#but now its plain out annoying and it makes me mad

[ddawnee]

hobie’s seen some of miles’ graffiti work and took interest in it himself, so one day he asks miles if he could spray paint a spider on one of his plain tees to give it pizazz.

usually, miles isn’t really worried about his graffiti art being perfect; but this time it’s different. hobie’s cool as hell, what if he doesn’t like the finished product? that’d destroy his ego.

so he’s been circling around the t-shirt that laid on the floor, shaking a can of black spray paint for about ten minutes now. it was simple, really; all he needed to do was a circle and then the spider on the inside, but he couldn’t bring himself to start just yet, because what if the circle comes out lopsided, or he doesn’t make the spider big enough to fit four legs on each side?

it didn’t really help that hobie leaned against the wall in front of miles, observing miles circle around like a nervous mess.

“miles.. you good?”

“huh?”

“you’ve been doing..” unsure of what to call it, hobie motions with his hand, “this, for the past ten minutes. do you like.. need some inspo?”

“oh no, it’s not that, it’s just..” he isn’t sure how to cover it up, so he just is honest, “i don’t wanna mess it up, it’s gotta look nice.”

“it’s fine, no big deal if it’s messy.”

“you sure?” miles stops his pacing, looking down at the blue tee. it was modified, the collar and bottom hem messily torn off to fit hobie’s style more, and now miles felt a bit stupid for overthinking his craft; hobie was all about messy!

“yeah, the shirt don’t got any sentimental value for me yet, so i’m not gonna get mad if you absolutely fuck up the spider.” hobie shrugs.

miles raises a brow. “yet?” he’s really curious about what that means, and even finds himself hoping it means what he thinks it does.

he totally isn’t sure why though, of course.

“yeah, right now this shirt is just like, basic.” hobie starts, and miles doesn’t realize it but his voice gets a bit softer. “it doesn’t really have a meaning, but once you give it your touch it gets its value, because it’s your craft that you’re giving to me, y’know?”

there’s a lot more that hobie wanted to say, but he couldn’t get the courage to do it. he realizes he kind of went off on a tangent, and possibly annoyed miles, if it weren’t for the wide eyed look on the boy’s face. “sorry, that was a bit too much.” he grimaces.

“oh, oh no, it’s fine!” miles reassures the other, a smile on his face. “i appreciate your appreciation a lot.”

he shakes the can of spray paint, a hint of determination in his eyes as he looks at the tee once more.

[sunhowler-art]

was inspired by this post to design some hlvrai warrior cats!! i'm honestly shocked it took me 2 years to make a warriors au for it, i love making warriors aus...

some basic info below the cut!

sooo my general idea (it's pretty hazy right now. forgive me) for this au is that songfoot (benrey), nectarbrook (darnold), goldenberry (tommy), galeheart (coomer), scorchtail (bubby), and snakestar (gman) are all from the same clan... i'm between plain ol' thunderclan or a custom clan called mesaclan. i'm probably gonna go with thunderclan because i don't wanna bother with making other clans and lore and stuff LOL. there's some kind of threat outside of the clans that's affecting the environment a la the beavers in arc 4. it's something that starclan definitely caused, whether deliberately or accidentally, i dunno. main point is that snakestar sends songfoot, nectarbrook, goldenberry, galeheart, and scorchtail off on a journey to track down the problem and take care of it. while they're gone, the external threat kills snakestar and he spends all his time being a textbook unhelpful and cryptic starclan cat who just kind of makes things worse. as per a snakestar prophecy, the gang picks up gordon along the way, a kittypet whose owners abandoned her and she's been mostly unsuccessfully fending for herself since. oh and frostpaw (forzen) is part of bloodclan. bloodclan tries and fails to kill the gang, despite frostpaw's best efforts (he kidnapped goldenberry's bird friend, sunny).

some lil character facts and such:

gordon is an ex kittypet. she had a very very cozy and spoiled life up until her twolegs got evicted or something and tossed her out onto the streets. she wasn't out there long before the clan cats found her, and thank god for that, because she sucks at being a survivalist. she is fairly smart though, bringing a fresh perspective and problem solving skills to the group. she is consistently freaked the fuck out by clan cat culture, and the clan cats have fun gaslighting her about it. the only cat who doesn't play along with that is goldenberry, mostly because he doesn't really think its that funny. gordon picks up survival skills from the clan cats fairly quickly, but they still call her soft all the time. classic clan cat anti-kittypet prejudice.

songfoot is the warrior code's biggest fan. not because he really fully believes in its utility, mostly because he loves bossing people around. you can find him stalking around thunderclan camp looking out for anyone doing minor infractions. god forbid you take too much fresh kill from the pile, you'll never hear the end of it. he can't really do much about it though, because snakestar finds him vaguely offputting. his signature stare doesn't help much. his fellow warriors generally like him despite all his strange quirks. songfoot has some kind of starclan-given power a la The Three... my thought is that his vocalizations have supernatural mind-altering properties. it's kinda like sweet voice, but a hiss can make others mad, a purr can make others calm, a screech can stun them, etc. without fail. he's vaguely aware of this power, and he doesn't really use it for things starclan would like him to. he kinda does his own thing.

he's a fairly competent hunter and fighter, but he's generally physically non-confrontational. during battle, he prefers to slink along in the shadows and wait to strike.

during the journey, he loves following gordon along. initially it's because of his deeply embedded distrust of kittypets, but he realizes pretty quickly that he's interested in her in a different sense, one that really frustrates and confuses him... a warrior shouldn't wanna be mates with a kittypet. that's so beyond wrong. he's gotta do everything he can to annoy gordon into leaving the group so he doesn't have to confront his feelings about her (one of these tactics involves him insisting on calling her "gordie," saying it sounds much more suitable for a kittypet). unfortunately for the both of them, that doesn't work. what's worse-- his powers don't seem to work on her for whatever reason. they continue to butt heads for far too long before either of them opens up about how they actually feel. (it takes gordon far longer to admit to herself that she's feeling that way than it does for songfoot, but eventually it clicks for her.)

("song" comes from sweet voice, and "foot" comes from... y'know. but i imagine the in-universe explanation is that he spends a lot of time padding around and watching people. the name from the post that inspired this one-- sweetsong-- is perfect but i didn't wanna copy it. i really like the name songfoot though, i think it's really cute.)

nectarbrook is thunderclan's beloved medicine cat. sweet and silly, she has an affinity for collecting and mixing herbs to create new tinctures. they don't always work exactly how she wants them to, but they never have strictly negative effects, so... not too bad! she spends most of her time on the journey trying and failing to be a mediator, and cowering in fear while everyone else does the scary (and often stupid) work. she's got an intelligence to rival gordon's, and she's one of the only cats gordon fully gets along with.

("nectar" is about the closest warrior cats prefix to "soda," and "brook" just kinda sounds nice as a suffix to nectar. it's another liquid-related word too.)

frostpaw is a bloodclan apprentice. he's well beyond apprentice age, but he's pretty incompetent at warrior duties and such, so it's taking him a while. he just wants to graduate.

i imagine he used to be a cushy kittypet with dreams of being one of those cool cat gang members he sees outside every now and again. he's way in over his head.

("frost" comes from forzen. obviously. i initially envisioned him as a warrior named frostjaw. i don't know why i chose that suffix other than it sounding nice. but then i remembered the "i just wanna graduate" thing, and thought it would be funny to make him an apprentice.)

goldenberry is a highly skilled warrior and one of snakestar's kits. he has a very unassuming demeanor, often appearing clumsy or head-in-the-clouds, but he's one of thunderclan's most precise and deadly fighters. his long windclan-like limbs allow for quick movement. like his father, he strikes like a snake. despite his prowess, he doesn't like fighting at all, and he would much rather hang around camp with his friend songfoot and take care of menial tasks like an apprentice or test out new herb tinctures for nectarbrook. he's very helpful and kind, if not a bit blunt. before snakestar died, he had goldenberry in mind as the next deputy as soon as galeheart finally kicked the bucket. he only didn't make him the deputy in the first place because he was an apprentice at the time.

("golden" comes from tommy's signature yellow, as well as his father's perception of him as highly important. "berry" comes from his general sillyness and his affinity for nectarbrook's various little treats.)

galeheart is a gregarious senior warrior and thunderclan's beloved deputy. despite his small stature, he's incredibly strong and overzealous. he loves his clan to death and he loves fighting even more, often dragging everyone into unnecessary squabbles just for the thrill of it. his loud, booming voice commands everyone's attention. he's quite old and really should be in the elders' den at this point, but his love for the warrior life keeps him going despite it all, and he's still in great shape. snakestar isn't quite so satisfied with galeheart's behavior, but there's not much he can do about that, given everyone else loves galeheart to bits. snakestar partially send him on that journey in hopes he would die already, but he has an unwavering spirit and he can and will outlive snakestar.

galeheart and gordon get along for the most part, but gordon is a little scared of him.

("gale" comes from coomer's general energy. he is a strong gust of wind to me. it also brings to mind the color white, which... is what galeheart is! "heart" also comes from his Vibes, mostly his fighting spirit.)

scorchtail is yet another old coot who should be getting ticks picked off of him by apprentices, but his stubbornness keeps him in his warrior position. he's not even particularly good at being a warrior-- he's cowardly and his battle strategy can best be described as the real life version of button-mashing. still, he's far too prideful to retire to the elders' den. he tends to follow galeheart around, since they grew up together and share similar positions in the clan. he's very antagonistic towards gordon, even moreso than songfoot. he has a special hatred of kittypets, seeing their lifestyle as an embarrassment.

("scorch" comes from bubby's association with fire as well as his sassy disposition, and "tail" comes from the tip of his tail looking burnt.)

snakestar is a starclan cat who was previously thunderclan's leader. he's generally cold and and analytical, and not much of a fighter, preferring to make others do his bidding. this behavior carried over very well to starclan, where he spends all his time being appropriately cryptic and unhelpful. he holds a lot of love for his one son, goldenberry, who he's always watching over. he doesn't care much for his other previous clanmates. he visits gordon in her dreams often to tell her vague things about her "part to play" and how important she is and all that. he arbitrarily decided that she was the subject of a prophecy, for the most part. i like to think starclan just makes shit up for fun. i think maybe one of his ancestors visited gordon when she was a kitten and made some kind of deal with her. i dunno. i'm in the very early stages of this au.

("snake" comes from gman's general vibes, but it's also an allusion to snakes in mythology [particularly abrahamic myth] being sleazy dealmakers with ill intent. before he was a leader, his suffix was "sight," alluding to his tendency to sit back and watch rather than run into battle.)

thanks for reading my long-ass ramblings, if you did! :-P idk if i'll actually do anything with any of this, but it's fun to think about...

[luminiscented]

Ninjago x Fem! Master of nature! reader

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Summary: you are the elemental master of nature <3, you are not related to Bolobo and he does not exist for the sake of this

Type: headcanons

Warnings: pure cloud made fluff <3333

Note: istfg everytime i write something i lose the time im mostly using 🫡 THIS SHIT DOESN'T HAPPEN IN GERMAN OR BULGARIAN WHAT IS GOING ON W ME!?!?!!!!!11

LLOYD

♡ Ever since he came to live with the ninja on the bounty you were immediate best friends <33 You are just so freeing and fun to be around!!

♡ He had a silly little crush on you as a kid,, he is plain head over heels as a grown up now though,,,,,,,,

♡ While the others just pushed him to train more and more until he was mentally exhausted, you would take him on little meditation forest picnics to clear his head and have fun after you're done with the (serious) meditations

♡Lloyd is amazed by your ability to always show him a part of a familiar place that is absolutely new and virgin to him,,

♡he loves how you find the beauty in every little being,, seeing you so in touch with your element gives him more motivation to explore his own and improve everyday

♡ you two would be rolling around in the grass and catching frogs and he would be the happiest he has been in weeks <3

♡ you are this boy's heaven and he thinks you are literally amazing,,

♡ you dislike forcefully growing your plants out so you play the guitar and sing to them to help them grow,,, he really likes singing along with you <3

♡Lloyd is a sucker for greek mythology and he loves pointing the similarities between you and the gods that rule over the wildlife. You adore listening to him ramble about it and its so interesting to you,,,,,,,

♡ Lloyd takes notice of how you're just as wild as the forest - gentle, beautiful, but still mystic and untamed,, he is in love

♡ He caught you catching a fish for an injured mama bear with your bare teeth. Just like that. UH-

Kai

♡ At first when you and the ninja begin to train under Wu together, Kai is so jealous of you,, you make the mastering of an element look so easy, while he was struggling so much,, of course he wouldn't let you notice, pfft yeah and give you an ego boost-

♡He is actually scared of embarrassing himself in front of you, since you look really nice and he wants you to think he is cool,,,,,,,,,,,

♡ Kai is about to lose his lunch when he sees someone cutting one of your limbs off during a battle,, he almost faints from worry while you just shrug it off and start growing a new one while the others take care of the villain and the half conscious Kai.

♡ When he comes to his senses, you're almost done shaping your new fingers into their original shape and he is blown away

♡ HOW THE HELL@@@????@

♡He is so impressed!! Kai actually realizes your body works just like a plant and is very curious on what else you can do, but doesn't want to annoy you so he keeps his questions to himself and sensei Wu

♡ Kai is proudly showing you off at dinner time that night!! He tells everyone how you were so brave and amazing and how your power is incredible!!!!!!!! He is also impressed with your pain tolerance

♡ At one point he notices your weakness to the cold and he is gladly there to warm you up he is dying on the inside he is so flustered

♡ Kai only buys you chocolates and never flowers, because he thinks you would be mad that he gives you your dead babies??????? Once he switched the chocolates with poppies in a pot (with a ribbon on!!) and it was adorable,,

♡ he is scared of bugs and when he makes you mad you put beetles in his hair

♡ you love sleeping in his room since it is so warm and toasty,, you bring your water bottle along every time and he finds it adorable, because you act just like a plant <33

♡He loves it when you change your hands into different objects/weapons,, you started chasing a screaming jay with your gigant axe hand and he kept hyping you up,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Zane

♡ you're weird, he's weird - soulmates1!!!

♡ Zane is absolutely in love with your connection with nature and wants to see the world through your eyes,,

♡ sometimes he gets a little insecure about how you can love him - a nindroid, knowing what you see, feel, your deep connection with life, but you are quick to comfort him that he is a living being that deserves just as much love as anything else that breathes the same air and walks the same earth as you all <33

♡ Zane spends a lot of time trying to understand how using your elemental power can come so easy to you and not the rest of them, but when he starts to join you in your free time more frequently he starts to understand - you just have fun with it. You let every new ability come to you naturally and you practice it little by little until you perfect it. You completely understand your power and do not pressure it. While Wu, purposely or not, guides you all to use your powers to fight, you use yours to create, to give, to help, to observe and to drown yourself in every sensation that no one else really can - your unique ability to understand every living being,,

♡ The titanium ninja is able to see the beauty that comes with your mastery and you both start learning from each other.

♡ You are in love,,

♡ Zane is quick to notice how your habits resemble ones of a plant and takes great care that you feel okay with the urban life of himself and his brothers <3 the most gentle boy ever,, reminds you of a daisy,,,,,

♡ The ice ninja is surprised to find out that you can survive on water and sunlight for long periods of time. Of course you never refuse to enjoy Zane's five star meals, but when food is scarce, you prefer your 5 liters of water and two hour long sunbaths,,

♡ HE IS VERY CAREFUL THAT YOU DON'T GET COLD,, Zane knows the cold is extremely harmful to you and you're more sensitive to it than his brothers so he gets really worried sometimes and tells you to get a coat in the 30 degrees Celsius summer weather,,,

Morro

♡ Morro sees you as so powerful,,, and very stunning <33

♡ When he first gets redeemed, he is struggling to make contact with the ninja and the butterflies in his stomach whenever he sees you approaching are not helping!!!1!

♡ At first you are very shy around him, because you find him very cool,, one day you come to him and quietly ask if he could use his wind to bring some rain clouds, because of the hot and dry weather and that is your first conversation,,,,,,, you are so shy,, he is in love

♡ You thank him for his help and invite him to spend some time with you outside

♡ PLEASE TIE HIS HAIR UP AND PUT SOME FLOWERS IN IT HE WILL ACT LIKE HE HATES IT, BUT HE IS ACTUALLY IN LOVE WITH IT,,,,,,,

♡ You make these meetings very regular and you enjoy each other's company so much <3

♡ Morro is very surprised to find out that you are aware/can hear what is happening around every compound plant - flowers, trees, etc.

