coming to the conclusion no, we don't want bastards like him as a lover in real life. This is ficition also stop wasting your time hating on others or Fictional pixelated character they won't make a change to society or to others. Go out and fight for social justice and wrongs in the society.

Yours unruly,

MRZ

[silly-lil-khaos-god]

This is a secret Santa snippet for @sunflower1000! I hope you like it and have a happy holiday season!

---------------------------------------------------

“Righthand, change the news station. I don't care which one, just not this,” the monotone voice of Villain rings out across the large common area. Most who didn't know him couldn't catch the hint of irritation breathing through each word, but Right Hand's long standing service with Villain makes her chest swell with pride at the knowledge. However, any pride goes unsaid as she flicks through the channels until coming upon the story of their current interest. She raises the volume slightly, so the breaking news could echo to Villain's corner chair over the minor bustle of the other workers. 

“-st in, the quakes along the coast have increased in intensity, and are projected To reach a 7.9 on the Richter scale. We are awaiting the arrival of emergency response teams for the current disaster zone.” Villain timer goes off and he promptly radios out, “Status report, all squads.”

Static picks up in the coms system until everyone begins reporting back in order.

“Squad Alpha: 2 D-tier villains. 1 agreed to transaction, the other refused.”

“Squad Beta: No recipients within target area. Holding safe position.”

“Squad Charlie: 1 D-tier hero agreed to transaction.”

“Squad Delta: 1 mercenary within protocol 3-x7. 1 F-tier villain agreed upon transaction.”

“Squad Echo: No recipients within the target area. Holding a safe position.”

“Continue to monitor.” The command rings out and the com system cuts off. The timer is once again reset and Villain returns their attention to the news.

“ At this time, 3 heroes are-” the news reporter goes silent for a moment, seemingly receiving a message in their earpiece for a moment before nodding and responding in turn, “Now 4 heroes are on scene with the arrival of Hero. Even without emergency crews onsite yet, the hopes of the survivors are climbing by the minute.” As the minutes tick by, Villain shuffles through the grueling amount of paperwork at a consistent pace. Suddenly, the entire base shakes as the next earthquake strikes. Even as far as it is from the coast, they’re also affected by this disaster.

“There’s our 7.9 I’d say…” Right Hand grumbles to a henchman, before scurrying off to try and avoid getting knocked flat for as long as possible. Shortly thereafter the tremors cease and Villain rises to assist in the cleanup around his base. In the midst of checking structural integrity, the timer goes off once more.

Villain swiftly strides over, “Status report, all squads.”

“Squad Alpha: No further reports, assisting Charlie Squad with debris on their vehicle.”

“Squad Beta: 1 C-tier villain agreed to transaction. 1 mercenary agreed to transaction.”

“Squad Charlie: No reports, vehicle status unknown but likely unrecoverable.”

“Right Hand, send that status to the garage. We will either need to have repairs made or a new purchase.” Right Hand nods, heading toward the internal com system for relay.

“Squad Delta: No further recipients in the area. Waiting in safe zone.”

“Squad Echo: B-Tier hero within protocol “f-13d within the recent demolition zone. No current location known. Searching.”

“Delta Squad, go assist Squad Echo in search for now. We’ve gained enough recipients for a day.” Right Hand raises a brow upon hearing Villain’s command, but rushes off to grab her proper shoes and set up for the upcoming transport. There’s only one B-tier hero under that protocol. In the time it takes for Right Hand to arrange a swift transportation, Villain was already swiftly approaching. “Only way to see things are done the way you want is to do them yourself, correct Right Hand?”

“Correct,” Right Hand gleams, “I’ve arranged for transportation to the demolition zone for a small crew.”Villain nods, no expression given, but a glint in their eye tells her they’re pleased.

Their transportation is by air and drops them off in a somewhat secluded area where they’re then retrieved by Beta Squad. The ride over is silent to Villain, who scans the rubble and remaining buildings like a predator scouring for its prey. Once they arrive in Echo’s section, it turns into a theater as Villain commands each movement with a stern elegance.

When no results are produced within the next few minutes, Villain and Right Hand join the search, “All of the squads were given even areas to patrol for fast retreats and easy monitoring, correct?”

Right Hand gives Villain a sidelong glance, “Yes, you plotted each area yourself…”

“Then results should have been produced already.”

“Or in the midst of all this rubble there is seemingly more ground to cover-”

“If I wanted cheek, I would have asked someone else. It is a statement. If the squads had efficient routes, the skies would have been far simpler routes. Expand the search to the two nearest squadrons as well.” Right Hand bites her tongue from a response to Villain and just relays the command through the coms.

Just a short while after the command has been given, Villain demands a response across coms for any visuals. After a pregnant pause, one of the henchmen responds, “Section Beta has a voice calling for help. Tr-”

Villain jogs around the rubble to section Beta and marches through the ranks to the henchmen who have now located Hero. Within the rubble, a few henchmen are speaking with Hero about the situation. Villain approaches and asks, “How did you get into this mess?” Under the cold exterior, they were shaken. The damned fool, they knew what they were capable of and what they weren’t. Why in hell would they have gone near these buildings? They could only fly so fast and the air was as dangerous as the ground in the disaster zone. Maybe more so with less time before some falling building smacks someone in the back, obviously.

“Villain? Villain, you need to get out of here, we don’t know when the next quake will hit. What are you even doing out here anyway?”

“Doing what I do best, securing favors. So, always for everyone else but never enough help for yourself. How much of a mess did you get yourself into this time?” The tremble was barely held back in his voice, even assessing from above the collapsed floor he could see the danger in Hero’s predicament.

A child was stuck in this mess and they were trapped in the basement of the building before the most recent quake hit. Hero flew in through the window, thinking their speed would get them securely out of the building. When the quake hit, the ceiling collapsed on them. They threw the child to a safe spot where the floor had already caved, but they were not fast enough to make it out themselves. While they weren't being crushed by the debris, their body was crucial to the last supports available to the rubble. They tried to get out in every way they could with their control of the winds, but even the slight movement of their arm caused a sickening grating of stone on stone to begin above them. If they moved in the wrong direction, or moved too fast, the pile of metal beams and cement pillars would shift and crush them. The child they saved had run for help and ran into the henchmen from there, likely thinking they were emergency workers.

Villain’s eyes were wide as the hero described everything, breathing quick and shuddering. His blood was on fire and his stomach churned realizing that he was helpless to assist them. He had worked too hard, put in so much time to ensure Hero would be safe, only for this? Did the fool realize how many favors had been called, strings pulled, to ensure this person, HIS person, was safe? Panic welled in Villain’s chest as he looked down. The world swam in his vision as he stumbled down the rubble to the trapped fool, his beloved fool.

“Right Hand, what are the favors I have? Who can get them out of this?” Villain paced around the perimeter, brain working at a thousand miles a minute to grasp onto any structural support he could find.

Right Hand freezes up for a moment, but snaps to grabbing his coded book and hands it to him. He frantically flips through the book, eyes devouring the pages like a man starved.

“Contact Supervillain. I have one favor but it would be enough to get Hero-”

“Villain!” Right Hand balks at him. She knew his feelings for Hero, sure. She’s known for a long time after a lot of digging into the various ‘coincidences’ they’ve had with Hero. But this? This is too drastic and impossible to hide his feelings toward the hero. “You can’t do that!”

Villain turns to her in such fury, she almost believes he's about to strike her down that instant, “I will do as I please with the resources I have made.” The danger in his tone is suffocating, but she can't let him be that narrow.

“Villain, if you do this then there will be no hiding. You call Supervillain and he will know that you have a soft spot for Hero. He finds that out? You and Hero both are as good as dead.” Villain falters, he should be the one thinking logically to save Hero, not throwing this mess on Right Hand. “Don’t you have that one villain that can control rocks? Don’t they owe you a few favors anyway? That’s an easier cover than thinking for a second that Supervillain would show mercy.”

Villain sighs, tremors subsiding a little, “Right. You’re right, I need someone else to handle this. Beta squad, go grab that villain… their base is at these coordinates. Tell them I’m cashing in one of my favors.” Beta squad quickly drives off to retrieve the other villain.

While they wait, Villain crouches down to see Hero through the rubble and gives them a small smile while Hero just lays there baffled, “Did Right Hand say you have a favor from Supervillain? How did you manage that? And wait, why would you use that favor on me?”

Villain is struck silent for a moment as Right Hand smacks a hand into her face hard enough to be heard, “You heroes really are just stupid.”

Villain finally breaks from his stupor to laugh, “You haven’t noticed? Even after all this time? Hero, I care for you. Deeply, might I add.”

“Wait.. what? But I’m a hero and constantly messing things up for you. And aren’t you and Right Hand together?”

Villain laughs harder at the misconception and Right Hands face of disgust, “I don’t think she’d put up with me in more than a work setting. Besides that, you’ve had my heart for a while. Once you’re out of this mess, we’ll discuss this properly.”

“You look good when you smile,” Hero flushes. As the car pulls up with Alpha squad and their assistance, Hero rushes to tell Villain one last thing before he puts up his walls again, “I think we can come to an arrangement for me to repay my debt to you.”

“We’ll see what can be arranged. I have many things in mind for us.”

[kafus]

i know at the moment the episode with dot and her mom hasn't aired but i'm losing my mind over the direct contrast of her and liko's family dynamics. i'm reading a lot into the episode preview right now so my thoughts might change later but like, it is itching at my brain and i need to ramble about it

(i watch the subtitled version so spoilers ahead for episodes that haven't been released dubbed yet!!)

liko has pretty distant family, her grandma is usually off doing god knows what adventuring (she wasn't even going to tell liko that she was leaving the brave asagi and liko & co only threw the surprise party because liko overheard her talking with friede about it!!), and while she speaks positively of her parents, it's odd that her mom isn't home at all when she's with her dad in one episode, and that her mom doesn't come to see her off - her mom said herself that she wants liko to make her own choices and her teaching style is pretty hands off, but it's still a pretty bold move, even with the threat of the explorers around. i don't think this is an unintentional side effect of the curse upon all pokemon parents where they have to be okay with the child protagonist going on a wild adventure either, because horizons has an honestly large focus on family dynamics (including the found family on the brave asagi), and hell even delia expressed more concern for ash's wellbeing. and like... that one shot of her family walking away in the op?? in direct contrast to roy sitting happily reading the ancient adventurer book with his grandfather?? lol

not to say that liko's family don't care about her btw, they do, they're just incredibly hands off and there's a huge focus on liko figuring out what she wants to do on her own terms. (this wasn't meant to be a liko family psychology post sorry LMAO i could get into this way for way longer some other time)

on the other hand, murdock is already implied to be very attached to dot, he just respects her boundaries and doesn't want to push her past her limits too quickly. he lives on the brave asagi with her and is shown to fret about her, so that's already a pretty big difference, though not suuper substantial or anything. but then the episode 41 preview, the implication that dot has an overprotective and overbearing mother who she's uncomfortable with because she is trying to tell her what to do is in DIRECT contrast to liko's situation. liko has had so much choice handed to her and it seems implied that dot's mom is doing the exact opposite for her daughter.

again we have very limited snippets of this episode and the wait is UNBEARABLY LONG BTW... LIKE... MARCH 1ST... I'M DYING... but i'm really interested to see how this plays out (especially because it implies that dot fights her mother maybe at the end?? her lycanroc??) and i hope it goes a little hard on the contrasting family energy so i can make something out of that between liko and dot. because there's a dynamic to be had there where liko is able to understand closer familial connection through like, dot and murdock, while liko is able to show dot she can make her own choices and be more confident in herself - WHICH THEY'RE ALREADY DOING BTW, the rising volteccers r just one big found family that are giving liko a ton of guidance and love, including murdock, and liko and roy have dragged dot out of her shell and she's been able to stand on her own lately, IT WOULD JUST... REALLY HIT IT HOME FOR THOSE THEMES TO CONTINUE HERE...

