#can you tell i have no coping mechanisms except food and wanting to be dead when i fuck somethingup

[shadowwolf146]

For someone who went to school to be a journalist I sure fucking suck at following through.

So my mom's asked me idk how many fucking times the last few weeks to cut my sister's nails. (She can't do it herself cause shes disabled.) And I didn't. I forgot or I remembered late at night when she was asleep (neither of those are good excuses for me since I dont have anything that makes remembering shit hard) and to cut a long lecture/yell short I fucked up. My sis scratched herself up in her sleep and she scratched mom too, both could've been prevented by me doing the one thing I was asked to do. Problem is that my sister's caseworker people are allowed random inspections whenever so if they show up and my sis is all scratched up they leap to conclusions and take her away to a home somewhere where they'll scoop out her organs or steal her kidneys for other patients or r*pe her or other awful stuff I've been told. So then I got yelled at, (justifiably) because yeah that's fair (and I'm an idiot) and I really do hate myself cause I'm falling back into old habits of not following through or procrastinating when i know i shouldn't and it ALWAYS bites me in the ass. And then I end up doing it again and here we are. Long and short of it is I'm venting, I'm being a idiot who doesn't like criticism and I'm being a little bitch baby about it and hoping this will help me get it out of my system so I can...fuck idk, not do it again? Either way that sucked and I'm fucking being stupid and self depreciating and all that even tho I KNOW it doesn't help. I got nothing, just wanted to vent and didn't wanna tell my friends cause they'd just only have my side of the story to go on and thats not fair to my mom. All this to say that although she didn't intend to, momma did indeed raise a weak lil bitch. It's me. This isn't helping me FIX anything and Mom already clipped my sister's nails and screamed at me (again, fair this is my fault) so it's kinda over and I just gotta sit with it. I guess. How does ANYBODY DO THIS SHIT? Like genuinely. HOW? It feels like I'm always fucking something up and then I don't really know what to when I get called out and I just-DAMNIT. (So yeah I wanna be dead lmao)

Anyway nobody will probably read this and that's cool just getting my stupid shit out somewhere I guess. I don't deserve any pity for it either cause it's my fault and it's just my brain eating itself and shitting out bullshit I guess. So yeah.

[solemnly-mischievous]

Could pls you write something where the marauders and you are taking about your safe word and boundaries?!

Thanks! <33

hell yeah! remember kids, if you're gonna engage in Practices of Dominant and Submissive Dynamics, these talks are always very important and essential and good. consent is sexy. stay safe. all that.

also, i'd never claim to be an expert on the topics they talk about - if i get anything off or word anything poorly, do tell me and i'll amend that.

anyway also the things they put on their hard limit list are not off the table for future fics, so keep that in mind :)

Contains: Fluff, discussion of bodily fluids & cnc, mentions of degradation and praise

Word count: 1.5K

------

It's about one AM in the Gryffindor common room, and all your housemates are asleep—the only sound you can hear is the crackling of the fireplace and the sound of pages turning as Remus flips through his book.

You're laying in Remus' lap, his fingers combing absentmindedly through your hair and massaging your scalp. It feels so good.

"Oi—watch the cakes—"

"You watch your stupid feet, Prongs, you're stepping on my cloak—"

"—I swear to god if you drop the pumpkin juice, I'll throw you and your bloody cloak into the fire—"

"Merlin, James, shut up, you're so loud—"

You hear Remus huff a soft laugh and you smile along: Your boyfriends are many things, but stealthy and discreet are not one of them. One would think the infamous pranksters of Hogwarts would be better at sneaking around in the dead of night—but then again, who needs to be light on their feet when there are charms and Invisibility Cloaks?

James and Sirius enter the common room as quietly as they can manage—which is to say, not that quiet at all—each bearing a large plate full of midnight snacks and drinks they've retrieved from the kitchen. (The house elves are always more than happy to see them.)

"Aw, look at them," Sirius murmurs to James, and he nods, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he looks at you and Remus. It's certainly a heartwarming scene, and you'd be content to stay there forever, but something's missing.

"C'mere," you whisper to the boys, holding your arms out and making grabby hands. "Cuddle."

They're more than happy to oblige, setting the plates on the table in front of the couches and piling on, Sirius leaning against Remus' shoulder and James sitting on the floor in front of you and Remus. You reach out and tug at his curls affectionately—he leans into the touch.

"We brought you your favorite chocolate cakes," James murmurs to you. "The elves made more just for you—even they know you love them. Oh, and Remus—there's pumpkin juice for you."

"Thank you," Remus says warmly, ruffling James' hair as he reaches by to grab a goblet. "Did you say hi to the elves for me?"

"Yeah," Sirius says, "they miss you and they're going to file for divorce if you don't visit them soon."

"Divorce? From all of them?" Remus' tone is laughing. "I don't think I could handle the legal fees."

"Who'd get custody?" you wonder.

"Besides, Moony knows he's married to us, if not legally but in spirit. When you think about it, Moony's a homewrecker," James jokes, and Sirius cackles in delight.

Your eyelids droop as Remus scratches along your scalp lightly, and Sirius catches you. "Hey, hey, wait, we're not sleeping yet. We have things to talk about."

"Talk about them faster," you mumble, and James laughs.

"Alright, alright," Remus says amiably. "We'll make it fast so you can get to sleep soon, alright? But you're gonna need to be coherent and awake right now, okay?"

"Fine," you whine, and you ease into a sitting position so you aren't tempted to fall asleep right there.

"Good girl," Sirius murmurs, and you shiver involuntarily.

"Okay, none of that right now—clear heads, all of us," Remus says. He looks at you and gives you a small smile. "There'll be plenty of time for that later."

"So how do we start?" Sirius asks. "Do we just... talk about what works, what doesn't?"

"I think we should start with the safeword." Remus hums thoughtfully. "You guys know the stoplight system?"

You and James shake your heads; Sirius nods.

"Green for go on, yellow for slow down, red for stop," Remus explains. "It's important to check in consistently, so we can be sure everything's alright."

"Wait, so yellow is..." You trail off.

"Yellow is, er, we don't need to stop, but I'm not one hundred percent comfortable or confident in what we're doing right now, so can we slow down and talk about it or change what we're doing?" Sirius explains, and you nod.

"Ah." You think about it. "Right, yeah, I think the stoplight system sounds fine."

"Same," James says, and Sirius voices his agreement.

In all your time at Hogwarts, the early years especially, never in a million years would you have thought you'd be here right now—in a polyamorous relationship with the troublemakers of the grade, discussing safewords and kink negotiations.

But what's life without a few surprises?

"We can all use the colors," Remus adds, "even if we're not the one subbing. Anyone can check in at anytime. Okay?"

Once that's been established, he pushes forward with, "Okay, so nitty-gritty: What are our boundaries? What do we not want to touch with a ten-foot pole?"

"No bodily fluids," James puts forth, "except for, well, you know. Just spit and come, I think. No blood or piss or anything like that."

You nod. "I don't wanna draw blood. Pain is okay, like bruises and bitemarks or the like, but I don't know about actual... wounds and stuff. For now, at least."

Remus nods. "Absolutely."

"Oh," Sirius says, looking vaguely bashful—which is a sight, because the Sirius Black, looking shy? "Um. I like to dom, right? Like usually, I do. But when I switch and sub, er, I don't like to be degraded. I love doing the degrading, but I don't know about being the degraded one."

Knowing Sirius' past, you understand completely. The rest of the Marauders nod as well, and James shifts towards Sirius, leaning against his leg in a comforting gesture. Sirius smiles at him, soft and affectionate.

"How about you, Moony?" you ask Remus.

"Hm." He thinks about it for a second. "I don't think I would want to do consensual non-consent."

"What's that?" James pokes at Remus' leg.

"Like, when you agree beforehand that a scene is going to be... Non-consensual. Usually, it's so the sub can pretend to struggle and protest and fight back and such. It's a fantasy, kinda like a coping mechanism, and I get it, and I respect people who do like it, but I don't think it's for me."

"So, all in all," Sirius summarizes, "No bodily fluids, no blood, no forced fantasies."

"Sums it up about right," James agrees. "And no degradation for when you're subbing."

"Yep."

"If at any time we think of something that we want to add to the hard-limit list," Remus says, "just say it. Even if it's the middle of a scene or anything, consider this a priority."

Sounds of agreement and understand come from the three of you.

"Also, just for a semi-reference," Sirius says, "I'm a switch, with a lean for being dominant. Remus is... I think, just dominant?"

Remus inclines his head. "I've never had the urge to sub, yet. Again, things might change."

Personally, you thought the idea of Remus on his knees, begging for the three of you, was very appealing, but that's up to Remus to decide.

"I'm also a switch, but I don't know if I have a lean," James pipes up. "I enjoy both equally, it just kind of depends on the moment."

Sirius nods, then looks at you. You're in the middle of leaning over James' head to nab a chocolate cake from the platter—the epitome of grace and dignity.

"I'm a switch," you say, chocolate cake in hand, "with a submissive lean. Like, I think... I think one day, I'd like to try to dom. Maybe. But usually I'm more than happy to sub."

"What a well-balanced group we are," James comments, and Remus snickers.

You yawn right on cue, and Sirius laughs. "Getting too tired, are we?"

"Yeah, but! I was absolutely clearheaded through all that. Fully concentrated. No distractions."

James eyes your chocolate cake.

"One distraction."

"I suppose we can talk about other things another night," Remus says, as your eyelids flutter again with tiredness.

"Other things?" James asks.

"Yeah. Specific kinks, stuff we'd like to try. Rules, corresponding punishments..." The werewolf winks at you. "Rewards."

"I like rewards," you murmur sleepily.

"For another night," Sirius agrees, yawning as well. He looks sadly at the two plates of goodies stacked on the table. "We got all that food for nothing."

"Nah, we can bring it back up to our dorm and charm it so it doesn't go bad," James says. "No worries."

"Right, right. Alright, you grab one plate, Remus grabs the other, I'll take her back up."

"Hey, why do you get to take her?"

"Because I said it first," Sirius maintains, like the dignified adult he is, and scoops you up before any of the other Marauders can protest.

You fall asleep that night on James' bed, in his warm embrace and surrounding by the calming sounds of your boyfriends' steady breathing. All in all, it hasn't been a bad night at all.

[miekasa]

college boyfriend levi headcanons: exam season

+ pairings: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: college au, fluff, nothing too dramatic

+ notes: this is combination of about three or four requests i got around the similar theme of finals (are you guys okay.... pls drink water omg), so i hope you don’t mind that i combined them!

From the outside, Levi is very composed, even when he’s stressed out. Unless you really know him, it’d be hard to tell he’s going through something at all—whether it be personal or because of school.

Just because he’s good at hiding it, doesn’t mean it’s always healthy lol. It’s not always… unhealthy, either; but one of his coping mechanisms is definitely to keep to himself, in an attempt to try and gain control of all the chaos.

Luckily for Levi, you’ve gotten pretty good at telling whenever he’s hiding something. That, and there’s only so composed one human being can be during finals week lol.

He doesn’t mind being taken care of, but it’s not something he seeks out either. But if you try showing him support, he’ll accept whatever you have to offer.

If you can’t exactly help him with the content of his classes, he’ll still be grateful to know that you’d want to buy him snacks, or study with him, or nap with him, or even just text to check up on him. Little things like that mean a lot to him.

When it comes it you, however, he almost doesn’t ever verbally acknowledge that you’re having a hard time—he only shows it through his actions, and he’ll do whatever he can to make your life easier when things are stressful.

I’ve said it before, but I think that acts of service are probably the biggest component of Levi’s love languages. If you need anything, he’d be happy to get or do it for you, and will even go so far as to volunteer himself to take care of something before you can ask.

Food is a big thing. He’ll buy or prepare food for you while you’re studying, one: to make sure you don’t accidentally forget to eat, and two: to make sure that you’re not living off of take out for two weeks, no matter how tempting it may be.

If you have trouble focusing, he’ll honestly incentivize you like a kid lolol. He’ll tell you to study for an hour, and then you can take a break, or he’ll buy you something from Starbucks or something of that nature. Lowkey, he’s classically conditioning you, but whatever.

Pokes you with his pen if you try to distract him or coerce him into taking a break earlier than your scheduled break-time.

He can also twirl his pen really quickly and does it very absentmindedly when he’s watching a video or something. Lowkey kind of hot, don’t tell him that, though, he’s enough of a menace as it is. 

Plays footsies with you under the table while you’re both doing work. Don’t tell anyone else, tho.

If you’re the kind of person who really ups their coffee intake during exams season, he’s not outwardly going to stop you—not like he could, bye—but he will try his best to either moderate it, or at the very least supplement it with actual food and water in between.

Sometimes though, he simply has to pry the coffee out of your hands, and even though you want to kill him for it, you know he’s right.

“You cannot have three venti drinks with 4 shots of espresso in them in the same day. You shouldn’t even have had two. In fact, one was pushing it. No more.” “Fine, I’ll just drink have a grande instead.” “Over my dead body, hand it over.”

Don’t play with him, he’ll pour your $8 drink down the drain without a single regret.

If you favor energy drinks over coffee, then he’ll act the same way, except worse lolol. He’s not playing games with you, he simply will not let you consume a 5hr energy in front of him, and if he finds your stash, it’s over.

He’ll kind of bully you into taking care of yourself lolol. Either you do it, or he’ll do it for you.

He’s probably more prone to studying in the evening, but he doesn’t strike me as the all-nighter kind of guy, unless he’s completely forgotten about an assignment or exam and absolutely has to cram the day before.

Honestly, he just gets sick of doing schoolwork after a certain hour and would rather be asleep or doing anything else. Which works out for him; because he’s so consistent throughout the semester, his exams are a bit more bearable.

When he sees you staying up late more often, he doesn’t think anything much of it at first. It’s pretty commonplace among college students. He does get a little bit grouchy though, because it means he has less time to spend with you doing something other than staring at work all day.

If it really persists, that’s when he’s going to try and get you to give it up and take a night off, or at least take a nap with him. (Levi likes naps, and I think he really would nap like a kitten throughout whenever he can).

When you’re studying together, he usually finishes his work before you, and if you take too long, he wouldn’t mind making himself comfortable and taking a nap while he waits.

He takes really good notes, and probably writes them over several times when he’s studying, he’s really got it down to a science. That being said, if you’re really behind and you can barely look through your unintelligible notes, Levi would write them over for you.

Yeah, but in doing that he also steals your highlighters. Give them back Levi, if you want a pack of Mildliners, buy your own.

He waits for you after your late classes or study groups, especially in the winter or when it’s dark out. He doesn’t like to let you walk home alone—especially if it’s finals week, because he knows you’re barely running on 5 hours of sleep anyways.

He’ll let you teach him things as a way for you to practice/study and takes very good notes because he’s cute like that, even if he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on.

If your room gets messy in your haze of studying and wallowing, he’ll come over and clean it up, even if you don’t want to, or feel like you don’t have the strength to. He’ll just start picking things up. It helps more than he knows. 

When exams are all over, he takes you out to do whatever you want. Whether it be a nice meal, doing something fun like laser tag, or even just going to watch a movie together; it’s a nice little celebration after all the hard work. 

If he’s feeling the pressure, he stress-bakes. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s an overwhelming amount. His kitchen is practically overflowing with lemon tarts and he just starts handing them out to you and all his friends like he’s a merchant, because he’ll be damned if they spoil.

“You smell like sugar and flour… were you baking today?” “Yes… Psychology is hard and humans are stupid, now here’s a muffin.”

If you really just need a complete break from everything school related, he’ll take you on a long drive. You don’t have to go anywhere specific, but he’ll just drive you around, and you two can get food and talk and talk and talk until you’re barely thinking about school anymore.

Overall, he’s pretty nurturing and particularly gentle with you. He doesn’t like to see you not take care of yourself, so if he has to do it for you, so be it.

[motherjoel]

hot cocoa (spencer reid x reader)

summary: spencer accidentally spills some of penelopes famous hot cocoa onto a beautiful stranger in the airport (who just so happens to be sitting next to him on the plane)

a/n: this one takes place during the holidays but its not all about xmas! also i tried to make this gender neutral and i think it is but if i missed something let me know

wc: 2.2k

warnings/includes: reader curses a lot & has flight anxiety, spencer is awkward and sweet

-

Spencer was rarely late- even when he had food poisoning from some bad chinese food, he made it into work with time to spare. Sure, he might have turned green at the sight of the evidence board, but he even made it to the trash can in time. His punctuality had come into question today, however, as he booked it to the boarding area. I shouldn’t have let Garcia distract me, he thought back to the holiday party at the office. Well, surprise party- they had all returned from a case sore and exhausted, but of course Penelope had baked an entire array of cookies and decorated the office to the brim. He stayed for one cup of hot cocoa, which turned into three, and before he knew it, his flight was an hour away. With his travel mug filled with cocoa in hand, he awkwardly ran through the airport to catch his flight home to Vegas.

Spencer never considered himself a coordinated person- sure, he had to have a certain level of finesse to be an FBI agent, but if he wasn’t a genius he never would have passed the physical. So when he found himself tripping over his own feet in the middle of an airport, he wasn’t as much surprised as he was perturbed. That annoyance soon shifted into pure embarrassment when he looked up to see you- the ethereal being he had just spilled Penelope’s famous hot cocoa onto. The beautiful person whose “I <3 DC” sweatshirt was now stained an unattractive shade of brown. His mind went completely blank in that moment, the apology he had wished to conjure up lying dead on his tongue. As he began to stammer in shock he stopped in his tracks- you were laughing. A noise Spencer swears could find world peace and end world hunger. A voice that finally encouraged Spencer to find his own.

“I am so sorry,” he apologized, hands frantically flying to his personal pack of tissues he kept in his bag. You continued to laugh, doubled over as you accepted the wad of tissues.

“Oh, it's okay,” you said, taking a deep breath. “God, I definitely seem insane. Sorry, I’ve just been having one hell of a shitty day,” you began to explain, confusing Spencer even more. “So my boyfriend breaks up with me the morning of my flight across the country, which I’m running a bit late for,” you continued, glancing at your watch. “But I have to go home for the holidays of course so I pack my shit and head out anyway, but I forget a sweatshirt! I’m freezing cold so I buy this overpriced ugly thing,” you gestured to your now-stained sweatshirt. “Only for you to spill your…” you sniffed the mess, “hot cocoa?” you questioned, Spencer nodded frantically, “all over it. I guess that's one way of warming up,” you huffed. 

“Wow, I- um, I don’t really know what to say. I’m really sorry about your day being bad. And for spilling my drink on you, of course, um,” he reached into his suitcase and pulled out his backup cardigan. “Here, take this,” he said, almost shoving the knitwear into your hands. “Please, it’s the least I can do,” he said, unintentionally flashing what Prentiss called his “puppy dog eyes.” He exhaled in relief as you grabbed the sweater from him, sliding off your stained hoodie and replacing it with his soft and coffee-scented cardigan. 

“Thanks. And I’m sorry for dumping my days' trauma on you, but I really do have a flight to catch, so,” you gestured towards the boarding area (which just so happened to be his designated boarding area). You rushed off to board the plane after giving him a tight-lipped smile and a soft wave, leaving him in a dazed state. Breaking out of his trance, he grabbed his suitcase and continued his beeline towards the plane. 

There was something about you that stuck with Spencer- although it may not have been your proudest moment, he was incredibly intrigued by you and the way you reacted to disaster. Spencer had seen his fair share of terrible coping mechanisms, but the way you laughed in the face of tragedy was something he admired- envied, almost. Envy wasn’t the right word for it, there were no negative connotations he associated with the way he felt about you. Perhaps it was too soon to tell.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped onto the plane, the anxiety of missing his flight finally lifted. Said anxiety was soon replaced by a new feeling that was ruled by a flutter in his chest, one that he had only experienced a few times in his life. This fluttery feeling was the result of seeing you planted in the seat directly next to the one written on his plane ticket. His breath caught in his throat as you looked up from the book in your hand, giving him a small wave. His eyes widened as he looked around, wondering if you were actually waving at him. You laughed and looked back down at your book, a soft smile rested on your lips. As Spencer got closer to his seat he could feel his heart rate picking up. You looked up from your book as he struggled slightly to lift his carryon into the overhead compartment. His cheeks heated up in embarrassment over the struggle, but he eventually managed to secure his carryon, taking a seat in 32 B. 