♡ This ablity of yours is mostly very fun to use,, you regularly get a listen to some drama, heartfelt conversations, people complaining about their day and many others. You sometimes can't help it, but burst out laughing on the dinner table, because of a funny conversation that you could hear,,,,,,

♡ Morro loves hearing about them, but mostly loves listening to your laughter <333 He loves it when you are laying close to each other and you tell him about the people that share their love - a man writing a poem for his wife, a boy confessing his love to his crush, an old lonely lady wondering if she'll meet her dead lover in the afterlife,,,, it makes you both very emotional and you love sharing those with him because you both find them beautiful,,,,, it also helps you two to keep your relationship healthy and always know what is actually important <3

♡ Most of the time you are able to tone down almost completely all the noise, but some times it gets unbearable and overstimulating to the point you're breaking down,,, </3

♡ Morro is always there for you, holding you in his arms and keeping you away from any noises you could avoid. There is not much he is able to do to help and it breaks his heart </3 he gets so worried,, he goes to sensei Wu for advice.

♡ When it goes away you would be SPOILED,,,, mans is not letting you out of his sight for atleast the end of the day,,, <33333 HE LOVES YOU AND CARES ABOUT YOU SM !!!

Nya

♡ Water and plants?? Girlfriends.

♡ Nya absolutely adores you,,,,, she is just so in love,,,

♡ You help her understand her element more and she helps you with it so much,,,,,,

♡ You help her study different species and different cures for poison and she is always able to find a new spot for you two to explore

♡ She is absolutely in love when you put red flowers in her hair,, ITS HER FAVORITE COLOR!!!

♡ In her early training she wasn't really able to control much - only moving and creating water and she was so sad every time there was a flood somewhere, seeing your sad face,,, when you notice her looking at the ground guilty you pepper your girlfriend with kisses and reassure her that she has absolutely no fault <33

♡ She is very curious when you experiment with your powers!!!!!

♡ You could clearly see that Nya was needing an extra pair of hands when working on her Samurai X armor and she was very surprised to see 3 faceless girls made from lianas and vines coming up to her

♡ you appeared behind the 3 semi-sentient beings and told her that the 4 of you would help her out so it doesn't take as much time <33

♡ Nya is amazed, but she is mostly surprised that these 'plant copies' of you are able to understand and process information to a certain level,,, HOW!?!?

♡ You end up finishing the work on her armor in an hour and from then on she spends the entire day asking you questions about them!!!!!!! She is very interested in this!!!

♡ You explain to Nya the entire process which took around 4 months to perfect - starting from a little flower, then a tall fig, morphing and changing the forms to make your 'copies' look more soft and human,,, when you quietly mention you wanted to impress her she is RED!! YOU TAUGHT YOURSELF ALL OF THIS FOR HER???? dying on the inside,, system overload,,,,,,,,,,, <333333

Cole

♡ Everyone is jealous of how well you two work together as a team, especially when you fight!!

♡Your elements combine with great harmony so do your personalities <33

♡Cole adores your little forest dates and especially when you two talk about bugs and beetles <33 HE LOVES BEETLES!!!!1!11

♡ Since Cole is kind of the muscle of the team he ends up with little bruises and cuts littered all over his body after every battle and is delightfully surprised to find out that you can not only regenerate super fast, but you can also heal others with your herbs within minutes!!

♡ The way to Cole's heart is through his stomach so its definitely a win-win!! He is absolutely shocked the first time the bruises disappear within minutes and when he figures out you can heal with your food he is absolutely stunned,,, he is very curious and asks about your recipes and if you could help him be as good as you,,,,,,,

♡ You would all be coming home and the first thing to do is stuff your boyfriend's mouth with your lavender biscuits,,,,

♡ Zane may be in charge of the cooking, but you're in charge of the desserts <33

♡ Cole was in tears one time when you made him his mom's broth when he was sad,,,,,,

♡ When you're feeling overwhelmed he tries to recreate your treats with your healing herbs to cheer you up,,,, they are very ugly and lumpy, but they are tasty and made with a lot of love, so you two cuddle and eat sweets all night until you feel better <33

♡ He finds your love for wild animals very adorable,,,, a bear tried to attack the boys, but you just went up and hugged it as if it wasn't just trying to kill you all,,,,,,, YOU STARTED DANCING A WATZ WITH IT AFTERWARDS HOW ARE YOU SO PURE??!1!

Jay

♡ its a weird combination - nature and lightning, but you two make it sound so natural!! <3

♡ Jay is the ray of sunshine to your flower <33 His parents absolutely adore you and you love them a lot too!

♡ He is very impressed by all of your abilities! He is very vocal for his amazement and praises you all the time <33

♡ As a person who got sick every other week as a kid he is very jealous by your immunity to all bacterial, fungal and almost all virus infections. YOU NEVER HAD A SINGLE DAY OFF FROM SCHOOL AS A KID WHAT,,,,,

♡ He is a sucker for fruits and he loves it when you grow him fresh blueberries on the spot,,,,

♡ He sees you eating flowers out of the blue outside and when you tell him they are actually edible he is hesitant, but tries one for you,,, now he can't stop,, HE IS OBSESSED,,

♡ Your powers are somewhat connected to your feelings so it is not rare for you to accidentally grow something when someone gets a reaction out of you,,, JAY LOVES THAT,,,,,,, it shows how you are an actual person with feelings and he finds it so precious,,

♡ When he gets you all flustered, flowers start popping on top of your head,, he really succeeded if you got some blue ones among the others,,,,

♡ Sometimes cactuses pop out of nowhere when you get annoyed or angry

♡ All flowers in the room bloom when you're feeling happy and new ones come to life when you laugh <333

♡ Your power is so beautiful,,, he is ready for marriage,,

♡ Jay is very scared of your semi-sentient carnivorous plants,,, they don't like him very much </3

♡ You can literally make a whole army of those, but you just teach them how to dance<33 you are so pure,,,,

[claudemblems]

Zzz | Dan Heng

Summary: Your nap with Dan Heng is cut short by the realization that it's dinner time, but you have no intentions of giving up your place in his arms.

Notes: I'm writing for Star Rail now 🤭 Can you tell who my favorite character is lol

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“[Name], it’s time to get up. The others are expecting us.”

Who cares? you thought to yourself, not daring to move a muscle lest you should let your boyfriend know that you were, indeed, very much awake. He would have chided you for your remark despite inwardly agreeing with you. Someone has to be the practical one in this relationship, he’d told you once, but becoming your boyfriend had to be the least practical of decisions he’d made in recent years. With your insatiable curiosity and heroic soul, you always ran yourself head first into the unknown without a single thought of what danger could lie ahead. But you were a magnetic force that even Dan Heng could not repel, and like a moth to a flame, he found himself drawn to you–every part of you–and if that meant setting himself ablaze, then so be it.

Dan Heng being so hopelessly in love with you meant that you could get away with a few more minutes of “sleep”, right…?

Not quite.

“[Name].” He gently shook your shoulders, sighing to himself when you showed no signs of waking. “March is going to give me another one of her punctuality lectures if we don’t get to dinner on time, which is ironic coming from her, but still.”

You nearly let out a laugh before catching yourself, quickly disguising it as a disgruntled snore. March 7th already annoyed Dan Heng enough as it was, but nothing unnerved him quite like when she chastised him as if she were his big sister. The disdain on Dan Heng’s face could be seen plain as day to everyone around, but, much to his dismay, his friends found themselves entertained by his so-called misery. But he was used to the antics of his fellow passengers by now…mostly.

Still, he would have liked to avoid a lengthy scolding from March if possible.

“[Name]...”

After a few moments of silence, Dan Heng breathed out a sigh of defeat. Not one to go to dinner alone (not since you entered into the picture), he decided to join you in catching up on some sleep. He situated the pillows of his makeshift bed into a more comfortable position before laying down beside you, and carefully, as to not wake you, he wrapped his arms around your back, pressing you close to his chest. You were glad that he couldn’t see the obvious flush to your cheeks—not only to spare you your own embarrassment, but also because your cover would have been blown. Sleeping people don't blush at their lovers' touch, after all. You already Dan Heng right where you wanted him, and you weren’t about to let anything come between you and your bliss.

That was, until a hot breath fanned against your neck and you jumped.

“I knew you were awake.”

“Dan Heng,” you hissed, instinctively hiding your face in your hands. “I just wanted some more alone time with you. Are you really going to get mad at me for that?”

“I’d never be angry with you,” he assured, using his elemental powers to ruffle your hair, something he only did when he was feeling particularly affectionate. “Maybe a little annoyed, but you can make it up to me by being on the receiving end of March’s lecture this time.”

“All right, fine,” you sighed dramatically, but you couldn’t hold back the smile forming on your face. “Looks like I win again.”

“And what did you win, exactly?”

“Your attention. I’m keeping track of how many times you choose to give into my impulsivity over your practicality. So far, I'm on a winning streak.”

“You really are as unpredictable as that stellaron you have.”

“And like a star, my gravitational pull is too strong for you to resist.”

“How cheesy.”

“You just wish you had a stellaron that made people so captivated by your presence.”

Dan Heng smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to your hair. “Stellaron or not, my heart would still find its way back home to yours every time, My Starlight.”

“Dan Heng—! You can’t just get all mushy like that all of a sudden, I…”

“Flustered?” he asked, and just by the tone of his voice, you knew he was grinning.

“I’m telling March that our absence at dinner is your fault after all.”

[not-my-final-account]

By the way, head cannon that Fright Knight speaks about himself in his head in third person when he feels more like a knight than a human/sentient so yeah.

-

Fright Knight accidentally adopts his King, emotionally at least. It wasn’t his fault! His king was bruised so he asked and he was getting bullied, and his parents didn’t do anything and they were ghost hunters who want to kill and study him! Fright Knight had never thought he would be co-parenting with ghost hunters, lucky he had a human form. With a bit of help from Clockwork and Pandora Fright Knight was know King Phantoms legal god father, he was claiming custody if King Phantoms parents found out he was Phantom and reacted negatively; honestly he probably should right now given how many expamples of neglect he already had, but King Phantom was happy. Now let Fright Knight explain how he got here:

Fright Knight is used to Pariah Dark who is no doubt abusive in one way or another. Fright Knight is used to not moving a hair when his king orders him to stop. Fright Knight is used to a horrible king with a cold heart that knows no bounds to its selfishness.

When King Phantom comes Fright Knight assumes it will be the same.

King Phantom is not the same. It takes a few months but Fright Knight realised that King Phantom veiws him as an equal. As a person not a servant. This only makes Fright Knight more loyal to him, he thinks he would stay with King Phantom even if he got dethroned. His king had a heart of gold that put others before itself, while this had gotten King Phantom into a lot of trouble Fright Knight dared say that… he liked the change.

He was so used to installing fear into the people he meets, or being the one scared in Pariah Darks case, that he was confused when King Phantom seemed to do neither. King Phantom even asked if he had eaten and then brought him something called a Nasty Burger when he said he had not (Fright Knight did not know why they were called ‘Nasty’ they tasted adequate).

King Phantom was so young, being King was not a burden he should be forced to carry! Fright Knight was shocked to realise how many burdens a literal infant (in ghost terms anyways) had been forced to carry. And King Phantom was a kind and fair ruler, perhaps too mercyful for his own good Fright Knight mused.

Fright Knight is forever loyal to his kind King and has grown to care for him outside of a knight wanting to protect the king. So when King Phantom walked into a small lair he had made in his castle, with bruises on the side of his face and arm, Fright Knight decided to find who did this and give them a little tap with his sword, anyone who would hurt King Phantom deserved the fear Fright Knight would install in them. “Who did this?” Fright Knight asked, King Phantom glanced up then to the bruises on his arm

“Oh this? Dash bullies me pretty much every day, he got a bad test score.” King Phantom mentioned. King Phantom had told Fright Knight to understand a situation before jumping to conclusions to stop potentially dangerous misunderstandings

“Why would you change his test score?” Fright Knight asked

“I didn’t. He just likes to take things out on me and got partically mad today, hit me with a tray then shoved me in a locker and got my late to class. It wasn’t my locker which was just plain annoying.” King Phantom said, Fright Knight picked up his sword

“Where does Dash live?” he asked.

“Fright Knight! I’ve told you not to kill -or trap on their worst fears- people, even if they’ve mean to me.” King Phantom said.

“Understood. I will not go after Dash.” Fright Knight said, King Phantom nodded happily and that made not hurting Dash worth it (for now). However there were other parts of King Phantoms sentance that set off alarms “Your parents don’t do anything?” Fright Knight asked, he shifted to his human form (the king had made and gifted him a small amulet that allowed this, for when Fright Knight needed to see or be with King Phantom but could not be seen as Fright Knight. He had dark skin, dreadlocked hair, tatoos down his arms and usually wore sweatpants with armour hidden underneath them and depending on the situation either a hoodie also with hidden armour or just a black singlet.) and sat down on the bed next to the king

“They don’t notice.” King Phantom said gloomily. Fright Knights eyes wet wide and glowed blue

“What?!” he asked

“Their busy hunting ghosts.” King Phantom explained

“Hunting ghosts- to help you?” I asked

“No. They’ve been ghost hunters for years before they had me. They want to capture me actually and ‘tear the ghost boy apart molecule by molecule’.” King Phantom said

“Any other family you stay with?” I asked hopefully

“Well you know how Jazz my sister is nice, but she can’t move out yet. And Vlad is my uncle-” King Phantom started

“My appologies for interupting but Plasmius is your uncle?!” I asked

“Yeah I know! He keeps scolding me about my grades while we’re fighting! He knows full well that inbetween Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom and King Phantom I barely have time to study!” King Phantom said, I was already planning out people to take over some less important kingly duties

“I am talking to your parents.” I announced as I stood up

“What?! No! The cousin excuse only works so many times and at least even if he looked like a ghost Dan is the same ethnicity-”

“I’m sorry, your parents care so little they don’t even realise that the people you brang home are not your cousins?” I asked in horror, King Phantom paused

“Well, yeah. When you put it that way it sounds bad.” he said. I walked out the door and through a portal, walking straight into the Fenton house and pretending to be a friendly out-of-towner with an intrest in ghost hunting looking for teachers and a place to stay. My name was going to be Frie Getgi Ver, pronounced Fry Get-gi ver so fright giver, if they didn’t notice that they were truely horrible parents.

Part 1 | Part 2 (not written yet)

[alastor-simp]

How Do They Apologize To You When They Make You Upset/Mad Part 1/2 - Ace Trappola

Ace was being his annoying self as always, bragging about something while you and the other Heartslabyul members were sitting in the cafeteria of NRC. Some were listening to him, but others tuned him out, like you. Ace had this side to him when you first met at the Great Seven statues, laughing that a plain human like you made a mockery of yourself at the opening ceremony. He wasn't as bad the more you got to know him, but there were certain parts of his personality that still ticked you off. "Y/N? Y/N?!", Ace was waving his hand in your face to get your attention. "Oh I'm sorry, I was thinking about something.", you said, while giving Ace an apologetic smile. "Its fine, I was wondering if you wanted to help me with my alchemy homework?" Ace said, while everyone turned their attention to you and Ace, especially Riddle as he was surprised Ace was thinking about his studies for once. "Um, why are you asking me for help? I'm sure Riddle or Trey could help you." You said, as you glanced over at Riddle and Trey with your eyes. "Ace, while I approve of you thinking about your assignments, Y/N is still considered a new student since they are not from here." Riddle said, as he looked at you with soft eyes, and back to Ace with a more stern gaze. Ace's face was blank for a second, until he smirked and leaned back on his chair, " Aha, I forgot Y/N is completely useless since they don't know a thing about magic." Everyone looked at Ace with a glare, especially Deuce who was sitting next to you. "I'm surprised you're still here at Night Raven, despite being a magicless human. I was expecting Crowley to have sent you on your way by now." The whole table was shocked as they turned to look at you, and noticed the small tears that were welling up in your eyes, as you got up silently from the table and walked away without a word. No one said anything, but Deuce was the first to react as he grabbed Ace by the collar, "WHY YOU! HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT TO Y/N?!?!!? Deuce was getting ready to punch Ace in the face, but he was stopped by Trey as he grabbed his arm, stopping the fist from connecting. "What are you getting mad at me for?!, Ace said, as he looked at everyone, confused, wondering why they were all mad at him. "ACE!!! YOU BETTER GO AND APOLOGIZE TO Y/N RIGHT NOW, OR SO HELP ME, IT WILL BE OFF WITH YOU HEAD!!!!!!, Riddle screamed at Ace, with his signature red face, while Cater was behind Riddle, ready to hold him back from doing something similar to what Deuce did. Trey looked at Ace then gestured for Ace to go and find you.