[elainsgirl]

“if an elriel had posted that snippet it would have received the same isolated treatment.” No it would not have. I have seen plenty of Elriel fanfics with much more degrading language and actions than that little snippet. I’ve also seen plenty that have banter.

You’re being painted as the bad guys because of how y’all are acting. The way fictional characters are portrayed in a fic is more important to you than how a real person is treated.

Yes it would have.

you just wouldn’t see an elriel post such a heavy snippet randomly with 0 warning to anyone about the language or content it contained. Yes, there are R rated elriel fanfics but guess what? They’re handled with care. The authors actually understand the elriel dynamic, this author - who has literally hated on elriel - does not understand that hence why the fic received such bad criticism. Mmm I have not seen any elriel come out and say they had to add banter to make elriel interesting. The “banter” is naturally written in a way that suits elriel. People are allowed to explore characters & couples however they want but it came off as insulting and a little tone deaf to post such a polarising piece in the elriel tag - when the author has said bad things about elriel and even made fun of us stans. And what made it even worse- there was no content warnings.

How are we acting, anon? Im sure the author is mature enough to understand the difference between genuine elriel accounts and trolls that are trying antagonise the fandom. Most elriels ignored it, some had balls to make a separate post and say what we were all thinking. Some wanted to talk about it in private- all valid. Anythinh we’re saying - isn’t hate. Its not insulting to the author as a person. No genuine account came for the author. I said this twice before - I do not agree with calling the authors writing itself terrible or bad as thats not nice especially knowing and understanding the guts it takes to post your work out there. But I do think how elriels reacted are completely valid. The author isn’t a multi shipper when it comes to elriel, has not said positive things about the ship, made fun of the stans etc. This could have been done in a tactful way it wasn’t done so. Elriels should not have to view a piece of work that truly showed elriel in a bad light - in a tag thats meant to be their safe place,

The funny thing is - as a DR reader I understood the concept the author was going for. Elriel simply did not suit it and elriels weren’t the demographic for it 🤷‍♀️

My condolences to the author, no one deserves to be bullied. No one supports or encourages that behaviour here. If they decides to continue writing elriel - as apparently it was in demand, I can only suggest using the vague tags. In the end its upto them.

But elriels aren’t the bad ones here. I think the whole thing could have been done more maturely and tactically.

[redroomreflections]

Changing Tides Snippet ✨

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Note: this is just a small snippet to see if I should scrap or keep going. It’s about Natasha and R’s daughter getting really sick. Totally a crying fest. It has like two different povs so that’s been hard to get down.

The family gathered around the table, laughter echoing through the cabin's warm interior. Lark and Veda, their swimsuits still clinging to their damp skin, were beaming with the energy of their swim. Lark, however, shivered slightly, catching your observant eye.

Your voice soft and motherly, noticed Lark's chill and draped a warm blanket around her shoulders. "You're freezing, sweetie," you said, your protective instinct always at the ready.

Veda, ever the picture of defiance, declined the offer of a blanket. She was too busy digging into her burger, her appetite seemingly insatiable. Lark gingerly removed the pickles from her burger, gently sliding them over to Veda, who eagerly savored each one. The act revealed the clear distinction in their personalities. Veda perched with her legs pulled close to her chest, the very picture of casual and cool. Meanwhile, Lark, the meticulous one, swung her legs beneath her chair as she methodically disassembled her sandwich before artfully reconstructing it.

You and Natasha exchanged a quiet, knowing glance as you watched your daughters. You couldn't help but wonder if hot dogs might have been a more fitting choice for Lark, whose meticulous nature extended even to her mealtime habits.

Natasha, ever the voice of reason at the table, couldn't help but notice Veda's ravenous appetite. "Veda, slow down," she advised, her eyes filled with concern for her daughter's well-being.

However, it was you who playfully defended Veda's hearty meal. You chuckled and said, "The girls practically swam Olympic lengths out there. Veda needs all the strength she can get."

Veda's lips curved into a warm smile as she acknowledged your defense of her, though she also took heed of Natasha's gentle warning. Her pace slowed, and she ate as if she were raised with table manners.

Natasha, who had been rushing around the kitchen, finally settled into her seat, a contented smile on her face.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Veda leaned in, her expression a mixture of curiosity and a hint of playfulness. She wiped ketchup from her mouth with the back of her hand. She only took a napkin when you tapped at her knees in reminder. "I have a question," she announced.

“We may have answers,” You shrugged.

“Where do babies come from?” Veda asked. Her nonchalance about it let you know she was completely serious. Lark, who’d only been half listening, raised her eyes. Seems she was interested in the answer too.

The question hung in the air, creating a moment of silence as you both exchanged surprised glances. Natasha was momentarily taken aback, her motherly instincts causing her to hesitate. You, on the other hand, seemed more amused than flustered, a subtle grin touching your lips.

Veda's question about where babies come from was a classic childhood inquiry, but it still caught you off guard.

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation several times,” Natasha tilts her head.

“Yeah, but not for real,” Veda shrugged. Veda's insistence continued, her determination unwavering. "I'm gonna be ten next year, Mama. Double digits. So I need to know the real truth."

Natasha took a deep breath and began, "Well, sweetie, most babies come from a very special process where a tiny cell from a woman and a tiny cell from a man come together to create a new life." She kept her tone gentle, aiming to explain the concept in an age-appropriate way.

You couldn't help but chime in, a playful twinkle in your eye. "It's like a puzzle, you know? Two pieces fitting together perfectly to make a baby."

Veda's brows furrowed in thought. "So, like a really, really small puzzle?" she asked.

You nodded with a chuckle. "Yes, a very small, intricate puzzle. And it's something beautiful and magical."

Veda seemed satisfied with the explanation, her curiosity appeased for the moment. "Okay, because Billy and Tommy told me it was called sex.”

You in the middle of taking a bite of your burger, had a near-comical moment. You almost choked on your food, your eyes widening in surprise as you coughed.

Natasha, quick to react, helped you take a sip of water to clear your throat. As you caught your breath, you couldn't help but shake your head in disbelief, your amusement evident.

“What’s sex?” Lark chimed in with her inquisitiveness. She had been just as confused by Veda's question and wore a quizzical expression on her face, mirroring her sister's curiosity and bafflement.

“Well,” You sighed, wiping your mouth with a napkin. “To talk about it, we’d have to go into detail about a lot more.” With a playful smirk, you began, "You know, girls, when you grow up, there are some pretty interesting changes that happen to your bodies. You begin to grow.” You gesture. “It’s sometimes happens all at once. Like—"

Veda, covering her ears with her hands, interrupted with a cringe. You’d informed her about periods the year before and it traumatized her ever since. "Mom, I don't think we need to hear this right now."

Lark, equally uncomfortable, followed suit by covering her ears. "Yeah, can we talk about something else, please?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at their reactions, your intention all along to make them squirm a bit. "Alright, alright," you relented, switching back to a more suitable topic. The girls sighed in relief, their expressions now reflecting their gratitude for returning to safer, more innocent conversations. Even if Veda was the one to begin it all.

[sentientcave]

Hello hello! I’m interested in hearing more about your Rugby fic! What’s it about and who does it feature?

Hey there, howdy, hi!

Rugby is a Ghoap x 2ndPOV FTM OC/Reader (He's got a name and a nickname (Ripley/Ripper), but it's not clear if it's a first or last name). Astonishingly little actual rugby happens. It's mostly just silly boys being boys in love (Ghost and Soap are actively trying to date Ripper and he is like, hahaa they're such good friends).

Here's a lil snippet (There's also a few lil snips in the list of WIP Wednesdays listed at the bottom of my masterlist if you'd like to know more). This is mostly a texting bit that I don't think I've posted before.

You text Johnny and Simon as soon as Liv gets off you, opening the group chat that Johnny set up, which is mostly just Johnny sending you tiktok links and Simon sending pictures of dogs and cats that he sees.

Ripper: hey lads. Asking a big favour, but could you put me up for a week? Roomies got family coming and their accommodations fell through. No problem if you can't/don't want to, won't be pressed about it.

Soap: !!!!!!!!!!!

Soap: r u fukkin kiddin me rn Rip? Course ye can stay

Ghost: Only got one bed though.

Soap: Rip's just a wee feller we can squeeze him in

You laugh. As if you’re going to be choosy about the sleeping arrangements when they’re doing you a big favour.

Ripper: Lads, I will gladly sleep on the couch. Or the floor tbh. Bathtub even.

Ghost: Nah just kidding.

Ghost: We have a guest room.

Soap: we've got a playroom 2 if yed like to see it

Ghost: Johnny

Soap: Yeh LT?

Ghost: Shut up.

Soap: Get yer arse over here n make me

Ghost: In a minute. When do you need to come over?

"Hey, Liv, what day are they coming?"

"Wednesday, they'll be here in the evening."

Ripper: Wednesday. Could come home with you after practice.

Ghost: We'll pick you up so you don't have to lug your bag to the pitch. Be there 6:30.

Ripper: Thanks, lads. You're lifesavers.

Soap: nythin 4 u Rip.

Soap: n I mean ANYTHIN

Soap: jcudheiks

You figure that's Simon making good on his promise to make Johnny shut up.