“So we meet again,” you smiled at the disheveled man next to you.

“So we do,” Spencer smiled and grabbed his copy of Les Miserables from his backpack- he lost track of how many times he had read it, but it was an easy plane read for him.

“I’m Y/N, by the way. Sorry, I probably should’ve introduced myself earlier after telling you my life story. I just didn’t expect to be sitting next to you,” you said with amusement.

“I’m Spencer, and no problem. Hows, um, the sweater?” he asked, trying to continue the conversation. Normally he’d be a quarter through his book by now, but you were a rare something that was more interesting to him than Victor Hugo. 

“It’s great! Cozier than my ‘I heart DC’ hoodie for sure,” you laughed and Spencer swore he heard angels singing.

“I’m glad, I felt really bad. Hot chocolate is actually a really difficult stain to remove because it has fat, sugar, tannins, and protein. It would take a lot of work to remove that stain, especially with the chocolate to milk ratio Penelope uses,” Spencer rambled, the embarrassment setting in the second he closed his mouth.

“Penelope?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh, she's my coworker. She’s known for her hot chocolate and her cookies. Oh!” Spencer remembered the plastic bag of cookies Garcia had sent him home with. “Want one? They’re chocolate chip,” he said, grabbing the bag of cookies and holding it out to you.

“Sure,” you laughed, taking a bite of the surprisingly delicious cookie. “Oh. My. God. That is incredible! This Penelope person has a gift,” you laughed, finishing the cookie surprisingly fast.

“I’ll be sure to let her know,” Spencer smiled, taking a cookie for himself. A comfortable silence ensued as the two of you munched on your cookies, the plane almost done boarding.

“So, what brings you to Vegas?” you asked. Spencer was a little confused as to why you wanted to talk to him, but he decided not to question the anomaly.

“Oh, I’m visiting my mother for the holidays. I work at Quantico in Virginia so I don’t get to see her too often,” he shared, surprised at his willingness to be open.

“That’s nice! I’m kinda doing the same, except I am not returning to DC,” you sighed. Spencer felt his heart drop as he internally begged for you to elaborate, and as if reading his mind, you continued. “That boyfriend I mentioned earlier was kinda my only reason for moving here, and now that he's a cheating jackass- sorry, oversharing again, um, now that we broke up, I’ll probably just stay in Vegas,” you explained, opening the book in front of you and mindlessly flipping through the pages. He focused on the chipped nail polish painted on your bitten nails as you turned the pages, eyes moving to the title of the book.

“Le Petit Prince?” he asked, pointing at your book.

“Oh, yeah. I’m trying to teach myself some french so I’m reading this to get a little better,” you smiled before your eyes drifted down to the thick book in his lap. “You’re reading Les Mis?” you asked, slightly shocked at the french writing on the cover.

“Yeah, well it's my.... fourth, I think, time reading it. Well, in the original french,” he said, oblivious to his accidental brag.

“Damn, are you a genius or something?” you laughed, noticing the blank stare on Spencer’s face. “Wait. You are,” you pointed at him, your shock turning into joy.

“Well, technically, I am I guess,” he smiled awkwardly, trying not to flaunt his intelligence.

“That’s so cool! God, maybe if I was a genius I could get past the first chapter of this book,” you huffed, looking defeatedly at your book once again.

“May I ask, why are you learning French? It’s the fourth most important language behind Mandarin Chinese, Spanish and German. That’s just my opinion, of course,” he said, slightly flustered by the look on your face.

“Yeah, I guess it's not the most practical. But there's something so romantic about France, you know?” you asked and he nodded, blushing lightly. “I’ve always wanted to visit Paris, hell, maybe even live there. It’s stupid,” you laughed, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“No, it’s not. It’s called the city of love for a reason,” he said with a tight-lipped smile. You were both silent for a moment before the flight attendants began their safety announcements and prepared for takeoff. Spencer noticed you stiffen as the engine started to rumble and the plane got faster. “Are you okay?” he asked as you shut your eyes tightly together.

“Yeah, yes, um. I just have really bad flight anxiety,” you confessed, eyes remaining closed. The plane lifted off the ground and you sucked in a deep breath, instinctively reaching over to grab Spencer's hand. All thoughts of germs and disease had completely left his mind at your touch- facts and logic meant nothing at this point if it meant you wouldn’t let go. “Could you just um, distract me?” you asked, peeking at him from the corner of your eye, hand still clutching his.

“Oh, yeah of course,” he said, thinking quickly for a distraction before grabbing the book from your lap and opening it to the first page. In perfect french, he began to read. “Lorsque j’avais six ans j’ai vu, une fois, une magnifique image…” he read for almost an hour before he felt your head relax on his shoulder, eyes closed. He continued to read for a bit longer before the lull of sleep pulled him under as well, your touch comforting him and providing safety.

Spencer woke a few hours later with a start to the seatbelt light beeping on. Gathering his bearings he looked to his left to see you already awake, looking at him with a smile.

“You’re cute when you sleep. Snore a bit, though,” you laughed and yawned, looking out the window. Spencer's heart rate picked up at your mussed hair and dazed expression. “Thank you for reading to me. I’m completely chill now,” you reassured him.

“Oh, no problem. Also, I’m not the only one who snores,” he quipped, a soft smirk on his lips.

“Hey, gimme a break! That was the most I’ve slept in days,” you defended.

“Believe it or not, me too,” Spencer realized, surprised that he slept more on an airplane than in his own bed. Maybe that difference was you.

“Looks like we’re almost landing,” you noticed, causing a pang in Spencer’s chest.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he acknowledged with a slight tone of disappointment.

“Hey. So this might sound crazy, but what if I gave you my number? And while you’re still in Vegas, maybe we can hang out? Sorry if this is too forward,” you cringed in embarrassment.

“No!” he started, eyes wide.

“Oh, okay. I shouldn’t have asked,” you immediately took back your statement.

“No! I mean, it's not too forward. I, uh would love to… hang out with you,” Spencer said, the words seeming unfamiliar on his tongue. The smile you gave him seemed to stop the earth for a few seconds (although Spencer knew this was scientifically impossible, something about you defied laws of science). 

The plane soon landed and numbers were exchanged, and one unexpected (but lovely) goodbye hug was given, and Spencer was floating. He couldn’t wait to tell his mom.

-

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[dreamscapestars]

The Ultimate Reylo Fanfic List

* = highly recommend (aka if you’re going to read anything off this list read this)

Canonverse AUs

***All Our Days - E - 221k - "I can listen no longer in silence."The hologram projection of his strangely handsome face is cobalt blue, flickering, and full of static. "I must speak to you, Rey. You… you pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me that I am not too late.” He groans, runs his hands through his dark, silver-streaked hair, then refocuses his gaze on the holorecorder. “I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight and a half years ago. Do not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death."Here the recording of Ben takes a deep breath, and looks down at something outside the holorecorder’s field of view. Perhaps at his hands, Rey manages to think, through the veil of shock and timid, fluttering hope. She wishes she were there with him, so she could take them in her own, and offer him the confidence to carry on.But this is only a hologram, so she must wait. Eventually, when he looks up again, his features have settled. He looks… Fierce. Determined. Self-assured."I have loved none but you," he says. - canonverse jane austen au 

trillions of molecules - T - 11k - Fake papers forged, contract signed and a navy blue jumpsuit with his name printed on the chest supplied to him, the man who called himself Solo was hired by the Felucian Transit Corporation as shuttle operator number B414. - tros fix it au 

There Shall I Be - N/A - 50k -She remembers the first and only time she saw him smile like this before and how it didn’t touch his eyes at the time and how it broke her heart.Now it fills her heart and gives her life.She shoves him back onto their blanket and climbs on top of him. She pulls off her sweater and takes him inside her again and rides him into the night. - canonverse far from the madding crowd au

*landscape with a blur of conquerors - E - 362k - "While I share your contempt for this situation in which we find ourselves, do not mistake it as apathy," he hissed through gritted teeth, dark eyes burning. "I hardly expect your disposition to sweeten, but I will be damned if I allow my future Empress to behave in a manner that reflects poorly on me and on the First Order!""If you allow?" She wrenched her arm out of his viselike grasp, batting his hand away for good measure. "I don't belong to you. I don't belong to anyone.""That might have been the case back when you were a scavenger on that pitiful scrap heap of a planet, but now?" His sardonic gaze flickered over her silk robes and the jewels woven through her elaborate braids. "Now you are the Chume'da, and the Chume'da belongs to her people. Their fate is entirely in your hands. Should you cross the line, it is they who will suffer for it. Am I making myself clear?""I hate you," she said bitterly. He sneered at her. "See? Already you are acclimatizing so well to married life." - arranged marriage au

Modern AUs

*the man, the stallion, and the wind - E - 17k - Weary and alone, Rey barrels west on the Trans-Canada Hwy in her old pickup truck. Weary and in need of a lift, Ben Solo stands by the side of the road with his thumb out, in the hopes of hitching a ride.One hell of a winter storm’s about to roll in, leaving them stranded. What ever shall they do? - hitchhiker au 

The Mechanic - E - 122k - It's a magical midsummer night, just made for following a persuasive, dangerous-looking lawyer to a hotel across the road from the party. But then reality catches up to Rey. - mafia baby au

*Soul Searching - E - 205k - Sixteen-year-old Rey finds out she’s soulmates with her English teacher -- in front of her entire class. Now the school gossips won’t leave her alone, prying for tidbits that Rey wouldn’t give them even if she had any. And she doesn’t. Because Mr. Solo is too horrified at being soulmates with an underage girl to even talk to her. - soulmate au

Mitan, Midi - E - 83k - After a French notary contacts Rey to inform her she's inherited a house in the Drôme (France), she decides from one day to the next to quit her job and move there. The house is pretty secluded, there's no service, no internet, no way to reach other people aside from the landline in the living-room.Ideal conditions, by her standards, as those theoretically should allow her to be perfectly alone. Theoretically. - french country side au

*A Treehouse Covered in Salt - E - 34k -High school senior Rey Johnson has lived next door to Ben Solo her whole life. The two could not be more different and at school, Rey wouldn't be caught dead in his presence. That doesn't stop her from sneaking out to their treehouse every night. Despite her unwillingness to be friends with Ben in the light of day, he has always been there with her in the darkness. - high school au

Initial - M - 45k - A Soulmate AU in which you are born with the initials of your soulmate marked on the nape of your neck. Easy enough, right? Except for two people who don't use their real names. - soulmate au 

Killing Me Softly - M - 32k - Rey clings to the hope that her husband will regain his memories after he survived a car crash that left him with amnesia. During her monthly visits at a medical facility with Ben, who now calls himself Kylo, she struggles to cope as he tries to make her let go of the past, and in turn, him with it. - amnesia au 

only child of the universe - E - 98k - The first time Rey meets Ben, they're carefree strangers getting high at the fair, alight and in love for a night. The second time is different. The second time is in therapy— where the asshole won't even acknowledge her. - high school au 

a place to go - E - 52k - All Rey Johnson wanted was solitude. A place to go where she could escape from the daily stressors and mayhem of her job. A place where she could enjoy some peace and some quiet. Her mentor Luke Skywalker's small cabin up north seemed like the ideal place to do just that. A week of seclusion was just what she needed.And then Ben Solo arrived. - snowed in au 

into the great laughter of mankind - E - 30k - There is something about watching Rey put her mind to task. Ben can't put a name to this something, exactly— all he knows is that it fascinates him like nothing else has in a long, long time."Dr. Solo?" She glances over at him. "What do you think?"I think I'm doomed, he wants to say but doesn't. I think the curse of the pharaohs has nothing on you. I think you are my Egypt. - archaeologist au

(now it’s) Time to Learn - M - 86k - “You’re a teacher?” Ben doesn’t look like a teacher. At least not like any teacher Rey has ever had. - teacher au

For Now - E - 8k - There are plenty of things he could say, but he doesn’t. Buying you muffins makes me excited to get out of bed in the morning. I wish I could go back in time and be the kind of person you could like. I don’t remember my life before you. ---------- When Kylo finds his soulmate, she doesn’t know, and he doesn’t tell her. - soulmate au 

Cupcake Wars - E - 36k - Entirely by accident, Rey ends up fucking someone who works for Snoke's Cupcakery. She's just blowing off steam. It doesn't mean anything at all. It certainly won't come back to bite her in the ass. - bakery au

The Food of Love - E - 60k - Rey picked up her first violin at eleven, finding a mentor in conductor and former-violinist Luke Skywalker. With the First Chair up for grabs, Rey is thrust into the spotlight as the youngest violinist to take First Chair in the NY Pops. But Kylo Ren - former violinist, former NY Pops cellist, formerly Ben Solo child prodigy - may take issue with Rey Nobody sitting in his grandfather's chair. - orchestra au 

Orion - E - 14k - Rey Niima finds herself in the Saharan desert trying to heal wounds from her life, and Ben Solo is there too, fixing himself along the way. - roadtrip au

Embers - E - 34k - All the myriad things he’d been—someone who made her laugh; the warmth on the other side of the bed; her best friend—those things, Rey had buried. Rey left Ben two years, three months, and sixteen days ago. But who's counting? - getting back together au 

Gilded - M - 11k - Everyone had two marks, one for class and another to identify a soulmate. She only had one: green rings on her finger, proof she was part of the laboring class. It made matters lonely, but never unbearable.Until she met him. He had two sets of marks—had a soulmate—and she did not. - soulmate au

flutz - E - 27k - Rey was determined to have no distractions during her first season in Senior Ladies figure skating.She swore that Olympic medalist and figure skating legend Ben Solo was not going to change that, no matter how intent he seemed on proving her wrong. - ice skater au 

oh autumn, oh teakettle, oh grace - E - 30k - "So let me get this straight," he says. "You're a dryad.""Quite so," she cheerfully replies."Like an actual—" His hand rises to make a feeble gesture at the towering elms that surround them— "tree-dwelling, speaks-with-animals, has-magical-powers, frolics-through-the-woods-in-orgiastic-pagan-frenzy dryad?"She wrinkles her delicately freckled nose. "Well, I don't know about orgiastic frenzy, that's really more of a maenad type of deal."He looks her up and down, taking in her pretty face and her slender figure in the skimpy white dress."Too bad," he mumbles. - dryad roadtrip au

A Proposal by Any Other Name - E - 188k - Rey and Finn have been A Thing for a long time now. Since she was eighteen, to be exact. When Finn leaves on a trip to Europe for six months for work, Rey finally chases after him to Dublin to do what he seems to be putting off: propose.She wants a family, after all.The universe has different ideas. Her flights are delayed, storms hit, she loses her tickets and everything seems to be going horribly. To top it off, she ends up stranded around a rather irritating man by the name of Kylo Ren. It goes about as well as you'd expect. - leap year au

endless summer afternoon - E - 63k - “My son's room is always made up,” Han had said, hitting a light switch as Rey clung to a dirty backpack in the dark hallway, “he never comes home. Warm bed might as well get some use.”Rey spared Han some of the dignity of his own longing assessment of the space that clearly hadn’t been looked at in a long time. An empty room in a quiet house. As gruff as he was, handing it off to some runaway nobody just because she was helping him rebuild a car was one of the kindest gestures she’d ever experienced, and had a hidden weight that she knew needed a respectful amount of privacy. Mysteries were often about unresolved sadness, and were usually only solved by the people who didn’t feel it.Rey is offered a place to stay: a spare bedroom once belonging to the mysterious Ben Solo. What does she do when she wakes up with him wanting his bed back? - roommates au 

Dandelion - E - 45k - Rey's an ex con and orphan, just released from jail after killing Plutt. She follows advice from her former guardian, Maz, and finds a job at Luke's coffee shop. Ben's a lawyer who lost his job and moved back to his hometown. He falls for Rey, unaware of her dark past. - coffee shop au

A Few Small Repairs - E - 69k - Ben Solo is a ruthless property developer, and Rey Johnson is the lone holdout on the block. She does not intend to give up what's hers, not for anything. (Not even for a pair of pretty eyes.) - property developer au

Unbroken - E - 7k - He found her sleeping in the stables, curled up in the stall of his newest, unbroken colt...

Lockjaw - M - 106k - Kylo finds Rey unconscious and near death on the side of a road, surrounded by twitching, wretched things looking to her for their next meal. Ever the altruist, he picks them off and takes her with him, saving her life in the process. It's no wonder that when she wakes she feels she owes him, and agrees to become his travel companion as he crosses the United States in search of safety and a new home. - zombie apoclypse au 

Everything to Prove - M - 13k - “The show,” he says. “It’s probably best if they don’t—if we don’t—”And Rey follows his line of thought at once. For all the program is one that doesn’t seem melodramatic—the height of drama in previous seasons came from someone’s cake falling over and that was about it—she does not doubt that the producers and cameramen would leap at the opportunity to make there be something out of nothing in their relationship—especially if there was something out of something.“Yeah,” she agrees. “Yeah, probably. We can pick baking stations that are…” but she doesn’t want to complete the thought. She likes baking next to Ben.“Or we can just be careful?” he suggests, sounding quite as pained by the prospect as Rey feels.“Yeah, careful. I can do careful,” Rey says at once and her lips are on his again and he’s laughing now, and she’s laughing, and she didn’t think laughter would be part of all this. She didn’t think it could be. But here she is, laughing and kissing and holding a man who, at some point, she’s going to want to beat.She does her best not to think of that now.It’s a friendly competition, after all. It’s not life and death. It’s baking. - great british bake off au 

*In Bloom - E - 13k - The flowers that bedeck her skin don’t lie—ballet dancer Rey is in love with her partner, Ben. But the years go by and his skin stays resolutely, devastatingly blank.He doesn’t love her. But when his hands are on her body, she can pretend. - ballet soulmates au

By Blood and Flame - E - 10k - Rey can’t go to her professors with this spell. She needs help, though, needs someone to do the spell with her, and she needs the best because it’s tricky. Dangerous.There’s a boy on campus. Powerful. Mysterious. He’s admired and envied, feared and loathed, depending on who’s talking, but for all everyone knows his story, no one seems to really know him. And Rey… Rey has been curious about him for… well, for longer than she wants to admit.She’s not sure if it’s good or bad luck that he’s the perfect person to help cast her spell. - magic college au

count the rings - E - 63k - “Because you’re sitting there all comfy, not looking at all bridal-” “I’ll just fetch the veil out of my backpack, shall I?” “-when you could be, you know, making a move on that fine-ass tree.” In which camping comes with unexpected consequences. - accidental marriage au

(won’t you let me) walk you home from school - E - 129k - Ben, a counselor in the upper school at the legendary Alliance Academy, keeps finding himself interacting with the lower school art teacher, Rey. He definitely doesn’t like it. - teacher au

follow in your form - E - 23k - Ben Solo wakes up paralyzed and angry about it.A story about dealing with change, holding onto hope, and finding love. - quadriplegic ben au 

*screwdriver - M -101k - Rey is a bright-eyed intern on her first campaign trail, Ben is an irritated data analyst, and how difficult can it be to get a legacy senator elected president? Apparently fucking impossible. - political au

9 pints - E - 83k - She knew next to nothing, and Google was largely unhelpful. All of her searches (“vampire sex rules” and “vampire dos and don’ts” and one very self-indulgent “average vampire cock size big?”) linked her to dated top ten lists written by anyone other than an actual vampire.Twenty minutes of frustrated scrolling eventually led her to a supernatural dating forum. The website was horribly aged, but still active. Questions were tagged, which meant that it was easy to narrow down her search. Vampire, she clicked, and Sex.--In which Rey gets suckered into shooting porn with one of Poe's pickiest vampire actors. - magical porn stars au

fine young cannibals - E - 27k - Kylo raised his head to the sky as he inhaled, his broad chest expanding even wider. His eyes fluttered shut, savoring the scent like a sumptuous meal. He grinned.“Oh,” he murmured, so softly Rey wasn’t even sure it was meant for her ears. His eyes slid to meet hers, scarlet and violent and hungry. “You brought a snack.”And then all hell broke loose.About three things, Rey is absolutely positive:First, she is totally, completely, and madly in love with her vampire boyfriend, Poe.Second, there is another vampire—an older, evil, definitely-not-hot vampire—that thirsts for her blood and wants nothing more than to kill her.And third, she is maybe not absolutely positive about either of these things. - twilight au