[bloodiedrogue]

DEPOLLUTE ME, GENTLE ANGEL

SUMMARY: Gale's been hiding behind his pride for far too long. Or at least, Astarion thinks so.

PAIRING: Astarion & Gale

WORD COUNT: 2,053

WARNINGS: Descriptions of decomposition and injuries. Brief mentions of dissociation.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, this idea has been consuming my brain since I read @ssalballoon's comic about rotting gale. Obviously the concept isn't mine and is heavily inspired by their art, so please give them some love! <3

MASTERLIST

-

Something’s wrong with Gale. 

Often smelling more like a batch of tanned leather than a human wizard, Astarion can’t help but linger at its presence. Despite the way it violently rips through his senses —clouding his vision like a putrid fog of death— the smell is strangely intoxicating. A temptation of sorts, plaguing his thoughts with a powerful sweetness wrapped in rotting flesh. 

It calls to him in ways he doesn’t quite understand. As the days pass, he can feel it clinging to his nose, assaulting his senses each time the wizard draws near. Ripping through him like a bloodied knife reeking of day-old viscera. 

Most days, it’s presence is fickle. Ebbing and flowing like the tides, there are moments in between when he’s able to breathe a sigh of relief and forget the strange desires that sit at the back of his mind. Moments where the air is pure and unalloyed —no longer tainted by whatever shit Gale’s got collecting underneath that wretched bandage of his. Ones where Astarion can breathe without the threat of a fragrant assault each time the wizard passes. Allowing him time to think of himself rather than focusing on the increasing injury that Gale hides in plain sight. 

Because Astarion can tell it’s getting worse. As the days turn to nights and circle back, he can see the subtle changes in Gale’s behaviour. How the wizard’s charm has slowly dampened over time, leaving nothing more but this suppressant version of himself, aimlessly floating from one camp to the next. 

It drives him mad if he’s honest. Watching the way Gale refuses to cook with his hands. Instead choosing to waste his precious Weave to pilot those ridiculous apparitions. Or how he no longer waves his hands like a man gone mad each time he speaks. It’s depressing really, seeing him swiftly wither away. Witnessing the downfall of his autonomy each time he struggles to hold his staff during battle. 

Even conversations with him have changed. Once resembling an elegant show of vast grandeur, talking to him has become nothing more than some menial task. A boring back and forth lacking that past boisterous quality of wit. 

Astarion knows it’s because he’s exhausted. Slowly rotting from the inside out will do that to you, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying. Especially because he’s become embarrassingly reliant on the bastard. Not that he would never admit it out loud but the man’s become somewhat of a constant in his daily routine. A moment in time he stupidly looks forward to each time they both find themselves awake before everyone else. 

Considering neither of them sleep, over the weeks it’s become a constant to greet each other before breakfast. To simultaneously wander out of their respective tents when the sun comes up, stretching their aches and pains away before meeting by the snuffed-out fire. Usually, Gale will greet him like an old friend, his tone cheery or playful, while Astarion merely nods and grumbles his way back to consciousness, eventually giving in to whatever conversation the wizard’s decided to focus his energy on.

It sounds preposterous given the circumstances but he enjoys the company. More so than he probably should, he thinks. Which makes the decreasing energy of his friend’s soul all the more painful to watch.

And to smell. Especially now that they’ve returned from battle, caked in the blood of their enemies —coated in dirt and sweat. All of it mixing together to create a cocktail-induced headache Astarion has to pretend not to notice.

Clearing a lump in his throat, as soon as they’re back he rushes for the lake just South of their campsite. Paying no mind to the rest of the party who follow leisurely behind, he quickly takes a deep breath to try and calm himself down. Sucking the tainted air as he closes his eyes, he pauses to allow it to filter through his lungs, counting each second spent struggling to maintain any sort of composure before he inevitably lets out it. 

With just an inhalation or two he can tell Gale’s only a few feet back, moving slower than usual. Most likely sitting at the tail-end of the pack in order to push through the pain of his injury.

As they continue walking to their shared destination, Astarion can’t help but pity the poor fool, knowing how difficult it must be to move after all that excitement. Considering throughout their encounter he could see him struggling, it’s a miracle he’s still upright. Having spent the majority of the fight using his staff more like an anchor than a weapon, Astarion could feel the irritability of everything coursing through his veins —rushing through him alongside the adrenaline of battle.

It quickly became obvious he shouldn’t have been there in the first place. What with him whiffing every other shot and defiantly going against Tav’s orders. Having him around had become nothing short of a liability. And based on how hard he’d managed to push himself, he knew it too. 

Which is why he refuses to stop, even now as they make it to the water’s edge and begin stripping down to wash away past thoughts and actions. Instead of acknowledging his need for help he merely continues to ignore the issue, walking down to the furthest point of the lake so that he can hope to slip away unnoticed. 

Immediately going against such an idea, Astarion follows behind, keeping just enough distance so that he can remain undetected as he watches the wizard struggle to lower himself to the rocks below. Staring at the way his hands shake with the kind of violent energy Astarion’s far too familiar with.

Frowning at the memory of having to dig himself from his own grave centuries before, he can still feel the rupture of his knuckles against the dirt. How they cracked under the pressure of his desperation, threatening to break just like Gale’s now seem to do. 

Remembering the irritation of the filth beneath his nails, Astarion can’t help but flex his digits at the same time Gale swipes his good hand across his face. Watching how the frustrated features disappear behind his fingers before returning with exhaustion.

A sight that immediately makes Astarion frown. A sort of sadness filling up his chest at the image of his friend struggling to maintain whatever semblance of strength he has left. Sympathy latching onto his bones in the form of cautious steps that force him from his hiding spot. 

“You look like you could use a hand.” 

Before he can even think to stop his offer, Astarion moves to the wizard’s side, acting as if the smell doesn’t bother him. Pretending like the scent of the stained cloth that coats the lower half of his arm doesn’t remind him of a festering corpse splitting open to reveal spoiled organs.

“Care to lend an arm as well?”

Unfortunately, Gale's joke falls flat. Not necessarily because of the material but because of the tone. Its lack of joy hitting Astarion’s ears in a way that furthers the ache. Forcing him to kneel in front of his friend with a sigh. “You know you’re starting to worry the others.” 

“Am I?” 

Ignoring the question, Astarion’s fingers gently inch towards the top of Gale’s dressings, searching for an opening —twitching reluctantly against the sweaty fabric as they continue to sit in silence. Neither one of them able to speak out of fear of revealing too much. 

Which only increases the pain inside Astarion’s chest. Like a knife, it pushes through his lungs, creating deep craters for the rotten scent to penetrate —holes the size of Gale’s hands that now rest limply against his lap.

Peeling away the soiled cloth, Astarion holds his breath while Gale lets out his. Both of their minds struggling not to veer off course as the bandage is torn away, revealing sick skin. Showing them both the polluted flesh that wraps around broken-down muscle and bone. 

“You reek, you know. Of... whatever this is.”

All Gale does is hum as he reaches into the pocket of his robes, prompting Astarion to narrow his eyes until there’s a fresh set of bandages placed in front of him. Then he merely grabs them and begins to work, slowly unravelling them as he looks at Gale’s expression, noting the slight blush across his cheeks. How his eyes grow heavier with each passing moment they spend together. 

“You should really consider finding a cure,” he says. “For my sake, obviously.” 

Grinning then, Astarion expects some sort of quip, but again, all he’s met with is silence. The continued absence of Gale’s wit refusing to acknowledge the obvious. Most likely rejecting the idea that for once the vampire’s making sense. 

A fact that fills Astarion with annoyance, knowing the pride Gale feels is something he deeply relates to. How every day he’s met with the struggle of asking for help versus manipulating it out. Each moment he spends with any one of his companions he has to resist the urge to beg for their assistance. To ignore the desire to drop to his knees and cry for a forgiveness none of them are aware of in hopes of earning their aid. 

It’s the same reason why he’s currently helping Gale. Why, instead of granting the wizard time to brood by his lonesome he’s instead inserting himself into his space. Taking it upon himself to woo and distract —making it seem like it’s merely just kindness. 

It's what he always does, despite the reluctance that sits at the back of his mind. How he earns the trust of all the people he encounters. Similar to Gale, he uses his pride to his advantage, showing it off to anyone who will see it. Producing it as if it were a mask instead of the blade that constantly nicks his skin each time he weaponizes it. 

Always hiding behind its decorative design, Astarion allows his confidence to do the talking. To earn their trust as they continue towards their common goal despite knowing that it’s wrong. 

“Apologies for the burden I’ve become as of late.” 

Too engrossed in thought, Astarion nearly misses Gale’s apology. Focusing on their shared advantages, his voice is faint at first, barely hitting his ears as his fingers absentmindedly work around his arm. Echoing in the back of his mind over and over again until it’s clear as day, forcing him to look up. 

His eyes are distant in a way that breaks the vampire’s heart. Shattering on impact, he has to swallow down the shards that try to escape, feeling them slice across his esophagus as he tries his best to ignore the sting of Gale’s expression. How it grows in both distance and familiarity the longer the two of them stay.

“You wouldn’t be a burden if you set your pride aside for once.” 

Gale huffs and then blinks, returning all at once. His moment of absence becoming nothing more than a memory that both of them will eventually forget. “You’re one to talk, aren’t you?”

Astarion lets out a single ha —one filled with total falseness. “You and I are nothing alike, wizard,” he then lies, even though Gale’s right. 

Far too often he sees himself within him. Lurking in the strangest of places, it’s as if Gale’s behaviours often mirror his own. Always reminding him of his motivations —prompting him to question why he does what he does as he’s forced to stare at these distorted images. Ones that look familiar but somewhat changed to better suit the wizard’s needs.

“Perhaps… perhaps not. I suppose it depends on the finer details.” 

This time, Astarion’s the one to remain silent. Opting to ignore the tightness in his chest that presents itself to turn his attention to the bandage now fully wrapped around Gale’s arm, allowing his fingers to trail down his wrist to grab his hand. 

“Well, for the right amount of coin I’m sure there’s a decent healer in Baldur’s Gate who could help you,” he says, once again smelling that scent. Feeling it rush through his nose like a rapid river of disgust, forcing him to clear his throat and mind as he raises the wizard’s knuckles to his lips before leaving without another word.

-

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi@rainonarden@oceanbluesixeyes@bodtyworship@maydayitsjay@greasyslimebucket@yeeteth-the-raven@fantasyfairysworld@allexthakatt@flowersaretheshit@morglyne@thespectacularspaceace@cephiss0@use-your-telescope@furblrwurblr@kloverfield@angelofthorr@writervaul-t@starved-kitten@minixluvr@crowley--aziraphale@sapphicwren@alionera-blog@jennithejester@dezedrol@thisisew@saladalpaca@applepiewithbacon@httpbiohazard@aurasyn@nerdoodles@kingpinthedevil@itzkawaiix@domainoflostsouls@silverskylan@uminootome@helpidkwhatimdoingwrong@deadlyinfernos@blackbirdswhispers@sarahskywalker-amadala@writingmysanity@f3v3rs@jayjones03@quietlyebbie@optimisticprime3@eyes-for-daze@sunnytalia3@megoshh@maddiedott@cappsikle@mostbeautifulnightmare@lynnlovesloki@simpytheshrimpy69@astarion-archive@smaranshakthi@autistic-deer@shadowfeart@freckled-petals@candied-lavender@hp-art-studio@ghouligan@satelliteapotheosis@waywardwitch-hel@pandimoostuff@mythoughtsofinsanity@ilovelovelylove@oneandonlyizabelle

TAGLIST NOW CLOSED!

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 5th: Role Model | Slow Down — Ozzy Osbourne | Brave a/n: hospital setting, dustin & eddie heart-to-heart, post-s4 canon, implied pre-steddie if you squint. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

Eddie’s always hated the color white. 

It’s too… empty, still, plain. Is it even a color? Or is it just the absence of color? He’s never been sure. Maybe he should’ve paid a little more attention in his art classes instead of going off-task and drawing Hellfire and Corroded Coffin designs. What matters though is that he’s always hated the color white and now, in what can only be described as adding insult to injury, he’s connected to several beeping machines surrounded and draped in nothing but white. Sterile, boring, useless white. 

The beeping is at least a solace, both in its predictable rhythm and as a sign that he’s still alive. Maybe he’ll eventually feel more comfortable with his survival but it’d been touch and go for awhile there so for now, he’s glad to have some sort of reminder that his heart is, indeed, beating. 

Another welcome reminder is the slew of visitors he’s had since waking up, some of whom have apparently been in and out since before he’d been brought out of the medically-induced coma. Wayne, of course, was no surprise. Steve, and Robin, and Nancy, and a few of their friends from California were something of a surprise but he supposes it makes sense. They’d nearly gone down together and Eddie’s sure they’re splitting time between his room and Max’s down the hall. 

Dustin Henderson though? Dustin surprises him. 

Not necessarily that he’s been there, waiting, probably giving the nurses the worst headaches of their lives with his questions and suggestions. The little shit loves him, he knows that without a shadow of a doubt now, but Eddie’s shocked that he’s not angry. Since waking up, Eddie’s just laid there, watching cartoons on the tiny TV bolted into the corner of the too-white room with the kid, his own casted leg propped up on the side of Eddie’s bed. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he was just at home in the trailer. It feels too normal. 

Finally, one day, Eddie asks. Maybe it’s the latest round of painkillers that loosen his lips, but he has to ask. He has to know. 

“Henderson?” Eddie asks, keeping his eyes trained on the television. 

“Yeah?” Dustin responds. 

“Are you like… are we like… are we good? Are you not pissed at me?” It’s hard for him to choke out, stumbling over his words. The opinion of a kid shouldn’t frighten him so much but goddamn, it’s like asking his little brother if he hates him. He’s terrified of a Yes. 

Silence sits between them, Dustin surely burning a hole into the side of Eddie’s head. He can damn near feel it. Scooby Doo drones on though, and Eddie hopes that maybe Dustin just didn’t hear him. He’s on the good shit, so maybe he’d only asked in his head. 

“I was, a little bit, yeah.” 

But was is past-tense, and that just makes no sense. Dustin deserves to be mad at him, he’d gone off the plan and nearly died in front of him. Why isn’t he mad? What changed?

“What changed your mind?” Eddie still doesn’t look at him. 

“Dude, look at me for a second. This is way more important than what closet the ghost ran into.” Dustin’s tone is annoyed and a little pushy, just the way he’d been before all of this. 

Eddie sighs and turns to face Dustin, who’s looking at him with pinched eyebrows and wide eyes. 

“I was so goddamn mad at you, Eddie. You almost died. Well, technically, you did for a minute there but that’s besides my point. You didn’t need to go back, and I was mad that you, someone I look up to, did something so stupid.” 

Dustin takes a breath– it’s shaky, and Eddie nods him on encouragingly. He doesn’t speak though, doesn’t want to interrupt something that’s clearly not done. 

“And then… well, Steve sat me down and explained what you said when he was carrying you out of there.” 

Eddie’s heart monitor speeds up at the mention of Steve, and the mention that he’d apparently been talking before he blacked out and has absolutely no fucking memory of what he’d said. Dustin, genius and all that, notices and places a hand on top of Eddie’s which he only distantly recognizes is gripping the edge of the bar. 

“Hey, you alright?” 

Eddie nods again and makes a gesture with his free hand to continue. If he opens his mouth, he might vomit. Or panic. Maybe both, and neither is conducive to the conversation at hand. He’ll have that conversation with Steve later. 