[hiraizyo]

ok same anon that came w manon speed dating exes!

so glad that my thoughts were received positively, i actually typed all that out before work and sent it in bcos i needed to share with the class even tho i didn’t raise my hand first… but also can i share abt megan betting thoughts? bcos the angst that could come would shatter me and i want that soooo bad

-

megan being so young and so optimistic abt y/n and telling all the katz about how excited she is to meet someone with such an interest in her and she hasn’t been jaded by previous relationships so she’s just all heart eyes and unwavering trust in this girl

y/n finding all of that so naive but kinda cute??? at the end of the day, it’s all just a bet w her bro ryu and winner gets a hot pot meal out of it, so really the stakes r whatever

but megan’s heard from her members that when u like someone u should see them often, so she’s asking y/n on these sweet little dates that she saw on pinterest and y/n is going on all of them (for the bet, of course), and sometime between watching megan paint a pottery thing (color me mine moment but it’s like color y/n megan’s) and their seventh late night drive to the only ice cream shop open at 1am in their town, y/n falls so hard. it’s the way megan is so unashamedly herself and so willing to laugh and how it’s so hard to take her eyes off this magnetic force of a person and even harder to be away from her and how, against the backdrop of eight billion people on this planet, megan is the only person that actually stands out

and y/n tries to call the bet off but ryu is a jerk about it talking abt how she’s put all this effort into pulling yeji so y/n can’t possibly be pulling out, but y/n is in shambles because she’s head over heels for megan and nothing matters except her

and of course megan finds out about the bet ☹️ mayb one of the katz overhears y/n and ryu arguing abt it but only catches a snippet of ryu recounting how confident y/n was abt pulling the *insert childish description of megan bcos we need it to HURT everyone involved including readers* girl, so then word travels to megan that y/n thinks of her like that and doesn’t really like her

and megan doesn’t seem super confrontational w her romantic interest, so she just ghosts y/n. lara and dani are much feistier and want her to confront but megan is just so sad and can’t face y/n or even her friends after being played. so she just goes back to hawaii for a few weeks to reset and leaves y/n all confused abt no longer receiving good morning and good night and updates throughout the day from the girl like she’s grown to expect and cherish. it’s all just a mess and y/n doesn’t know what to do, megan is in hawaii, the katz have a bounty on y/n’s head, AND yeji is fully in love w ryu so y/n still has to buy her hot pot but all y/n wants to do is put her head in a bucket of water and scream abt how megan’s last text was that she’d talk to her in the morning and never did

this is getting really long but like part 1 i sweaaar

-

p.s. please let me know if ur ok w asks like this, i know they’re long, and i don’t want to insert too much if that’s not ur writing process. i want to be as respectful as i can, so lmk where ur boundaries are w this!

[charlieslowartsies]

focusing today on anything feels impossible and my brain is chewing itself from the inside out. while weds are normally writing days, i cant even focus on that long enough to say so.

either way, have a snippet from Days of Thunder, which is the next oneshot for Another Five Nights 2 from the knight guard au:

New Jersey had Camp Crystal Lake. Utah, Hurricane had Camp Tall Pines and was centered near a smaller, man-made lake controlled by a dam. Granted, there was no monster in this lake, Jason’s mother wasn’t going to jump out at them, and Tall Pines was likely half the size of Friday the 13th’s beautiful, sprawling campsite. 

But they had walked to Tall Pines in only a day, arriving just after the sun managed to hit the top of the sky above behind the thick, white clouds. This was as much distance as he could put between him and his home, the Diner and his father and crumbled remains of any family they had.

Michael peered around, but to his relief the camp was closed up and quiet for the season. It must have been later in the month than he thought, which was sobering. 

Scraptrap had followed faithfully, never complaining or anything. 

“Let’s get inside, quick. I’m fucken exhausted.” Michael declared, then grabbed Scraptrap’s arm before he could get too far away. “No! Not those ones, they’re too small, c’mon. The mess hall has to be somewhere. We can hide in it easier, just in case…”

It was more in the middle of the camp ground than Michael would have liked, but he tried not to worry about eyes on them. The place was popular during the height of summer, but it was so small and old it often shut down before Labor Day, and well before kids even had to worry about returning to school. 

It was quiet, save for the chitter of invisible birds and Michael felt like there were ghosts of former campers milling around, doing their little activities and being kids and having fun. 

Michael spotted the thick padlock and chain and balked, rubbing his hands nervously on his stained jeans. He tugged at it once, but of course it did not give. He failed to notice Scraptrap’s full attention on him as he did so. 

“Damn.” The zombine sighed, drawing back. “We need to find another way in–shit, jesus christ!” 

Because Scraptrap had spotted the lock too. But rather than thinking about another, more subtle way in, simply gabbed the chain in both paws and wrenched with a terrifying display of brute strength. 

The chain slithered to the floor and Scraptrap tugged the yellow door open, then turned to Michael with an expectant stare as if to say, ‘Well? Aren’t we going in?’

Not for the first time Michael overlaid words that he thought Scraptrap would be saying if he could speak. 

“Uh….r-right. Thanks, Scrap.” He muttered without thinking, and moved past Scrap before he caught the animatronic’s clear look of delight at being praised. 

“It’s gunna get cold in a few weeks, and then it’s gunna get colder. And then it’s gunna snow.” Michael said as the two slunk through the dark old building. The generator was obviously off, but checking the drawers revealed candles and flashlights and some matches. 

Scraptrap chittered back, more interested in opening the empty fridges and freezers as if he was hungry and searching for food. Michael was convinced he was exploring, or even just copying the dead teenager like he had been doing since they woke up in the back alley of Fredbear’s Diner. 

“Hey, Scrap. Eyes on me–” He was rewarded with the instant snap of glowing optics on him. He held up his findings, “Get me more of these, yeah?” 

In the end, they found enough supplies to last them a while, provided they rationed and accepted that most time would be spent in the dark together. 

It was a week later that Michael realized he was able to see in the dark as well as Scrap who had glowing optics to guide them.

Michael wasn’t sure why he had the ability to. He tried not to let it bother him. After all, it had its usefulness.

**********************************************************

It was starting to think those Memories things that belonged to Technician, but the whole process was incredibly slow and filling in along random spots. Gaps were still wide and broad. It likened the process to [MEMORY TRANSFER] and left the strange shifting alone to go at the speed it wanted.

It was forever learning, drinking in as many sights and and sounds as its processors could handle without overheating. 

The world was so big and brand new.

Unwilling to miss a single moment of this strange Newness, [SPRINGBONNIE002]’s AI had clumsily begun labeling, assigning, and reassigning terms as needed. It was a slapdash, messy sort of organization that would have fascinated both of its two programmers. 

For example, it was [SPRINGBONNIE002] but it was also “Scraptrap” or “Scrap” when [TECHNICIAN: MICHAEL AFTON] addressed it. 

[TECHNICIAN: MICHAEL AFTON] was also “Michael” and “Suit” according to some new programming it had unearthed in itself and was running off of. 

It had also labeled a new title over its technician’s name, a tertiary term that was simply ‘Mine.’ Technician belonged to [SPRINGBONNIE002], this was a fact like the [SKY] being [COLOR: BLUE.] 

It knew [COMMAND: EYES ON ME] was the order for it to stop what it was doing and turn to face Technician. 

It never needed to be taught [COMMAND: FOLLOW] because that was an easy one. It was still working on obeying [COMMAND: DO NOT FOLLOW] because this one did not make sense and seemed very wrong.

[TECHNICIAN: MICHAEL AFTON] found [WHITE SQUARE] in a large [BUILDING] named [ARTS AND CRAFTS]. He also seemed very pleased at finding [COLORED STICKS] and had sat down in the [MESS HALL] by the window with the most light coming in. 

He was talking as he sat there, bent over and animated about something. 

[SPRINGBONNIE002] strayed from its technician’s side but did not head out of eyeline. Technician did not stop it. This was an allowed action. 

[SPRINGBONNIE002] strayed a bit farther, keeping one ear trained on Technician out of reflex and enjoyment. 

“–drawing us a map, so you can find your way back if ever get separated. It’s gunna look like shit but it’ll get the job done I hope. Remember, you do NOT approach anyone ever, you stay hidden and out of sight…dammit, broke the red crayon…” and things like that. 

A familiar [RULE] it had already cataloged. [RULE #8: STAY OUT OF SIGHT] was easy enough to follow. But Technician seemed to find it important to state a lot. It considered replacing this one with [RULE #4] which seemed useless.

[SPRINGBONNIE002] changed [COLORED STICK] to [CRAYON] after glancing at Technician when he cursed softly. It also changed [WHITE SQUARE] to [MAP] as it did not comprehend things could have multiple names yet. It had barely grasped the concept of Itself and Technician having dual roles and titles. 

Whenever Technician made a noise that meant he was disgruntled, alarmed or shocked something interesting was always going on. 

[SPRINGBONNIE002] knew better than to exit the building they were in. Even if Technician hadn’t, straying out of sight where it could not see its familiar, animated Technician was not advisable. 

(The Animatronic didn’t quite have the word for it yet, but not knowing where Michael made it feel …uneasy. Frightened.) 

It was still working on applying strong, inarticulate things such as Emotions to Itself. 

[SPRINGBONNIE002] pawed at [DRAWER] and studied the brass curved thing. It found remarkable ease to slot its right paw through the hole between brass and drawer, the same as it found it easy to remove the [LOCK] preventing them from being inside when Technician wanted them to be inside. 

It did not understand before but it understood now, being inside [MESS HALL] made Technician more at ease and less panicked. These were all good things. 

[SPRINGBONNIE002] pushed on the [DRAWER] and stared, optics cycling. Pushing didn’t work. 

It tugged right. Then it tugged left. Both attempts yielded nothing. 

“You gotta pull on it, dude.” Technician informed, and received a blank stare in reply. His mouth did that funny thing, where it went wider and showed white squares. “Pull, like tug your arm toward yourself–” 

[SPRINGBONNIE002] glanced over its shoulder and then back down to reaffix its cameras on the [DRAWER]. It worked its jaw slowly, processing over these instructions and comparing with what it had tried. Oh. Well. That logic made sense, alright.

Servos cranked, metal joints shifted.

Technician wanted [FLASHLIGHT] and [WHITE LONG STICKS] and [VERY SMALL WHITE BOXES] for some reason.

[SPRINGBONNIE002] yanked. The [DRAWER] opened. 

It went flying downwards and slammed into the tile, causing Technician to startle and yell and the items inside to spill across the floor. [SMALL SILVER TOOLS] clattered every where.

[SPRINGBONNIE002] blinked. 

It had gotten the [DRAWER] open though. 