Epithumia - E - 46k- ἐπιθυμία, ας, ἡ: epithumia : desire, passionate longing, lust *** “No extra credit.” He made a noise that might have been a laugh. “You ask that every time.” “Well, I have to try.” Rey said, weakly. “Can you make an exception?” A lone eyebrow ascended his lofty forehead into his hairline. “Try harder, Miss Kenobi.” - college teacher/student au

Historical AUs (ranging from medieval to the early 2000s)

light carries on endlessly - M - 6k - “Traitor,” he told Cerberus gruffly not too much later, using both hands to scratch behind the hound’s many ears. What appeared to be a rat tail lay nearby on a blood-stained bit of stone. “What did I tell you about women with pretty eyes?”One wet tongue lapped at his wrist, and he sighed. “Right. Nothing.” - Hades and Persephone au 

The Witch in the Wood - E - 138k - As a knight errant of the kingdom of Alderaan, Kylo Ren has traveled the country, completing quest after perilous quest in search of redemption for the dark deeds of his past. When an evil witch captures the princess of a neighboring kingdom, Kylo reluctantly accepts the burden of rescue with the assumption that it will be a simple task.It is not. For the creature that lives in the woods is not a monster at all.Since her mentor died, Rey has lived in the witch’s tree and uses magic to maintain the balance of the forest. Her life is practical, repetitive, and simple—at least, until a wrathful knight thunders through her door and levels a sword at her throat. Yet something within the knight calls to her, a buzz beneath his skin that she recognizes.Without a doubt, he is not who he appears to be. - medieval witch au

Black Knight, White Queen - E - 53k - Luke Skywalker wrote his sister a letter on his deathbed, revealing that his ward is the orphaned heir of a family long thought extinct - and politically powerful. That letter fell into the wrong hands, and the secret of Rey's heritage is secret no more. The Emperor has managed to unite the Kingdoms, but he is old, and his son is weak. Seeking to ensure his son's claim to his throne, he sends his most trusted captain to bring the girl - willing or not - to be his son's bride. Rey is taken from her far-flung home, and plunged into a world of court intrigue, arranged marriage, political rivals, and would-be assassins - the black knight her constant companion and bodyguard. But even he, her dark shadow and protector, she cannot know whether to trust... - medieval bodyguard au 

Days to Remember - E - 42k - A man heads home after years of estrangement. What do you need from me? A woman leaves her world behind, a bird in a gilded cage. When we get to New York, I need help running away. -- I'll bring you to Boston with me. - titanic au 

*what if the storm ends - E - 61k - As a child, Rey is evacuated from London to the Yorkshire Dales during the Blitz. She spends the war in the care of the Solos on their farm, wandering the moors with their son looking for a legendary family artifact long lost. When the war is over, she returns to a city she no longer recognizes, and she writes a popular series of children's fantasy books based on her childhood in the Dales. After amassing fame and fortune with her stories, tragedy brings her back to the farm to see Ben Solo, once her greatest inspiration and now a widower. - post WWII au 

Take Me - E - 39k - Every night, at 8:30 pm, Rey and Ben get on stage and pretend to be in love with each other. At 9:15, they walk off stage and the actual fireworks begin. - 60s country singers au

I could have been wild, I could have been free (but nature played a trick on me) - M - 61k - “Did you know that I did not even learn your name until yesterday, when I married you?”His face flushed a darker red than it had at breakfast, and he attempted to defend himself with incompetent stammering, “I—I regret that. The situation, of course, would have been,” he wrung his hands together and stared at her feet, “It would have been preferable if we had known one another more. On several occasions, I did attempt to make myself known to you, but you seemed to have other preoccupations.”Rey could feel her face contorting into a sneer to spit out her barbed words, “Perhaps that was your cue not to marry me!” - regency arranged marriage au 

Patch - M - 20k - He is nineteen when he first sees her.She comes to the rink alone, laces her skates alone, strokes warm-up circles alone...He looks at her, really looks her in the eye, and he decides he likes what he sees.She may be young, but she is hungry and angry, and for now? That’s enough for him.It’s not like he has a lot of options. - 80 russian ice skaters au 

*The Great Big No - E - 165k - Kylo Ren is third generation rock royalty, a reigning brat prince starting to feel the burn of the fame he reached for with both hands. Rey is an aspiring singer on the verge of a big break, provided her A&R guy still has a job by the time she reaches LA. Their paths have crossed briefly, disappointingly, before. What happens when they collide? - 90s rock au

***go I know not whither and fetch I know not what - E - 119k - The year is 1994. The Iron Curtain has come down, the oligarchs have begun their rise to power, and Kyril Ren, a powerful member of the infamous crime syndicate Solntsevskaya Bratva, has been given a job: hunt down an estranged uncle who has been snitching to the FBI.Irena, nicknamed Rey by her adoptive father Luke, is a Krav Maga instructor in New York who has finally been able to obtain her original birth certificate from Russia. Turns out she was born in a little village named Vershinino, but if she wants to know more than that… she’s going to have to go there herself. - 90s russian mafia au 

we could plant a house, we could build a tree - E -124k - Ben takes a deep breath. “It’s—it’s a project. Conceptual art. You wouldn’t get it.”Rey presses her lips together to keep from laughing. She plans her next words quickly and carefully, determining what will get her the best reaction. “Really? Looks like you ruined a bedsheet to me.”His reaction does not disappoint. “Get out.” ** Seven-year-old Rey decides it's her duty to annoy the crap out of Ben Solo every single day she's alive. - 90s growing up together artist au

[keeptheotherone]

Mecation: Day 1 

Thursday

I once read social media described as an indulgence of the fantasy that others are interested in the details of our lives. I’m indulging in that fantasy this week by blogging about my Mecation under the guise of travel blogging ;)

If you follow me in even the most casual way, you know I’m a nurse. While I’ve enjoyed the vast majority of my 23 years as such, I don’t recommend it during a pandemic. The last 18 months have been the second-worst mental health period of my life, demoted to that position not because of the mildness of my symptoms but simply because at 15 I didn’t have the experience or perspective to realize my life was not, in fact, ruined forever.

COVID increased my personal vulnerability as a high-risk patient and made my job immensely more difficult in countless ways both small and large, but the worst part of the pandemic for me (so far) is it took away all my coping mechanisms precisely when I needed them most. Massage, pedicures, dinner out with friends, travel ... all gone practically overnight. Pre-COVID I travelled all the time--home to my parents’, long weekends by myself (Mecation!), annual visits to BFFs, conferences, tourism, the beach, my birthday, writing trips, international trips ... I always had at least one trip in the works, usually one booked and one (or more!) in the planning stages. 

When COVID started, all my close friends and family except for two lived out of state. One of those two was out of town but close enough to get together, but the other was a few hours’ drive away. I’m single and live alone; it was the most isolated I’ve ever been in my whole life. 

With my bestest friends over 500 miles away, I still feel that way sometimes. I haven’t seen them in a year. If it weren’t for COVID, it would only be 7 or 8 months (I’ve gone every January or February since ... forever). Then again, if it weren’t for COVID, I wouldn’t have been there last September; one had been hospitalized and I needed to see she was all right with my own two eyeballs. I expect it will be at least another 7 or 8 months before we get together again, bringing the total to about 20 months. One year we saw each other 5 times in 9 months, our personal best since college. 

I was alone on Christmas. Oh, I’ve spent December 25th on my own before; I’m a nurse. I’ve worked the night of the 24th or the 25th (or both), or whatever combination that didn’t leave enough time off to drive home. But I’ve never spent the Christmas season without my parents. Sometimes the week before, sometimes the week after, sometimes at my place instead of home, but always together. But last Christmas COVID was raging, the vaccines had just come out but were only available to first responders (I got mine on the 23rd), and my elderly parents didn’t feel safe to travel. So I spent Christmas without family.

Travel was not just a break from my daily routine and the stress of nursing; in many ways, the biggest benefit travel made to my mental and emotional health was giving me something to look forward to.  Proverbs 13:12 says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick,” and ohhh, I was so heartsick last year! Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t visit my best friends of almost 25 years (more than half my life!). Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t lean on my dad or be hugged by my mom. Not being able to travel--and not knowing when I could travel--left this gaping hole in my future, and I had nothing to fill it with. 

I tell you this not to throw a pity party but to explain the significance of the trip I’m on right now. It is only my third this year: my dad and I spent a week in the mountains in February (my depression and anxiety was so bad then that was treatment, not vacation), I took a friend to the beach over my birthday, and now I’m a couple hours from home at a nice spa hotel. (I’m not counting my nephew’s graduation, which was emotionally challenging for multiple reasons, or helping a friend move from Florida. Moving is never fun.)

I started planning this trip in the spring ... May, maybe? You know, after the vaccine rolled out to everyone and case counts were dropping and it looked like we were gonna lick this thing and have a quasi-normal summer by the Fourth of July (yes, I’m American. That date is a proper noun here.). I had switched jobs in November (don’t ask) and gone on mental health leave December 29th, so I felt I owed it to my unit to put in about six months of work before taking any significant time off, especially since I came back at 24 hours instead of 36. That meant September.

I knew what I wanted to do: 4 or 5 days at an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean. I’d been before and loved the freedom of not worrying about every little expenditure (what can I say, I’m cheap), and a few days of Vitamin Sea sounded perfect.

Then came Delta.

All right, maybe going out of the country isn’t the best idea, I thought. Don’t want to end up with expensive reservations and then your destination closes to Americans, or you make it to your chosen island but can’t get back home. But I didn’t want to fly (ugh, airports!), I didn’t want to drive (rest stops and restaurants and gas stations), and while I thought about taking the train, it didn’t seem much of an improvement (and maybe a downgrade) on flying.

Then a friend mentioned a sleeper car, and I thought yes! That could work! I’ve never been to New England, I want to go to Boston, that area of the country has low case rates and the highest vaccination rates, this has potential! 

Then I looked at the CDC map. There were only four states that didn’t have high transmission at that time (early August, I think; I’d had to wait for confirmation that my time off had been approved): Michigan, Rhode Island, Maine, and New Hampshire. All four had substantial rates of transmission. Hardly ideal, but one thing I’ve learned this year is sometimes you have to make compromises to protect your mental health. It is true it doesn’t matter if you’re happy if you’re dead; it is also true it doesn’t matter if you’re safe if you want to kill yourself. (I’m not suicidal, I am receiving treatment, don’t anybody panic.)

So, now I’ve settled on Maine or New Hampshire by train via sleeper car (Michigan is too far for a 4-5 day trip and RI--meh). Well, as I got deeper into planning, turned out Maine or NH were awfully far too. Far enough I would have to overnight in a major city, which pretty much defeated the purpose of isolating in a sleeper car. Then I found out there were no sleeper cars on either train route.

So, now vacation is 5 weeks away and I’m back at square one. The Deep South, Texas, and Florida are imploding. Pediatric cases are rising--kids are sicker and make up a higher percentage of cases than they did last year. Scuttlebutt from my ICU colleagues is it’s bad--17/30 MICU beds are COVID and they’re all vented. SICU is being nicknamed “the ECMO unit.” The hospital has 18(!) ECMO machines and 12 are in use; the float nurse who tells us that didn’t even know we had 12 because she’s never seen that many in use at one time. Hospital-wide our numbers are equivalent to early February (we peaked in January). There were six--SIX--pediatric rapid responses in one day. 

And I’m going to travel.

It’s a big deal ... a big accomplishment, really, because of what it says about how I’m successfully managing my anxiety. April 1 was the first time I’d been inside a grocery store in more than a year ... and that wasn’t my idea. It was late April or May before I was comfortable eating in restaurants, even with the falling case count at the time. I’m still not sure if I’m managing my anxiety or reacting to the pressure by going to the opposite extreme (I have a history of that), but I know I’m less stressed, less anxious, have fewer obsessive thoughts, fewer physical symptoms, and am learning to live with this disease. 

So, here I sit at a marble-topped 5-foot-wide desk in my queen/queen hotel room at the end of a productive and enjoyable day. I slept in, completed the big goal of this weekend’s to-do list that I honestly thought would take several days, unpacked and organized my room (I arrived yesterday evening), reorganized my Favorites Bar and Bookmarks on my Mac, had an 80-minute aromatherapy massage, enjoyed a shower in the spa afterwards and even blow-dried my hair(!) before wandering around for a while to get the lay of the land and get some steps in (this place is huge!). Then I changed clothes and took myself out to dinner for my favorite food, Italian. 

That’s me in the picture up top, all dressed up :) Actually, I probably look pretty normal to y’all; like most people with depression, my personal hygiene sunk to new lows in the last year and a half, and as a low-maintenance person to begin with, that’s saying a lot. I bought that necklace as a bridesmaid and am not sure I’ve worn it since; this spring was her 10th anniversary. Yesterday I took out the cat-shaped earrings Dad gave me for Christmas. (Yes, they were gross. Yes, I cleaned them. Yes, I’m wearing them again now.) Just wearing a nice top, fixing my hair (no ponytail or claw-clip bun, my staples), and adding jewelry was a big deal ... especially since “no one” was going to see me. I did it just for me, to make myself feel good. And I did. (That’s another small pleasure COVID took away from me--lip gloss. If I wore any makeup at all, it was lipstick or gloss. Utterly pointless when you’re masked whenever you’re in public.)

I took my laptop to dinner and edited a couple chapters of my new Charlie/Amy fic (previewed during #ktoo turns 10), ran a couple errands, and headed back to the hotel since I don’t like to be out late by myself in an unfamiliar city. Forgot I put my receipt envelope in the backseat pocket and reorganized the glove compartment looking for it, then gathered a bunch of returns into a bag in the trunk. Hung out writing in the lobby until my Mac threatened to die, came upstairs and tidied up, put on my jammies, and talked to you guys :) 

[honeyedlashton]

Thanks for Being a Friend

Words: 2170

Warning: some homophobic comments, and mentions of violence and bullying.

Ship: lashton fluff essentially

A/N: I haven’t written one of these in so long I forgot how to do it. Anyway. I’ve been sitting on this idea that Luke and Ashton met working at the same mall. A lot of it is based off of conversations I’ve had with hemmoangel so I can’t take all the credit. But anyway, this is how I think it went down. This is only for fluff and soft reasons. I’m trying to get back into the swing of little blurbs, so please be kind.

——————————————————————————

It wasn’t the first time Ashton had met him. He was sure they’d met before. Maybe when Ashton would only have a half shift at the KFC, and he’d catch a movie after work. He might’ve seen the boy at the consession stand. He’d probably bought popcorn from him. Better yet, he knew he remembered buying gum from him on one of his breaks every now and then. Who else was he supposed to go to when there was only a small sea of food court tables between him and a new pack of peppermint?

No, Ashton was very certain he’d seen him. Certain he’d kept his eyes out for this small, blonde boy—no matter how subconsciously he’d taken a notice. It was enough to remember his name.

“Luke”

That was what his little plastic name tag read. From the first day, to right now it stuck out in his memory. It was white plastic on a blue uniform shirt, Ashton always thought the color looked a little like Luke’s eyes—if a little darker.

Except today those eyes were covered by sunglasses. Little fluorescent green frames with black lenses. A bold fashion statement. The aviator frames took up half of the boy’s face, and his straightened blonde hair covered his forehead. This left only pink heart-shaped lips, a small pixie nose, and a delicate jaw as the only discernible features. But the glasses were the cause of torment from Ashton’s group of friends on this particular evening.

“Will you guys shut up, already?” Ashton huffed back at them as he handed Luke fifteen for their various drinks and snacks. “You’re all being really rude. And you owe me money on top of it.”

The three others in Ashton’s group silenced for a second, then whispered among themselves.

“What did I say? Shut up.” He rolled his eyes. “And give me 12 bucks while you’re at it. I’m not made of money, you know...”

Ashton was avoiding looking at Luke as he worked. His cheeks hot with embarrassment. Mostly, he didn’t want Luke thinking that he thought like his asshole friends. “Hey, I like your glasses, man. Don’t worry about it.” He cooed softly when the blonde had came back with their drinks.

Luke let off a wan smile, but nothing like the normal cheery one he would normally wear. “Thanks.”

One of them handed Ashton all 12 bucks, while the rest took the drinks Luke had made them and walked off. Ashton heard “faggot” leave one of his friend’s mouths, and he looked up at Luke instantly. His mouth already poised to apologize.

But the pain he expected on Luke’s face—or the half that wasn’t behind the glasses—had been painted over into a sort of barely noticeable pout. “Have a good show,” he wasn’t sure if Luke’s voice was wobbling or if he’d misheard, but Ashton’s heart broke for him anyway.

“Luke, I’m so sorry about them. I’m not even friends with these assholes.”

“It’s okay,” Luke whispered, busying himself with toweling up a nonexistent puddle on the counter.

“No really, I’m so sorry...here,” Ashton bit his lip and looked between Luke’s pale hands and the other members of his party. “I’ll be right back.”

Luke didn’t seem to care about anything Ashton was saying, but he left anyway. He went to his group. “Which one is the Diet Coke?” He asked them cooly.

One of them handed Ashton one of the paper cups with the blue cinema logo on the outside. Ashton smiled without emotion and mimicked Luke. “Have a good show, assholes.”

He actually reveled their confused faces. And when faced with questions like: “What? Where are you going?” and “You’re not gonna hang with that kid, right?” Ashton only smirked.

“Well, it beats hanging with you losers.” He shrugged and sipped the drink through the straw. “Ugh, this is your Coke Zero, actually.” Ashton traded it and flicked them off as he left, feeling higher than life.

However that came to a halt when he got back to Luke, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere other than behind that counter. Thankfully there weren’t that many people around, and none of them were looking to buy popcorn. “Have you taken your break yet?” He asked softly.

Luke shook his head softly, and Ashton could see the little sliver of a blush under the rim of Luke’s glasses. And then he noticed a single tear clung to his jaw.

“What do you get? Fifteen minutes? It’s dead now, why don’t we go sit for a little bit.”

“I don’t know you,” Luke said softly.

“Mmm,” Ashton nodded. “Alright. I’m Ashton Irwin. I’m sixteen. I work at KFC across the food court, and sometimes I buy gum from you.”

“Oh...” Luke nodded.

“See? Now we’re not complete strangers,” Ashton cooed smoothly. But when Luke didn’t answer, he leaned against the counter. “Look, I don’t associate with them. Or I won’t anymore if that’s their stance on shit.”

After an agonizing second of silence, Luke finally looked up. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere you want. Any place that calms you down. It’s a big mall.”

“Can we go by the fountain?” Luke whimpered, letting through some of the sadness in his voice that he had so obviously been trying to hide.

“Of course,” Ashton whispered like he were talking to a wounded child.

Luke went through the process of clocking out for his fifteen minute break, and Ashton walked close to him, like he was scared someone else would say something cruel to this boy.

“I recognize you,” Luke said after a minute of silence. “Not only from you getting gum, but sometimes I see you get an ice cream.”

“You must have really good eyesight,” Ashton cooed. “My eyes are shit. I can barely see ten feet ahead of me. Unless I’m buying gum from you, or I’m this close, I can’t see you at all,” he teased to lighten the mood.

Luke smiled softly.

“Want an ice cream?” Ashton bumped shoulders with the smaller boy.

“Uh...” Luke hesitated, “no. No, I’m okay.”

“That’s not very convincing. What flavor do you want?”

“Uh...whatever flavor you’re getting is fine. You really don’t have to.”

“Don’t say that. I want to. It would make you feel better right?”

“Well yeah, but—.”