Dustin eyes him with uncertainty but continues on regardless. “So, yeah. Steve told me what you said about making sure that I was okay, that you were bleeding out all over him and couldn’t shut up about my stupid ankle, that you were so sorry and it wasn’t supposed to happen like that, that you were trying to help however you could but you couldn’t let the bats get out. Or get to me.” 

Eddie sees the way Dustin’s throat bobs and his eyes begin to gloss over. If he starts crying right now, Eddie might lose it himself. He’s about to make some joke and deflect like he always does, but Dustin steamrolls on. 

“And that’s just– Eddie, do you know how brave that is? That’s the stuff of D&D heroism. That’s insane, and don’t ever do it again, but how could I stay mad at you for caring about me? And about all of us? I’m not a complete asshole.” 

Dustin calls him brave and Eddie's chest tightens, his jaw clicking with the effort it takes not to burst into tears. A few deep breaths later and he’s able to open his mouth without humiliating himself. 

“Well, not all the time, at least,” he teases, his laugh weak and his smile wide. 

“You know, Eddie, we were having such a nice moment there and you had to go and ruin it.” Dusin retorts, rolling his eyes and settling back into his chair. “Actually, you’re the asshole because you haven’t even asked to sign my cast yet. I’ve been telling everyone else who’s asked No because you get first dibs.” 

Dustin fishes around in his pocket, twisting in weird ways that Eddie can’t imagine he’ll ever be able to again, before coming up with a black Sharpie. “Do your worst.” 

Eddie takes the Sharpie and stares down at the cast. It’s white, just like the bed sheets and the painted cinder block walls, and curtains, and stupid hospital gown that doesn’t close in the back. But Dustin’s cast doesn’t feel sterile or empty. 

It just feels like canvas, and maybe the walls of this hospital room can be the same blank slate on which Eddie can rebuild his life.

[forevfangirlwrites]

play stupid games, win stupid prizes chapter 22 (end)

A few days later finds both of them in the library so Annabeth can grab a book and Percy can watch her grab a book. Though the simple task of grabbing said book is made more complicated by Percy’s hand on her waist, then her back, and then down her arms and basically the boy won’t stop touching her.

Or pulling her in closer.

And she supposes this is what they mean by the honeymoon phase cause she doesn’t find herself getting too annoyed with him for it.

“Percyyy,” she whines, trying to hide her smile.

He doesn’t attempt to hide his. “Yeah?”

Like he gets to play innocent. She doesn’t try too hard to shrug him off as she finally finds the book and grabs it.

“Alright, we can leave now, which is clearly what you’ve wanted to do this entire time.”

“Not true,” he retorts. “I would enjoy pushing you up against—”

He cuts off as a group of people walk by. And if she isn’t mistaken, that blue streak is definitely Thalia’s hair.

Percy glances at her and she’s pretty sure he noticed too.

They peer around the shelves and sure enough Piper, Jason, Leo and Thalia are sitting at a table that is, thankfully, not in plain sight of where the two of them are.

“What the fuck?” Percy whispers as she pulls him back.

“Careful, don’t let them see you,” she whispers back.

“But what are they doing?”

“I need to get closer…but you shouldn’t be seen with me.”

“But I wanna know too,” he whines. She almost gives up her mission just to kiss the pout off his lips.

“I’ll meet you outside,” she tells him. “Even if they do see me, it’s not weird for me to be here.”

It’s clear by his pout that he’s upset that she’s right. But with another look from her, he quietly leaves the shelves while she tries to get closer without them seeing.

She hops over to the next row of shelves that gets her within hearing range of the conversation.

“—evidence to point that they are together,” Piper is saying when she is finally able to listen in.

What?

“So…” Thalia says slowly.

“So,” Piper says with more passion than before. “If I’m right, and I have presented my evidence, then they’re dating and hiding it from us!”

“You make some good points,” Jason says, probably to mostly be in support of his girlfriend.

Annabeth has no idea what Piper’s evidence is, but it’s clear that they are talking about her and Percy. Otherwise, they would have been invited to this group meeting.

“So they might be lying, which is rude, but what do we do?” Thalia asks.

The grin that makes its way on Piper’s face is actually a little scary.

“Well, first we see if I’m right, and that means…” she trails off, but Thalia is finally picking up what she’s trying to put down.

“We fuck with them.”

And that’s all Annabeth really needs to know. So before her luck runs out and she gets caught, she hightails out of the library to find Percy waiting around the corner.

“Well?” It’s clear he’s dying to know what’s going on.

But Annabeth is a bit busy gathering her thoughts, after all it takes two to play…

And she’s not half bad at games.

-.-

The next morning, Piper is at her locker earlier than normal, chatting away about Katie’s secret admirer like it’s a normal day. And like she hadn’t been planning on testing her best friend on a potential relationship just yesterday.

Honestly, Annabeth isn’t even mad, it’s going to be fun and she really shouldn’t be lying to their friends about said relationship anyway.

She’d discussed it with Percy afterwards and their plan culminated into basically messing with them back. And then to come clean because they’re both about ready to be done with the secrets anyway.

But why not have some fun while they can?

Sure enough, a minute later Jason and Percy are walking towards them.

“Piper, you forgot your notebook,” Jason says, clearly using it as an excuse.

KEEP READING ON AO3

[princess-of-purple-prose]

My SVSSS Peaks/ Peak Lords

Plain text: My SVSSS Peaks/ Peak Lords

(Basically a reference post for myself as much as an excuse to talk about them :) )

5. Qi Xi (栖息), the Beast Peak / Peak Lord Ye Qingzhu (叶 清竹)

Qi Xi specializes in beast rearing and mounts; they're one of Cang Qiong's money-making peaks (along with being very expensive to run, lmao), which is why they're ranked so highly. Its name can mean "dwelling" or "bird's perch" :)

Ye Qingzhu's name comes from "Ye" for leaf and means "pure bamboo"! (The very obvious nature theme is actually unintentional; my naming reference site lied to me and I'm too attached to change her name at this point, lmaoo.) She's no-nonsense and very practical, but she can take a joke!

Yqz is middle-aged and looks it, is quite burly, and has missing fingers and scars under her right eye/over her left eyebrow from handling accidents; the former are from her disciple days. She wears vambraces and keeps her hair in a simple bun accessorized only with a hairstick

9. Zui Xian (最先), the Beverages Peak / Peak Lord Peng Qingsen (彭 清森)

This is a canon peak, but we know nothing about it, so my city now! Zui Xian is canonically where the Peak Lords meet up to have dinner (which: cute!!!), so I dubbed them a peak that produces spiritual wines and spiritual teas to sell to both other cultivators and to mortals. They probably dabble in broader agriculture as well, making them another one of Cang Qiong's money-makers!

To match Zui Xian's overall good vibes, Peng Qingsen is an amiable old uncle type, easygoing and well-muscled from field labor; he often hands out friendly shoulder pats which are varyingly appreciated by his fellow Lords, lmao. He's a good cook and fond of hosting, and his name means "clear forest," just to be on theme

10. Yuan Zhi (远志), the Arrays Peak / Peak Lord Song Qingyu (宋 清雨)

Yuan Zhi means "lofty ideal," which reflects the importance of the Peak's work-- they handle Cang Qiong's protective spells and wards! Their members are often called upon by non-cultivators to ghost-proof homes and to fortify or bless land

Song Qingyu's name means "clear rain." Sqy is fat, probably in her mid-30s, and she wins the prize for being the most-- indeed, the only-- bubbly personality of all the Peak Lords. In fact, she's so overly friendly that she’s seen as kind of annoying, but she's also so competent that everyone has to ignore it <3 Thankfully, she hasn't quite caught on that not everyone's into her morning-person vibes :')

Sqy has a personal grudge against Huan Hua bc one of their disciples snubbed her skills + Cang Qiong as a whole when she was head disciple and she never forgave them. Also, she'd never admit this out loud, but she hates having to sit next to Hong Qingfeng, since he's kind of yell-y and she doesn't really appreciate that energy

11. Zhi Man (枝蔓), the Artifacts Peak / Peak Lord Cai Qingxuan (蔡 清萱)

Zhi Man handles the creation and identification of artifacts and talismans/seals! It's very much a Peak full of mad scientists; Zhi Man's name literally means "branches and shoots," but it has the figurative meaning of describing something overcomplicated, which perfectly suits my vague imaginings of how seals work

Cai Qingxuan got her last name from the Cai Lun who invented papermaking, and her first name means "pure daylily." She's on the younger side and is kind of the prissy straight-A student type, and she keeps to herself for the most part. (She is continually besieged by sqy's well-meaning overtures of friendship; rip them both.) She has a slight tendency to act without thinking out of a mild case of arrogance, which doesn't pair well with her inability to handle flusterment. (She'd have gotten along great with Shen Jiu if he wasn't even bitchier than she is)

12. Ku Xing (苦行), the Ascetic Peak / Peak Lord Hong Qingfeng (朱 清风)

Another canon Peak, but my Peak Lord! Hong Qingfeng's name means "pure wind," but the pinyin is a holdover from when I'd originally spelled his name with a 锋 for "spear point" in honor of his canonical "fiery temper" before I decided that didn't fit the overall Qing generation's naming scheme, lmaoo

Hqf is the oldest Peak Lord, and I think he has an interest in penjing (the Chinese tree art which bonsai originated from!)

Extra notes:

My Peak order goes: Qiong Ding, Qing Jing, Wan Jian, An Ding, Qi Xi, Xian Shu, Bai Zhan, Qian Cao, Zui Xian, Yuan Zhi, Zhi Man, and Ku Xing

I envision sect meetings taking place over a long oval table with the first and twelfth peaks at the short ends and even-numbered and odd-numbered peaks placed on opposite sides. This makes sqh and sqq neighbors, and qqq and mqf are also neighbors!

I put Qian Cao as the eighth Peak because if I have to grit my teeth and accept the canon that mqf is lqg's shidi and not the other way around, I am not putting him more than one single peak below Bai Zhan, ALRIGHT

No, I still don't know what Xian Shu does. "Lesbians" is the official Peak specialty in my notes. (Realistically, I think it's primarily a safe haven for young women escaping circumstances-- it's likely split between poor younger girls and rich noblewomen trying to leave their households, and plenty are probably taking advantage of cultivation's curtailing effect on reproduction. Xian Shu, home of lesbians and spinsters!)

(Stolen joke:) Ku Xing had to be the twelfth peak because only an ascetic could withstand sitting directly across from yqy's sad cow eyes for an entire Peak Lord meeting

[delopsia]

Flowers In November (2/4) Rhett x Reader

Word Count: 9,780 ♡‧₊˚ AO3 Cross-Post ♡⊹˚₊ Flowers In November Masterlist₊˚⊹♡ Warnings: Fem!Reader. Briefly mentioned abusive relationships (not involving reader), improper disposal of a horse's corpse, l-bombs, oral sex, physical and verbal altercations, blood, unprotected sex, inappropriate use of a firearm, lying to a police officer, multiple mentions of food and cooking.

Part 1 ♡⊹˚₊ Part 3

The first week is the worst.

You spend a lot of it on Rhett's couch. Trying and failing to run from the overwhelming heaviness that's settled deep into your muscles, reaching deep into your bones, seemingly filling them with cement. There's something so draining about realizations. It just doesn't...make sense.

Rhett doesn't complain about your dead weight around the house, even though he has every right to be annoyed with a stranger lazing about his home. A part of you suspects that he enjoys the company. He seems to get a lot of enjoyment out of laying on the couch opposite you, just talking about whatever is on your mind.

Your likes, your dislikes, hobbies. You learn that he used to eat fried eggs with his hashbrowns religiously. That his momma became so attached to their pigs that they're not allowed to eat real bacon anymore. You're pretty sure you'd be the same way if you befriended a livestock animal.

Old memories, both the sweet and the bitter ones. Recounting old tales of adventures and comparing your worlds, eager to spot the differences between the two. Little by little, it sets in how wonderfully similar and different this world is. Rhett's town is nearly identical to yours. Same layout and the same buildings. Different shop and street names.

It's not home, but it's a familiar face.

"You can't be serious," Rhett squawks, his empty beer can hitting the table, "you grew up on what street?"

You have to hold up a finger, asking him to wait as you chew this bite of cookie. Rhett's momma, who you now know as Cecelia, sent them over yesterday, and they're so chewy that you need a moment. "Cold River road."

"What the hell?" Shaking his head, "it was Warm Creek road for me."

It's hard to believe that this is your reality now. A tweaked version of your past one, whether that be for better or for worse. The mom-and-pop shop you planned to work at doesn't exist here, but in its place is this beautiful cafe that sells baked goods and coffee. Rhett takes you in there one day after a successful grocery run.

"You know," you find yourself saying as you tuck yourselves into a corner booth with your drinks, "I never pinned you as a french vanilla kind of guy."

Rhett rolls his eyes so dramatically that you hope they become lodges in the back of his head, "what were you expecting, plain black?"

Humming, you feign thought, as if you're putting everything you've got into this conversation, "I was thinking mocha."

He finds a way to bug you in return by tearing off a piece of your pastry when you're not looking. He's not sorry, and you can't find it in yourself to be mad because he smiles so big that his eyes crinkle and disappear with it. Happy little crescents.

With a pantry and fridge full of proper food and ingredients, you do the only thing you can do on a ranch like this. You cook.

Cecelia offers you cookbooks galore, regional cuisines, and desserts. Anything you can think of, she has. There's even a book on mixing drinks in there. It's not your ideal lifestyle, cooking all day, but it's either this or you break your back working with Rhett, and you know you don't have the energy to work like him.

Your first attempt is a disaster. Rhett's stove heats up much slower than you're used to, and the pasta winds up undercooked. The homemade sauce is a bit off because part of the instructions has been distorted by water.

"I don't see what the fuss is about," covering his mouth as he speaks, "it's still good." And your heart soars with a foreign fuzziness from that alone.

Strange how the cowboy you met by mere circumstance has slowly become your number-one supporter. He's always got something nice to say about your cooking; you could be serving him plain soup from a can, and he'd still smile and thank you for taking the time to make it.

There's a night when you wake up sobbing because you saw your mother in your dream, and you miss her so, so much. It's only been two weeks without her, and you don't think you'll ever see her again. Rhett's a heavy sleeper, but he was already awake, fetching a glass of water. You don't hear him coming or realize he's there until you feel the mattress dip.

He doesn't know why you're crying, but he offers you a smile anyway, "you look like you could use a shoulder to cry on."

You're unsure if he meant that literally, but he welcomes you into his warm arms all the same. You find refuge in the comforting silence that he wears, like his favorite cologne. It wraps around you in the same fashion that his arms do, clouding your senses until your head has gone quiet too.

It's late, he has to be up early to work, but he turns on the sitcom you've been watching together. Words go unspoken because no matter how many of them you say, they can't fix this. His shoulder is warm, and somewhere between the buzz of sound on the television and the way he fiddles with your hand, you doze off.

That morning, you wake up tucked into bed, the sheets snuggly wrapped around you like a hug. Your only indication that last night wasn't a dream is the progress you made in that show.

"I hope you don't have any plans for today," good lord, how long has he been standing in the kitchen?

...and how long has he been shirtless.

You can only open and close your mouth like a fish out of water, tearing your eyes off his sculpted chest, only to have them draw back onto him like magnets. Has he always had that tattoo of a bull and rider on his chest?

If Rhett notices your staring, he doesn't call you out. "We're going to get you a friend."

"Friend?" You parrot, dumbfounded. God, those biceps...

Even as you get dressed, in a mixture of his clothes and some he's bought for you, it's hard to figure out what he means by 'friend.' Is he introducing you to someone, or is he buying a puppy? You can see Isabela tacked up through the bedroom window, waiting patiently just outside the house.

Fortunately, by now, it's easy to swing yourself up behind Rhett. Huddling close and burying your face into his back has become second nature, especially as the temperatures drop each day. Every ride, you thank your lucky stars that he's a walking furnace that's always happy to warm you up.

"Where are we going?" You don't think he's ever taken you to this side of his land. All the way down to where all four corners of the respective lands meet.

"South pasture," Rhett supplies, but he gives you nothing more to go on regarding the whole 'friend' situation.