[repressionmd]

3 7 and 15!! :DD i love question #3 bc it always tickles me to know what people hate, petty style

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

this is such an interesting question sfgjk because i actually read like. a lot of stuff 😭 and i guess i wouldn't necessarily say that i hate it but i do instantly switch off when like. piss kinks r involved i really don't get it i get the control element but 👋(>_<)

although i think i hate homophobic house i'll be so fr he would Not say that. i don't care i just don't see him digging up deadnames to dig at people with absolutely no other prongs to the attack ??? like there has to be some kind of reason with it idk + when people remove that in favour of "oh he's just being his regular brand of asshole" i rly don't like it

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

i can't believe you've made me do this 😭 but ok this snippet from this thing is supposed to be give-and-take:

"You would have come at any time, even if it was worse, even though it upsets you, because you like me." House knew it upset him? He still called? Wilson held every muscle in place. Stayed silent, held the eye contact. Held House's arm that he'd finished bandaging already but didn't want to let go of. Waited for the inevitable joke. House's eyes widened, shone with a new light. "You like me!" For one aching, fleeting second, Wilson thought House was about to kiss him, but Wilson jerked back, letting go. He ignored every instinct in his mind telling him to move in closer. He was intimately aware of the heat of House's thigh against his, the ghost of House's arm on his hand, the memory of House's head on his shoulder. "House. Shut up." House was high. He was drunk, he was exhausted and in pain. He didn't know what he was doing. They couldn't do this.

because there's just SO MUCH FUCKING TENSION!!! wilson in this fic has been pushing back his own memories to compartmentalise and take care of house - and his first reaction to "you like me" is skipping that bit and going Back to feeling like house called him because he doesn't care about wilson's emotions. the reality is ... complicated. the reality is house trusts wilson intimately, trusts him to do what needs to be done, and house doesn't know the extent of wilson's trauma. "even though it upsets you" isn't supposed to mean "i purposefully called you to trigger you", it's supposed to mean "im sorry i hurt myself because i know it freaks you out"

and then wilson realises that house is serious about the confession (!!!) but he can't Deal with That. he wants it he wants it so bad, i think house is realising his crush for the first time but wilson has been repressing his feelings for months if not longer. so he tries to convince himself its not real and runs away <3 made even more poignant by wilson having previously made the observation that house was 1. coming down from being high, 2. not that drunk, 3. probably has had a nap and 4. not in any more pain than he's used to. he's thinking clearly for once, and wilson can't.

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

ough this is hard because 2 out of the 4 fics im thinking of (my 3 posted ones + kutner lives) are fix-it? i'd absolutely love to see the kutnerfic filmed though i think you could do so much with the opening sequence in that way that the show makes certain scenes have that air of delirium and panic. you could do so much with colour and lighting and sound and aughhh plus we could see more kutner!!! yay!!! also hilson are married in there. so that's always a bonus <3

[nientedenada]

Why the Altmeri Commentary on Talos is Important to Lore Discussion (Even if It Isn't the Thalmor's End Goal) 

Originally posted on r/teslore three years ago. To be clear, important in this context means if you're trying to guess where TES might go in the future. And as the years go by, and we now have an almost complete turn-over of developers at Bethesda, it may be less relevant. Still, the new developers will have all these old ideas to rummage through.

This begins with a split among fans, though I don't think it has to be a nasty split. There is a very strong opinion in /r/teslore that Out-of-Game texts are valid if you want them to be, if you find them interesting enough for your Tamriel. And there's another very strong opinion that only official lore is really valid for theorizing. To be completely honest, we all probably dabble in one or the other at different times. Sometimes we are more creative and speculatory about Tamriel, other times we are arguing out the Lowest Common Denominator of agreed-upon lore. (It's never actually agreed upon, but that's part of the fun.)

But there's a third possibility: examining Out of Game texts for the perspective they can give us on In-game lore. A really good example of how this works would be the document: On the Nords' Totem Religion. It was a design document for Skyrim which was not incorporated into the game directly. However, the document gives a lot of insight into the little we do see in Skyrim of the ancient Nord religion. It is useful in interpreting the game itself.

It's also useful for going forward. When ESO returned to Skyrim this year, we could bet that the devs would be taking a closer look at the local religion, as they had in Elsweyr last year. And we could also guess that they might turn to that unofficial Skyrim design document which best explained the original ideas for the Nord religion. As of a few weeks ago, much of the Totem Religion document's lore has been added to the official lore as in-game books in ESO.

The totem religion document is as uncontroversial example of this process as you can find. Most everyone in lore circles has regarded it as a very useful document. You won't find that agreement about all OOG unofficial writings. But I'd like to make the argument for why the Altmeri Commentary on Talos is worth knowing and discussing even if you don't end up thinking it's true.

So, I'll begin with quoting the whole thing. It's pretty short.

What appears to be an Altmeri commentary on Talos To kill Man is to reach Heaven, from where we came before the Doom Drum's iniquity. When we accomplish this, we can escape the mockery and long shame of the Material Prison. To achieve this goal, we must: 1) Erase the Upstart Talos from the mythic. His presence fortifies the Wheel of the Convention, and binds our souls to this plane. 2) Remove Man not just from the world, but from the Pattern of Possibility, so that the very idea of them can be forgotten and thereby never again repeated. 3) With Talos and the Sons of Talos removed, the Dragon will become ours to unbind. The world of mortals will be over. The Dragon will uncoil his hold on the stagnancy of linear time and move as Free Serpent again, moving through the Aether without measure or burden, spilling time along the innumerable roads we once travelled. And with that we will regain the mantle of the imperishable spirit.

What it doesn't say: Nowhere does it say it's a Thalmor document. Nowhere does it mention the Towers. Those two points are pretty well-known in lore circles, but they come up enough to make it worthwhile to point out.

Second thing to notice: its date.

Submitted by Lady N on Sun, 09/19/2010 - 19:53 Obscure texts Author: Michael Kirkbride Librarian Comment: Many of these are in-character snippets taken from various forum posts.

It doesn't have an exact date; the old forums have been deleted. But we do see that it was re-posted on the Imperial Library on 09/19/2010, the year before Skyrim came out. This important detail is glossed over in a lot of the discussion of its relevance. It is not a document written after Skyrim trying to put a creative spin on some details in-game. It's a document published before Skyrim came out, and hence a window on the discussions that were going on in the development of Skyrim. We need to look at the stuff in Skyrim with the question: Does the Altmeri commentary shed any light on what's going on here?

Well, the fact that the Altmeri Commentary suggests that Talos needs to be erased from the mythic makes it very relevant. Maybe this is not the reason for the Thalmor's Talos ban in the game that eventually was released. But it's evidence that during the development of Skyrim, the reason was being kicked around by someone in discussions with the devs. It's that context that finally informs the two lines in-game that might refer back to the Commentary.

The first and most often quoted is Ancano's boast:

You think I can't destroy you? The power to unmake the world at my fingertips, and you think you can do anything about it?

It's pointed out that he can simply be boasting of his power there, without any reference to a supposed greater plan. And yes, that's true. But remember, we aren't interpreting that line in a vacuum. There was a development-related post that brought up a fanatical Altmer idea of unmaking the world before Skyrim, and it's just a coincidence that a fanatic Thalmor member boasts of having the power to do so in the game? These things have nothing to do with each other?

And then there is the other line from Esbern which I think is even more significant.

I don't suppose they want the world to end any more than we do. Or at least, they'd prefer it to end on their terms.

Esbern's statement does not confirm this is the Thalmor's plan. What it does is confirm that the idea this is the Thalmor's plan exists in-universe. And Esbern is not some random conspiracist; he's a lore-master. Dragons were his hobby but we also know from his dossier that the Thalmor consider him responsible for two of the most damaging operations on Dominion soil. He knows his stuff when it comes to the Thalmor. His opinion may be affected by paranoia, he may not even hold the opinion very strongly (suggested by how he corrects himself there), but he is not some random guy in the pub with a conspiracy theory about the Thalmor. If it's a conspiracy theory, it's an important one in-universe.

So, we have a timeline that suggests the Commentary is important, and two references in the game of Skyrim to the idea presented in the Commentary. The references are independent, coming from ideological enemies, Ancano and Esbern. I'd say that makes a very strong case for the Commentary's ideology existing within the universe.

If this concept exists within the universe, the Commentary is important even if it does not represent the Thalmor's ultimate goal accurately.

But where does one go with that? With Michael Kirkbride's historic and ongoing influence on the TES franchise, elements of the Commentary are quite likely to make it into future games. On the other hand, the Commentary may be a window on an idea in development that was tossed around and ultimately abandoned. Maybe it's not Thalmor belief, really. It could even be Blades propaganda. Maybe Ancano believes in it, but he's actually a fanatic who's out of step with the Thalmor in general. etc. etc. etc.

Acknowledging that an Out-of-Game source is relevant does not mean accepting it as the Truth Bound To Be Revealed by TES VI. TES fandom has had enough of that over-certainty already. I think we've all met someone who takes some random developer's post as The Gospel Truth that cannot be questioned. That's frustrating, for sure. But let's not throw the baby out with the bathwater. It doesn't make sense to ignore it completely in discussions about the Thalmor's ultimate goal. There are enough sources to make it worth looking at, both inside and outside the universe.

This post was about the relevance of the Commentary, but if you're interested in how the Commentary's ideology could function within the Thalmor, I can never recommend enough this old /r/teslore post: Analyzing the Altmeri Commentary on Talos.

Additional reply in comments: I thought I'd hedged enough on my statement. I won't claim Esbern as an expert on the Thalmor's ontological goals, although he definitely is more knowledgable about the Thalmor than the random guy at the pub. I do think, however, that his statement confirms that some people within the universe think this is the Thalmor's end goal. I see his statement there as he's not certain himself of it.

In the comments of the original post, a user who has since deleted their account posted a very interesting timeline of the development under discussion. I also recommend this discussion with Misticsan about the post and whether fans give the Commentary undue importance in contrast to other sources on the Thalmor.

This was only the beginning of a very involved journey into the weird fandom status of the Altmeri Commentary and the Towers Theory. It's a lengthy saga, and I've put off formatting it for tumblr but I do mean to eventually copy all the teslore posts over here.

[perpetualdaydreamerr]

Upon the Eternal Shore: An EPIC the Musical Fanfiction (Chapter 10)

Snippets of the 7 years Odysseus spent with Calypso.

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CONTENT WARNING: heavily implied r*pe, non-con, victim-blaming, emotional abuse, PTSD, descriptions of violence. Please consider before reading.

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Day 1,703

-

The morning felt heavy in his limbs. It was as though the dewfall rested on his body, heavy as stone, and held him down. He didn't want to leave the bed, couldn't fathom having the energy to fulfill the obligation he'd accepted. It was easier to stare out the window, watch the way the sun’s rays refracted against the glass. Far simpler to become enchanted by the dance of the shadows created by the tree that grew in front of the palace. Ever bending, ever curling. A persuasive hymn.

The energy to get up came to him all at once. A sharp, stubborn tick that pushed his feet off the side of the bed, made him stand. Pulled him towards the wardrobe, helped him dress himself. The faintest whisper of determination. He wasn't sure who brought it forth, how it was able to survive in the bedroom’s stifling air. And yet it did.

The goddess was waiting for him outside, bright eyed and enthusiastic. She had been positively delighted when he'd made the arrangement the day before. A day together, and arrows in exchange.

The two started off, side by side. An effortless path.

Calypso floated beside him, her perfume tying itself to her painted smile. “May I ask what you want arrows for?” she asked, leading the pair of them away from the marble palace. She had complete dominion over the activity of the day, and the King of Ithaca merely followed.

“...I want to practice shooting,” Odysseus responded honestly. “It's been years.” He'd had to reteach his body so much, recently. How to endure labor, how to tolerate physical strain. In turn, his body had reminded him of old habits. Building, running, swimming. Things he'd been proficient at in another lifetime. Before the island. It begged and nagged him to return to them. He entertained the idea now that foreign, subtle persuasion towards productivity had been born again in him.

“Were you a good archer before?”

“...An excellent one.”