“Then it’s a necessity,” Ashton purred and ordered two cones of strawberry cheesecake. “This good?”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ashton sat him down on the edge of the fountain. It had little black fish sculptures shooting water out of their mouths. It gave a nice ambient sound. A nice break from the monotone chatter and mall music.

The small boy ate the Ice cream more readily than he’d accepted it.

“Luke, can I ask you a question?” Luke nodded. “Why the choice to wear the glasses?”

“I...uh...I didn’t really have one,” Luke fidgeted with his ice cream cone, chewing at the edge of the cone making a little satisfying crunches.

“Why? You got a black eye or something?” Ashton was only half joking, but when he saw the corners of Luke’s lips turn down, he knew he’d accidentally stumbled upon the answer. “Oh no...”

Luke’s frown turned more into a grimace. “That word doesn’t really hurt me anymore, but today it kinda got to me,” Luke whispered, and lowered the glasses enough to see a purple line right under Luke’s tearful blue eyes. Or at least the only clear eye Ashton could see. Not the worst black eye he’d ever seen, but definitely couldn’t have been fun to get. Ashton didn’t dare ask what happened.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t honestly think you were hiding anything. I swear. I have a really shit coping mechanism where I try to make jokes.”

“It’s fine. You’re the nicest person I’ve talked to today,” Luke said gently. “I don’t know how I can repay you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ashton shook his head.

“You’re being so nice to me. Why?”

“Well I don’t like the idea of someone picking on the little guy. Especially when he deserves it the least in the world.”

Luke looked away and Ashton could see the pink in his cheeks. “You don’t know me.”

“I want to...” Ashton smiled softly. “You seem pretty cool. I think you’d make a great friend.”

“You’d probably be the first to think that, I’m not very interesting.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Ashton shook his head. “I think there’s more to you than you give yourself credit for.”

“Yeah, I’m the fag who gets beaten up,” Luke scoffed.

“Every school’s got one...” Ashton added.

Ashton could tell Luke’s gaze was more pointed when he looked at him this time. “...are you...?”

Ashton shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t think it really matters.”

Luke nodded slowly. “Well I am...your friends were right.”

“They’re not gonna be my friends anymore.” Ashton hummed. “But you are.”

“I am?”

“If you want.”

“Okay,” Luke nodded.

“You can have my number, too,” Ashton offered after a second. “Or like we could be friends on Facebook.”

“You would? I don’t have very good photos up...”

“Neither do I. Mine are all embarrassing,” Ashton smiled softly to ease Luke’s mind.

“Okay. Yeah,” Luke nodded softly, then smiled again. “Yeah, I’ll add you.”

Ashton smiled and took out his phone. “Is it just Luke or Lucas?”

“Just Luke. And Hemmings as the last name.”

Ashton hummed and giggled on his own inner monologue. “What?” Luke looked at him, he could almost hear some anxiousness in his voice.

“Oh nothing, it’s not you. I had an algebra teacher who’s last name was Hemmings.”

“Was her name Liz?” Luke perked up.

“Yeah, is she related to you?” Ashton definitely saw a resemblance.

“Uh-huh! That’s my mum!” Luke grinned.

“Oh,” Ashton cooed and added Luke as a friend. Remembering how kind and firm Mrs. Hemmings was. He imagined she was a good mother if Luke could be out and open. “It’s a small world,” was all he said though.

“Thank you for this, Ashton,” Luke cooed holding up his ice cream cone. “And for uh, I guess taking me out of there. It’s been a really rough day.”

“Hey,” Ashton bumped their shoulders again with a little smile. “I’m just upset it took something like this to make me talk to you in the first place. I think you’re really...sweet.”

Luke looked at his feet, his expression unreadable.

“We should probably get you back. You think you’re gonna be okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Luke stammered, but he seemed confident as he nodded.

Ashton took his extra napkin that was wadded up in his fist and tossed it in the garbage as they walked back, making him look a lot more skilled than he was. “And don’t let anyone call you that. It’s your word. Not theirs.”

“I’m not really gonna stand up for myself. Everyone knows I’m weak.”

“No, you’re not weak. You’re strong enough to be out.”

“It’s not as fun as it sounds.”

“You’ve got me. And maybe a few other friends who are on your side?”

“I’ve got one, but his boyfriend is really mean to me.”

“Well you tell him that an upperclassman is gonna beat him up if he crosses you again,” Ashton cooed.

“Really?”

“If that’s what you need.”

“You’re the nicest person ever...” Luke looked up at him, his voice soft. Ashton blushed for some reason.

“I could say the same for you.”

Luke just smiled with a soft blush.

“Hey, I’ve got a band and a gig on Saturday, I don’t know if you’ve already made plans, but it’d be cool if you came.”

“Okay,” Luke nodded a little. “I’ll have to ask my mum to drive me, but okay.”

Ashton smiled, and sighed in relief. “Good. I’ll send you the details on Facebook...”

“Yeah I’d like that,” Luke nodded, and the moment seemed to linger. Both of them dreading the part where they’d have to leave. At least that’s what Ashton was thinking. “I should uh—.”

“Yeah, yeah you should get back,” Ashton nodded and his cheeks burned a little as he awkwardly stood in the entrance of the cinema. “It wouldn’t look good if I just hung around.”

“No probably not,” Luke giggled softly. Actually giggled. Ashton felt his heart skip, so proud of Luke. So proud of the 15 minutes they’d spent trying to help him feel better.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Ashton cooed. “I’m running low on gum.”

“Tomorrow,” Luke smiled gently.

Ashton nodded and let Luke go back to the concession stand, and Ashton sat outside on the curb trying to make his heart slow down. Was he really so shy? Was he really so nervous to be friends with Luke?

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and among the string of texts from his friends, there was a notification on Facebook.

“Luke Hemmings accepted your friend request” and Ashton breathed a sigh of relief. He’d text him later, for now it was enough that he’d accepted anything at all.

[thominho-incorrectquotes]

I’ll never leave you alone

This is my entry for Thominho Week 2021, Day 7 “ Trauma exploration/Vulnerability ”

Characters: Thomas x Minho

2961 words

Tags: Trauma, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship

Summary:   When Aris gets hurt under Minho's watch, the young leader shuts himself from everybody, including his boyfriend, Thomas, who just wants to help him.

Note:  This is the last one! I had so much fun doing this, once again, and I can't wait for the next one!

You can also read it on AO3 and ff.net

________________________________

Minho had gone into the forest with a small group of people. There were supposed to gather stuff and comeback in the evenings.

Thomas was missing his boyfriend already. He hated whenever they were away from each other, even for few hours. However, he wasn't expecting to see him comeback early with an injured Aris on his back.

He immediately ran towards them.

"What happened?" he asked hastily, worry thick in his voice.

"I have to get him to the medjacks" Minho simply said, barely sparing a glance at Thomas.

"Let me help you-"

"No."

He continued way, passing by the brunet. Thomas felt like he had been shot again, this time directly in his heart. Minho had never talked to him like that. Never looked at him with such dark eyes.

Aris looked almost dead. His right leg was twisted in a weird angle and his body was hanging limp on the leader's back. Thomas didn't who was more worrying. Minho or Aris.

He followed to the medjacks' hut, hoping he would get more information there, all the while ignoring the pain in his heart.

Once there, it was confirmed Aris's leg was broken. Minho briefly explained that when they were walking pass the edge of a hill, the boy tripped and felt down. The young leader told the others to continue while he brought Aris back to Paradise.

The medjacks concluded he had no other injuries, fortunately, and was not numb from a head injury but most likely from pain. That was a relief for everyone.

For everyone except Minho who still had a dark expression on his face, as if Aris was going to die. Which was weird since he never liked the kid. He left shortly after, Thomas in his footsteps.

"Min, talk to me, are you okay?" he tried. No respond.

"Min, please… what's wrong?" Still no reply.

Taking his arm to force his boyfriend to look at him, he tried once more "Minho, babe, plea-"

"Leave me alone."

Thomas widened his eyes in shock as another bullet in his heart was shot. "Min-"

"Leave me alone, Thomas!" he repeated, louder.

"But-"

"No!" Anger could be seen in his eyes. That wasn't the first time Thomas saw Minho mad, but it had never been directed towards him. Never. It broke his heart. "Leave me the shuck alone!"

Storming off, he left a sad and confused Thomas outside the hut who was too stunt to go and follow him again.

Silent tears left his eyes. What could have happened to make his boyfriend like this? He was worried sick and hurt from being rejected. This was so unlike the man he loved. Something was wrong.

He ran to their shared cabin, where he was sure to find the young man.

But once there, the small home was empty. Maybe he was on their spot on the beach? He loved going there. But he wasn't going towards the beach when he left. So where was Minho?!

He ran back to the center of their little town, looking for one of his friends. Gally was with the group that went in the forest, so he wasn't there. Maybe Frypan? He went to the communal kitchen and sighed in relief when he saw him.

"Frypan! Have you seen where Minho went?" he asked hastily before the young man could even say a word.

"Minho? He's back?"

Shuck, not Frypan then.

He ran once again when he spotted Brenda and asked her the same question.

"I think I saw him going to one of those empty cabin we've just finished" he said. "Is there something wrong, he shouldn't be back so soo-"

"I know, Aris was injured so he brought him back, but Minho's not okay, I know that, and he doesn't want me, and-"

"Stop, stop Thomas you're panicking. I'm sure Minho's fine. Let's find him okay?"

He nodded, wiping the tears that felt during his rambling.

He let Brenda lead the way, trying to calm himself down and ease the pain in his chest. They arrived in front of a cabin that was inhabited, but still looked like any other they've built over the past year.

As the young women stayed back, knowing it was probably better to let Thomas and Minho alone, the brunet knocked on the door.

"Min? You there?"

No answers.

"Min? It's Thomas, if you're there, please talk to me…"

He went to open the door, but something was blocking it. So Minho was indeed there. More tears started falling. His boyfriend was really rejecting him and he had no idea why.

"Babe, please, open the door. There's something wro-"

"GO AWAY!" a voice screamed. Minho.

"No, I'm not go-"

"SHUCK OFF, THOMAS, LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The boy stumbled back as he was once again hit by pain. "Min-"

"It's no use Thomas" Brenda intervened. "He needs to be alone now, okay? We should respect that."

But Thomas only stared at the house, he couldn't leave it.

"Come on Thomas, let's go back-"

"I'm staying" he told her. He sat next to the door, wiping away the tears. Minho would have to come out eventually and Thomas was willing to wait. He would wait forever for his boyfriend.

Brenda sighed and went back with the others, knowing it was futile to argue with the stubborn boy.

Thomas waited. For hours. The sun was declining, showing the day was soon coming to an end. Frypan came, bringing two plates of food.

"Thanks Fry" Thomas said, taking the plates. It smelled good and his stomach grumbled in agreement.

"Still there?" the other man asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah…"

"You should leav-"

"No. Thanks for the food."

He went back to the cabin, cutting off any discussion. He couldn't leave Minho alone. His boyfriend was hurting, for an unknown reason. He was also hurting from this situation and the only way to comfort him was to be as close as possible to his lover. Even if there was a wall between them.

He put one of the plates in front of the door before knocking on it. "Minho, there is food for you."

He was meet with silence. Sighing, he sat down again and ate his food in silence.

It's only later, when Minho's plate of food was stone cold, that another head appeared. Gally. The group was back.

The blond had a weird expression on his face. Something between confusion, sadness and concern. And for one second, Thomas imagined the worst.

"Is Aris-" he said.

"Aris is fine. He will be." Gally interrupted him. "I'm more concern about him" he added, pointing at the house.

Oh. Gally, worried about Minho? That was first. And very concerning. The dislike the two young men had for each other was known by everyone in Paradise. Even if Gally and Thomas have become friends, Minho still hold grudges against the ex-Keeper.

"Come with me" the young man said, "we need to talk about what happened back there."

As much as Thomas didn't want to leave Minho, the urge to know how things has led to this took over him and he followed his friend.

Once they were far enough, Gally explained.

"It was weird. We were all worried when Aris felt down and didn't move, but Minho was panicking, and we both know how he feels about the shank." Thomas nodded; his boyfriend didn't like the boy. "He was on his side in few seconds" Gally continued. "And when we said two should bring him back, he dismissed everyone and went on his own, carrying the boy on his back."

Minho being protective wasn't unusual. But Minho being protective over someone else then Thomas was.

"I-I don't know what to think about it…"

"Me neither" Gally sighed. "But whatever it is, I'm sure there is something deeper than just Minho taking care of a friend."

The brunet bit his lips to stop them from shaking. This was the worst. He hoped the blond man would know more than that.

"Well. Thanks for telling me."

As he was going back towards the cabin, he was stopped by Gally.

"You should go sleep Greenie."

"Not until Minh-"

"He's not gonna leave this house today, Greenie. Try again tomorrow, maybe he'll be in a better mind."

"No, I-" he tried to argue before getting interrupted by Gally again.

"Don't make me force you…"

"Okay, okay, I'll go to sleep" he gave up. If there was someone more stubborn then Thomas, it was Gally. "But I… I'll go say goodnight to him… at least."

"I guess I can't stop you" he sadly smiled.

Without other words, the brunet went back to where his boyfriend was, knocking once again on the door.

"Hey Min, it's me. I, huh… I just wanted to say goodnight… I'll go sleep now. The door is open if you… if you wanna come back…"

Silence. Thomas was getting frustrated. But he still went to the cabin he shared with Minho and, with great difficulties since his lover wasn't by his side, he felt asleep.

…

The next day, he went to give Minho his breakfast and as a repeat of last night, he was met with silence and the young man didn't opened the door to get his food. If Minho was going to starve himself, there was obviously something wrong and worry clouded his mind.

It didn't get better. He went to give him his lunch later on. He still didn't eat it. Still no sound from him. Thomas would have thought his boyfriend was dead if the water bottle he left for him hadn't been taken.

At least he was staying hydrated.

Before going back to their home for the night, Thomas sat down next to the door. He told Minho what he did that day, what happened, like they always did… before…

He needed it. He needed to still feel their connection. He left after wishing him a good night.

It was the same thing for two more days. In which Minho only took a meal.

Everyone was worried. It wasn't unnatural to see people having mental break downs from time to time in Paradise as pretty much everyone had trauma, but having one of their leaders, Minho none the less, who was always so reliable, felt so out of place. And everyone could see how it took a toll on Thomas.

The boy had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep and didn't smile at all, even if he never was one to smile a lot. But his reason to be happy, the one person would could make him laugh wasn't there. A hole was in his chest. He needed his boyfriend, his best friend, so much.

He was back again at night, another water bottle in hand that he let at the usual place, and talked about his day.

"Aris is doing better" he then told. "They put his leg back into place and put a cast to stop it from moving. The pain is still intense, he told me, but at least he's conscious and eats well. The medjacks say that he's gonna heal pretty fast."

He thought some information about Aris would maybe make Minho better, but to no avail.

He continued talking, rambling even. He just wanted to hear his boyfriend's voice.

"I miss you Min. I miss you so much" he said. "I want to hold you. I wanna hear your laugh. I wish I could hear another one of your jokes. I wish I could kiss you…"

"I miss you Minho…

Silence.

"The door is still open for you… Goodnight Minho…"

He stood up and left. Another night alone.

…

Next morning, Thomas was on the beach. He didn't feel like going to Minho. He felt betrayed. All this time, all they've done for each other… all for nothing apparently.

He didn't want to be mad at his best friend. He probably had a good reasons. But he was rejecting him and he couldn't help but feel hurt.

He had barely slept. Not more than two hours. Nightmares had drowned him during the nights and Minho wasn't there to make it better. He wasn't hungry and was such in a bad mood, he knew he couldn't see anyone without putting his frustrations on them.

The sun was getting higher when he heard footsteps in the sand behind him.

He turned, expecting Brenda to come get him.

But what he saw made his stomach flip in a way that was unreal.

It was Minho!

Completely forgetting all the frustrations he had, he ran towards his boyfriend, latching at him, knocking them both into the sand. Now that he had him, he wasn't going to let him go.

Wrapping his arms around the smaller frame of his lover, Minho let out a breath he seemed to have held for days. "Oh shuck, this feels so good" he mumbled, burying his face into Thomas's neck.

The brunet couldn't agree more. He felt whole again. He couldn't let go. All the pain was going away.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours. They needed this so much.

And even as they moved to see each other's face, their limps were intertwined, and their faces were still so close, their noses were almost touching. Thomas let himself drown in the dark orbs looking at him.

"I'm so sorry Thomas. So sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you away…" the young man finally said.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"I-I'm… I'm just…" Minho struggled to answer. "I'm just a failure as a leader…"

"What!?" The surprised made Thomas sat up in the sand, quickly followed by the other boy.

"I am Thomas. I always let everyone down" he said, louder. "So many Gladers died because I failed to find an exit to the Maze. It was my job, Thomas. My job! And I failed! And in the Scorch, more died, and I lost you so many time, and I was the leader! I-"

"No, Minho, stop, it's not-"

"And then I failed to bring back Newt! Newt died because of me-"

"NO! I forbid you to say that! I killed Newt, you know that! Don't put that on your shoul-"

"You had to kill him because I failed to get him back, Thomas! It's my fault you had to shoot him! Don't you understand?!"

"No… No Minho…"

So that was what had been going through his boyfriend's mind for the past few days. If not months. Thomas understood how those feelings could be overwhelming. He experienced a lot of grieve and self-loathing during the first months in Paradise. But telling Minho the truth about Newt and having his Keeper beside him had helped a lot. The reason he managed every day, the reason he was doing better, was Minho.

He never suspected the boy had so much going on too. It shouldn't have been a surprise, after everything, but Minho was just always this strong leader, someone who could do anything, challenge anyone that it seemed impossible that he too could be hurting. He felt bad for not noticing it earlier.

"And Aris, this is my fault too. I should have made everyone take a different route. I should have known it was too dangerous-"

Thomas put hand on his lover's mouth to stop him. He stared at him with serious eyes.

"You have so much on your shoulders babe, you need to let go" he said. "No one is perfect. And let me tell you, you're the best leader I've ever seen."

Minho rolled his eyes.

"It's true! When you asked me if I wanted to be the leader in the Scorch, I didn't say no because I just didn't wanted to. I said no because I knew you were better than me. You always were. Of course you couldn't save everyone. Nobody could have. But without you, I know we wouldn't be there."

Minho relaxed. The brunet knew there was still a long way to go, that those things would take time to heal properly, but if he had at least appeased his boyfriend for now, it was a win.

"I'm sorry" he said. "When I saw Aris with his leg bend, everything just came back. Newt, with his broken leg, and how I failed to protect him. And everything escalated."

"I understand, it's normal" Thomas replied, caressing the tan cheek of his lover.

"And… I felt the need to punish myself for everything. Something in my head was telling me I wasn't worthy of love. And even if it was the last thing I wanted to do, I pushed you away, to punish myself…"

"Slinthead…"

Minho smiled sadly "I know. Yesterday, I realized I was also punishing you by doing this so… So I came back. I couldn't stand it anymore anyway…"

Thomas kissed him. He couldn't believe his boyfriend did that. That he was so broken inside. And yet, he was so strong. Despite all his insecurities, he never gave up. Thomas just wanted to give this man all the love he had inside him, because that was what Minho deserved.

He told him that; with every touches, with every nibbles to the boy's lips, with every moans. He just wanted Minho to know how much he loved him and how amazing he was.

"You're so strong Min, so strong" he said when they parted. "And I forbid you to do that again. If you ever feel the need to punish yourself, come to me, okay? In fact, always stay by my side."

Minho laughed "Okay babe, I'll do that."

They both smiled at that. Things weren't perfect. But it was going to be better, they were sure of that now.

_________________________

Hope you liked it and I'll see you with more fanfictions! They are still so many to come!

[tisthepoetl]

There are many stressors in a modern day lifestyle.

Usually these include the looming threat of death, the monotony of working for currency that stopped being useful years ago and deer.

There are so, so many stressed people. Made worse by the apocalypse that didn’t happen, the riots that most definitely happened, and the negotiations that have been “in progress” for the last few years.