The South belongs to Perry and his family. Although, it looks more like a lake than anything else. Water covers most of the property, forcing Isabela to stick to the fence line, where it's mostly dry. Even then, you can still hear the squelch of the soggy ground under her hooves. It's a wonder how this lake stays contained within the borders of Perry's land.

You can't help but wonder where his house is located because you see nothing but water, water, and more water.

That is, until a gray horse emerges from the murky depths, shaking the water from her coat, closely followed by a second and a third. But you hadn't seen any head's poking out of the water...

As if he's already caught on to your stupor, Rhett laughs. A loud, hearty noise. "Y'all don't got kelpies where you come from?"

Come again?

"Like the fantasy creature?" Vaguely, you recall hearing something about them once or twice, but you can't say you're familiar with their lore.

That statement alone is enough of an answer to Rhett's question. The horses—kelpies follow loosely behind you. Like they're trying to join Isabela but are too shy to go through with it. One of them makes eye contact with you, her haunting brown eyes peering straight through your skin and deep into your soul. At least, until she opens her mouth, and...

"...did that horse just hiss at me?"

"Yes, ma'am, she did."

You're not too pleased to see that Perry is out and about, although you're not too sure why you were expecting him not to be on his property. His house isn't much different from his parents, a considerable fraction smaller but equally extravagant and over the top. A towering marble fountain stands in front of his home, and even the water flowing through it looks expensive.

"I really thought you were lyin' when you said she was still with you," Perry's talking before he's within earshot, forcing you to rely on context to fill in the blanks, "what woman chooses to stay in a tiny shack like that?"

He takes one look at Rhett and falls dead silent. You're not sure if you want to know what kind of expression achieved that.

"If you don't mind, I need to speak to Rhett alone for a second." The last time someone told you they needed to speak to Rhett alone, you received information you wish you hadn't.

And you sure hope these kelpies don't talk.

Isabela is content to be tied off on a fence post nearby, minding her own while you absently scratch her shoulder. You're not sure what to do. You'd feel wrong for wandering around and exploring, but it's not the ideal experience to simply stand here. What does Perry need with Rhett, anyhow?

There's movement off to your left.

"Did you follow us?" You can't believe you're asking a horse this as if she can respond. Or so you hope.

That same horse idles at the edge of her fence, her darkened eyes fixated on you as if you're the most interesting thing she has ever seen. Up close, you can see the dapples that cover her body, most of them hidden by how she's whitened out over the years. There's a considerable amount of feathering on her lower legs; she almost looks like she's wearing oversized socks.

Again, she hisses at you.

There are plenty of horses in the field with her, but she's the only one that's truly taken notice of you.

Slow, she follows the fence until she's close enough to hang her head over the wooden panels. Her eyes look more like a goat's, pupils wide and rectangular rather than round. You're looking, waiting on those eyelashes to flutter with a blink, but as time ticks by, she only blinks once.

As you go to offer her your hand, she lifts her head, tracking everywhere the appendage goes.

"Do me a favor," whispering in the wind, "don't bite my hand off, please?" The first time your hand touches her neck, she flinches, whistling much like a dolphin, but then she returns and lets you do it again.

Her eyes close, leaning into your touch. Not so scary after all.

"Why did I have a feeling it would be that one?" The sudden appearance of Perry's voice spooks you just as much as it does your newfound companion here; both of you stop what you're doing to look for the source of the sound.

Perry and Rhett are walking over, the bush behind them shaking unnaturally as if someone's just rustled it.

"Were you two hiding in that bush?" Your accusation is answered when Rhett's eyes hit the ground, suddenly too heavy to lift them.

"For business purposes," Perry tells you blandly, "it's best to be alone; it rules out the possibility of a kelpie trying to pick someone else."

Pick?

"They're a fussy species," filling in the blank, Rhett stands next to you, holding out his hand for the kelpie to sniff, "they pick their riders, rather than the other way around."

Her halter contains a tiny ID chip that displays her information when Rhett scans it with his phone. She's seven and a half, was born and raised on Perry's land, and was initially trained to assist lifeguards, capable of reaching places that human divers cannot. Her name?

"Nyx," both you and Rhett murmur, perfectly in sync.

She settles into the barn three days later. You don't notice her at first because, at a glance, she blends in perfectly with the snow. Her presence is only given away by Rhett's surprised yelp as she turns on him, knocking him down in the driveway.

"Are you really trying to put a bow on that horse?" You can't help but tease, snow crunching below your feet. Planted flat on his back, red ribbon laying haphazardly on his belly, shoulders shaking as he giggles. Your feet come to a stop right next to the halo of brown hair, looking at him from upside down.

"Merry Christmas?" He offers, shy. Fuck, he's cute.

Until now, you've completely forgotten about Christmas and the New Year and hadn't really wanted to remember it either. Yet as this cowboy laughs at you like he's the happiest man in the world, and as Nyx comes to stand by your side, it hits you that maybe this, whatever it is, isn't so bad.

The weather makes it hard to go out for any rides; there are some days when it becomes so cold that it's dangerous for Nyx and Isabela to be outside for too long. Those days are always the worst because the wind blows so hard that you can't see beyond the porch. It always worries you because Rhett is out in it, and even the most experienced men can be overtaken by the cold.

Then there's the night when your worst fears start coming true. Two weeks after New Year's, a winter storm slams Wyoming with high winds and endless snowfall. Howling wind whips around the house, screaming by, carrying so much snow that all you can see is a solid white sheet. It's been like this all afternoon, and Rhett's an hour later than usual.

You've found yourself pacing back and forth between all the windows, searching for a sign of him out there, but all you can see is the thick clumps of snow as they descend from the skies above.

Oh, where is he? Where is he?

Rhett's always been home around six, his latest so far has been six forty-five, and that was only because Isabela got a stubborn rock lodged in her hoof.

The clock in the bedroom reads seven-thirty. The numbers bright red, glaring you down.

You've got half the mind to clamber into some of his heavy winter clothes and look for him yourself, but what will you do if you get lost too? If he comes back and finds the house empty?

Oh, but what if he's hurt himself? He could be half frozen to death out there, and—

the room falls dark.

"Great," swearing under your breath, "just fucking great."

It's below zero outside, and now you have no power. Absolutely wonderful.

There's wood and old newspaper already stocked in the fireplace, just in case Rhett's feeling festive enough to get a fire going. Memory tells you there's a lighter in the kitchen junk drawer, hidden in a mix of sticky notes, pens, and pencils. It's hard to see what you're doing, fumbling around blindly in the drawer until your fingers find the familiar shape of the lighter.

You've watched Rhett enough times to know how he usually gets these started, and you're pleased to find that you can get the fireplace going without burning the house down. Albeit, your fingers are now a twinge burnt.

Impossibly, the wind seems to be picking up more speed, beating against the house so hard that the front door is starting to shake, the knob rattling. Or, at first, you think it's the wind, but the longer it goes on, the more you start to wonder...

"Rhett?" You call out, turning toward the offending noise, "that you?"

No response, but that knob just keeps making noise.

A part of you is afraid to open it; the other half is worried about what may happen if you don't. The metal feels like ice in your hand, almost burning as you turn it and pull the door open.

That wasn't the wind.

"God, Rhett, where the hell have you been?" Hissing at the wind that rattles into the house, you step to the side, letting him stumble into the house.

His shoulders carry a mountain of snow on them; tiny icicles decorate his long lashes. You don't know where his gloves have gone, but his hands have gone white, struggling to get ahold of his jacket zipper. He's making sounds like he's trying to speak, but nothing is coming out.

"I've got you," taking hold of the zipper, you pull it down, helping him squirm out of his snow-soaked coat. It's dripping water all over the freshly cleaned floor, and the best place for it would be the washer, but you toss it onto the counter. That's not what needs to be focused on right now.

"Couldn't," swallowing thickly, "door."

How long was he out there?

Fortunately, he's still there enough to know that he should go and sit in front of the fire while you wrangle some blankets out of the closet. But even the four blankets don't help with his shivering, seemingly just as cold as before.

"How long..." speaking like his tongue has become hard to move, "has the power been out?"

"Ten minutes?" But it feels like it's been out for a decade; most of the heat has faded. It's starting to nip at you, icy fingers reaching out from the dark and running over your exposed skin.

Maybe that's how you find yourself sitting next to him, back propped against the couch, as you open your arms, beckoning him to come into them. Those deep blue eyes rake up and down your frame once, twice, and just that is enough to fill your belly with snowflakes.

Slow, Rhett scoots over, cautious as he settles against you. Head resting on your chest, arms wrapped around your waist, burying himself into you. He feels like a block of ice, and you're pretty sure he counts as one at this point.

The weight against you is bizarrely familiar, comfortable. Not too heavy, but enough to remind you that he's there, his head tucked under your chin. Those arms wrap around you like the perfect hug, impossibly strong, even now.

"Truck got stuck in the snow," he doesn't need to explain himself to you, and yet he chooses to anyhow, "couldn't get it out, so I had to walk back."

Squeezing him tighter, "what happened to your gloves?"

"They wound up gettin' wet, took 'em off thinkin' I'd be better off," weak, he laughs against your chest, hot breath dancing across your skin, "can't believe I couldn't open the damn door."

"I thought you were the wind at first," in hindsight, you should have realized it was him.

It's easy for time to get away from you, lost in the wonderous feeling of having him snuggled up into you. Such a big cowboy that fits into your arms like he was made to be in them, and you were made to hold him. He's like a teddy bear, hair soft as you rest your cheek against his head.

"You fallin' asleep?" He asks lowly.

Prying your eyes back open, "maybe."

"Good," yawning, he nuzzles his cheek against your collarbone, "because I think I am too."

Sometime later, the power kicks back on. Lighting the house in blinding shades of white as the heating and air unit roars to life outside. You don't know why, but as you untangle from each other, you find yourself wishing it hadn't come back on at all.

You can't shake it from your head, the sweetness of Rhett's weight against you, how his hair felt beneath your cheek. Like glue, the sensations have become stuck to you, refusing to let you forget about them. It keeps you up half the night; you're awake when Rhett heads out to work and can hear Nyx fussing in the barn when he enters. Household alarm system, that one.

As you start to doze, someone knocks on the front door. The person's voice is too muffled for you to understand what she said, but it's hard to miss the phrase, 'police department.'

What in the world?

Groggy, you drag yourself out of bed, stumbling over your own two feet. Did she have to pick now, of all times? Seven-thirty is too early for police officers to be doing surprise visits.

"Hi," she grins, all too cheerful, "is Rhett Abbott here, by chance?"

Yawning, you lean against the door frame, "you just missed him," you swear you've seen this woman before, "he left about an hour ago."

She doesn't seem surprised, just nodding and writing something down on her phone. Officer Judy Hawk.

Strange. You think her name was Joy in your world.

There's no time to focus on that, though, because soon she lists off a date. You know it's passed, but you don't remember what day of the week it landed. "Perry Abbott's license plate was found in a pasture down the road, on the same night a multi-million dollar racehorse went missing," your mind jumps back to what Rhett was burying, "do you know if Rhett was home that night?"

Heart climbing high into your throat, you glance toward the barn. Shit, shit, shit, do you lie? What if she already knows the truth? What if—

"Yeah," forcing a smile, "he was here all night, like always."

Judy looks skeptical, but she offers no counter-argument and doesn't press for why you're here or how you're connected to Rhett. Just smiles.

"That's about all I needed," there's that artificial friendliness again, draped over her face like a mask, "I'll find another time to come talk to Rhett. Thank you, Mrs. Abbott."

...huh?

Does she think...? That you...and Rhett...?

Ugh. No, you don't want to think about that.

It's the one thing you conveniently leave out of your retelling of the visit when Rhett inevitably stumbles in that evening. You try to be as casual as you can about it, nonchalantly letting it slip that they found Perry's plate while you take the green beans off the burner.

It's hard to tell what emotion flickers across his face. It's there and gone before you can blink, and then it's back to the usual Rhett. Too tired to be bothered by things like these.

You really hope you didn't fuck up by lying to that officer.

A freakish heatwave washes over the state during early February.

At first, you don't know what to think when you wake up and find that most of the snow has melted overnight. The weatherman tells you it's in the mid-60s, and the sun kisses you when you step out. Walking outside is like walking into a daydream, the air just perfect enough that it's not too hot or too cold.

From the fence line, Nyx hisses, adamant that she receives your attention right here and now. Spoiled.

"Hold on, hold on," rolling your eyes over her antics, "you big snake."

She doesn't understand you, but she whistles like she does. Who would have ever thought kelpies couldn't make normal horse sounds? Perry says they make plenty of different noises, but you've only seen Nyx whistle and hiss.

Again, she flicks her head back and hisses, goat-like eyes fixated upon something behind you.

"How long have you been standing there?" Honestly, you shouldn't be surprised that it's Rhett who is the cause of Nyx's offense.

His gaze flickers down, then back up, "ever since you walked out the house in nothin' but my old rodeo shirt."

...oh no.

"I uh..." now that he's said it, you're becoming hyper-aware of how bare your legs feel, "I didn't exactly plan to go outside."

Your inability to explain is rewarded with a hearty chuckle, "I can see that." As he begins to come closer, you start to flounder. "Why don't you go get dressed?" Effortlessly relieving you of any further explanation, "we got somethin' we need to do."

That's all the encouragement you need. Leaving the conversation to rot, you take off for the house, eager to retain what little of your dignity you have. God, did you really just walk out of the house in nothing but his shirt? Why does he always slip by your radar until it's too late?

Most of your clothes are still bouncing about the dryer; it's hard to accumulate them when you don't have money. Most of them come from Cecelia's monthly closet cleanouts. You have clothes, but it feels like you've got nothing to wear.

Scratchy blouses, too-warm sweaters, too-thin tees, nothing comfortable enough for what Rhett's likely to put you up to. It seems you're doomed to putting on your only pair of jeans and wearing his rodeo shirt for the rest of the day. At least it's soft.

Nyx is missing from the pasture when you step back outside. Although to find her, all you need to do is follow the sound of her whistling.

"What are we doing?" What could possibly require Rhett to tack up Nyx?

"Goin' for a ride," his voice barely audible over Nyx and her dolphin sounds, "weather's too nice to waste the day away." As if she agrees, Nyx whistles again. It's hard to tell if she's excited or pissed beyond belief.

You get your answer when you climb into her saddle, and she tries walking out of the barn before you're ready. This isn't the first time you've ridden her, but it's the first time she's been so eager to get the show on the road.

"The longer you take, the angrier the horse gets," you find yourself saying, staring at the feed room that Rhett's disappeared into.

He pokes his head out, "you and your dolphin need to learn patience."

Not one familiar with the concept, your dolphin turns and heads for the barn exit, and for once, you allow her to do what she pleases. Isabela has hardly moved from where Rhett left her by the house, but as soon as Nyx passes by, she begins to follow on your flank.

The group of you make it about four circles around the house before Rhett finally stumbles out of the barn. "How the hell did you get her to move?" Genuine shock ripples through his tone as he approaches your little walking party.

"Walked past her," at least you will never have to worry about Nyx doing the same thing, all things considered. On some days, it's a miracle that she even lets a stranger so much as perceive her.

Now that she's moving, Isabela doesn't stop for Rhett to get on and completely bypasses him when he tries stepping in front of her. Watching him chase her down and scramble up is quite an amusing sight to behold.

"So where are we going?" Asking as you follow his lead, heading toward the gate that sits along the fence line.

His head tilts west toward his parent's house, "you'll see when we get there."

As he'd indicated, you head west at a leisurely pace, taking all the time in the world. There's no reason to rush. You've gone this direction so many times, huddled up to Rhett's back as his felt cowboy hat bumps against the top of your head, that it feels foreign not to be there.

"What?" Rhett grins; he's caught you staring.

"I've gotten so used to cuddling up on the back of your horse that riding alone feels strange," the confession comes easily, slipping from your throat like a breath of air.

"Oh really?" His eyes squint in that telltale way; you're never going to hear the end of this. "You missin' cuddlin' with me?"

There are two ways you can address this. Deny it to no end, or confirm it.

"Maybe I do."

In the blink of an eye, his grin falters, eyelashes fluttering as he turns his attention to Isabela's pristine mane, "yeah?"