“Oh, really? Why don't you show me?” She mused, clasping her hands together in front of herself. “That's what we can do today. I'm not in the mood for shells, anyways.” She reached over, draped her hand on his shoulder. He felt the weight of his old quiver materialize against his back.

He nodded, pleased by the proposition. It would make the day less of a waste. He touched his hand to the quiver and ran his finger across an arrow. It was an old, familiar sensation. His body remembered.

They walked together, side by side, down the cobblestone path. He'd go to a clearing by the cliffside, where tall pines stood. There'd be plenty of targets to aim at. Leaves, animals, bushes. The anticipation in his stomach grew. He'd see whether the skill had died during his time on Ogygia. He prayed it didn't.

“You know, I learn more about you by the day… Do you ever wonder anything about me?” Calypso asked. Her words cracked through his busied mind.

He tilted his head towards her. There on her face was the familiar look of expectation. Deep longing twisting around her features. It was a look he knew well; one that often preceded outbursts of emotion, expressions of frustrated disappointment.

He tried to configure a question in his mind. Something to satiate her quickly. “...Why are you stuck here?” A stark question, one that he realized afterwards he probably shouldn't have asked; but it was the only thing he'd ever particularly wondered about her. The goddess was hellbent on his captivity. He'd attempted before to convince her to leave with him- to abandon the island together. She'd made it clear that it wasn't possible, that she couldn't leave, even if she was interested in sailing away from the paradise. He wasn't sure if it was simply another trick or not. Whether she too was just as incapable of escape as he was.

Calypso’s face contorted. A dreary expression of melancholy took hold of her eyes. He regretted his question, and she spoke. “...A long time ago, there was a war between the titans and gods,” she explained, her voice gentle as a passing breeze. “My father was a titan… I was just a girl at the time. I didn't understand what was happening, not really. Only that my father needed my help. I tried my best to assist him,” She looked at him, tried to see if he understood.

He did. He nodded slowly in comprehension. She was cursed by the gods, confined to the island as a punishment for her crime.

“...And will the gods ever…?”

“No. I… I have no reason to believe so, anyways,” a dry laugh tumbled out of her lips. Cold and bitter, stained by years of withering hope. “And I don't… have the privilege of dying. I've been here for a hundred years, and I'll be here a million more,” she whispered, the words drying up as she spoke them. She became silent, swallowed her voice.

He watched her. He hadn't ever seen her look the way she did now. It was desperate, raw- marked by vulnerability that wasn't conjured or masqueraded. Visible grief at a life spent entirely alone. He could see it, somehow. What the island had done to her- how it had aged her, despite her eternal, divine youth. Twisted her into something she hadn't been before.

Something formed in his chest. An emotion he hadn't managed to feel in years. A foreign object, slowly developing in his heart, growing against his better judgement. Something that should've been impossible for him to feel for her. Something he could hardly manage. Miniscule, but genuine. Pity. “...I'm sorry, Calypso” he murmured, somehow meaning it.

He made eye contact with the nymph. In her eyes, a pool of water. Genuine sadness cradled the brims of her eyes. She nodded, looked away from him. For a moment, he could see what she was. What she had been, long before he had arrived.

A silence settled between them. Nobody spoke but the wind and their footsteps. Whispers of the past crept through the air. Quickly fleeting, impossible to hold. The echoes of time.

They approached the clearing of the forest. “...Well, anyways,” Calypso broke through the tension between them. Her voice was now returned to its typical intonation. “Let's see what you've got, hm?” She smiled, handed him a longbow he hadn't realized she was holding.

Odysseus nodded. He took the bow from her, feeling its weight in his hands. Lighter than the one waiting for him in Ithaca, but heavier than the ones he used to practice with. He stole an arrow from his quiver. The movements were smooth and methodical, reminiscent of a time long since passed. He knocked it, feeling the tension of the bowstring grow tighter and tighter.

He stepped back towards the cliff, getting distance between himself and the nearest tree. Along its curled bark was a knot in the wood. A natural bullseye, teasing him. He narrowed his eyes, concentrating on it.

He felt a breath leave his body. Steady on the balls of his feet, he felt the wind rustle against him. Heading east, only slightly. He felt the influence on his arrow, predicted it. He turned the arrow’s head ever so slightly. He released his hand.

The arrow cut through the air in a whiz. It flew, straight and precise, the evidence of practice in its flight. It pierced the center of the knot with a satisfying thud.

Odysseus’ gaze fixated on it. Dead center. After so many years, he had fired a perfect shot. Excitement threatened to rise in him. He was still a seasoned warrior. The island hadn't taken that.

“You're a brilliant archer!” the nymph praised aloud, her voice warm and light. She clapped her hands together. “How long has it been since you've practiced?”

The question gave him pause. It was simple enough, and yet it reminded him of a painful reality he had tried to neglect. He wasn't sure how long he'd been on Ogygia. When he'd first arrived, his count had been meticulous. But somewhere, somehow, in the midst of exhaustion and misery, he'd stopped counting. He cleared his throat, tried to force back the growing discomfort in his chest. “I… don't know. How long have I been here, Calypso?”

“Not terribly long- I just meant that you haven't reached for your bow recently, that's all,” she dismissed, a sweet smile lining her lips.

He shook his head, unsatisfied by her answer. He knew she knew. “No, I mean… how many days?” How many years? He looked at her, silently pleading for honesty.

Her eyes caught the slightest golden glow as he stared back at her; he was unsure if it was the sun or something else. She hesitated, but spoke. “...One thousand, seven hundred, and three,” she replied, the words leaving her mouth like a poem.

A shiver danced across his spine. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the number settle in his mind. 1,703. An impossible length. A horrific amount of time. 1,703 days. 1,703 nights.

He felt bile threaten to rise in his stomach. Over 4 years. How much taller had his son grown in that time? How much of Penelope's hope had dissipated? He gripped the bow, tried to steady himself. He couldn't let his pulse grow swifter, couldn't let his mind spiral out of control. He sucked in a deep breath, made himself hold it.

He took another arrow from the quiver and aimed it, upwards now, to a beautiful crimson bird sitting on a high branch. He had to focus on what was real. What he could hold. What he could control. The bow. The bird. The arrows. Physical and tangible.

His arrow tore through the air, struck the creature before it had the chance to turn its head. He stared, watched as it fell. A red echo, dropping through the air. Beautiful and dead.

“Nothing tries to fly away here,” he commented softly, fixating on the bird. A victory undeserved, irregardless of the size or distance.

“...I could make you moving targets,” Calypso offered, standing up from her sitting position. She took stones from the ground. Her eyes began to glow, and the rock changed colors- warped into clay, light and thin. Targets the size of apples. She stepped back and threw one in the air. It was impossibly light, flying high above the treeline as if carried by wings.

Odysseus turned quickly, aiming the longbow up. He felt a rush of adrenaline course through his veins. He fired. The arrow cut through the sky and found its target. The clay ruptured in half, crumpling mid air.

Calypso cheered. He felt another twinge of pride. She threw another. This one began to twist in suspended figure eights, twirling clockwise aggressively. He aimed, let another arrow fly.

It went just to the side of the target, missing it. Odysseus quickly reloaded, faster than he knew he still could. He aimed again, and this one hit.

“I just need practice,” he mumbled, loading another arrow as the goddess prepared another target.

He continued firing at them, hitting most, and only growing more determined when he missed. The arrows were endless. It was methodical, corporeal. He lost himself to it. Felt every arrow leave the bow like a bird in flight. Watched as the wind bent it, pushed it towards its target. It reminded him vaguely of his youth in Ithaca, when the best thing a young boy could be was a good archer. All of the hours spent drawing his bow, learning the skill through sheer determination and time.

He dared to imagine himself back home. Any great skill he still had wouldn't show itself on a battlefield ever again. He'd resign himself to being a mentor. He could teach Telemachus. He imagined himself, standing beside a boy who hadn't ever known a father. He imagined teaching him everything he knew. How to feel the wind against his hand, how to account for it. How to twist an arrow in his thumb to feel its weight. All of the secrets that would be whispered down their family line, father to son, a thousand times over. He allowed himself to dream. Arrow after arrow flew.

Her voice cut through his trance, demanded he come back to reality. “You're incredible,” she swooned. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, how many targets had been struck. She'd gotten creative with them- making them different shapes and sizes, moving at different distances in different shapes. She paused now, standing up from her position on a nearby fallen tree. “Won't you show me how to shoot? I've never tried to fire a bow before.”

Odysseus cocked his head in her direction, his perception of the goddess returning. He'd gotten lost in the practice, halfway forgetting where he was. “I doubt you've had much of a reason to use one,” he replied, his statement teetering on comedic. He returned the arrow in his hand to the quiver.

“I haven't,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. She approached him, determined but light. “But it looks fun! Show me?”

He wanted to continue practicing, but as he watched the goddess, he remembered the price of the arrows. A cost he'd agreed to. He nodded. “You'll want a shorter bow for yourself, this one will be too tall,” he said, holding up his own as if to prove his point.

She looked down, picking up a stick that had fallen nearby. In an instant, it curled, warping into a longbow more appropriate to her height. She stepped beside him, holding it. She turned her head up towards him and smiled.

“Try shooting the tree,” he offered, gesturing back to the tree he'd started on. It was close to them now, easy enough for a juvenile boy to strike. He remembered training young men before, how their eyes had darted away nervously at his gaze and instruction. Boys, really.

Calypso took the bowstring in her hand, pulling it back. Her hand was wrapped around the grip awkwardly, too high and loose. The arrow shifted in her hand, wobbling up and down.

Odysseus frowned, watching the clumsy attempt. “Watch me,” he offered, taking his own bow and holding it up. He drew it back, trying to display the way he held its center. “You need to move your hand down. You're off center, that's why it's moving like that.” He had seen many such mistakes with young soldiers, had corrected them more times than he could count.

Calypso moved her hand slightly, a frown on her lips. She fumbled again with the string, pulling it back, but not nearly far enough. A soft huff left her lips. The bow wobbled again, unsupported by her stance. “I just can't get it,” she complained. “...Won't you help me?”

Slowly, mechanically, he moved towards her. Stepped behind her, keeping his distance, but lining up his arm beside her’s. “Move your hand and grip it-” he murmured, pushing her wrist with his fingers. “And keep your elbow straight, that's the most important thing. You need there to be enough tension.” He nudged her arm, raising it higher. “Keep your shoulders square and move your legs apart.”

“I can't pull the string back far enough,” Calypso decided aloud, disregarding his other crtiiques. Her head moved towards him ever so slightly. He could smell the perfumed oil on her skin. She leaned against him, let her hair graze his jawline. “Won't you help me pull it?”

She was a goddess. He'd seen her turn stone to clay, and yet she was unable to draw back a bowstring. The peace that had settled in him when firing the arrows was slowly dissolving, developing into nausea. His body knew what she wanted before his mind did. Tension blossomed in his arms, traveling through the rest of his body like a venom. And yet he reached his arm around her, put his hand over her’s. He pulled the string back further. She'd fire the arrow, and he could go back. She could go back. He made himself look at the tree before them. One strike, one success, and she'd be pleased.