The amount of rapid budget changes are stressing out some people. The amount of rapid cultural exchange is stressing people out. If you work in any field, any field at all, you are likely to be stressed as all hell.

Eventually, they have to pick someone on the ship to be shown as an expert negotiator. No one is prepared for this. Most of them are middle men, most of them don’t have a clue what they’re supposed to be doing, and all of them are panicking.

So they drew straws. The most important decision of all time is made by dumb luck, and honestly that’s a pretty good metaphor for everything happening right now.

Name someone on their haphazard crew and they will have a conflict of interest. Name one member and they will be grossly under qualified.

America has four ambassadors out of the eight chosen. Not because they’re the most presentable, or the most qualified, or the best possible choice, but because they overpaid for a privilege nobody wanted.

If all of this goes to hell they're getting the blame. And if they get the blame the only plan is to point at whoever was voluntold to be leader and pray for leniency.

Every part of this is a desperate attempt to stall before the actual powers back home have found a way to bullshit having any actual control of things.

It shows.

It really, really shows.

So, who was the unlucky scapegoat for the possible downfall of all of humanity?

If you guessed Samantha who wasn’t supposed to even be on this ship, you would be correct!!

Seriously, she was the back up for someone who was almost conceivably qualified. Sort of, if you squinted and ignored the fact they were only there via nepotism, only to be pulled out once everyone realized they were sacrificial lambs.

And then the replacement was also saved from this bullshit via bribery and blackmail and probably some other third sketchy thing she doesn’t know about.

So, here she is, Samantha who had planned on changing her name before realizing she wasn’t getting out of this. Samantha, the replacement for the replacement who was chosen by a lottery held only for the illusion of equal opportunity.

There are literally billions and billions of people whose lives will be affected by whatever she ends up doing. Countless children, parents, lovers and friends and siblings. All of whom would either die or live by whatever ends up happening.

Luckily, she has one coping mechanism which never fails: Repression!!

So she thinks about literally anything else. Thinks about her favorite song as the ship nears the giant towering shape of the Galactic Senate’s meeting place. Thinks about fluffy dogs as she is led by the hand through walls and portraits and treasures with descriptions she can’t read because there are no translators yet.

Thinks about her mother, thinks about her sibling, thinks about the fact everyone could literally die and it would be her fault, and wow she’s already here.

The meeting place has a mouthful name that she could only pronounce if she managed to dislocate her jaw, grow a new set of teeth, and get a proboscis. Everyone calls it the Meeting Place, because again, there are no working translators, they all have to rely on vague equivalents.

The Meeting Place is a moon sized ship, so incomprehensibly large that any species will be able to fit. It has a dock, and a large empty room with nothing in it except for alien leaders who could slaughter them all at a whim.

There are no chairs. The temperature is set to “Mildly unpleasant but liveable.” Unity and democracy means that everyone is equally uncomfortable, because this exact temperature is workable for most species.

Samantha feels a chill down her spine, both from the cold and the fact that so many of them are glaring at her. She is in the center, her crew is placed too far away to help her, and their borrowed ship is miles away from where they are now.

She prays to the gods she doesn’t believe in and hopes she can stall well enough for the clusterfuck back home to get their shit together.

“H…” she starts eloquently. She tries to refind where the rest of humanity’s first impression was stationed, but her view is blocked by the hundreds of giant aliens. “He..llo?” she finishes.

There’s a click, and she flinches back because what if that’s a weapon. A small cube clatters to the ground in front of her, before popping up and showing a hologram.

She would be visibly impressed, in awe, if it weren’t for the fact she’s half sure these diplomats could take any reaction as an insult.

She wouldn’t be able to explain herself either, it’s too early for any sort of translator to have been made, it’s too early for anything about human body language to be common knowledge.

The crowd surrounding her rustles, fins are raised and noises are made and colors are changed. It means something, probably, but she can’t tell what.

The hologram cube makes a loud, ear splitting sound, like a mix between a flatlining heart in a movie and a fire alarm going off. It snaps her out of her spiraling.

There are two large lines pointing at a screen that is pulsing with the most neon red she’s ever had the unfortunate luck of seeing. She stares at it, and realizes it’s a quiz.

Well, more like a shitty rushed powerpoint. Like something you would make in under an hour for the fun of it.

It says, “What Human Want [Ask],” and she has the sneaking suspicion that whoever made this wasn’t trying very hard. Underneath are barely recognizable butcherings of numbers, listing answers from one to three.

“1. Want hurt. Want no us. Lone want.”

“1nd. Want love. Want share. Want us help.”

“1rd. Want no meet us. Want late meet. Want lone.”

All of it is….confusing to say the least. At this point she doesn’t even know if this is a joke or not.

Then again this wasn’t supposed to be her job, she doesn’t understand them either, and maybe they were genuinely trying here. But then again there are so many of them, they probably have enough resources to make at least a dozen Earths and this meeting took multiple years to take place.

The red that flashed before flashes again, than flashes a disturbingly real fingerprint on top of the answers.

She presses the second one, and wills herself to not regret it immediately. Love, sharing, help, all of that sounds good.

Except what if the help is from humanity? What if their definition of help, share, love is killing everyone ever living and she just doomed it all?? What if it means—

“[Greeting] [Greeting Happy] [Greeting Love] [Greeting Happy Angry Bored] [Greeting (Deragotory)]” a voice drones through a translation of the crowd. Samantha wonders when this will be over, and if she’s going to die of anxiety before that happens.

“[Greeting Small Childish] [Greeting Sad Fear] [Greeting (Endeared)] [Greeting Pain Hurt] [Greeting Love Fear Pain]” it doesn’t stop, running through every risen scale and moving limb to translate some vague approximation.

The aliens have translators. The translators are awful. This is taking so much time, which is good for the mission of stalling and bad for Samantha’s sanity.

“[Species Name (Derogatory)] [Mother (Derogatory)] [Criminal (Deragot—]“ the whole crowd is making noise, some like barks and some like tweets and some like a monster out of hell.

And all of them seem to be arguing? Or insulting each other? Either way it continues on for a long stretch of time with nothing but noisy aliens and a robotic voice reciting nonsense that always ends in “(Derogatory.)”

“[Wrong: Too long.] [Wrong: Too fast.] [Wrong: No word Human.]” The sounds are longer, most of the crowd making them rising and puffing out to be bigger. “[Plea Slow.] [No Word for Our Word.] [New Local Child Pet Ally speak.] [No word for Our Word.]”

Samantha realizes once again, that she should’ve left when she had the chance. And never entered that stupid lottery.

“[I hate every single one of you.] [Stop! The Ally-New-Child-Local may hear.] [You are all stupid [Species Name]]” the noises transition into understandable sentences. “[The small Diplomat-Traveler will be confused. Stop.] [They are doing fine. They will not understand our words.] [When is that useless translator going to update, Myy-Rrr-Pl?]”

Humanity as a whole can only take so much. One human as a whole can only take so much. She is halfway to a mental breakdown, fully confused and honestly she just wants to go home. This is the kind of wonder she would love if she didn’t have to personally deal with the consequences.

So she goes the way of most unqualified, underpaid workers, and gives up. She isn’t going to scream or sabotage anything, but her ability to feel was already warring with the tempting concept of not giving a fuck.

She speaks, for the second time. “I can hear you. And I don’t much appreciate being called a child.”

“[.....]” the crowd is finally silent. She basks in the peace.

“[I told you to stop confusing the Ambassador.] [Shut up Myy-Rrr-Pl. You didn’t even get these made right, we had to make a presentation, that’s how awful you and your tech were.] [It's working now, okay?]” The peace was lovely while it lasted.

“Humanity wants, uh, to not be dead,” she says. “And to not be enslaved either. Or like used as food.”

“[Can you understand it?] [Of course I can, I’m the one who learned the language.] [You barely learned it. You put half that presentation into a free-use translator.]” they keep talking, keep barking, chirping, hissing over her. “[This is a disaster.] [It’s not that bad. My presentation went over well enough.] [Myy-Rrr-Pl shut your beak about that [intercourse (derogatory)] thing.]”

“CAN YOU BE QUIET FOR ONE SECOND??” Samantha shouts above the arguing ambassadors. There is only so much she can tolerate, the noise alone is irritating but the senseless, contextless bickering is unbearable

“This is ridiculous,” she continues. “I don’t even know what’s going on, none of you dropped us an explanation. Why can I suddenly understand you? Who the hell is Meer-er-pull? And what the fuck is going on?”

There is no more translation, and nothing to translate into constant robotic rambling. There is no peace in the silence, just an underlying tension as every alien in the room turns to stare her in the eyes.

She wonders if she’s fucked up, if she’s doomed literally all of humanity because she couldn’t tolerate it all and lashed out. There’s an apology on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t manage to push it out through the indignation and fear.

No one breaks the silence. None of them speak. Samantha’s momentary confidence wavers and she considers making a run for it before realizing there are more of those giant aliens stationed at every exit.

“[....Aumko, I think we may have [intercourse (deragotory)] this beyond fixing.] [Feces (Derogatory) Feces (Derogatory) Feces (Derogatory)—]” Luckily, it doesn’t sound like she’s going to be executed for this. Unluckily, the aliens are just as unprepared as they were, and it wasn’t going to get any less confusing, was it?

“[I told you [Anatomical Feature (Exapserated)] that we should’ve started with a smaller group of diplomats. Instead of a “proper” meeting with everyone involved, we should’ve picked one from each of the 3 species, then gone from there. That would’ve been—]”

“I’m not getting any less confused here!!” Samantha cuts off the alien. “I’m not getting any younger either, I’m sick of your childish bickering, get over it and give me an explanation. Please, for the love of god.”

There’s a moment of pause as the translator spits out a bunch of meaningful white noise. It takes a couple moments before one of the birds speaks up.

“[We should cancel this until another time,] the bird chirps. Which isn’t satisfying, which isn’t an explanation, but hey it does technically fulfill the mission of stalling. And honestly she’s taking any win she can get from this. “[We’ll meet up with one of their diplomats, in a less noisy location. They’ll meet with one ambassador from each of our species.]

“[That doesn’t make sense though!!] [How will we even choose?] [A smaller meeting would be a sign of disrespect, we must show that we don’t view the New-Ally as lesser.]” the noise starts up again immediately.

“[SHUT UP!!]” roars one of the giant bears in a show of irritation that she can relate to on a spiritual level. “[Myy-Rrr-Pl will serve as the [Error: No suitable translation]’s ambassador. I’ll be the second ambassador. The third will be Kss’ta.]

There are ruffled feathers, low growls, no outward arguments but no agreements either.

“[I will quite literally fight anyone who decides to waste my time any further.] the bear is...puffing up? The mane of fur around its neck is puffed up like the pelt of an angry cat. “[Myy-Rrr-Pl is the only one who can even half speak the language, and who has the most context. Even if her presentation was awful.]”

“[I’m going to be there personally to ensure this doesn’t happen a second time. And Kss’Ta is the only one of you [Species Name] [Intercourse (Derogatory)] who doesn’t argue around in circles.”

The crowd is unhappier than ever. The bear speaking sounds done with it all. Samantha is too exhausted to give a shit at this point, and just decides to be glad it’s finally over, for now.

“[Is everyone here agreed with me?”] it flares about the room, ears pinned flat to its head and mane big enough to engulf the whole of its neck. All of the crowd flinches back, no one argues too vehemently, though complaints are muttered.

The bear turns to Samantha. “[You have my apologies for my own behavior, and the behavior of these [Species Name (Derogatory)]. We’ll escort your ship back to your station.]”

Relief hits her in a mix of “it’s finally over,” and “thank fuck no one died.”

Everyone leaves, with the mission sort of accomplished, with the peace talk sort of working, and a compromise no one is happy with. Except for Samantha.

But then she learns she’s the ambassador for humanity again, and a piece of her dies at the revelation.

Humanity’s welcome to the galaxy was chaotic, idiotic, ill prepared, and an overall clusterfuck of literally galactic proportions.

At least no one died.

[takerfoxx]

Here's the next part of the Walpurgis Nights girls watch The Rebellion Story, this time stretching from that upside-down reflection conversation to Homura and Kyoko's wacky bus trip.

Reminder:

G=Gretchen

H=Homulilly

Op=Ophelia

Ok=Oktavia

Ca=Candeloro/Mami

Ch=Charlotte

...

Ca: Okay, so, is everyone ready?

Ch: Yeah. Yeah. Sorry about losing my shit. I’ll try to keep it together.

Op: No, by all means. I’d say you’re entitled.

G: I mean, if I found out that I was a tiny, living doll that turned into a giant worm, I’d be upset too!

=Charlotte sighs deeply=

G: Oh. Sorry.

H: It’s a fake.

G: Eh?

H: All of it. The whole scenario. We’re caught in a super-witch’s labyrinth, or some kind of virtual reality simulation, or a shared dream.

Ok: Like the Matrix?

H: The what?

Ok: Oh, I’ve got to show that one to you. It’s this old movie from the world of the living about how all of humanity are trapped in this virtual world because machines have taken over the planet, and they use people’s bodies as living batteries or something. And-

Op: Tavi, starting to ramble.

Ok: Sorry. Anyway, there’s like three different recreations out there. Personally I like the one from Madd Dogg Studios the best.

Op: Because of all the sex.

Ok: Yeah, the other two don’t have those. Shame, really.

Ch: Okay, hold on though! If all that is some kind of weird simulation, then why am I there? By rights if you guys never turned into witches, I should be dead! You should’ve killed me, and then I would be comfortably here in Freehaven while you guys sit around singing songs to severed heads inside of demented teddy-bears!

G: Well, if there’s no witches in this world, then maybe we never fought you in the first place.

Ch: But I’m clearly a witch!

G: Yeah, that is weird.

Ca: Let’s find out.

…

Ok: You think that all of this being in an upside-down reflection means anything?

H: Yes. That it’s a fake.

Op: You are not going to let that go, are you?

H: Just watch.

Op: Have you seen this before?

H: Obviously not.

Ok: Well, this version of Candeloro is just as on it with her tea game, I see.

Ca: Some things never change.

Ok: Like Ophelia’s dislike for sour stuff, apparently.

Ca: It’s her tradeoff for her ungodly tolerance for spicy.

Ch: Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s not as high as she makes it out to be.

Op: Hey, who exactly ate those dockengaut viper peppers without flinching? Me, that’s who!

Ch: You literally had to the hospital and grow your tongue back.

Op: But I didn’t flinch.

…

Ok: They really like showing us around the town.

G: Do any of these locations mean anything?

Ca: Well, that’s the school, so I suppose-Huh?

G: UM!

Ok: Why is everyone’s faces suddenly horribly disfigured?

Ch: Are they melting? It looks like they’re melting.

Op: Yeah. And…ours are fine?

G: See! You two are sleeping in class! I told you that having a party right after fighting that Nightmare was a bad idea! Growing girls need sleep!

Op: Honestly, I’m more concerned about the horrific burns on everyone’s face than I am about our counterparts’ unhealthy sleeping habits.

H: HA! Called it! It’s a simulation! None of those people are real! We’re the only actual people here!

Op: Hey, credit where it’s due, you did call it.

G: Looks like Hitomi’s real too.

H: Oh, goody.

G: So’s that guy with the silver hair? Who is he?

Ok: Oh, so that must be Kyousuke!

Op: That was who I was up against? Huh. Well, he’s…pretty.

Ok: I always wondered what he looked like.

Op: …so?

Ok: I’m sure past me thought he was good-looking, but I still think I traded up.

Op: Darn right, you did.

…

Ch: So who took the time to make food in the shape of your heads?

Ok: You know, between this and Hitomi, there’s a lot of severed heads going around.

=Candeloro frowns and feels her neck=

Ch: You okay?

Ca: I’m fine. I just got the weirdest feeling of déjà vu all of a sudden.

Ok: Who wants to bet that the one with all the bags of junk food for lunch is Ophelia?

Op: What? Why me in specific?

Ca: That one must be mine.

Ch: Well, at least I get my own severed-head snack now.

G: Right next to Kyubey.

H: If there was any justice in the world that would be his actual head.

G: Still. Those soul-gem treats are pretty creative.

Ca: Oh, wait! Never mind! That’s Homura’s lunch.

Ch: Homulilly? Why are you eating my face?

H: Don’t ask.

Op: And of course I snatch Blue Raspberry’s soul-gem!

Ok: Even then, you couldn’t keep me out of your mouth.

Op: AAANNNDDD the rat just ate it. Huh.

Ok: Oh, that makes me so uncomfortable.

Ch: And we get a close-up of me looking like a lunatic. Thanks, movie.

Op: I mean, that is a pretty accurate depiction of your face whenever you get anywhere near a piece of mozzarella.

H: All of this making me incredibly uneasy.

G: What is?

H: The slow pace. The lack of audible dialogue. The somber music. Something is up.

Ch: That’s all kinds of deliberate.

H: Well, at least this other me can tell that something’s wrong.

Op: I for one am incredibly disappointed in the rest of us. Everyone in the city has their faces burned off. That ought to at least raise a few red flags.

…

Ok: AAANNNDDD it’s gone all weird again!

Ca: Okay, this is obviously a witch’s labyrinth. They’re not even hiding it anymore.

Ok: Except from us. Like, are we blind?

Op: Oh, hey. It’s me. A lunch date?

H: I doubt it.

G: Is any of this normal? I mean, I know Freehaven is strange to newcomers but normal to us, so in this world, is it normal to just hang out on a floating island filled with chairs and tables with really long legs while blimps fly by in formation?

Ok: To say nothing of that freakshow going on down there. What are those? Those creepy little girls and the guy with the wind-up box?

Ca: Witch’s familiars.

=everyone looks to Charlotte, who is nonplussed=

Ch: You know, I’m actually okay with being the villain. At least that would make sense!

Op: You better get some kind of redemption arc and a weirdly sexually charged gunfight with Candeloro.

Ch: That would honestly make up for everything else that’s happened so far.

Ca: I don’t know. All of this looks very witchy, but it wasn’t what I remember from your labyrinth.

…

Op: Hey. Teenaged me. Wake up and smell the bad drug trip.

Ch: Why do you guys have so many cups on that table? Do you have a drinking problem or something?

Op: Look, shit is weird. Don’t judge our coping mechanisms.

G: Is it just me, or is there a bunch of random objects just falling out of the sky all around you?

Ok: Is it just me, or did that blimp have to come literally out of the river to fly at that angle?

H: This is getting progressively more dream-like.

Op: Nice crotch-shot, movie. How come I don’t get the boob or butt camera like Candy and Tavi?

Ch: Do you really want us to answer that question?

Op: I’d prefer if you didn’t.

H: Anyone else notice that the number of cups keep changing?

Op: Like I said. We all have our own ways of coping. Don’t judge.

…

H: Well, at least I’m noticing that something’s off. Even if I’m completely blind to the obviously bizarre stuff going on all around me?

G: Oh, so it’s going to be like a mystery story! And you’re the detective!

Op: And I get to be the sidekick. There are worst roles, I guess.

Ch: I guess that means you’re the main character after all, Lilly.

H: Thank you, but I’d really rather be the lead of a completely different movie.

…

Op: And off we go, on our wild adventure!

H: Beneath endless stone bridges. I mean, seriously. If either of us wanted proof that something was wrong, all we have to do is look up.

G: If this is a fake world you’re trapped in, you’re probably programmed to not notice that anything’s wrong. You know, like how we never really how strange dreams are until we wake up.

Op: Oh, what the hell. The bus is dropping us off in this fever dream? WAKE UP, IDIOTS! WAKE UP AND SMELL THE FREAKY!

Ch: They’re not even hiding it anymore.

G: You know, I can’t help but wonder if this world was always this strange, but that since the first few minutes were from our point of view all the weird stuff not having to do with the Nightmare wasn’t shown. But now that Lilly’s noticed, the weirdness just keeps coming out more and more.

Ch: I would not be surprised.

Ca: I think we can all collectively agree that despite whatever the witch turns out to be, this is all Kyubey’s fault, right?

Op: Fine by mean.

Ok: Agreed.