You don't understand why your heart flutters at that.

The dark, dead circle still resides in the ground, a landmark you always pass over here. It's worsened since the first time you laid eyes on it, the grass jet black, land sunken in. You've quit walking into it and hoping it will take you back.

Beyond the driveway that leads up to his parent's home lies a tiny, barely there trail. Washed out and overgrown, only made visible by the sand once poured to mark its path.

"Perry and I used to ride out here every Sunday while our folks went to church," removing his hat, Rhett tips his head back, letting the slight breeze rustle through his hair. It's gotten so much longer since the first time you met.

"What made you stop?" He's never been bothered by your probing for more information, but you're still hesitant to ask.

Rhett's quiet. Body swaying with Isabela's motions. The muscles in his jaw flex and relax as he sucks on his tongue, "he met Rebecca," he says after a minute, "and all of a sudden, he was too busy to be my brother anymore."

Stiffness returns to his frame, wiring his broad shoulders tight, "I hated every second of their relationship."

Ducking under a low-hanging branch, narrowly avoiding it, "what made you hate it so much?"

"Jealous," he spits it out so quickly that you hear it before you realize you've finished speaking. One of his big hands rises to scratch his neck, "or lonely, I guess. God, I don't know why I'm even bringing this up."

"You're allowed to talk about it if you want to," humming, you reach out, squeezing his knee, "I'm listening."

Up ahead is a slight clearing, where the land abruptly flattens itself out, and the trees have visibly been cut down. There's an old wooden bench facing the valley, rotting, overtaken by the elements. You see precisely why they put it here; the view is breathtaking.

You can see everything. The houses, the evident, shaky divide between the four properties. It looks so empty from up here.

"I can't tell you how many nights I spent up here, drinking on that bench," forcing a laugh, "God, I was the loneliest son 'f a bitch in the state."Was.

Nyx whistles, forcing you to wait until she's done giving you her two cents. "What changed?"

You don't think you've ever seen his eyes soften like that. Like someone's lit a match and melted away every drop of the icy stiffness that lives in them. With it taking away the fake smile he's been donning all afternoon.

And then you hear it, the faintest shadow of a voice you've ever heard, "you."

Oh.

In your mouth, your tongue fills with lead, but as it turns out, you don't have to speak because Rhett already is. "I've met a lot of people in my life, but you're the first person that's ever made me feel..." shaking his head, he looks away, focusing back on Isabela's mane, "like I'm not some good for nothing cowboy that's only meant to work and do favors."

You don't know what to say. For Rhett, though, your smile is enough of a reply because it makes him smile too. That's all you could really ask for.

There's only so much time you can spend looking out at the valley before it becomes boring, and soon, you're heading further up the trail, side by side. Quiet, but not uncomfortably so. That's the beauty of Rhett; whether he knows it or not, he's taught you that not all silence is bad. That it can be just as comforting as words.

"I have a question," you hate to break the silence, but it's starting to ebb at the back of your mind.

He puts his hat back on his head. "Shoot."

Alright. Here goes nothing. "What happened to Rebecca?" A part of you is expecting a cold, uncomfortable reaction, but you never receive it.

"She went missin' a year ago, 'bout nine months before you arrived," his voice airy, "just up and left him and their daughter."

You catch his mouth opening and closing a couple of times like there's something more that he wants to say. He never voices it.

At the very end of the trail lies an even more extensive clearing than before. The remnants of a gazebo lie dead in the middle, unfinished and rotting, much like the old bench. An old pile of lumber sits next to it; weeds have long since overtaken it, rendering it unusable.

How much time did they spend up here?

"I know this place ain't much," you don't know when he got so close to you, "but I hope it didn't bore you to death."

"'m not bored," tilting your head to meet his gaze as you speak, "this was nice."

"Yeah?" There's that grin you were missing. "Would you want to do this again?"

Nodding only makes his smile grow wider, taking up his entire face.

And somewhere in your head, you catch yourself wishing to see that smile for the rest of your life.

That next ride takes forever to come. The thing about Wyoming weather is that it rules the land with an iron, unpredictable fist. Just as quickly as the snow melted, it comes back. Once again, covering the ranch in a pristine, glittering white blanket. So returns to the routine of it being too cold to do much, of watching movies until you're sick of looking at the screen. Those nights when you turn on a film to have some background noise while you talk.

Breakfast is a rare occasion in this household.

You've got the ingredients, but it's hard to motivate yourself to cook when it's just you. Rhett's always gone or halfway out the door when you get up. It's hard to justify a big meal without him and his oversized appetite.

But today, you really, really miss the joys of breakfast and the foods associated with it. Hashbrowns, biscuits, and gravy. Oh, and the wonderfully crafted bacon that is exclusive to this world of Rhett's, completely vegan but tasting identical to the real deal. You still don't believe that it's real.

It takes all of ten minutes of craving it for you to come up with a plan. So what's stopping you from bringing the man breakfast?

As you busy about the kitchen, dancing from skillet to skillet, you struggle to fry up some kind of explanation. Something that amounts to more than just 'I brought you breakfast because I'm hungry and felt like feeding you too.' What will you put it all in? What if he doesn't want it?

Shit, you just burned the hashbrowns.

Whoever told you that it's easier to think on a full stomach was a liar because your meal doesn't help. Drawing blank after blank, failing to devise a single excuse for this. The best thing to come to mind is the memory that plastic containers exist. Perfect for carrying breakfast to a blue-eyed cowboy.

And did you fry an egg because you remember him offhandedly mentioning that he likes them with his hashbrowns? Yes. Yes, you did.

Rhett should be around the back of the barn right now. He usually spends most of his morning dealing with non-cattle-related matters, like cleaning the stalls and restocking various things he used up the day prior.

"Hey, Cowboy," your voice echoes through the barn as you call out for him, "you in here?"

On the other side of the building, you receive the gruffest 'yeah' you've ever heard. It hardly even sounds like Rhett; if it weren't for his head poking around the corner, you might have mistaken him for someone else entirely.

"Somethin' wrong?" Before you can even get a word out, he's dropping everything he was just doing.

Meekly, you lift the plastic container for him to see, the contents warm and steaming up the inside of the material, "I brought you something."

That's got his attention.

Like a puppy, he cocks his head to the side, struggling to deduce what you've brought him. His hands shake as he takes the container from you, large fingers working their way between the lid and prying it upward.

Those blue eyes start to shimmer, wide, round, "you brought me breakfast?" Barely audible, not even a whisper. It makes your knees feel weak.

"I did," you feel like you should say more. Give him a reason, make up a fake holiday, something, anything to justify this. He doesn't need one. Accepting your random act of kindness without pressing you for meaningless reasons.

Oh, that smile...

"Thank you," and there's not a damn thing in this world that can take the sweetness from his tone, "I don't...nobody's ever...done anything like this for me before."

It's difficult to wrap your head around. Nobody? Not his momma, his brother, a girlfriend?

Together, you sit on buckets in the tack room, basking in the perfect, comfortable silence occasionally broken by Nyx whistling in her stall. You don't know how you feel, knowing you're the first to do something as simple as this. Pride swells in your chest every time he takes a bite, smile growing a little bigger.

But at the same time, you've found yourself feeling bitter. This is Rhett. The sweet cowboy who took you, a total stranger, into his home and never once asked a thing from you in return. The guy who works overtime takes care of Perry's share of chores. Leaves before sunrise and is lucky to return before sunset.

And not one person has...done this.

A routine blossoms. Once or twice a week, you make breakfast, hunt Rhett down, and eat it with him. Sometimes that means sitting out in the elements when you could be cozied up inside; sometimes, it includes eating and walking.

There's one occasion where he's fixing a fence, hands too busy with something that he can't stop until he's finished. You still haven't forgotten how he giggled when you held the fork out for him, determined to get him to eat before it got cold.

"Can I have a piece of bacon?" He asks, grunting as he tightens the barbed wire, "or something other than..."

Unfortunately for him, you've already shoveled more hashbrowns onto his fork; he accepts it regardless. Not like he has much choice.

"Quit giving me nothing but hashbrowns, woman!" Laughing around his mouthful of food, it's a miracle he doesn't choke.

"Fussy."

"Very much so—" he falls silent. You've done it again.

Your warning sign should have been how quickly he snatched that bite. It only occurs to you that he's finished that portion of the fence when he rushes toward you like a bull. By the time you turn and run, it's too late.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, dragging you into an equally muscular chest, squeezing you tight, "you ain't gettin' away that easy, missy!"

It's hard to tell who fell first, but you wind up on the grass in some way or another. Laying on your backs, sharing a piece of bacon as you stare up at the morning sky, still painted in enchanted orange, red, and purple hues.

"D'ya want the last piece?" The edge of it appears in your peripheral, tempting.

Reaching up, you tear a piece off right down the middle, "we'll split it."

It would have been simpler for each of you to have your own piece because you've split the last two parts. But in that case, it wouldn't have been as special.

Rolling over onto his stomach, Rhett looks down at you, cheek propped in his hand, "I'll try to be home earlier tonight."

"Can't wait to see that movie, huh?" On its own accord, your hand rises, desperate to push those curled locks out of his face. By the time you realize it, Rhett's already caught on; too late to back out now.

"Nope," eyes fluttering shut as you run your fingers through his hair, tucking the offending strands behind his ear. It's so inexplicably soft like it's been washed and cared for by Gods. You can't stop yourself from playing with it. "You're fixin' to put me to sleep if you keep that up."

Right now, the concept of falling asleep doesn't sound so bad.

Alas, duty calls. Perry's riding up, and the last thing either of you wants to hear is him bitching about Rhett being lazy. So, with your empty container and a soft 'thank you' from Rhett, you head back to the house.

By early, Rhett usually means around five thirty, barely much earlier than his usual time. That time comes and goes, and you find no sign of him. Nyx starts to whistle in that telltale way she always does when Rhett passes, but there's no sign of him.

It feels like the snowstorm incident all over again. Six comes and passes. Six thirty. Six forty-five. Seven.

No, no, something is wrong. You don't know what is telling you that, but you know it. You know it the same way you know up from down, from how bitter sourness churns in your belly, your hands becoming cold and tingly. This isn't like Rhett.

All you have is a flashlight and a pocket knife that he keeps in the junk drawer, but you leave the house feeling like you've got an army at your disposal. Rhett's not in the barn, but Isabela is munching on hay that's been put out for them in the pasture. That's usually the last thing he does before he comes in for the night. Feed the horses.

Nyx paces along the fence, hissing for your attention. Not right now. She can have her pets later.

"Rhett?" Calling out for him brings you nothing. Again, Nyx hisses.

There's no sign of him around the house; his truck hasn't budged. The fence isn't locked, though. The chain dangles loosely around the meet of the bars, the lock open and hanging on to the end. That's so...strange.

What's even stranger is how your horse keeps bobbing her head up and down, hissing, whistling, as if she's gone mad. Not once does she quit moving back and forth along the fence.

"Nyx?"

Then you hear it. The distant roar of a truck. Shakes the ground with its fury as it rushes closer and closer. Someone is driving through the pasture.

Nyx and Isabela scatter, darting far to the opposite corner of the enclosure, and that's when you catch it. The glint of light bounces off the top of the truck as it races toward the gate. Directly where you're standing. Its headlights are off, but you already know the vehicle doesn't belong to anyone in the Abbott family.

Your feet are moving before you can register it, diving behind Rhett's truck.

The gate bursts open with an ear-shattering crack, hinges squealing. Rhett's truck jolts, struck by the unknown vehicle as it turns too sharply. Dirt and rock fly through the air, kicked up by ridiculously massive tires. Just as quickly as it had arrived, it tears down the driveway, leaving a plume of smoke in its wake.

This is too much of a coincidence for it not to be connected.

You don't know who that was. You don't care that they hit Rhett's truck. You don't care about the stupid fucking fence. You don't remember coming out from behind your hiding place when you started running.

Heart hammering, you race through the field, using the tire tracks as your guide. Nyx flies along after you, whistling as she sidles up by your left, so close that you can feel the heat radiating off her.

Whistling again, she parts off to your right, heading straight for the back of the property. The tracks are your best marker, but it hits you as she looks back at you. Maybe she knows.

So you follow.

Your lungs burn. Feet hammering the ground. Desperate to keep Nyx in your sight. The flashlight clicks in your hand. Flickers to life. Burns out in the blink of an eye. Swearing, you drop it. Like a ghost, Nyx tears through the night. Her bright coat is the only thing you can see. She's whistling. Clacking her teeth.

She stops. Dead in her tracks. You do too.

Just ahead is a silhouette. Kneeling. Impossible to see at first.

"Rhett?"

"Are you okay?" That's his voice. That's his voice, but it doesn't sound like him. Deep. Strained.

"Of course, I'm fine," kneeling by his frame, "I'm not the one who's..."

All you can see is crimson. Dripping down his scalp. From the tip of his left ear. His hair is a wreck. Body trembling so hard that you can hear his teeth chatter.

"Don't—" but his protests can't stop you. His jaw shakes in your hand as you curl your fingers around it, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

"Rhett," you don't...what? "What did they do to you?"

His split, bloody bottom lip quivers, "I'm okay." Voice-breaking in the middle, unable to handle those two little words.

There isn't an inch of him that isn't bruised. Blood pours from his hands and nose, a massive cut rippling down the corner of his left eye; it's barely open. You don't know if that's dirt or newly formed bruises peeking out from his shredded flannel.

"You don't look okay," your words only make him shake a little harder. His eyes glisten.

There is only one thing you can think of doing. You open your arms. He falls into them. Broad shoulders quivering as he buries his face into your neck, wetting it with little drops of fire.

"Please don't let go of me." You don't. You can't.

Rhett Abbott is by no means a small man. He's massive. In personality, in his broad shoulders, in his big blue eyes, and in his scarred, calloused hands. A wolf in every sense of the term, fierce, borderline feral on most days.

But that's not him right now.

You don't know what they've done to him, but it's shrunken him into nothing but a mouse. Flinching when you rub your fingers at the nape of his neck, his breath hitching with an unbridled fear you've never known him to bear. You hardly recognize the pained whimpers that slip from him.

Your back aches. Knees are bruising from being dug into the rocky ground, but you can't bring yourself to budge even an inch. It's a wonder that his arms still bear the strength to hold onto you, looping tight around your waist, anchoring you down.

"I've got you," murmuring into the side of his head, "I've got you." On your left, Nyx lowers her head, sniffing, nuzzling the back of Rhett's neck. It scares him, jumping away from her with a pained, surprised gasp.

That's enough to remind him of where you are, out in the dark, the temperature gradually dropping. He doesn't speak, but you know what he's trying to do when his legs begin fumbling beneath him, wobbly like a newborn foal. Heavily minding his right leg as you help him up.

"Shit," he hisses, eyes bolting shut, "y'might...have to get the truck."

The truck might not be starting anytime soon.

Your eyes land on Nyx. She looks at you, the timing almost comedic. You're both sharing the same idea.

"There ain't no way she's fixin' to let me up there," but Rhett's protest goes unheard.

A part of you wonders if it's her lineage. Her original purpose. To rescue individuals from the unpredictable, violent ocean. Because she's wholly put away her avid dislike for Rhett. Perfectly calm as you help him up onto her back, not a single pinned ear, not a sound.

You're unsure if the look in Rhett's eyes comes from the situation or Nyx's behavior.

He's quick to wrap himself around you once you've settled before him. His breath is hot on your shoulder as he buries his nose into it, hugging tightly, but not enough to hurt. As Nyx takes you back to the house, you begin to notice the dark spots on your shirt; blood.

"Was them Tillerson guys," he chokes out, lifting his head to avoid being muffled by your shirt. Tillerson. That sounds...familiar. "They think I'm the one that killed the goddamn horse."

You completely forgot about that. The damn horse that Perry hit and Rhett had to hide bits and pieces around the place. You're not sure where he hid the rest of its legs; the last time you saw them, it was right after—

no. No, absolutely not.

"So they jumped you on your own property?" There's a pitchiness to your voice as you try to clear an image from your head.

He starts to reply, but he cuts himself off. "Did they drive through my fuckin' gate?"

Yeah, and they hit your truck too.

"That they did," confirming, conveniently leaving out the vehicle. He's got enough to worry about right now.