“Let go on three, two, one…” he counted quickly. They both let go, and the arrow whizzed through the air. It struck the tree, a few feet above his previous shot.

“Look at that! You're the best teacher!” Calypso sang pleasantly. She turned to the side, faced him directly. The longbow fell from her hands. Her body was against his’ in an instant- their skin overlapping.

“...Thank you,” he managed, immediately overwhelmed by the pressure against him. He stepped back instinctively, his eyes darting back to her.

She smelt like honey, suffocatingly so. Sweet, sickly sweet. Her eyes were wide, round as the seven olives, filled with the temptation of favors that demanded payment. “Why don't you allow me to show my appreciation…” she whispered. She put a hand to his waist, curled it inwards. Persuasive and hungry.

“Calypso, please, he whispered, taking gentle hold of her wrist. He didn't move, didn't jolt away the way his mind demanded he did. He'd dissolve the moment, let her lust leave naturally with the breeze. He'd turn her attention away, distract the nymph.

“What's the matter?” her voice came out in a melodic whine, wrapped around his neck and choked him. She moved her other hand to his shoulder, her chest now flush against his’.

He tried to remain calm, tried to compose his voice into something more persuasive. “I just… don't want to spoil our day together,” he insisted, carving a smile onto his face. “Let's keep practicing, it's been so long since I’ve-”

She pulled her hand from his grasp. “I won't spoil anything, Ody. You'll love this. Let me show you…” Her arms were around him again, her lips on his neck. Her lips, moving like a spider, crawling across him, faster, ready to paralyze him.

“Calypso, I don't- I don't want to take advantage of your kindness, let me- let me shoot for you, why don't you watch-” his words broke up, became frantic. His mind lost its edge, dissolved away as fear took the place of wit.

“Shh,” she whispered against his skin. Her hands moved faster now. She pushed herself against him, rocking like the tides.

He felt panic take hold of his body. Fear seized his hands, made them shake. His stomach turned, tension and nausea fighting for dominance. “Calypso, please,” he pleaded. “I don't want to right now. I'll do anything else you want, anything,” He'd pull the clouds apart if she wanted, tear down the palace brick by brick and rebuild it, rearrange the stars in the sky if it pleased her. In a sudden jerk of restraint, he tried to pull away. “Just not-”

An involuntary cry left his mouth as piercing pain jolted through his ankles. Blades, ripping into his skin. Then more, then more, puncture wounds, crawling up, searing and sharp. He didn't have to look down to know what was taking hold of him; thick vines, covered in thorns, working their way up his legs.

“Why do you fight me, Odysseus? After so many years? After everything I've done for you?” Calypso cried, her voice raised, dripping with ire, its sweet sugar shell now gone. Her fingers grasped his face, forced his eyes to meet her’s. He preferred the thorns, couldn't fight either. Her nails curved in, cut into his face. “Why do you make it so hard to love you?”

And then her lips were against his’. Hot and bitter, the tears that had sprung from her eyes salting his tongue. His heart tore through his chest, terror gripping his body. The pain in his legs grew more agonizing, the thorns growing and twisting. He felt the rush of his blood watering the plants that only grew with her frustration. Her hands tangled in his hair, her madness sucking the breath from his lungs. He was choking, drowning, dying just like his soldiers, just as helpless. Her hands moved, crawled across him in a crazed conquest. Unrestricted, unwilling to restrain themselves. Forever demanding. There was no ceiling to stare at, no way to force his mind to die to time. He was stuck, rooted to the ground. Rooted to reality, on Ogygia, with the goddess.

She tore herself away from him. Off of him, moving away. In a sudden flurry, with unclear provocation. “I didn't mean to get carried away,” he heard her say. He could still feel her skin. He could still smell her. He could hardly hear her.

A gasp left his lips as the thorns abandoned the sheath of his skin. They curled downwards, back into the earth. So quickly he hardly caught a glimpse of them.

His legs were covered in trails of blood. Wrecked with punctures, dark red, coated with the smell of metal. They began to contort, shifting as a gold glow enveloped his legs.

He watched as the injuries withered away like rapidly decaying vegetation. The thorns had entirely returned to the ground that bore them. Every scratch, every welt melted off his skin.

There was no evidence of what had happened besides what clung to his memory. What would live in his mind, and resurface in the late hours of the night. His body would remember, even if there weren't scars.

“Take another shot. I want to watch. You're a brilliant archer, Ody.”

Her voice like a spell, once again a sweet song. The tears had dried on her face, and her eyes sparkled in the sunlight. His own blurred. He couldn't force breath back into his lungs. It was too heavy, too hard.

“Take another shot.”

He could still taste the salt on his tongue. His hands curled in and out of fists. He tried to focus, tried to bring himself back.

He would do as he was bade. He could hardly see, and yet he found the discarded longbow. He took it in his hands again. His trembling hands. He held it up, drew it back. He wasn't balanced, his shoulders weren't straight.

The arrow flew from his grasp. It wobbled as it left him, teetered in the wind. It landed to the right of the pine- toppled to the ground, its flight broken. It clambered against the ground with the same inaptitude of his breath.

“Try again, my love. You'll get it this time.”

He could feel the phantom sting in his leg. Or perhaps he had orchestrated that in his mind. Or perhaps it didn't matter at all.

He took another arrow. He aimed. He fired again.

-

Link to other chapters

[1mnobodywhoareyou]

not just a supplier of nightmares

Boggie | T | 5037 words On ao3 It's finally, finally, finally done! Thank you to @narcissusbrokenmirror for always putting ideas into my head and encouraging me to write the things. Thank you to @60sec400 for beta-ing this for me (us). Thank you to every single person who cheerled the writing of this fic by sending asks, reblogging snippets, everything! This is for all of us 😅 Enjoy!

Reggie sifts through the stack of videos beside the television. Bobby and his brothers had convinced their parents to add a few new ones to their collection since the last time the guys had been over and he’s excited to see what captures their attention.

Reggie grabs a video out of the pile, quickly reading the back and then passing it on to Alex who passes his approvals onto Luke and returns the rejections to Reggie. 

This is their typical movie night routine and it works well for them. It never takes long for them to agree on something. 

“Really? We’re jumping up to R-rated ones?” Alex asks doubtfully as he eyes the first tape he’s handed.  

“Yeah! Why not?” Reggie beams back at him. “We only get to do that at Bobby’s anyway!”

“Yeah, ‘Lex!” Luke agrees, shoving Alex’s shoulder. “Lighten up. When else do we get the freedom to do this?” Bobby’s house is the only one where they’re not under strict parental supervision. His parents are always either away for work or out supporting his older brothers. Even when they are home, they have a tendency to be pretty hands off with their parenting. Especially when the guys are over.

“Some of those are pretty freaky, guys,” Bobby warns them, only to be met with twin scoffs. He shrugs in resignation. “Alrighty, then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Alex furrows his brow but doesn’t otherwise protest. 

It only takes three tapes before Luke hands one to Bobby. Bobby slides it into the VCR without looking at it. He doesn’t even think about it. Never does. He always just trusts their selection and it works out. If he’s completely honest, he mostly just likes spending time with the guys. No school. No band stuff. Just them. 

Granted, the band stuff is new. 

Alex has played the drums since they’d first joined the school band in 5th grade but it took until this last year for Luke to convince their teacher to let him try the guitar. Of course, he picked it up immediately. He’ll easily take Bobby’s spot next year when they hit high school, never mind that Bobby’s been playing the guitar for as long as Alex has been on the drums. 

But that’s not the point. It’s fine. 

The point is that now Luke is convinced that they can make it as rockstars. He tried to convince Bobby to shift to bass but Bobby had no interest in learning a new instrument. Luckily Reggie volunteered to fill that gap, apparently not being satisfied with the three instruments he already played. 

So now they have a band. And the accompanying band ‘stuff.’

Which also takes up almost all of their free time. And Bobby loves it. He really does. But he misses his friends. 

So, movie night.

They settle onto the floor between the L of the two couches with their individual sleeping bags and two shared bowls of popcorn. 

As the tension for the first jumpscare builds, Luke puts his finger in his mouth before leaning over to stick it in Bobby’s ear. 

“Ugh, gross!” Bobby exclaims, wiping his ear with his sleeve. “Why are you like this?”

Luke giggles as he shrugs. “You’d miss me if I was gone,” he retorts. 

Bobby rolls his eyes and returns his attention to the television. 

“You guys made me miss it!” Reggie cries, crossing his arms over his chest. “All that build up wasted for nothing,” he mutters. 

Bobby and Luke exchange an amused look. After some quick nonverbal communication, they’ve made a plan.

They watch Reggie intently as the movie progresses. They want to make sure that they time this out perfectly for when he’s most on edge. Reggie leans closer and closer to the screen, gripping his blanket tightly under his chin. Bobby grins at Luke who nods back at him. They each grab one of Reggie’s sides as the characters on screen scream. 

Reggie screeches in terror. Bobby and Luke collapse with uncontrollable laughter. 

“Really?” Alex asks from Luke’s other side, unimpressed. 

Luke turns to Alex with another shiteating grin. He launches himself at Alex, wrapping one arm around Alex’s neck and using his free hand to give Alex a solid noogie. 

Reggie ignores them, turning his attention back to the movie. Alex accidentally shoves Luke into him, trying to fight Luke off. 

“You guys are wrecking the movie!” Reggie whines from where he’s still intently watching the television. “Shut up or go away!”

“Sir, yes sir!” Luke replies, complete with mock salute. 

They finish the movie mostly in peace with a few screams escaping Reggie and more than a couple moments of Luke and Reggie hiding behind Alex and Bobby.

Bobby gets up to rewind the tape and turn off the TV.

“So worth it,” Reggie enthuses. 

Luke hums his enthusiastic agreement as he snuggles down into his sleeping bag. 

Bobby and Alex exchange an amused look before following suit.

“Wait, no!” Reggie exclaims as he jumps up, “I gotta pee!”

The others laugh and roll their eyes, well used to Reggie’s antics at this point. 

They’re all asleep before he returns.  Reggie crawls into his own sleeping bag, careful not to wake the others as he settles in.

It takes Reggie a while to slow his thoughts. Now that the movie’s over and he’s forced to be alone with his mind, he finds himself replaying some of the scariest moments every time he closes his eyes. It’s dark and quiet. The gentle breathing of his friends next to him fails to offer any comfort. 

Eventually though, he manages to drift into a fitful sleep.

He’s not out for long when Bobby, Alex, and Luke are woken by an earth-shattering scream.

They jump up in a panic and notice Reggie writhing in his sleep. His face is scrunched up in fear, his hair damp with sweat.

Bobby grabs Reggie by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. “Reggie! Reg, wake up!”

Reggie moans in his sleep before curling up into a ball. Bobby shares a concerned look with Alex and Luke. Bobby tries shaking him again. Reggie moans and pushes him away. 