H: I wonder where all those fake people are going.

Op: I’m just going to assume that there’s a big meat grinder at the bottom of those stairs.

G: Ew.

…

Op: Oh, that’s not right? THAT’S NOT RIGHT? YAH THINK?

Ok: Of course you would be tipped off by the wrong destination but not by the field of hazy red filled with windmills.

Op: Turn left? We were supposed to turn left? HOW CAN YOU TELL? THERE’S NOTHING THERE!

Ch: That does bring up an interesting point. I’m assuming that you’re just blind to the weirdness because it’s got you trapped. So, what is it that you’re seeing?

G: Probably just a normal road, I guess.

Ok: Well, what did you expect taking the loop line?

…

Ch: Okay, so there’s a clear divide between the big, empty, red field with the windmills and the mostly normal looking city.

H: A very loose definition of the word “normal.”

Ch: Well, yeah, but you know what I mean.

H: Like I said. It’s not real.

Ch: We know, I’m just trying to pick out details.

Ok: Hey, girls. Don’t get on the creepy bus.

…

G: If at first you don’t succeed…

Op: Come on, other me! Get a clue!

H: I notice the field is blue now.

Ch: Probably to signify the change from day to night.

Ok: That bus driver is weirdly okay with a couple teenaged girls jumping onto the front of his bus and yelling at him.

H: He’s a fakedy-fake-fake.

Ok: We know! It’s called commentary!

H: Sorry.

Op: “Crossroads”? “Left fork”? How can you tell the difference! It’s a bunch of shiny tiles and windmills!

G: Plus that giant tower made of pipes!

Op: That was probably where we were heading. Giant tower made of pipes.

Ok: Wonder where the ramen shop was.

Op: Third pipe cluster from the bottom.

Ch: Hey, girls. Word of advice. Don’t walk into the scary, blank void.

Op: I know they can’t see the weirdness, but I still feeling like yelling at them.

G: Oh, hey! It’s normal again!

H: They were brought back to the city.

G: Well, relatively normal, at least. With a really tall bridge and giant moon.

…

Op: So…are we about to kiss or something?

H: Obviously not.

Op: I don’t know. You’re holding me awfully close.

H: I’m just trying to keep you from doing something stupid.

Op: If you say so.

…

Op: Oh, hey. If we didn’t have enough problems, it’s a zombie apocalypse.

H: All with our faces, I see.

Op: Somehow, that’s freakier than if they were just the classic rotting kind.

Ca: Obviously a defense system put in place by the witch. Once one of its prisoners start to notice that something’s wrong, the familiars come in to stop them.

Ch: You know, as much as the early parts weirded me out, I am really starting to dig this! I mean, sure, the cake song was…a thing that happened, but now there’s a reason for the weirdness! There’s a mystery! There’s set-up and atmosphere! It’s not just weird for the sake of being weird!

Ok: I’m pretty sure there’s some of that.

Ch: Well, sure.

H: You do remember that with the way things are going, you’re probably going to be revealed as the villain, right?

Ch: I am okay with this.

…

Op: And the zombies leave after I change my stance?

Ok: Those hips don’t lie.

H: More of they sensed that you weren’t resisting anymore.

Op: Might want to rephrase that.

H: You made it dirty. Not me.

Op: At least this me is starting to wake up. So you have at least one bad bitch supporting you.

H: I feel so much better.

G: Oh, hey! Even then you did that thing where you give people candy as a sign of affection!

Op: I’m honestly surprised that more people don’t do that. Honestly, most problems would be solved if people just gave each other candy all the time.

[themanicgalaxy]

SPN 7X4 Defending Your Life

I'm making an exception today, because I've figured out QUITE a bit about my own stress response

oh right the monster Dean killed

also to recap: my period has every sign of starting(including cramps) but nothing, I've been horribly nauseous all day, I feel a hunger response when I'm DEFINITELY not hungry(stress eating and it's the only thing that makes the nausea subside) and headache(altho that could be the lack of sleep). Also emotions all over the place(Crying, happy, very on the hat etc)

and the WORST part is I can NEVER tell until I have physical reactions. I can NEVER TELL WHAT MY EMOTIONS ARE WHAT DOES THAT MEAN I THOUGHT I WAS PERFECTLY OK OR NOT FEELING ANYTHING

ooo chase scene

gHOST CAR

ooo good segway into intro

that cut coping mechanism does NOT seem like it's healthy

mONSTER OF THE WEEK

oh COME ON HERE's THE LYING

the visuals are cool

"license to kill"

no come on sam that was a good one.

"dead and sober, dead and crappy" no Dean, please, you need to figure that out

ah yes tortured soul

FL OW ER SH O P

that was suspicious

oh

it's just because she's dead and dead at 10

oh

the CAr

"makes you wonder if the guy who was drunk ran her over" *drinks beer*

O H H H H H HSIDOFAHPAS

GHOST RIDER

at least I know they're nerds, whoever wrote this

is it manifesting their guilty conscience

aw but the dog is so fluffy

*lies down, bounces back up again* lmaooo

Dean is Tired

didn't they DEAL With a ghost car?

it's people that kept going?

DEAN IS RUNNING ON SO MUCH EMPTY AHAHAHA

A H CUZ HE DIDN'T SLEEP BECAUSE THE GIRL HE KILLED

that took me as second

"If I ate apples" DEAN

also they're really doing license plate shots above how Cool the Impala is shots now, lil thing

"you won't even believe me" ahaha

...courtroom?

fUCKING NEAL'S TAVERNNNN

we kind of specialize in crazy ahaaha

"except that's complete crap"

"everyone judges all day long"

He just..takes punishment?

ahahah N O P E GREY AREA

no this is way more watchable

SA M SOUNDS SO TIRED AHAHA

*whispers* "stay put"

he DOES look good though

ok fine just gonna tune out the flirting

they ARE both pretty

is it that guy

the creepy guy in the shadows

how much is in scotch I have no idea

ah the red, what people were clawing

THAT'S NOT HOW OSIRIS WORKS but fine ok let's go

THAT'S NOT

ok fine

"it hones in on people who feel guilty, N OW WHO DOES THAT SOUND LIKE TO YOU" oh boy literally both of them got it that was hilarious

this does seem like he's talking himself into a role

the salt...might not work for osiris

shit she really is pretty

AH RED SAND ok ok yeah I see it ok

a h egyptian shit

ALL YOU NOTICED WERE THE SYMBOLS LMAOOO

THAT DOOR SLIDE WAS SO FUNNY

He's cool though, I like the pagan shit

"Sam, you're not a lawyer" "yes I was pre law" "pre"

"good one" "I saw that on the good wife"

THIS IS HILARIOUS

J O

oh no

the mining itself sucks but this concept is good

took his breathing away?

It reads a bit as excusing them for everything

She backs them up at least?

I miss her

see here's the thing, it kinda reads like they're out of ideas, but like...it's a good concept

ah so the stuff at the beginning was them showing their guilt

I like how he just says "them's the breaks"

yeah like Dean is ever gonna believe he's innocent

"dog food" oh they so desperately wanna say dog shit

"they want to be judged" echoes Dean

SAM IS TALKING COMPLETELY OUT OF HIS ASS

HE'S GETTING HIM OUT OF HIS GUILT COMPLEX OH THANK GOD FINALLY

"that it just...blows"

no one, including Dean, ever questions it, so the grief stews

oh

he does actually have some way with words

Dean please tell the truth

mate I get the impulse but still

dammit

ahaha Temporary but Long Temporary

"make sure it's a sharp piece" lmaoo

man I miss Jo

ah here we go

sam: u h

JOOOO

"you deserve better" on both ends

Dean Eldest Daughter Syndrome

"hunters are never kids, I never was"

he does Internalize things

that's why we kin

90% crap

"i get rid of that what then" "you really wanna die not knowing" HOLY SHIT

HOLYSHIT OH MY GOD OH MYGOD

ah the gas stove

"he's making me do this" oH NO

"just kind of faded...maybe a little bit happier"

hell was Sam's slate? huh

"I kind of feel good, Dean" I am glad he's happy, I don't know if I agree with the message

1. SAMMM. Dean was acting off the shits, so he had to step up and exasperatedly handle everything, and piece stuff together. Like mans is actually quite smart and quite resourceful when he has to be, and it's nice seeing that. It's also fun FINALLY seeing him lighthearted again, even if I don't like how.

2. Dean's guilt complex. Man internalizes a lot of things, and while they BARELY make sense(thin veneer, easily cracked) he hides it enough so that no one asks(and he represses so he certainly doesn't), and he can continue feeling guilty. Now here's the thing. He feels guilty, Sam doesn't, the middle ground is where they should be(taking responsibility) and they like...never do it.

3. monster of the week. No but having monsters switch to grey instead of black and white, and having Dean comment on it is SO good, because he's like...that Masculine Parody/Ideal depending on who's writing him, and like he was written to be the hero. any gray was always overridden by that. But with kripke gone, they start actually doing grey, and there's nothing simple anymore. Like I like with how off the shits it got, they still kept the theme of "it's more grey now" but like kinda for real(where Dean and Osiris said the same thing). ALSO, I think it would be useful as a scale back. I know they'll not do it because EVEN BIGGER DBZ LAZER is fun, but I think having more monsters of the week by choice and not "oh god we have runtime" would be really good, because that's where this storyline SHINES! it's got a lot of characters, a lot of lore, and a lot of issues to pick through, a monster of the week is WAY more effective than a longer story, and would help the scaling back issue.

4. pontificating about the season/why it's easier to watch. Like is this season as good/vibey? probably not really, but honestly I can actually stand watching it. Like it's very cringe in places but also, it doesn't hurt me or make me feel uncomfortable as kripke stuff does. It matches the vibe of "after work/school show" perfectly for what it is.

5. the vibes/Osiris. I like the idea of osiris and going to the bars, and the courtroom and the RED! SAND!! I got that one. But I'd also like to say that Dean saying the SAME thing that osiris said was like...he's not villainized, but I think they're trying to make him slowly grow as a character. It's like sympathy/he sucks kinda/we like him for him a sa character and I think that was really neat.

also barkeep lady pretty holy hell

6. it felt a little bit like excusing tho. Like if Sam is the good one, then it felt like excusing them of the harm they cause people. I want them to change their behavior! not beat themselves up over it or think it's fine cuz he went to hell because of it!

I'm so glad Sam is happy again but N O

7. J O. the "no autonomy, he's making me do this," the being able to see through things(and no longer hungering for something that she doesn't really know) (like...she wants SOMETHING, has it crawling under her skin but doesn't know what, and that's gone when she's dead) and that whole thing where she asked Dean if he wanted to die as a persona. Oh my god.

8. Dean persona. Yeah the whole thing where he had to convince himself to be a womanizer, the "I"m 90% crap line" OH MY GODD THAT HIT. That man is also a persona. maybe a commentary on american masculinity in general, maybe not. Also, eldest daughter syndrome, he internalizes everything and everything is his responsibility("I didn't get a childhood")

I feel like you can also make an argument how trauma makes you the extreme of something(uncaring for smol sam, internalizing for Eldest Dean), and it breaks your ability to do what you need to(empathetically do your fucking job and not be pieces of shit).

I see why this show was so popular amongst mentally ill people(myself included) holy christ

[just-an-anxious-mess]

Double Standards (Part 2)

Part 1

Trigger Warning: Mentions of toxic parents, transphobia, mentions of past abuse, dead naming, wrong pronoun usage, low self esteem, unhealthy coping mechanisms, ableism, seasonal depression, thoughts of suicide and self harm. The Remus angst train will not be stopping.

They sat in their room trying to ignore their spiralling thoughts. They should have known better than to slip up and make a comment about their gender identity at dinner.

They'd known it wouldn't go down well and yet they'd still said something. Remus blamed it on their impulsivity and desire to feel validated for once.

Things had started off ok at first. They'd been forced out shopping with their mother and had come across another enby in the wild which had been great. They'd had a discussion about preferred pronouns while their mum and Roman had been in earshot.

Roman had of course been a complete ass the whole time round the shops and Remus was still furious about the leaves incident but they managed to hold themselves back from doing anything rash like breaking his nose which they felt was incredibly nice of them.

The individual at the checkout had given Remus a sudden boost in confidence and rekindled their motivation to correct their parents when they slipped up.

With this new energy they corrected their mother and the three of them (Remus, Roman and their mother) also ended up having a conversation about the LGBTQ+ on the journey home.

All in all things were going good and when they got home they decided to take the cashiers words to heart.

They had told Remus that their 5 year old cousin respected their pronouns and name more than their parents and so with this knowledge in mind Remus decided to talk to Patton.

"Hey Patton? My name is Remus now and instead of saying she or her when talking about me, I'd prefer you to use They and Them."

Patton had looked up at them with barely a moments hesitation and replied "Ok Remus."

Remus felt like their heart was going to burst at Pattons words and they couldn't fight the enormous smile that spread across their lips, especially as Patton continued to use Remus instead of their deadname.

Then dinner happened.

Everyone was sitting around the table as usual when Remus's mum used their deadname when speaking to them. Remus sighed but felt a little reluctant to correct her in front of their father, unsure if his infamous temper would explode at Remus 'backchatting' their mum.

Patton of course spoke up then, slipping up slightly thanks to hearing the deadname being used.

"It's Remus."

Remus was surprised when Roman spoke up on their behalf and was immediately suspicious, frowning slightly at his sudden jump to their defence.

"I call you Remus but mummy calls you [Deadname}" Patton stated, looking directly at their mother.

"That's because I named her after a friend of mines younger sister who died while I was pregnant with her."

Remus winced slightly, already having heard this story many times before. They avoided eye contact with their mother as she continued.

"The names I used to name her carry significant meaning to me so if I forget to call her Remus it's because of that. My friends sister was only 13 when she died and I swore to name you after her in her memory."

Remus just managed to stop from sliding down in their seat, guilt and shame suddenly weighing heavily on them as they thought on their mothers words.

Maybe they should have chosen something closer to their mothers friends sisters name? Maybe then there wouldn't have been as much issue with the whole nonbinary thing?

"I don't even know why you changed your name to Remus anyway? Names shouldn't define your gender. You didn't have to change your name, besides they're pretty much the same anyway."

Remus stared at Roman in shock and horror as they registered his words and felt sick as their mother made a noise of agreement and everyone seemed to just carry on with dinner as if nothing had happened.

When dinner ended Remus made a beeline straight to their room where they proceeded to think and overthink everything that had just happened.

All the stuff their family said weighed on them heavily to the point where they stared off into space for a bit as a horrifying thought crossed their mind.

What if they were faking all this? What if they weren't really nonbinary and it was just all a ploy for attention?

Thoughts of a similar nature bounced around their head, driving them mad with panic and making them rethink everything.

Stressed and in disarray Remus paced up and down, shaking their hands in a way similar to how they usually stimmed.

Eventually they sat down at their computer and tried to distract their buzzing mind with YouTube or music. It didn't have much of an effect.

Eventually they contacted Logan and let him know what had happened. As usual he was logical and spoke sense, even when Remus wasn't in a state to really register it.

His words somewhat reassured Remus. For now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still feeling down from what had happened a couple days previously Remus didn't make as much of an effort to correct Patton or Roman anymore but sometimes their brothers would remember on their own.

Remus spent a lot of time trying to figure out why their parents seemed to have such an issue with their identity but there wasn't really anything they could come up with except their parents were just stuck in the way they'd been brought up.

Things eventually reached boiling point at dinner a few nights later.

Dinner always seemed to be the catalyst for shit hitting the fan. It was probably because that was the only time the entire family was present in the same room for extended periods of time.

It all started with Roman doing an impression of Stitch. It wasn't terrible but it was mildly annoying to Remus's ears. They'd rather eat dinner in peace.

"are you doing a Nelson Mandela impression?" Their mother asked, grinning like she'd made a hilarious joke.

"What? It's Stitch from Lilo and Stitch." Roman and Remus said at the same time, sharing confused looks which became exasperated as their mother continued.

"It sounds exactly like Nelson Mandela, you racist." She laughed, loud and grating on Remus's ears as she nudged their father who was also grinning.

Roman glared at the two of them and tried to again reiterate that it was an impression of Stitch.

"You're a racist, it's exactly the same as Nelson Mandela's voice." their father said, speaking over Roman which was a sure fire way to set off his infamous temper.

"I'm not racist! I don't even know what he sounds like, I was just doing an impression of a cartoon character. Not knowing that my Stitch impression sounds like..."

"That's how racism starts, ignorance!" both their parents were laughing now and Remus wanted nothing more than to shout for them to stop but they kept their mouth shut, something Roman had never learnt to do as he once again spoke up.

"Out of everyone here, you guys are the most racist. You continuously use outdated terms and words that are considered offensive in our current time period."

"Oh we're racist are we?"

"Yes! You're the least PC people in our whole family."

Their mother scoffed while their father was still grinning and shaking his head in disbelief at Romans words.

"The whole family? Even grandad?"

"Yes actually, at least grandad doesn't say anything homophobic or too racist in front of us."

"Actually I think it's the fact that you pretend to be better than him but you're on the same level when it comes to outdated and offensive comments and words."

For once Remus and Roman were working together to try and stop their parents from being as bigoted and offensive.

Perhaps it was the fact they were actually working together or maybe it was just because they had no response, the dining room fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence.

After a few moments of silence their mother spoke up once again, eyes locked onto Remus.

"are you going to change your middle name too?"

"wha..?" Remus was completely caught off guard by the question.

"Are you going to change the middle name? I mean it has sentimental meaning and your nan was so happy when i told her I was using her middle name for yours. You were her first grandchild. so are you going to change it?"

Remus struggled to come up with a response, feeling like they were being interrogated and put on the spot.

Once again Roman came to their defence.

"You can't pressure someone into going by a name they don't identify with by telling them it has meaning to you. It has meaning to you but it's not how they identify and it's selfish to expect them to stick with it just because of your feelings about the name."

"I named her after my friends little sister who died!"

"Yes, we know, you keep saying but it's still not fair to Remus to basically emotionally blackmail them into sticking with a name they don't identify with."

Remus watched their mother and brother in shock, a warm feeling in their chest at the fact Roman was sticking up for them in such a way.

The warm feeling was immediately replaced by dread as their father spoke up, his grin still in place but it quickly disappeared.

"I'll say whatever the fuck I want to. If you don't like it then you can fuck off. It's my fucking house and I'll fucking say what I fucking want to. And Remus is a stupid fucking name. You're [Deadname]. Don't like it? Then move out!"

With each word their father said the room grew more and more tense and Remus felt their eyes prickling as the dread was replaced with hurt at the knowledge their parents would clearly never accept them as they truly were.

They remained silent, staring down at their plate, trying to ignore the few tears starting to trail down their face.

They focused on shovelling food into their mouth, anticipating the end of dinner when they could make a bid for freedom to their room and breakdown in privacy.

As subtly as they could Remus wiped their eyes, determined not to let either of their parents see just how much their words had effected them. Plus Remus didn't want to give their father an excuse to have a go at them for being weak/overreacting.

Eventually both parents left the table and Roman and Remus were alone in the dining room with the task of clearing up.

Roman was still furious at the conversation during dinner and kept trying to talk to Remus about it but Remus was very aware of their mother being in the other room and the fact Roman tended to get louder when talking about something he was passionate about so they shushed him and made a point of reminding him of where they were.

Eventually Remus was able to escape back to their room and that's when they fully allowed their walls to crumble.

The reality of what the disastrous dinner conversation meant hit them full force and for the first time in a while old urges began to plague their mind.

They collapsed into their computer chair and sobbed silently into their hands, a skill they'd had to learn out of necessity many years ago due to various things.

The little voice in their head they thought they'd finally managed to silence began whispering and Remus clenched their hands into fists in their hair, trying their best to ignore it as it seemed to get louder.

The temptation to give in was overwhelming as the fact they could never safely be their true self around their parents began to really sink in. Then a small spark of hope hit them as they remembered someone who had always been supporting them and fighting their corner, no matter what.

Logan.

In a last ditch effort to rid themself of the old self destructive urges they sent Logan a message and filled him in on how dinner had gone.