Isabela has returned to munching on the hay Rhett put out for her, three heads buried deep into it, not a concern in the world. The very definition of unbothered.

"Glad to see the household menace cares and not my beloved companion," chuckling weakly at the sight of her, Rhett leans back down to rest his head against you.

The gate is mangled beyond belief, warped from the truck's grill that blasted through it, but it's still functional. You find the lock and chain in the driveway; Rhett's able to get it locked, as it should be. Tonight is one of those nights where it's warm enough for Isabela and Nyx to stay outside, free roaming their stomping grounds until morning.

But then Rhett steps into the porch light, and your face drops.

He looks horrible. Left eye bruised and swollen, blood dried all along his face, and caked in his hair. God, there are so many bruises around his neck; every one of his knuckles has split wide open, some still dripping with liquid red.

"I'm okay," that's a lie, and you both know it.

His muscles don't carry enough strength to take his shirt off; you have to step into the bathroom and help him because he can't get it off himself. The shower runs, and it runs, for what feels like an eternity. Until it stops.

"You alive in there?" Knocking on the bathroom door after some time has passed.

"...yeah," eventually comes your answer, "I don't...I'm having trouble...uh."

The door opens, and it immediately hits you. Rhett can't lift his arms to wash his hair; it's wet, dripping pale red onto the bathroom floor, but it's visibly matted together.

"Do you want some help?" Still taking it all in, failing to avoid the scattering of red along his ribcage, where he's been kicked repeatedly.

"I do, but..." looking between you and the shower, his eyes fluttering, "...don't know that would work without...you know."

Never in your wildest dreams have you considered making Rhett sit in the bathtub in nothing but his boxer shorts, but here you are. His head is tilted back as far as he can comfortably manage, eyes closed as you rinse his hair with the handheld shower head. The blood is stubborn. Whenever you think you've got it all, you find another patch.

"'M sorry you have to do this," so faint that you almost miss it entirely.

"You've got nothing to be sorry about," you don't mean to come off as snappy as you do, the tension in your shoulders seemingly leaking out of your tone, "none of this is your fault."

As you reach to turn the water off, those eyes flicker open; deep blue, so dark that you almost mistake them for brown. Not saying anything; simply watching. You could use his three-in-one shampoo, tucked in the corner in a navy bottle, but you reach for yours instead.

"Fixin' to make me smell like strawberry and vanilla, I see," weakly, he chuckles at his own words, "plannin' to eat me after this?"

The image of him between your legs flickers through your mind like a pesky ex, nearly making you drop the shampoo on his head. You haven't thought about that since the day it happened; why is it bubbling up now?

"Maybe I am," you tease, "what're you gonna do about it?"

Whatever retort he's boiling up is lost when you run your fingers through his hair. Unable to hide the slight unfocusing of his eyes as they flutter shut. A sucker for having his hair played with.

The soap sinking into his unhealed wounds has got to sting, but you're unsure if he so much as notices. Despite the situation, a tiny, kitten-like smile works across his lips. It's a wonder he doesn't begin purring, so absolutely content as you lather his hair. Even as you turn the water back on, it doesn't fade.

You can never take some things from a man, no matter how hard you try. That smile is one of those things.

That goddamn smile. The one that never fails to make your gut feel like it's been filled with butterflies, their delicate wings tickling away at you. It's difficult to imagine what life would be like without...

oh

shit.

"Y'alright?" Those eyes have long since reopened, fixated solely on you.

Nodding, "yeah," having to force your voice to cooperate, "just thinking, is all."

You only need to step out long enough for him to dry off and wriggle into some clothes. Maybe takes him a minute at max, but it feels like an eternity on the other side of that door. Now that it's clicked, you can't get it to unclick. Everything makes sense; it all makes perfect sense, and you don't know what to make of it.

The door squeaks back open, "g'nna need your help one more time, little lady."

Right. You still need to brush his hair out.

It's not complicated; most of the tangles came out while you were washing it, but the brush moves so slowly that it might not be moving at all. It's hard to move with all these thoughts clouding your senses. This man that took a liking to you for no good reason. A mere stranger a year ago is now the only thing that brings a smile to your face on most days.

This cowboy who lassoed you upon your first meeting, and while he let go of you physically, he's never let go of your heart. Not even once.

Fuck.

You might have feelings for this man.

But now isn't the time to sift through those feelings because fresh blood stains the comb's bristles. Coming from the back of his head, a deep split of the muscle running so deep that it hurts you to look at.

Wordless, Rhett reaches into the cabinet, producing a small tube of superglue. On a typical day, you think you'd protest and insist that he see a doctor instead, but you don't have it in you. Looking in the reflection of the mirror is enough. Bruised, swollen eyes barely open, jaw slack with what can only be described as exhaustion.

He's had enough for one day.

The whine that leaves him when the glue touches him is brutal to stomach. Even worse, you can do nothing about it; you've no choice but to listen to his pained whimpers as you pinch the wound shut. It has to be done, whether you like it or not.

"Do you still want to watch that movie?" Rubbing his shoulders when you're done, "I can put that pizza in the oven."

It takes him a little bit to process what you've said, but ultimately, he nods, "yeah."

What you hate the most is that while Rhett's physical wounds immediately begin to heal, the others don't. Need more time. Require a bit more attention.

In the kitchen, he jumps when he feels you behind him, swearing under his breath, eyes big as saucers. A far cry from the Rhett, who could never be surprised by your appearance, always seeming to know you're there. Every little sound has him glancing between you and the door; refuses to sit in the seat that places his back to it.

While lying in bed, you can hear him fumbling on the couch. At some point, he gets up to put a chair under the doorknob as if he's afraid someone will burst through at any moment. It takes you all of two minutes to make your next decision.

"'m sorry I'm keepin' you up," he murmurs, half-lidded gaze following you and your bundle of blankets, "what're you doin'?"

"Figured you could use a buddy for the night," tossing your pillow onto the couch, you settle in. It's a wonder how the man sleeps on these all the time; they're not the most comfortable.

The corner of his lip quirks up, following your movements, until you're facing him, your eyes poking out of the blankets. "Thank you."

It's not contained to just that night, though.

He spooks at little things. When you bring him breakfast. When one of the horses makes a noise in their pasture. Perry flies up the driveway once; Rhett locks the door and stands in the laundry room until he realizes who it is. All that, just to find out that their parents are throwing a birthday party for Perry's daughter.

Always looking around, scanning the treeline and driveway like they'll be there waiting for him. He gives you a cell phone a week after the incident.

"Just in case," he tells you, so, so desperate to have peace of mind. To know that you're safe and have a way to reach him. It's the same color as the phone that lies dead in the bedside drawer.

It's hard to tell if he's getting through it all by himself or if you've merely figured out how to avoid his triggers. Making sure he's seen you before stepping behind him, always keeping a hand on him when you're back there, so he knows where you are. Calling out for him on your breakfast runs.

There's something enchanting about how he grins at you on those mornings, opening his arms up and welcoming you with a hug. Selfishly, you accept them every time, eager to feel those muscles around you, to squish your cheek into his broad chest.

"I like to have never found ya," and you know you've got it bad when you're starting to talk like the bastard. He's over on Perry's property, fixing a broken fence.

"'m sorry," he mumbles, quiet, "Perry called this mornin', said he needed me to do some repairs."

Where is his hand going...

"You're thinkin' 'bout somethin'," scruffy fingers take hold of your chin, tingles shooting down your spine as he brings your gaze to meet his. "Spit it out."

Here goes nothing. "Why do you help so much?"

His head cocks to the side, "whatcha mean?"

"I mean, you're always helping with Perry's chores," gesturing toward the barely standing fence, "when you already have a ranch to run on your own."

That seems to be what he was expecting you to ask because his face lacks any hint of surprise. "After Rebecca disappeared, I promised to help him with anything he needs," his hand travels back, fingertips rubbing the meet of your jaw. "Got somethin' on your skin."

Whatever is on you must be stubborn because he licks the pad of his thumb, rubbing wide circles until it's gone. Your knees might buckle. Up close, it's easy to see how they've healed; bright pink patches of skin decorate his knuckles, scarring that sticks out like a sore thumb. There are still a few scabs on his left hand; they would have healed by now if they didn't keep opening back up while he works.

"So you've become his personal maintenance man because of a promise?" Last you checked, Perry didn't go offering his help when his own actions caused Rhett to be hurt.

"I'm a man of my word," sucking in a deep breath, Rhett yawns, "no matter how much I may regret it."

Part 1 ♡⊹˚₊ Part 3

[fefairys]

now ive got quadrants on the brain specifically kismesissitude because i see the general attitude towards "do you use hs quadrants to label ur irl relationships?" as "i have a moirail/understand having a moirail but the black quadrants just dont work for humans, theyre for a fictional species" or "i have a kismesis but its like a joke" and im like lol. lmao even.

i guess it is my troll kinnie ass but the most common crush i get on people is a pitch one lmao.. my relationship with my fiance started as a kismesissitude and slowly morphed into kismoirailsprits over time, but like, we were a healthy kismesissitude and we still are partly kismesisses! idk if yall saw that gay little interaction we just had (scroll a few posts down on my blog lmao) but like we are still antagonistic towards each other a lot and our relationship started with us hating each other and was built around how much we annoyed each other.

its a very specific feeling and emotion to me! because i have dated people and NOT felt that way, too, so its not like "oh but everyones playfully antagonistic to their partners sometimes!" no no no this is so different. because when i was with my last girlfriend, yeah we would tease each other sometimes, but it wasn't the same feeling as Pitch Romance to me. it's a whole different feeling.

i very often get crushes on people where they annoy the hell out of me. i find them attractive, and even charming at times, but most of the time when they talk im like oh my god you are the most annoying person in the world. i want to make out with you about it. pitch feelings are about being ANGRY that you like you someone so much, to me. like "why the fuck do i like you so much when you're always getting on my nerves. why do i want to be around you all the time even though everything you say pisses me off. why do i want to kiss you." lmao. thats my experience at least! and also wanting to annoy them and rile them up in return. thats how i felt about juice at the start of our relationship, and i still have those feelings towards it now, though i also have other feelings like just plain and simple genuine Love and Affection without the annoyance as well. it fluctuates. depends on if we are annoying each other at the moment or not haha

i've told ppl this and they've been like "oh so its like tsundere" and im just like. I GUESS????? but to me it is so different like i feel like tsundere is when you like someone but cant admit it so you act like you hate them (maybe you even believe that you hate them, but truly, you like them) whereas kismesissitude is truly hating someone, finding them annoying and infuriating, but in an exhilarating way. i hate you and you hate me and its fun to annoy each other and watch each other get all mad.

the quadrant i'd personally never feel the need to be part of is the ashen one because its main purpose is to prevent cheating on ur kismesis and its like. well im polyamorous so. lol. i could see it being used in human relationships if its like, someone who functions as your moirail and helps mediate in arguments you have with other people where you/the other person are getting too angry with each other? i guess?

and also like. treating a moiraillegience as monogamous and something you can "cheat on" someone else with is definitely not the way to go imo. i mean im in a pale throuple rn. we call each other moirails because we trust each other more than anyone with talking about our feelings and stuff! but back in the day i remember people literally being like "he said *paps you* to my moirail what the fuck thats MY moirai only *i* can pap them!l" and its like alright calm down...

[joshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh]

I'm going to spend a little more time thinking about this show before I score it. Because I hate the show, right. I think at its absolute best it is a series that actively and aggressively fails to live up to its potential, and at its worst it is an atrociously bad overpowered protagonist lame comedy all around cringe shounen with a shit power system and all around awful writing. And I genuinely don't understand how anyone could like it, like, at all. The overwhelming ability of apparently almost everyone who has ever seen Frieren to just completely see past the things that frustrate me about it bewilders me. I think in general I'm pretty good at putting myself in the headspace of other people to see how they could like a thing, even things I hate, but I just can't do it with Frieren. The problems with this show are so violently obvious and frustrating to me that I fundamentally cannot understand how anybody could possibly enjoy it. I am convinced of my own problems with the show, right. To me it does suck and it is shit and I've been watching anime for almost 10 years now and this type of contemplative melancholy optimism genre is my bread and butter, shows that are like Frieren occupy a good majority of things I've given 10/10 scores to or consider some of my favourite anime. But this one specifically I just don't vibe with whatsoever and think is terrible at almost everything it sets out to do.

But I think for all that, I can't help shake the feeling that I'm being a liiiiiittle bit of a hater. Because the show sucks and pisses me off and whatever else, but I think I'm less mad at the show itself and more mad at the fact that massive swathes of people are convinced that anime is saved or something because of Frieren, it's so the best thing ever that it's sitting at a 9.37 on MAL right now, a score so ludicrously high that anything being scored with it would feel excessive. Everybody loves it, everybody thinks it's great, and I'm mad at them for not seeing the absolute shitshow that I see. And this problem I have I think has been amplified recently by just some tweets I've seen, of Frieren's fans accusing people that don't like the show of just, well, all sorts of bullshit, you know? If you don't like Frieren you are; a hater, a moronic shounen fan, a zoomer with a tiktok attention span, incapable of paying attention to anything slow or conemplative in any way, and just plain wrong and stupid. There is a sincere lack of willingness to engage with the idea that anyone could earnestly dislike the show for a variety of reasons, and it sucks. It's even worse because now that it's the top rated anime on MAL if you rate it low it's because you want FMAB to be at the top no matter what and you're just review bombing Frieren because you're a sheep or whatever. It just frustrates me so much that there's no conversation to be had here. You either think Frieren is god's gift to the industry and the best thing to air in the past 5-10 years, or you should make like Aura did and kill yourself. It's shit.

For what it's worth by the way, I get that I am both being a hypocrite as well as overly generalising people. I'm not willing to engage with the idea that Frieren is good, so why should people engage with the idea that it's bad? And all that "hrrr frieren fans are so annoying" is referring to like, ten tweets or something with a couple dozen replies each. I have literally spoken to people that are willing to engage with me about Frieren whom like the show but are more than willing to have a conversation and all that. But you know, it is what it is.

But anyway yeah no back to the scoring thing. Just to reiterate, I hate the show anyway, but I'm more mad at the reception and reaction to the thing. So I feel like if I scored it now I'd give it a 1/10 where my judgement is just absolutely clouded by being annoyed by the fans or whatever. Cause even while watching it I did occasionally find merit, you know? Not even just the production whoring but in the characters we were interacting with and the stories on screen. I think if I give myself more time to reflect I'll at least be able to give the show its due credit. I don't expect to score it higher than like a 4 or something maximum, and maybe I'll spend more time thinking about it and still just give it a 1 anyway, but like, I really do think I should spend a bit more time thinking before I decide anything further, so I mean, yeah. Frieren huh. If it gets any sort of followup I don't think I'll watch, and that way the Frieren tag will be cleansed of my bullshit, and the community can watch in peace. ggs.

[k7l4d4]

K Reviews and Rants: Miraculous Ladybug Season 5! Episode 3

Once more, I arrive like a comet, and once more, I depart, having left a glimpse into the madness within my mind! As always, warnings for profanity.

Episode 3: Destruction 

Okay, we get the first major scene, Marinette moping around... okay, I'll give props to Alya for seeing what Marinette would like with her tea, even if I'm still annoyed at what she did LAST episode. Really annoyed at how much they keep reiterating "how many powers Hawkm-sorry, MONARCH has," since it's not like it's any different from the fucking AKUMAS!!! 

And now we get Monarch trying to demand Orikko give him the power of time travel (while ignoring that he can FUCKING AKUMATIZE HIMSELF AGAIN TO DO JUST THAT YOU HAVE ALREADY GIVEN PEOPLE TIME TRAVEL POWERS!!!), and we get a vague and unhelpful explanation about how Kwamis' powers are tied to concepts... which doesn't actually answer why in the world Orikko can't give him the power to travel through time, since AGAIN, Nooroo has given powers like that in the past, WE KNOW THAT HE HAS. 

And now... we get Astruc's "that's not a power, that's a wish" BS. Just... this is idiotic. Tracking down someone else's source of power is VERY MUCH A POWER, it is not "a wish!!" Where in the fucking world is he drawing the lines in the sand with this!? This is nonsensical!! He's going out of his way to put as many needless roadblocks in Gabriel's way as possible, and when it is THIS OBVIOUS what someone is doing, it's just stupid. 