Alex tries next, speaking gently to Reggie. His attempts are no more successful than Bobby’s. 

“Reggie, wake up!” Luke shouts obnoxiously. Both Alex and Bobby glare at him, returning their attention to Reggie when he shifts. 

Bobby shakes him again and Alex coaxes him out of sleep. “Reggie? Hey, it’s just us. You’re having a bad dream.”

Reggie’s arms flail, hitting Bobby before grasping onto his shirt. Reggie clings to Bobby as his eyes crack open. Bobby gently rubs his back as he wakes up.

“Y’okay, dude?” Bobby asks as Reggie finishes coming into consciousness.

Reggie gasps for breath. “Had… a bad dream.”

“Yeah, Reg. You had a bad dream. We’re here though. What happened?”

Reggie shudders as he remembers. “I was… a-a-an apparition.” He barely manages the words as he struggles to return his breathing to normal. 

Luke’s brow furrows. “A what-arition?” he asks.

“A ghost, Luke,” Bobby tells him with a fond eye roll.

Reggie realizes that he’s attached himself to Bobby and lets go, wrapping his arms around himself. He shivers again, “I-I-I died! And then became a g-g-g-ghost!”

“Like, the kind that rattles chains and goes ‘boo?’” Luke wonders.

Reggie glares at him. “No, the kind that m-m-m-murders people!”

“Man, even if you DID become a ghost, I don’t think you could ever murder someone!” 

Alex sighs, “Luke you’re not helping. Can you shut up? Please?”

Luke ignores him, leaning into Reggie’s space, “Are you okay? What do you need?”

Reggie shakes his head and squeezes his legs tighter to his chest. 

“Do you want…” Luke starts to say before pausing to think, “do you want a hug?”

Reggie looks up at him. “Yeah,” he replies in a small voice. 

“Okay. Okay, we can do that!”

Luke lunges forward and wraps Reggie up into a tight hug. Reggie sinks into him, his body visibly relaxing.

“I’m gonna go get Reggie some water,” Alex says as he slips out of his sleeping bag.

“Can I…” Reggie says hesitantly into Luke’s shoulder. 

Alex stops, turning back toward them. “Can you what?”

Reggie pulls away from Luke, just enough to free his face. His expression turns sheepish. 

Bobby rubs his back, offering what comfort he can. “What is it, Reg? Whatever you need.”

Reggie takes a deep breath. “Can I have a snuggly?”

Alex’s eyes meet Bobby’s and Bobby nods his permission. They all stopped bringing their own stuffies to their sleepovers years ago so Alex will need to raid Bobby’s room to find something for Reggie. 

“Any requests?” Alex confirms, waiting for Reggie’s answer before heading up the stairs. 

“P-P-P-Petey? If you can find him?”

Alex nods, certain that the giant stuffed penguin won’t be difficult to hunt down. “Yeah, I can do that. Anything else?”

“Bring one for me too!” Luke demands brightly. 

Alex pauses at the base of the stairs. He pointedly holds his hand to his ear.

“Please,” Luke says shamefully.

“May’s well bring one back for each of us,” Bobby adds. “Thanks ‘Lex.”

“No problem. Be right back!”

Alex returns with his arms piled with various stuffed animals. He’s trying to balance a glass of water in his hand and has some snacks stuffed under his elbow. 

Luke jumps up to help him, passing the glass of water over to Reggie. 

Alex opens his elbows and lets the bags of treats fall onto the floor. He uses the newfound freedom of movement to pass the stuffies around, starting with giving Reggie Petey the Penguin. Reggie beams as he holds the animal tightly to his chest. Luke delicately tucks the lion he’s been handed in at the edge of his pillow and sleeping bag. Bobby sets his stuffed animal on the floor, backed up against the couch as if it were watching over the boys. Alex props his up on the seat behind his head, easily accessible for grabbing in the event that he decides he wants it. 

With Reggie sufficiently calmed and the others satisfied that he’ll be okay, they settle back in to sleep the last few hours of the night. 

If they all happen to wake up wrapped tightly around the stuffed animals, nobody mentions it. 

---

Unfortunately, it keeps happening. 

Every time they sleep over at Bobby’s, Reggie and Luke continue to pick out some of the scariest movies in the rental stack and every time, Reggie wakes up screaming. It only takes a handful of times for Bobby to put his foot down. He refuses to play any horror movies rated higher than PG, distressed by the need to comfort one of his best friends every time they watch one of these movies. Luke and Reggie are both frustrated at the sudden lack of freedom they’ve come to expect from their time at Bobby’s.

Try as he may, Reggie’s pleading looks aren’t as effective on thirteen year old Bobby as he’d like. A thirteen year old Bobby who isn’t fond of his sleep being disturbed on a good day, no less.

He can only keep it up for so long. After a few years, Bobby’s resolve does start to crumble. And it crumbles fast. 

“Bobby, c’mon man. We’re not thirteen anymore! I promise I can handle it!” Reggie pleads, desperately wanting to watch the recently released movie that nobody at school can stop talking about. 

Luke drapes his arm around Reggie’s shoulder. A pout matching Reggie’s paints his face, “Yeah, Bobs. We’re not kids anymore. Stop being such a funsucker.”

Bobby glares at Luke, “I am NOT a funsucker.”

Luke purses his lips doubtfully, “Mmmm, you kinda are.”

“Reggie doesn’t need to be more traumatized.”

Reggie squeaks, “I am NOT traumatized.”

Bobby stares at him.

Luke ruffles Reggie’s hair playfully. Reggie pulls himself out from under Luke’s arm to glare at him. Luke grins and ruffles his hair again.

Reggie rolls his eyes, directing his attention back to Bobby. Ignoring Luke is a well-honed skill at this point and he has higher priorities at the moment. 

Reggie puts on his most pathetic puppy dog face, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically and clasping his hands under his chin. He and Luke have always known the power their faces hold and regularly use it to their advantage. Though Reggie’s only recently realized how effective it can be with Bobby. With that realization has also come an exploration of how far he can push it.

It takes everything in Bobby to force himself to look away. He can feel Reggie’s gaze on him and he’s not able to ignore the pull for long. Bobby’s shoulders fall, his resolve crumbling. He turns back to meet Reggie’s eyes and sighs. “Fine. One time, we can try. But just once.”

Reggie whoops gleefully. 

They settle into their usual spots, which haven’t changed in the last two years, as Bobby sets up the movie. 

Much like when they were thirteen, Reggie and Luke still hide behind Alex and Bobby at the scariest parts. Much like when they were thirteen, Bobby teases Luke about it mercilessly. Much like when they were thirteen, Bobby and Alex share exasperated, though no less amused, looks over the antics of the other boys. Unlike when they were thirteen, these looks are now accompanied by a little more pink on their cheeks than either of them will ever be willing to admit to. 

Unfortunately, much like when they were thirteen, the boys are woken by Reggie deep in the throes of a nightmare. 

Unfortunately, unlike when they were thirteen, Bobby’s much less capable of resisting Reggie’s pleading. The scary movies continue, as do the nightmares and distressing wake up calls. 

---

“No.” 

“Please.”

Alex hands the tape back to Luke and crosses his arms across his chest. “No!” he repeats.

All three of them turn to look at Alex with confusion. He’s refused every option that Luke and Reggie have proposed, a stark shift from the routine they’ve had for years. 

“No scary movies,” he explains simply. 

Reggie furrows his brows, narrowing his eyes at Alex. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to watch one.”

Reggie turns to him fully. “I can-,” he starts to say, ready to defend himself. He doesn't love being babied by his friends, even if he's appreciative of how much they care.

Alex cuts him off, “It’s not about you. I don’t want to watch a scary movie. Can we choose something else please?”

Reggie eyes him warily as he spins back around. He works on resifting through the tape collection, handing new suggestions to Luke who passes his approvals onto Alex. 

They finally agree on a Jurassic Park rewatch. 

As they settle in, Bobby directs an appreciative nod Alex’s way. Alex shrugs in silent acknowledgement.

---

Alex continues to refuse Luke and Reggie’s R-rated suggestions (of both the horror and “adult��� variety) and their frustration grows.

It’s been months of this. It all comes to a head at the next sleepover at Bobby’s. They’d started drifting there more often, the appeal of the lack of parental supervision increasing as they grew older. As their own home lives became more hostile, Bobby’s place offered a bit of a safe haven for all four of them.

“Alex, why are you doing this?” Reggie groans after Alex hands back the most recent suggestion.

Alex stares at him blankly. “Doing what?”

“Why won’t you let us watch any of these?” Reggie gestures toward the rejected pile of movies. 

Alex shrugs, “Because I don’t want to watch them.”

“But why?”

Alex narrows his eyes at Reggie. “Does it matter why?” he challenges. 

Reggie takes the bait, straightening up and puffing out his chest, “Yeah, it does.”

“Why do you need to know?”

Reggie stares at Alex. “Because. We-” he gestures between himself and Luke, “both want to watch these. It’s not fair for you to get veto power if we can’t know why.”

“And,” Luke interjects, “we can’t pick different things if you won’t tell us what’s wrong with these.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Because I don’t like girls,” he explains simply.

Reggie huffs out a frustrated breath and narrows his eyes at Alex, “You KNOW that’s not what I mean.”

“Fine. They scare me too much.”

Reggie directs an unimpressed glare his way. “Really?”

“Really,” he confirms, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Since when?”

“Since always.”

Reggie scoffs, “You never had issues with them before.”

Alex eyes him, “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to watch them anymore. Or talk about it. Pick something else.”

Reggie stares Alex down. 

Alex stares back. 

Bobby clears his throat.

Reggie looks up at Bobby with wide, questioning eyes. He’s feeling both a little caught and a lot confused about why he’s not being backed up in this.

“Can we get on with this? Please?” Bobby pleads.

Reggie huffs, “Fine,” and turns back to the stack of movies. He finds something that he knows neither Luke or Alex are going to reject, passing it to Alex. He flops onto the couch while he waits for it to be approved by his friends. 

After setting up the movie, Bobby takes the spot beside Reggie. “We’re a little pouty today,” he observes quietly. 

Reggie halfheartedly tries to put some distance between himself and Bobby but doesn’t manage to go far. “Shut up.”

Bobby chuckles lightly as he leans back, looping his arm over Reggie’s shoulders. 

They settle in side by side to watch the movie much like they normally do, with Reggie shifting slightly so he can see the screen better, leaning into Bobby’s side. 

---

The next time Reggie spends the night at Bobby’s solo, he pleads his case again.

“C’mon Bee, please? “

“I don’t understand why you like freaking yourself out so much. We could do literally anything else. Something that won’t give you nightmares.”

Reggie shrugs, “I dunno. I just like them. And now with Alex…” he grimaces, “this is my only chance. Please?”

Bobby’s shoulders drop in defeat. He sighs. 

Reggie tries to hide his grin, knowing that means he’s about to win this one. “You’d be my favourite for FOREVER, Bobby,” he pleads, widening his eyes and jutting out his bottom lip.