It didn't take long for Logan to respond with an optimistic message about getting them out of there as soon as possible and reassuring Remus that their name was just as beautiful as their last and that their father was being an asshole.

Remus felt slightly better but their thoughts were still spiralling and they couldn't ignore the awful feeling welling up inside them as a question filled their mind that they had no answer to.

Why can't they accept me?

They sent Logan this question, still wiping tears from their face as they waited for his response.

Logan replied and Remus scowled, ignoring the fresh tears that spilled down their face as they told Logan that he couldn't promise that they would accept them eventually, that's not how life works.

Logan tried to bring up the fact that Remus's parents had accepted their sexuality but Remus scoffed and pointed out that the real reason their parents had 'accepted' their sexuality is because they were with Logan so for all intents and purposes they could kid themselves that Remus was straight as they were with a guy.

Logan told them that they'd do anything and everything they could in the future to use Remus's name around them as much as possible until they couldn't help but use it themselves.

Remus didn't think that would work but didn't say that, instead choosing not to reply as they couldn't think of anything else to say. Instead they began blasting music at full volume to try and drown out their thoughts.

They lost themself in their music and even began drawing, an old coping mechanism they rarely used anymore but it was a much healthier one than the one they were trying their hardest to ignore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days seemed to pass without much incident, the explosive dinner being forgotten and ignored by everyone as if it never happened.

Of course it was all Remus could think of as they went through the motions of everyday life, wincing every time Patton called them Remus instead of getting the warm feeling of validation because they were terrified their father might get angry again at the reminder.

There was a moment when Remus was trying to escape to their room and their father wanted them to come back downstairs and so he shouted "Oi! Woman!"

Remus felt a wave of revulsion wash through them and grit their teeth to fight down the urge to scream, instead standing at the top of the stairs and answering like nothing was wrong.

As time passed the intrusive thoughts seemed to increase in regularity, every trip downstairs they had thoughts of throwing themselves down them, washing their hands they held their hands under the hot tap as long as they were able and sometimes out of nowhere the urge to scratch at their skin until it bled would overwhelm them.

They managed to fight through these situations by reminding themselves of Logan and their friends but there were a few close calls where they only just kept themselves from doing anything.

It didn't help that it was starting to get closer to the time of year Remus dreaded most.

Christmas.

They loved winter but Christmas and all the things that came with it was a nightmare.

It was a time they couldn't help but associate with awful times.

So many years they'd spent in their room crying over some sort of family crisis or just generally feeling unwanted and they came to hate it more and more as the years went by.

This year would probably be just as bad as ever as things had really took a downturn this year.

Losing people was never easy but Remus seemed to lose everyone around this time so there were various dates they dreaded in November and December.

It was also the time of year their mental health always plummeted and intrusive thoughts of times when they'd almost succeeded with something drastic were plentiful.

They didn't remember the exact dates of those moments but they didn't need to.

Luckily they had Logan and Virgil and Janus to fall back on. Without them Remus dreaded to think what might have happened.

They were in a better place mentally now than they had been and they had several coping mechanisms in place that were relatively healthy.

Nothing particularly big happened in the next week or so but there were a few small instances  which did start to add up, causing Remus's stress levels to reach almost breaking point.

They felt frustrated and ashamed that such tiny things could effect them so much and though they tried their best to ignore the minor inconveniences they started to pile up.

It started with a simple thing. Remus's parents suddenly started to buy a different brand of soft drink than usual due to price which was all well and good but Remus was used to the other one, the cheaper one tasted Wrong and Different and they felt slightly on edge.

The next thing was bigger and pissed Remus off a considerable amount. Their mother was already wrapping things for Christmas for their two youngest brothers and she had as always gone overboard with three black sacks full of wrapped gifts which she then handed to Remus.

"Wait what?" Remus asked, having zoned out midway through the conversation and making their mother huff in annoyance.

"I said go put these in your room somewhere Patton won't find them."

"But I don't have anywhere to put them!" Remus exclaimed indignantly and frowned as their mother raised her voice angrily.

"Where else do you suggest they be put? There's no room in mine and your dads room, Romans room also has no room and they can't stay down here. Just clear up some of the junk in your room and you'll have plenty of room."

Remus growled and muttered under their breath and reluctantly dragged the bags up to their room where they turned in circles in a frustrated moment of panic as they struggled to figure out where they could put them.

Despite what their mother had said they didn't actually have much room and while their room wasn't spotless it wasn't a complete mess like both parents liked to claim, it was just a very lived in space.

Eventually Remus ended up shoving the bags down the end of their bed and decided that if Patton saw them when he did his usual thing of bursting into their room then it wasn't their fault.

Still the bags at the end of their bed made them feel restless, the unfamiliar objects invading what they had considered their safe space but even without the bags of presents Remus was struggling to consider their room their safe place with each passing day.

The next change was a very large one. Despite only having it for two years Remus's parents had decided to get a new couch which had thrown Remus into a spiral of thoughts, none of them good. The different couch was larger than their previous ones and meant that when it came time to put the tree up there wouldn't be room where they used to put it, yay another change!

It would have to be put in front of the living room window where it would be very easy for Patton to bump into it and smash the glass decorations.

This thought sent Remus down a dark path of imagining laying in the wreckage of broken glass.

They shook this off and tried their best to stay as together as possible.

This worked slightly until the day the new sofa arrived.

Everything was hectic and there was lots of shouting from both parents which resulted in Remus falling back on an old coping mechanism.

To avoid breaking down in front of either parent Remus shut off their emotions. Or at least enough of them so they didn't end up crying.

The issue with this particular coping mechanism was Remus found it difficult to go back to 'normal' so to speak.

They were sort of glad that they were still able to block their emotions when their help was demanded with the tree.

The various decorations their mother had collected over the years usually would cause a torrent of various emotions but they remained rather unaffected through the whole process.

The snide comments and little digs barely registered as they monotonously helped decorate the tree.

The final decoration to be placed on the tree was a new one as it was every year due to family tradition. This year however it was a tribute to their mothers mum who'd died a few months back.

Their mum was instantly in floods of tears and Roman placed a hand on her shoulder, looking close to tears himself.

Remus watched as the decoration was placed on a branch and both clung to each other, teary eyed and sniffing.

Remus blinked a few times to try and escape the numb state they'd managed to get themself in but it was no use.

Their father in a rare moment of understanding gave them a small nudge and then lifted their hand and placed it on their mums shoulder.

They left their hand there for a few seconds before patting awkwardly, completely out of their depth right now. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days they found themselves incapable of getting out of bed. They were tired all the time and would drift in and out of sleep throughout the day, only getting up to do housework.

Their thoughts were full of worst case scenario and thoughts of what they'd do if they didn't have Logan and Virgil and Janus.

None of them were good and all their thoughts seemed to have become twisted and dark.

It was reaching a point where even talking to their friends and Logan was becoming difficult.

They knew that isolating themself from such supportive individuals was a bad idea but they couldn't seem to stop. There were no brakes on the self destruct train.

They were managing to refrain from various things but as the month of December progressed they knew it would only get harder.

Tag List under the cut:

General tag list: @mcfreakin-childproof-caps @amethystdarkwolf @patchworkofstars @kitkat-doodles @unikornavenger @dolphin-squirrel @sympathetic-deceit-trash @starryfirefliesbloggo @cakercanart @neonb-fly @kaymischief25 @punsterterry @aprilthevene @theoddkidnextdoor @fuckingemoace @i-sold-my-soul-to-thefandom @im-so-infinitesimal @sea-blue-child @thecatchat @iris-sanders-athena @saphael-malec102 @smedenn @corkeecoderyt @sopi-montezzz @illogicaldeath @deadpanstar @theanxiousfander @lesliealiceinwonderland @wicked-universe @anxious-is-the-name @a-black-pegasus @erlenmeyertrashofsandersides @ace-the-weekly-doodler @luarpice @novusavis @the-life-ofa-troubled-ace @heck-im-lost @nerdy-as-heck @pansexual-cat @ravens-rambling @echomist13 @myownhappilyeverafter @im-a-sexy-mouse @xx-fandom-potato-xx @bisexualellaphants @redundant-statements-for-400 @noahlovescoffee @akl1 @love-ya-to-the-moon @misty2-0 @cdragontogacotar @shad-ster @chemicallyimbalancedromance @ivescottthis @flag-spinning-demiboy @moonstonefox12 @stupidfangirl107 @teegankitty @stormastrote @skylerskywing @oonagh-una @ab-artist @lydialightwood-bane @remythehero @amberrose80q3 @official-spookifers-child @amazonprimebox

[dise7se]

gone, gone (thank you)

by @spideysforce (8.1k) for @tonystarkdadmode ( @irondad-fic-exchange )

Characters: Peter Parker, May Parker, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, Betty Brant, Quentin Beck, Tony Stark, Matt Murdock, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Karen Page

Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Quentin Beck & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Summary: 

Peter has paranoia looming behind him, always watching him, never lingering too close but never leaving him alone. In each dark corner of any alleyway he’s in, paranoia follows him. The green gases and mists seeping out of his city’s storm drains, twirling mystically around his feet, those are all Mysterio. His anxiety-addled brain has convinced him each warp of sulfur dioxide twirling through the air, green subway lights illuminating each particle is Quentin Beck, taunting him in his home."I've got a show waiting for you in Manhattan."

— prompts: presumed dead, hypothermia, and hurt/comfort

read on ao3 (leave comments and kudos)

“There is no way Parker is Spider-Man!” Flash said, voice distant down the hall of the snow-lodge cabin, game pieces clacking against the board.

“And why can’t he be?” Betty asks, voice muffled over a piece of licorice.

“We’ve already been over this,” Ned sighs, the room quieting except for the crackle of the fireplace in front of them where they gathered on the living room floor surrounding the coffee table.

“Bullshit.”

“The dickwad is right here, you know,” MJ says, setting her mouth straight to hide her laugh. She fails. “Ned, let’s hear him out. Can Flash really connect Peter Parker to Spider-Man? JJJ couldn’t.”

They can, not that the Daily Bugle should have aired out his business for all of his home city to prey on, for Mysterio to get into his head, and target every last of his loved ones. It had only been a few months since the older man had faked his death on television, had the Daily Bugle ruin his reputation more than they’ve already tried, and Tony Stark worked tirelessly with Pepper Potts to backtrack on this PR nightmare that carefully painted a brushstroke target on each of his loved ones.

Peter has paranoia looming behind him, always watching him, never lingering too close but never leaving him alone. In each dark corner of any alleyway he’s in, paranoia follows him. The green gases and mists seeping out of his city’s storm drains, twirling mystically around his feet, those are all Mysterio. His anxiety-addled brain has convinced him each warp of sulfur dioxide twirling through the air, green subway lights illuminating each particle is Quentin Beck, taunting him in his home.

These last few months, his previous mentor has been out of commission, along with other Avengers. He can’t complain, though, he has a feeling he’s making new allies in his home-burough while being a vigilante. Possibly a new mentor, but that’s him projecting. There is no Mysterio if he buries himself in school and work, if he’s exerting himself.

He walks over and joins the rest of them in the living room of the cabin from the hallway where he set down his suitcase and organized it before aunt May came back.

“You hear back from MIT?” MJ asks, scooting closer to him once he sits down on the floor beside her and the coffee table.

“Not yet,” he says, all the attention shifting to him. “I think we’ll all hear back by next week.”

“Well, we may have applied, but it doesn’t mean all of us will get in..” Flash announces, earning an elbow to the ribs by an exasperated Betty.

This is their new dynamic now, really, maybe it was their subconscious way of coping with their previous summer vacation, they began gravitating towards each other.

Peter watched the confusion flicker across Flash’s face, mumbling an apology and a sarcastic, “it’s true..”

He’s been doing that more often, and even though he’s made it clear that he hates it when Peter looks at him with that, ‘psychoanalytical’ face, he’s trying to figure him out. Flash is an electrical current, a neon light buzzing, flickering and it seems like there’s a fuse ready to burst into flecks at any time. He doesn’t mind when Flash is annoyed with him, he knows sophomore and junior year bailing on Academic Decathlon was his fault, but there’s a weight off his shoulders since his identity was revealed to the entire world, he’s in a legal case with a local Queens lawyer to soften the blow currently, and he can handle these little outbursts.

If Flash goes around the school revealing his identity, well, he doesn’t have much leverage.

He puts everything he has into tormenting Peter, but that’s how he is. That’s how their classmates see him, he likes being the center of attention.

The second time he noticed it happen, it was after their Europe trip. He was hugging May, holding her close, Betty, Ned and MJ scattered, and he caught sight of Flash. May turned their 1940s Revolvo on and they sat with the cold air blowing on their faces, May’s face flickering between him and Flash and his butler.

He never dared to bring it up. Ned and MJ never allowed him to, no matter how subtly he planned to. It wasn’t fair of his family, it wasn’t fair for him to go through alone. He never fooled Petter with his facade, but the sinking feeling in his stomach felt worse. He couldn’t ignore it any longer, no matter how many obligations he has to worry about.

Ben taught him when any situation arises for him to be the bigger person, he needs to be the bigger person and assume responsibility. He knew he needed to help find Flash a safe space if he couldn’t by himself. Or, fuck, even just support him whenever he needed to.

In his own fucked up way, Flash had his back as well.

He shoved a skateboard into his arms one afternoon after leaving a Decathlon meeting, murmuring he needed a skating partner today. To not take it personally, they wouldn’t hold hands or anything, but to make fun of someone else if they fall off the board or eat shit.

He had a feeling, and he thinks he’s right. That morning, Peter came in late, nearly dragged in by May because of a late night run-in with Silver Stable. With the scrapes and bruises from being dragged through Manhattan, he might as well have been dragged by a skateboard and not his web shooters.

So, they skateboarded.

And he did eat shit.

Ned, MJ, and Flash scold Betty for accidentally shoving the Monopoly board too far to the left, Ned yelling at Flash to stop cheating and taking his money. May comes in at the perfect time, yelling over the teenagers that she bought everyone’s sandwiches from the sub shop.

“May, you bring my camera in?” Peter asks through a full mouth of lettuce, bread, tomato, cheddar, and deli-meats, earning a light playful smack upside the head.

He doesn’t miss Flash’s furrowing brows, his body immediately freezing from across the kitchen island. She mutters, “Yes, Peter, next time I’ll make you walk a quarter mile in the snow for it.”

He snorts, earning a small, ‘smeck,’ on the forehead and watches May pass out the rest of his friends’ food and chips and drinks. He forgot what this was like, back in Europe with Ned when they felt independent on their own and like they could take on the world from a small, cramped space with all their friends.

“Hey, Peter, did you get an email back from that lawyer?” Ned asks, chewing loudly from his chips and turning back to him. His other half, the other part of his brain, oh, where would he be without Ned? “Remember, you said you’d get one.”

“Mm!” Peter exclaims with a full mouth, taking his phone out from his jean pocket. He doesn’t give the group any details, ever, just the public information the brand new firm allows to go to the press. They’ve strategic in their methods, and May was the most doubtful at first, but the two lawyers and impressive secretary were not as amateur as their clientele suggested.

He turns his phone screen to let May watch his email app load, slurping loudly on his drink while May sighs. “You know, I won’t miss that when you go off to school next year. I think you do it on purpose.”

“Hm, a schemer never tells.”

An email with the subject Please read by tonight, 12/11 which makes his stomach lurch. May hesitates, grabbing onto his hand holding the phone and her hand shakes slightly before she presses on the lock button. This could mean anything. His paranoia, the slight buzz constantly whirring behind him at all times from his senses could be triggered by anything and everything, could be confirmed by this email.

May squeezes his shoulder, ready to talk to the rest of the group once she notices his jaw lock-up in anxiety. “We did get an email. Come on, after you guys eat, we’ll do ice skating as promised.”

MJ continues with their conversation about MIT earlier, which leads to an argument over whether or not there truly is a class on street fighting mechanics, or do they call it that to glorify physics.

He knew forgetting about the email until he could be alone to read it with me would not help him at all. He excuses himself, picking his phone up and ignores the worrying glances from his friends.

Before he can think to text Tony, his caller ID flashes across the screen. “Hello?”

“ Hey, Peter ,” he begins, “I only have a few minutes to talk, Morgan’s taking a bath and is currently making bubble potions that may or may not be spilling over the bathtub. Wanted to check in on you..”

“Don’t let Morgan flood the bathroom again, Tony,” he says lightheartedly, knowing why he’s calling. “Listen, were you cc’ed into the lawyer’s email? I haven’t read it yet and—”

“Whoa, slow down kid,” he says, and Peter walks up the wooden stairs of the lodge, watching the living room between the wooden panels. He really needs to give Tony shit for inviting them to a cabin the size of his apartment complex floor. “ That actually is why I’m calling. They said Nelson has reason to believe Mr. Beck may be conspiring inside of the prison, but he can’t know for sure. This is not a reason to become anxious, okay?”

“What do you mean he’s conspiring?! ” Peter yelps, yanking the nearest door open in the long hallway and closing himself in with an unnecessary slam. “What reason does this lawyer have?”

He thinks his friends can hear him from downstairs, he knows May can.

“ Calm down ,” he chastises over the phone, his voice rough and quiet. Peter curses himself for making the man drop his own familial responsibilities for him, but his guilt complex the size of Manhattan won’t let him go through this by himself. Like he needs to. “ Don’t get worked up. I wanted to call and let you know I have someone looking into this even further, along with Murdock and Nelson. It’s probably just a threat out of boredom, probably got a smack on the wrist for staying out past curfew and he wants to take it out on everyone. ”

Peter sighs, sinking down onto the ceramic tile floor of the bathroom. It’s large, has fluffy white towels on a rack to his left, a large walk-in shower, and is bare of bath-mats but signs point to supplies under the sink. This is good, he thinks, he can ground himself.

The tile is cool on his hand, it’s freezing him through his jeans, one of the laces on his snow boots came undone, and he can hear Morgan screeching in the background over her magical bath potions that she’s going to make a mermaid out of.

“ You still with me? ” Tony’s voice comes through the other end of the phone, and he swears he can hear more crackling than usual. It might just be the snow drifting outside messing with the nearby towers and powerlines.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m right here.” His voice comes out even smaller than intended.

“Can I call you back? I need to call May now, and— Morgan, you can’t use scissors on the bubbles! ”

A sense of familiarity washes over Peter, and he succumbs to the feeling of safeness associated with Tony and Morgan. He’d been too close to death already. He was dead. And after navigating life without Tony for a while, he piled each responsibility like building blocks, a delicate glass structure he could shatter at any given moment, and Mysterio took a hammer to the glass. Thanos buried his glass structure, leaving part of him under with it.

“Yeah, Tony. Talk to you later. Miss you, too.”

The rest of the night goes on, and May prepares them all hot chocolate before she heads off upstairs to take a hot shower. The uneasiness never settled inside of him, a nemesis unwilling to leave him alone.

His heart thrums wildly in his chest, his hands shake and feel numb, and he wonders why .

Is it his body’s reaction to having to spend a few nights away from the city during their holiday trip, unable to patrol? Is it lingering stress from senior year, that he and May haven’t properly celebrated all of Hanukkah yet?

He must be incapable of relaxing, turning back to the couch where he’s curled up with 4 of his friends watching Home Alone 2.

“Hey, is anyone else’s toes feeling numb?” he turns to the group, watching them blearily blink at the TV from exhaustion.

“Your toes are numb ?” Flash asks from beside him on the floor, leaning against the couch with his head tilted to the side. He has no idea how that could be comfortable at all.

“Yeah, numb.”

He needed to keep talking to someone, hearing his friends talk, too. It might just be anxiety, or his PTSD symptoms bothering him. After Europe, the school forced everyone on the trip to attend at least one counseling session, and Murdock and Nelson had suggested the same when they took on the case early-autumn.

He wanted to take the advice, especially since it meant so much to May.