See, yanking the villains' chain to force them to rethink their plans can work... BUT NOT WHEN YOU ARE VISIBLY MAKING UP THE RULES AS YOU GO ALONG!!! 

Seriously, FUCK THIS SHIT Astruc! There is no coherent ruleset on display here, you are not TELLING us what the actual rules ARE, and making up exceptions and excuses at the drop of the hat! This is like that kid who always goes "you missed" in a game of pretend and will keep coming up with reasons WHY you missed, no matter how obvious he's cheating to always win he is. IOTA's blog is very well-named if Thomas thinks THIS is good writing. GOD DAMMIT does this piss me off!! 

Heck, like I said, WE KNOW THE BUTTERFLY CAN GIVE TIME TRAVEL POWERS, so not only is Orikko's claims suspect, HAWKMOTH HAS ENDED UP FORGETTING HIS ACTUAL POWERS!!! 

Like, I know "forgot about his powers" has its place as a trope... but this is transparently BS. 

Yeah... this is all just stupidity on so many levels. And we also have another case of why the "can't infringe on another Kwami's concept" line is BS. Hawkmoth literally gave Copycat a one-to-one replica of Chat Noir's Cataclysm without any kind of issues AT ALL. 

And now, we get a scene of the Kwami chanting "meanie" over and over again at Gabriel... and these things are meant to represent ancient miniature deities. Riiiiiggghhhttt. Like, is this meant to appeal to the target demographic? Because... dude, Thomas, this is just plain stupid. I have no other words beyond "you are making the ancient GODS act like five year olds." Uuuggghhh... 

And... apparently Marinette is still considered their holder... why? Like, what kind of BS is this?? What is the significance of being a holder?? We got a single scene ONCE in Season 2 of Gabriel "renouncing his contract with Nooroo," but this has never once been shown to have any serious significance before. Also, why would MARINETTE be considered their holder!? She's barely used ANY OF THEM AT ALL IN BATTLE OR IN GENERAL!!! 

Okay, Gabriel apparently had a good idea (for once) in asking the Kwami "where does Ladybug LIVE," which is honestly a pretty good loophole... IF I WERE NOT STILL PISSED OFF AT THE RULES-LAWYERING PRIOR TO THAT. And the best answer he gets is something to do about following the scent of crescent rolls, which is also a fairly decent loophole... but I have a bad feeling about where this stupidity is going to end. 

And... we get Hawkmo-sorry, "Monarch" In Marinette's bedroom. Nothing creepy about that, no siree bob! And... apparently this is the first step in some deeper, longer plot Marinette set-up. UUGGGGHHH!!! Gabe... you explicitly asked them "where does LADYBUG live," and going by how the magic literally makes you able to forcibly prevent the Kwamis from making sounds, they SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO LIE TO YOU, so I'm pretty sure you should be able to figure out Marinette is Ladybug, after all, YOU FOUND OUT IT WAS HER IN TWO SEPARATE TIMELINES BASED ON A SINGLE LINE FROM YOUR SON!!! 

And a scene of Marinette's clumsiness... I haven't commented on this yet, but the way they portray her clumsiness makes me cringe because of just how... overexaggerated it tends to be. 

See, Thomas... a way this fiasco could've worked better would be if you applied "Lex Luthor rules" to this situation; have Gabriel be able to REALIZE Marinette is Ladybug... and then discard it because his own biases can't imagine his sworn enemy living such a mundane, humble life. THAT would make this massive pileup of plot contrivance SO MUCH MORE TOLERABLE. 

And now we get confirmation the Kwami are lying through their teeth to Monarch. Which makes all this plot contrivance EVEN WORSE because it makes me question why in the world he was able to bully answers out of Nooroo. Again, WHY THE FUCK HAS THIS SHOW NEVER DEFINED WHAT A HOLDER IS!? If they had, I'm pretty sure ninety percent of my headache over this episode would be fucking GONE already. 

And Marinette going on a rambling rant about her insecurities... really not the time and place. Also, not gonna lie, I like the subtle emphasis Monarch gave "Voyage." Also, how is the ice rink guy not freaking out over the LITERAL SUPERVILLAIN in front of him? You know what, not gonna think about this, the entire thing has been contrivance after contrivance since it started, THAT bit of "no survival skills" is honestly low on the ladder. 

And now... we get Monarch captured by Ladybug with Chat Noir posing as a statue... I'm gonna be even blunter than normal, what the fuck is even the point of this colossal ruse!? Seriously, this entire fiasco would've been more interesting if the scavenger hunt was REAL, but we already know it isn't because like FUCK the Kwami don't know where Marinette lives. Seriously, all this, just to get him into position to get Monarch, despite knowing all the places he's going to go on the hunt!? Like, they couldn't have put up an ambush earlier down the line, or, I dunno, at least put up the illusion of chasing him to make him think he's on the right trail!? And I can't remember, but isn't their really a statue of Chat Noir alongside the Ladybug statue? Then how was Chat able to take its place? Heck, this ENTIRE SET UP seems reliant on Chat being able to find out that Monarch is following the hunt and getting into position, since without him around, THEY CANNOT THREATEN HAWKMOTH USING THE CATACLYSM. Dear god is this fiasco poorly thought out, repress repress repress...!!! 

They also try and pull a "the Kwami had no choice...!" despite all the plot contrivance they baked into this stupidity. Also, did Marinette REALLY leave her address, sticking out of PUBLIC STATUE!? Granted, she could always replace it, but why the FUCK wouldn't one of the janitorial staff thrown it away!? Just... just gotta move on... 

Also, why in the world are they not taking all the Miraculouses right now, when they captured him?? They don't NEED HIM TO DETRANSFORM!! Seriously, they have FIRST HAND EXPERIENCE that it will happen automatically as soon as they take it off, so why did they waste so much time explaining how they set all this up!? Like, this is basically them wasting time when they have the villain LITERALLY HELPLESS!!! And then... Hawkmoth throws himself on the Cataclysm. Like... props for being hardcore, I guess. Though I do agree with Chat Noir, IS HE NUTS!? Seriously, Thomas, I must reiterate, WHAT ABOUT THIS GUY IS SUPPOSED TO BE SYMPATHETIC!? 

And when Hawkmoth uses Kaalki (seriously WHY DID THEY NOT GRAB THE MIRACULOUS THAT LETS HIM RUN AWAY FIRST!?) to escape, we get a scene of the Kwami being sucked away... I... I honestly do not remember if that's how that is supposed to work, because I distinctly remember a sick Tikki being able to be moved quite a decent distance from Marinette when she got mistaken as a toy by Chloe in Season 1, so why did they all get sucked away with him?? 

And Thomas, if you are gonna pull another "Marinette must always make a mistake" card moment for this BS... check. Your fucking. PRIVILEGE. Sorry if that doesn't make sense, but every time, EVERY FUCKING TIME We get stupidity like this, it feels like Thomas rips out that card as a "get out of criticism free" moment, and gloats about how genius he is. This is just idiotic on every level. 

Okay, and now we get the obligatory "what have I done/We failed moment" with the heroes. And Chat's being torn up over having Cataclysmed Hawkmoth, which I would say is a good thing... if I didn't know what was coming later on. 

But him going "he must be in so much pain." It feels OFF on every level. 

And now we get the breakdown of Marinette's plan... and it is still incredibly contrived since, AGAIN, it relies on the idea that the Kwami CAN lie to Hawkmoth, which undermines a lot of threat factor by making him have so little control over their actions. It's the fiasco with Queen Bee at the end of Miracle Queen all over again; like, Hawk Moth STOLE the Kwamis, and can com

mand them easily... but when Chloe tried it, they could just... tell her no? There is no consistency here. Like I said before, this would honestly make a better plot if it actually WAS a scavenger hunt for the Kwami to get back home, and Marinette had to scramble to lay a trap for him. 

Like, so much of this is Marinette acting like a chessmaster... and it falls flat on its face because of how much contrived BS is baked into the REASON Hawkmoth had to stumble ass-backwards into this shitty trap!! 

I just... I don't GET THIS. If they had taken time to set up how much will and independence Kwamis actually have with their wielders, defined what even a holder IS and what it means in terms of Kwamis, MAYBE this wouldn't be such a fiasco. But given this starts point blank with them adding a bunch of poorly defined qualifiers onto how the Rooster Miraculous WORKS as well as Hawkmoth FORGETTING HOW VERSATILE HIS OWN FUCKING POWER IS... yes, this is shit. 

And we get into the home stretch, Marinette is upset about how she failed, which is good. She honestly NEEDS genuine failures, REAL setbacks. And by "genuine" and "real" I mean ones that are actually the result of her fucking up. Even SUPERMAN fails sometimes, so why in the world would Marinette be an exception!? Yet... rather than consoling Marinette that she can do better next time, and that this showed how well she can plan strategically in the long term rather than just spontaneously... instead she basically writes off how much of this contrived fiasco had to go off PERFECTLY and involve Hawkmoth playing right into their hands, the numerous plot contrived BS forcing him into that situation in the first place, AND the fact that Marinette and Adrien accomplished NONE OF THEIR ACTUAL FUCKING GOALS, to say that this plan was a success and that Marinette's an amazing superhero. I'm sorry, but sometimes a hero doesn't need a boost to their self-esteem, they need reassurance that a failure doesn't define them. Alya, you fucked up right here, and Thomas, the fact that you aren't even acknowledging how the heroes failed to retrieve EVEN A SINGLE FUCKING MIRACULOUS just shows how contrived this BS plot really is. 

All that's left is Gabriel turning the Miraculouses into Rings, AKA the advent of the stupidest fucking costume in the show. I'll admit, while his "original" Look as Monarch wasn't the best, at least they put some FUCKING EFFORT into it. I even liked the stained-glass look. But what's coming? Blech. 

Oh, and the stupid as hell all white suit. Seriously dude, you DID NOT NEED THE SUIT. Just making your old suit fit tighter would've concealed the cataclysm injury just as fine. NOW it's over.

[another-whump-sideblog]

Masterlist

Ema spends a lot of time hanging out at Tom’s apartment. She feels safe around him, and she trusts her instincts.

“Hey, Ema?”

“Yeah?”

“Are your parents… still in the picture? I know they weren’t great, but surely they’d be able to give you some financial support.”

Tap, tap, tap. “They wouldn’t believe me.”

“…Really? Are you sure? Well, you would know better than I do, it’s just… hard to imagine them not believing you. They’re your parents.”

“They are. They still wouldn’t believe me. They never believed me, about him.”

“Wait, you knew him before? I guess I just assumed…”

“Yes. He was a family friend.”

“Shit. They really wouldn’t believe you? You were missing for years, and you have the scars.”

“They’d say me not being around for a few years doesn’t mean I was held captive. They’d say I could’ve given myself the scars. They’d say it was someone else and I’m just pretending it was him because I’ve always had something against him. They’d say anything, they’d believe anything, if it meant they didn’t have to believe me.”

“Really? …Shit. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Heh. You always said that. Sorry isn’t just for apologizing, it can be another way to say ‘that’s awful. You didn’t deserve that. It makes me sad to think about.’”

“Then just say that!” The familiar argument from a nicer time makes Ema smile a bit. “Why not just say what you mean? Why say sorry when you didn’t do anything?”

“I don’t know, it’s shorter? Or sometimes it’s like… ‘the universe isn’t going to apologize, so I will.’”

“Why would you apologize on the universe’s behalf? That’s weird. That’s a weird thing to do.”

Tom laughs. “What’s wrong with being weird?”

“Nothing, on its own, but why use an overly complicated way to apologize on behalf of the universe when you can just say ‘that sucks?’”

“It’s not overly complicated, that’s what the word means. Sorry has multiple meanings, you refusing to acknowledge that doesn’t mean everyone who uses it is trying to confuse you.”

“No words should have multiple meanings. I’ve just decided. Too confusing.”

Tom laughs again. “I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree. Wanna play some Mario Kart?”

—

“So, does the name Tom have any special meaning?”

“No, why?”

“Well, you like, chose it. I assumed it would have some meaning.”

Tom shrugs. “Not really. I just like the name.”

“Huh. It just seems kind of… plain. For something you picked yourself. I would pick something cool.”

“Well it’s a good thing my name isn’t your decision then.”

It’s the first time Tom has used any sort of harsh tone with her since they reconnected, and she goes rigid. “Sorry, sorry. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It’s… not that big a deal. You know that if you want to change your name to something ‘cool,’ you can, right? You don’t have to project that on me.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t… do that.”

“Sorry.”

Ema doesn’t like this anymore than Tom does. Tap, tap, tap.

“I don’t want you to just say you’re sorry to get the conversation to stop. Nothing bad is happening, you’re safe.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t-“ She knows she’s safe right now. He’s not angry yet, just annoyed, she needs to stop it before he gets actually angry but it’s just making him more annoyed and he’s going to get mad-

“It’s- it’s alright. It’s not that big a deal.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

Tom sighs. “One apology was enough. We’re good. I forgive you.”

Ema nods, curling into a ball. She didn’t know she would react like that. She didn’t know- she thought that once he was gone she wouldn’t feel so-

Ema excuses herself to the bathroom and cries quietly.

[agentnico]

Orion and the Dark (2024) review

Woah, Jacob Tremblay under went some plastic surgery or something, as he looks mega-different! Was watching an interview with him and Paul Walter Hauser talking about this film, and the kid has hit puberty big time. Now looks like an annoying moody teen. If they reboot Twilight, we’ve found Edward.

Plot: The thing Orion fears the most is the dark. When the embodiment of his worst fear pays a visit, Dark whisks Orion away on a roller-coaster ride around the world to prove there is nothing to be afraid of at night.

What starts as a pretty basic by-the-numbers animated film about how every aspect of life can be scary quickly morphs into something that celebrates the unpredictability of it whilst exploring how balance is essential. The main kid Orion - he’s basically Beau Is Afraid for kids. He gets freaked out by everything, and honestly he was just really sad to watch, and Tremblay is almost too good at portraying the character’s inner fear, making me wonder how much of the real Tremblay is present within Orion. We are treated to an amusing scrapbook montage of Orion’s imagined worst case scenarios, after which the film briskly jumps straight into the nightly events where Dark comes knocking, featuring a delightfully narrated introduction by Werner Herzog. Paul Walter Hauser makes Dark so loveable, turning a concept that is scary for some into a gentle giant with his own doubts and insecurities. The interactions between Orion and Dark are entertaining and amusing, if a bit inconsistent, as every time you think they’re becoming friends, Orion goes back to his fears. It’s all easy digestible family friendly entertainment, even if there were a couple of surprisingly dark, pardon the pun, jokes included throughout.

However it is in the last 20 minutes when the movie does a mad 360 degree turn and switches genres into this crazy multi-generational escapade, as such in the last 10 mins me and my fiancée were questioning momentarily what just happened. Look, as a collective package Orion and the Dark is a basic animation that takes a lot from other movies of its kind, but those last moments or so jarringly mad and out-there that we were shook. That is until I saw who has a screenplay credit and then all made sense. That’s right, one of the writers of this film is Charlie Kaufman. As you may know, Charlie Kaufman’s films scratch at your head and mess with your mind, as his writing fundamentally deconstructs the ways in which it plays with and incorporates narrative structure of the story itself. In a nutshell, his films are surreal and weird, hence why Orion and the Dark’s ending makes all the more sense.

The animation style itself is fun, somewhat similar to Mitchell vs the Machines’ 2D to 3D blend, and a pleasing colour palette with the dark blue and purple environments, however you can tell this is a cheaper budget from DreamWorks, as many times the backgrounds looked too plain and simple, and even the character designs of the nightly entities were not that original or creative. In fact aside from Dark, all the other night sprits were really bland and unmemorable, and one of them was voiced by acting legend Angela Bassett, so that’s saying something.

Overall Orion and the Dark is enjoyable for what it is, but doesn’t really make a strong impression aside from its last mind-bending 10 minutes, and knowing now of Kaufman’s involvement I feel like this movie had the potential of going weirder from the start, but instead is really by-the-numbers and forgettable, and will not be seen as the cure to nyctophobia.

Overall score: 5/10