“I’m already your favourite,” Bobby grumbles as he takes the tape from Reggie, sliding it into the VCR. 

Reggie flops onto the couch he and Bobby normally share, finally letting the victorious grin take over his face. “Thanks, Bobs. You’re the best!”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Don’t come crying to me when you have a bad dream.”

Reggie crosses over his heart with a light giggle. His expression morphs into a frown when Bobby sits on the other couch. “We’re not sitting together?”

Bobby stares at him, “Did you want to?”

“We always do. Don’t you love me any more, Bobby?” Reggie asks, eyes wide as he tries and fails  to hide his teasing grin.��

Bobby rolls his eyes but gathers the blanket up and moves over to sit in the  open space beside Reggie. 

Reggie lets out a contented sigh as he leans into Bobby. “Much better! Can’t have scary movie times without my pillow.”

Bobby groans half-heartedly, “Good to know what I am to you. A pillow and supplier of nightmares.” He wraps his arm around Reggie’s shoulders just the same, though. 

“Exactly,” Reggie beams at him, “the best!”

Bobby fights the blush threatening to rise up his face, grateful that Reggie had turned his attention back to the television so quickly. He clenches his hand into a fist once, twice, three times, before letting himself relax again.

Bobby holds back a laugh the first time Reggie jumps under his arm, smirking at Reggie’s half-hearted glare.

When Reggie hides his face in Bobby’s shoulder at the next scary point, Bobby gently rubs Reggie’s back in comfort, his attention never drifting from the movie. It’s nothing they haven’t done before. Only this time, when Reggie turns back toward the screen, Bobby doesn’t stop. 

He seems to be moving mindlessly as his hand drifts down to settle on Reggie’s waist. Bobby gently caresses the space between Reggie’s shirt and the waistband of his jeans with his thumb. 

Reggie freezes up slightly, not expecting the much more intimate than usual contact. He quickly relaxes though, leaning back into Bobby. 

When his thumb starts to creep beneath Reggie’s waistband, Reggie starts to panic. Sure, he’s had a thing for Bobby for as long as he can remember, but he never expected that it might be reciprocated and he certainly didn’t expect for Bobby to be the one to initiate this kind of physical contact. 

He turns to look up at Bobby who seems completely unaware of the crisis that he’s inflicting on Reggie, intently watching the movie. 

It doesn’t take long for Bobby to register Reggie watching him, directing a questioning look down at Reggie.

“Something wrong?”

Reggie swallows thickly, “No. Nope. Everything’s fine.” He turns to look back at the TV.

The ministrations at his waist stop. Bobby starts to move away and Reggie gently covers Bobby’s hand with his own, keeping him in place. “You uh… you don’t have to stop,” Reggie whispers.

“I’m really sorry, Reg. I didn’t even realize…” Bobby starts to say, trying to defend himself as he attempts to stave off his own panic at realizing what he’d been doing. His chest tightens as he considers the discomfort he’s subconsciously subjected them both to, not to mention the fear of his feelings coming to light. 

“It’s okay,” Reggie insists quietly. “Really. You can stop if you want but uh…” his voice turns shy, “I… I like it.”

“Yeah?” Bobby coughs out breathlessly and Reggie nods. 

“Okay,” he whispers and directs his attention back to the movie.

It doesn’t take long before Bobby’s thumb starts moving over Reggie’s skin again.

Reggie finds himself completely incapable of paying any attention to what’s happening on-screen. He lets his own hand drift over to Bobby’s leg, running circles with his thumb on the inside of his knee.

Bobby looks down to acknowledge the unexpected contact but says nothing. 

After a short while, they shift and Reggie sits up slightly, swinging his legs around to drape over the front of the couch, still leaning into Bobby’s side. Bobby reaches down with his free arm and grabs Reggie’s knees. He rotates Reggie slightly and positions his legs over his lap, dislodging Reggie’s hand.

Reggie lets out a giggle, “I can’t see the movie like this.”

Bobby rolls his eyes and directs a fond look at Reggie, “You have no idea what’s been happening for at least the last half hour.” Reggie scoffs, mocking offense. “I’d know because you haven’t tried to hide once.”

“Shut up,” Reggie mutters and Bobby laughs. “You’re very distracting.”

“Yeah?” Bobby looks down at Reggie. 

“Yeah. Now shut up and watch your movie.”

“I put this movie on for you, remember?”

“You did not.”

“I did. You specifically requested it even. I was there.”

“You’re bullying me,” Reggie mumbles into Bobby’s chest.

Bobby laughs again, bringing his hand up to rub up and down Reggie’s back. Bobby’s other hand rests on Reggie’s knee. He starts drawing circles through the rips in his jeans with his thumb. If he’s going to be given permission to touch Reggie, he’s going to allow himself to follow some impulses. 

Reggie doesn’t bother trying to watch any more of what’s going on behind him. He settles for listening to it play in the background. He lets himself enjoy the feeling of being wrapped up with Bobby. It’s something he’d imagined before, sure, but the reality of having Bobby’s warmth surrounding him is more than he could have dreamed. He feels more at home, more at peace, then he’d even though possible. 

Reggie extends his arm around Bobby’s waist and starts to fiddle with the hem of his shirt as he listens to Bobby’s heartbeat, relishing in the feeling of Bobby’s hands on him. He chances a glance up at Bobby, smiling to himself when he notices Bobby’s stern look. His resting expression has always steered toward the stoic side of the scale and that remains true even as they allow themselves to explore this new development in their relationship.

Bobby’s hand migrates to Reggie’s thigh, still rubbing small circles with this thumb as he watches the movie. Reggie’s breath catches. He fights down the urge to kiss Bobby’s neck. He’s right there. He’d barely need to move.

Reggie’s fingers catch skin where he’d been playing with Bobby’s shirt, drawing Bobby’s attention back to the boy who’d wound up in his lap. 

He looks down at Reggie and barely hesitates before dipping his head down to kiss him. 

Reggie readily returns it. They work through the preliminary awkwardness quickly, moving their lips together as they find their rhythm. 

Bobby’s hand travels the rest of the way up Reggie’s thigh and to Reggie’s hip. He squeezes slightly to pull Reggie further around. 

Reggie takes the hint, repositioning himself so that he’s straddling Bobby, never breaking their kiss. Reggie wraps his arms around the back of Bobby’s neck, taking advantage of the new angle to deepen the kiss.

Bobby’s hands roam the expanse of Reggie’s back as he grants Reggie access to his mouth. He twines his own tongue with Reggie’s as he lets his hands venture down Reggie’s body.

Bobby grabs Reggie’s ass, eliciting a soft gasp from the other boy.

Bobby grins against Reggie’s mouth.

Reggie recovers quickly, pressing himself closer to Bobby as he again captures Bobby’s lips with his own. He moves his hands up to grasp at Bobby’s hair and tugs gently. He’s rewarded by Bobby’s groan and smirks delightedly to himself.

They continue to tease each other as they make out, experimenting with their teeth and tongues, learning what the other seems to enjoy.

When they finally separate to breathe, both panting to catch their breaths, Reggie laughs lightly, “We should have done that forever ago.”

Bobby wraps his arms tightly around Reggie’s middle, resting his face in the crook of Reggie’s neck. “Yeah,” he agrees, voice low. “Better late than never, or something.”

Reggie dislodges Bobby as he draws back. He directs a curious look at Bobby. “How late are you considering late?”

Bobby shrugs, pulling Reggie back toward him by tightening his arms around Reggie. “Does it matter?” 

Reggie laughs, “Well, it would be nice to know how long I wasn’t alone in this for.”

“Who says you were first?”

“Who says I wasn’t?”

Bobby reaches up to press a single kiss to Reggie’s lips. “Me,” he says with finality.

Reggie hums doubtfully.

“Dude, why do you think you kept getting away with,” Bobby waves toward the television now sitting ignored on the other side of the room, “this?”

“How do you know I wasn’t asking for them on purpose?”

“Because you’re you.”

Reggie smacks Bobby’s shoulder, “Hey!”

“You telling me I’m wrong?”

Reggie purses his lips, trying to come up with a rebuttal, wrinkling his nose in the process.

Bobby’s gaze tracks over Reggie’s face and he grins. “Exactly.”

Reggie glares at Bobby before his eyes suddenly widen in realization, “Is this why Alex didn’t want us watching them any more?”

Bobby swallows a laugh, “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Reggie narrows his eyes, “It’s ‘cause of me, isn’t it?”

Bobby averts his gaze, refusing to respond.

“Isn’t it?” Reggie insists, pulling Bobby’s hands off of him. “Not answering just tells me I’m right.”

Bobby sighs with defeat, “Yeah. I think so.”

Reggie huffs as he starts to climb off of Bobby’s lap.

Bobby stops him, grabbing Reggie by the hips. “Hey, no. Come back.”

Reggie looks down at Bobby. “But why?”

“Why what? Why come back or why did we stop with the movies?”

“The second one, obviously.”

“Reg,” Bobby pulls at Reggie, encouraging him to at least sit back down. 

He complies, sitting down next to Bobby. 

Bobby turns to face him, pulling his feet up onto the couch and crossing his legs underneath him. 

Reggie mimics the position. “So?” he encourages once they’re both settled.

Bobby lets out a deep breath, “Reggie, you don’t know how much it sucks to see you so scared. The way it feels to be woken up by your screaming. Knowing all we can do is comfort you after it happens and hope you’re okay.”

Reggie’s face falls. “Oh,” he says simply.

Bobby brings a hand up to cradle Reggie’s face. “We love being there for you. Comforting you. But it still sucks. It was just easier to say no. Or try, anyway. We’re not meaning to baby you. At least… not entirely.”

Reggie rests his hand over Bobby’s, “Yeah, I know. I get that. I hate that my brain loves things that hurt me so much.”

“Hey, that’s why we’re here,” Bobby assures him. “We’d never hurt you on purpose. I never want to hurt you.”

Reggie lifts his gaze up to meet Bobby’s. “You don’t.”

“Good,” Bobby murmurs, leaning closer to Reggie. “Now that that’s sorted, can we do more kissing now?”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Reggie teases. He drops one gentle kiss to Bobby’s lips. “You just want me for my body.”

Bobby hums, letting his hands drift from Reggie’s face, down his arms, and up his back. “Well, we hadn’t gotten there yet but I can’t say that it’s not part of it.”

Reggie rolls his eyes as he lets out a light laugh. 

Bobby grasps Reggie’s hips and pulls him close. He leans back against the arm rest, letting his legs stretch out under them. 

Reggie adjusts to make room for Bobby’s legs, straddling Bobby’s hips. Reggie leans down to kiss him. 

Bobby’s hands travel up Reggie’s back, pulling him down to kiss him back fiercely. 

“I’ll let you choose all the movies forever if this is what we get to do while they’re playing,” Bobby murmurs. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Reggie counters cheekily. He presses his lips to Bobby’s: once, twice, three times. 

Bobby all but growls as he pulls Reggie back down to kiss him properly, finally letting themselves get lost in each other.