The cabin’s living room TV is quietly playing a documentary about the dangers of climate change and the remarkable effects the current generation will face when Peter’s jolted awake, his heart thudding in his chest and his alertness draws him from his sleep. He must’ve fallen asleep when he was in between MJ and Betty a couple of hours ago, he’s covered in a blanket and feels a pillow that wasn’t there before, supporting his neck- May’s doing- and it’s now when he realizes MJ isn’t beside him anymore, there’s too big of a gap on the couch.

He stills, not wanting to call out her name if she’s just using the bathroom or went back to her guestroom. Peter reaches his head over to check the time on the TV clock, and it’s nearing 2:30AM. The anxious feeling of danger looming in the distance, of now being watched returns and he needs to run some sort of perimeter check, maybe they have security--

“Peter!” he hears a distant shout from outside, a girl’s shout— and he immediately blanches. MJ .

His heart rate picks up, and he kicks the blanket off of him and stands. The snow is falling heavily outside, still, never seeming to let up and blocks out the nearby street lamps and backyard lamps. “MJ?!”

He turns to check if his whispering disturbed the others yet, but he decides he’ll go investigate first. He’s Spider-Man, he can head outside to check for her.

He turns to grab his oversized winter coat and his snow boots when he notices the backyard sliding door’s open— where he must’ve heard the scream from.

“Guys!” Peter shouts into the quiet living room, interrupting the warm peace from the TV playing and whatever phase of their sleep cycle there in. “Wake up! I think MJ”s outside!”

Peter runs out into the cold, a gust of wind hitting him immediately and causes his whole body to shiver while he shrugs his coat on for 25 centimeters of snow. It reaches his mid-calves and it seeps into his pants, each frozen entity stinging him and dragging him down into the ground while he runs— he doesn’t know where he’s running to, but his throat goes raw from screaming for MJ.

Frustrated none of his friends woke up in the wake of his own panic, his senses are screaming at him, danger, danger, danger , he’s too cold, his heart feels frozen. The low hum of his senses dial all the way to his limit. He screams and falls into a pile of snow on the ground, hiding himself from the danger that doesn’t seem to be there. Yet.

“MJ, where are you?” he screams, his mouth betraying him with the sound of wrecked sobs, desperacy ready to escape him, his eyes are wide and terrified. He gets back up, swaying on his own feet and he’s inhaling too many snowflakes, they’re everywhere.

He needs to find MJ, right now. She could be out here completely alone, but his senses won’t tell him where --

Before he can reach her piercing scream, the lamp post next to him flickers on, illuminated in green. His heart stops, and he feels the bile rising up inside of him.

No, no, no, no— not him, he’s supposed to be dead- wait, no, he’s supposed to be in prison—

Peter watches in pure anguish as the snow picks up, dangerous icicles falling from the lamp post and sky pierce his skin and he steps forward behind the shadows of the moonlight and snow, towering over him in his old suit he thought was destroyed. Was evidence, locked away to never be touched again.

Except it flickers away, into a cloud of smoke.

Maybe he’s hallucinating because he’s sick? He’s tired?

He has only gotten eight hours of sleep in the last three days, but what drove him so mad he came out here to the snow , the blizzard that seems to never let up-- the one that Mr. Stark mentioned-- is sending a small snowstorm to the boroughs of New York. Must be due to Global Warming.

The hum of a drone is loud, careening and he ducks his head before it strikes him, it nearly catches him and his breath won’t come out past the burning and aching in his throat.

Honestly, Peter assumed he’d be dead by now, no one telling him a word to protect him. Or, would it protect him even further to tell the truth that he is hidden away, rotting in a cell, truly plotting against him like Foggy Nelson said not to worry too much about.

“If you wanna save your city, you’re gonna need to come with me,” the familiar voice announces into the middle of the night, pushing him past his threshold of sanity and sends a wracking shiver down his spine and arms.

��I’m not really here, no, where would the fun in that be?” he replies smugly, probably watching from around the corner while Peter frantically runs back to the snow cabin to secure his family. “I need you to find me.”

He can only think about MJ, if this is an illusion she must be safe. What if he’s truly lying, crawling out of a grave somewhere in Manhattan where he was buried. Forgotten about. Rotting. For the last few months, he’s been here. Around every corner, lingering, falling behind every alleyway light to stay hidden. Quentin Beck has been the one watching him, it probably isn’t paranoid tendencies.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, get back inside NOW!” May shouts from behind him, his neck twisting to catch sight of her. His hands shake while he fishes somewhere in his pockets for his phone, hoping it didn’t get buried in the snow where he fell.

He feels heavy, like there’s two tons weighing over him and pulling him down into the ground even further, the slush eating away at his boots.

“May! Get away!” Peter shouts, his voice too raspy to be understood. “Find MJ inside!”

“Aw, Peter. Don’t worry about them, they’ll be safe right here, in the warm cabin under their warm blankets. Let’s hope the fireplace doesn’t catch anything around it, though,” Beck chuckles. “I think that’d be even enough for you getting me killed.”

“Killed? ” he exasperatedly asks, navigating his way back to the cabin and freezing in the dark. “You’re still alive. All of those people you killed in Europe are not .”

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” Beck says sharply, appearing right behind him. He can see him better this time, his hair is slightly grown out but gelled to the side. He’s wearing a black coat over this old shitty suit, completely concealed by his jacket. He clings to his helmet at his right side, Peter watches the inside fill up with snow.

Every miniscule detail, he can’t believe it. He can’t be here in front of him.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this. You know, I couldn’t wait any longer. You don’t deserve the title of Spider-Man, your big family. It was a big mistake letting them continue to believe Peter Parker is Spider-Man.”

“Because I will protect them. You can’t underestimate me, I got away from you last time. And now?” Peter steps towards Beck, going farther away from the snow cabin. “You can take me. Don’t you dare touch them.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Beck’s voice is layered in eagerness, like a child. “I’ll show you what I want and what I’m doing.

“And if you don’t? Millions  are going to pay for what you did. You know, that Jester King, Tony Stark, he really played me when he played dead for months. He did. He takes my holographic system, I take it back from him through you. You try to get me murdered, now I take away what you love most.

“What I want?” he says, finger tapping on his chin in amusement. “That’s bringing you down along with everyone you love. Excuse me, I mean, after I bring down everyone you love.”

Beck signals a drone over to him, smiling pointedly and gleefully as he waves a projection over, projecting New York City in a small screen in between them. There’s barely any snow covering the city like the forecasts predicted, and he swallows hard for what’s about to happen.

If he was capable of all the infrastructure damage to Europe, each disaster caused by G-ddamn drones, he’s capable of bringing down a few boroughs in New York City.

He stares at Beck, refusing to look down at the projection in front of him. At this point, his clothes clings to him and if he isn’t hypothermic, he thinks he will be soon. This isn’t part of his illusion tech, no. This time it’s real.

“Come on, Pete!” Beck yells cheerfully, nudging his shoulder roughly to turn back to the drone. “Where’s the fun in it if you don’t get to see what’s gonna happen, huh?”

He calculates his options, watching from his peripheral the snow attack the city. Shouts are emitted from the drone. “At least it’s not like Europe! I have no problem using more of my illusion tech here, but I’ve got a show waiting for you in Manhattan.”

Peter stares hard at the screen, anger and malice replacing every other feeling he’s felt up to now. He thinks back to his illusions and what he knows , he’s been sitting on top of every secret about him, hoarding them, using them to manipulate them before and knowing his secrets work against him.

“Here, I’ll take you there through one of my drones. So you’ll know what it’ll feel like to be on 85th when I destroy it.”

Peter’s hidden in plain view under a fire escape, it’s 2AM in the city, but he can hear all the people that are outside. Dogs being walked late at night, late-night epiphanies happening on fire escapes in the light snow, taxi-drivers in the middle of their shifts, the nearby hospital emergency room full of trauma cases from car accidents from the slippery snow. It’s the quietest he’s heard in New York, and he’s looking around and making sure nobody’s lurking around any corners. He needs to give Beck what he wants, and get out of here to get to the real New York.

“Beck, NO!” he hears Ned scream from above him, and he runs from under the coverage of the fire escape and into the middle of the grimey alleyway to see Ned tethering on the edge of the 30 meter building. “You can’t do this, it’s not fair!”

Beck appears behind Ned, and he panics in search of his web shooter attachments and comes up short. He’s still in his soaked clothes from the snow cabin. “Peter! You’ve gotta help m—”

Peter screams Ned’s name, crawling up the building as far as he can before he can leap out to catch Ned. He misses, and Ned collapses to the ground.

An illusion, this isn’t real, none of this is real. It’s not real. Not real.

He gasps and tumbles onto the ground, landing back at the snow cabin.

“Let’s play another one, you haven’t seen the best part!”

He’s standing on a highrise building, in his Spider-Man suit, and he knows it’s still an illusion. The snow is falling even heavier than it did at the snow cabin, but it’s covering pedestrians walking around late at night or very early in the morning. Random people still out eating, teenagers skipping curfew, people leaving their office jobs far too late deemed acceptable

The snow covers the cars , and he can hear emergency coverage playing on radios and TV’s while the city falls into a panic over Beck’s illusions. The snow is it’s true amount, but he’s redirecting it everywhere through the stupid drones. He’s playing an illusion on his city.

He hears a child scream out for Spider-Man’s help, his daddy’s stuck under a car and he won’t stop bleeding. He’s trapped on this high-rise beam, paralyzed by something. Why can’t he just leap down, shoot his webs, he can see all the coverage he has to get to. Now.

He gasps when he feels two hands on his back, shoving him forward in anger. He sees Flash, balancing with him on this yellow beam full of venom as he says, “This is all your fucking fault!’

He listens, watching with his jaw dropped because he’s too stupid to do anything else. He doesn’t have anywhere to run, he brings his hands to his ears and shuts his eyes tight, he’s guessing what Beck’s putting illusion-Flash up to. This seems too simple, but he doesn’t want to play his chances. He wishes his city could see him right now, he’s their beacon, they aren’t collectively helpless.

“I’m done, Beck!” Peter shouts over the whistling wind and heavy snow. “I’m not running. You don’t have to do this.”

Darkness falls around him, it covers him and the snow, and Beck’s gone. His body’s equilibrium is off from being out in this avalanche, the snow now nearly up to his waist is pure agonizing wetness. There’s no more Manhattan skylines, or a cityscape at all, no more traumatized Flash, only the cabin with the porch light on.

Peter turns on his heels, running through the thick snow, holding onto himself, and starts racing in the snow. He keeps his eyes wide open despite the snow seeping into his eyes, he’s gone, the paranoia died down, the feeling of being watched simmered away like a light burning out. His legs feel like two tons of steel are weighing them down, and launches himself inside the door to find May, Ned, Flash, and to see if MJ is here.

He can almost sense where things are, he scoops a pile of snow off of his face and litters it to the ground, shrugging his jacket off which might be his worst decision of the night, his eyes feel blindfolded by the sleet.

“May!” Peter yells, holding back a sob sitting in the back of his throat, his voice quivering. “P-please. Please tell me you’re okay.”

He picks his lead feet up, waiting for an answer. He can sense bodies nearby, so they're here in the perimeter, but his senses have gone haywire after his encounter with the drone and Beck. Whatever frequency and illusions he uses, he feels less keyed now and less like he’s going to wake up from this nightmare.

He feels real.

“Baby?” he hears May whisper at the top of the stairs, now noticing the upstairs light flickered on and illuminating the living room and the stairs. He’s sisyphus climbing the stairs, his own body betraying him, and this is his punishment. Too weak to move right now, too weak to go hug May. To go tell his friends everything’s gonna be okay.

“It- it was him, May. I saw him,” Peter whispers, elation and adrenaline still coursing through his body. “He’s alive, I mean you already knew that but-- May, he was here. I have to go.”

“Peter,” May says carefully, lifting her arm that was protectively holding Ned back. He’s crying in a steady stream watching them at the top of the stairs from the bottom, he’s his own impossible boulder. He can’t reach them. He can’t get to the top.

She’s careful in her tone. “Why did you go outside? What did you see?”

“May, you have to believe me. I need to go to Manhattan— I have to send Mr. Stark a message and you-- you guys need protection,” he rambles breathlessly, half of his words ununciated, “I can’t let you guys die.”

“Okay, Peter,” May confirms, and he’s never seen her look so sad. She’s covered in moonlight, she’s backlit by the upstairs light, but he can’t see her eyes clearly like he usually can. And, oh fuck, he thought this was real— “Name five things you can see right now. Just five.”

“I— May, no, I need your car keys. I need my suit,” he says, watching his friends faces fall and hears their heartbeats pick up. “And MJ, she’s okay? She was screaming, and--”

May sighs, resigning, and takes a few steps down the stairs to meet his eyes. “Baby, are you having an episode?”

“May, no!—“

“I can help. We can all help. Nobody’s judging you, I know you didn’t find the best coping mechanisms, but—“

“Call Tony. Please. For me.”

“Okay,” May says, running a hand through his soaked curls and he feels her shaking movements, and he gently catches her hand.

“I’m so sorry, I brought this here.” He glances up at his friends, watching their own storms on their own faces, the aching, the fear caused by him. Ned’s quietly crying now, keeping his face as stoic as he can.

“Go, Peter. I’ll set security up around the perimeter,” Ned whispers bravely, swallowing back tears. “Just.. Can you tell us what you saw outside?”

Peter’s mind instantly flashes back to Ned’s body on the pavement in the illusion, and swallows the bile back down but allows more tears to fall. “I— He made an illusion about MJ. About all of you. Everyone was inside except for her. He’s in New York. Just like Foggy said.”

He turns outside to face outside, and it’s nearly morning now. The sun hides far on the low horizon, not daring to rise yet but is still covered by snowfall.

May finally relented, grabbing her cellphone to get in touch with Mr. Stark and Nelson and Murdock. It was Claire who answered first, insisting she talk to Peter. Her worries over the phone brought a wave of nausea over him, she described New York right now. There’s hail and snow slides and blizzards which should be impossible in their terrain. Peter tore his clothes off and put his suit on, feeling idiotic for wearing a jacket over his spider suit. Ned sets up his own perimeter check, signaling and coding spider-drones to confirm the validity of Beck’s own drones and keep an eye out for unwanted visitors.

He web swings 100,000 meters back to the city, internally thanking May for convincing Mr. Stark to only send them into upstate New York, not too far out into the mountains and terrain.

For once, the Parker Luck might be working on his side once he thwips off of the Statue of Liberty and soars through air with his webs and wings, back out towards the nearest island’s edge. He promises himself to come out here more often, especially in the snow. Whatever New York borough Beck is in, he isn’t nearby Ellis island, and his senses continue to buzz.

New York’s loveable grizzled seen-too-much detective is back in his home city, and he web-swings across vast swaths of water into his city through the heavy snow.

Beck lied to him. He had trusted him. He destroyed his image, causing him to flee from his real life for months . He told him he was a disappointment, and his goodness was a weakness. He watches teenagers play in Washington Square Park, tourists crawling to the nearest safe spots, and ice skaters somehow skating this late at night/early in the morning.

He swings off of the nearest building, listening out for an intel on Beck and he races through Manhattan. It’s an obstacle course for Beck, but not for Peter.

He hears a nearby construction site and a low groaning, something not good. If he reaches these construction sites with free equipment lying around for him to use, he needs to stop him in time before doing anything too drastic. He’s hoping his setup is randomized drones, secured away from the population like in the terminal he last fought him in.

But he knows this is highly unlikely.

Spider-Man finds Beck easily, scanning the construction site for any heat signatures, easily finding him and the drones. How he wanted to be found, near the heart of Manhattan.

“I must be honest, I am so glad to see you again, Petey,” Beck says, voice distorted and warped while he slowly walks further into the construction site, mapping each drop to the floor below or opening above, and each window covered in tarp. “My abilities, my talent, they can’t be stolen from me again.”

Peter turns, scanning via his suit for any signs of Beck, but his ocular scans come back distorted and something lands in front of him, his senses screaming at him at the last possible second and he stumbles into the ground.

Beck’s voice disappears further into the building, and he tries to follow it. He veers left, in a crouch and stumbles into storage bins. “I’ve been waiting for this moment. Admittedly, not for too long, but long enough.”

Peter’s warped back into the city, green gases swirling in the air and black fog consuming the city. No matter how hard it is to stay grounded, he stumbles into the nearest buildings, cars, and people.

“It’s not real,” he whispers to himself, not quite believing it.

“It’s going to be a shame when many people here will have to die, with Spider-Man buried in the snow,” his voice rings to his right, then above him. He sees Beck walking in the shadows of the plot, he follows as closely behind as he can.

Beck disappears above him, and he launches webs onto the nearest pillar, beaming up to the next floor. He leads himself through a new haze of fog, it spans wide and far and out into the real city where real residents live. He runs down a narrow hall, turning a corner into a wider area and sees Beck leading himself outside. He’s a few stories up, and can see Beck standing one story up from the ground.

“Stark wanted to use me. He did use me. Now, your precious lawyers want to destroy my life,” Beck sounds echoey, and it’s freaking him out, because how far away is everybody? Does he need to contact anyone else, like the PD?

“And where were you, Peter?” Beck asks, voice rising and thunderous, “ Living lavishly, spoiled, wealthily like a trust fund kid.”

Spider-Man jumps another floor down, sending another array of webs around the pillars of the building. He placed webbing on all three floors, following Beck’s path back down into the city where the lights will go dark.

“You knew what you were in for, kid, yet you fled,” Beck says bitterly, and he watches the green mist form back around him in his signature suit and helmet. “You couldn’t save yourself, you’re a cancer spreading in this city.”

“You will be exiled for what you did to me, and there will be no return back this time. You will have nobody to save you from your own track record.”

He internally yells, finding another structure to throw his webs. He needs a netting for when the infrastructure falls, undoing Mysterio’s work.

It’s dark, snow flurries escape from outside the plot, and Peter stills once he sees a pile of dead bodies in front of him. He can’t see his city like this, he refuses to get to this aftermath. He turns and runs to a quick stop in front of Beck on the walkway outside.

“I will bring this entire city down, do NOT underestimate me!” Mysterio shouts into the sky, the snow falling heavier into the city illuminated by the glow of the pink sunrise. “Just watch me do it.”

“I won’t let you!” Spider-Man yells, attacking the first drone Mysterio sets in front of him. He casts his webs onto it, launching it into Mysterio. He hears yelps from below, hoping everyone takes the hint and leaves, no matter their commute.

“I said I WILL destroy your city,” Mysterio outcries, sending a thunderous wave of force into the ground, shaking the perimeter and the building’s core.

“ Uh-oh, ” he panics, flipping off the ground and avoiding the skittering and electrical impulses he sends waves of. He’s electrocuted, and he scrambles back far, watching big chunks of cement fall off of each floor's foundation, and he gasps as he tries to catch each piece before it lands onto the street below.

They’re on top of the high rise now, the top of U.N. headquarters, right at the edge. He gasps, watching the plot they were just in a few moments ago crumble to the ground. The screams from the street below ache his bones, and he’s too far away, no—

He’s right inside, but he can’t fucking see where he is, if he walks forward he’ll fall off the building, he’s sure of it. There aren’t any grips for his webs, and he shakes along with the front. There’s more cold wind, sending chills throughout his body. He sees May holding onto the edge of the building, he recognizes her rings. Her fingers desperately cling for life, her blood curdling screams rush into his ears. Everything below them is so small, and he steps closer to the edge of the building where the snow drifts down below them.

This isn’t real.

Beck is playing him, again, and he’s somehow winning right now. He sucks a breath in through his nose, shuts his eyes, and remembers the fate of New York is in his hands. It’s out of Tony’s, out of the PD’s, out of everyone else’s hands but his. It’s his uphill battle, and he hopes the boulder doesn’t fall over the edge.

With his eyes squeezed shut, he aims his arms nefariously to catch each boulder, hears each gust of wind and each terrifying pull of gravity giving the boulder more energy, and he strikes each boulder to stop from collapsing the building.

Mysterio’s making him vulnerable again, and the curtain’s close in front of him. He sprints into the dark before anything can appear, thwipping his webs out into the Manhattan buildings now that the construction site is taken care of.

He listens out for Beck, listening to the buzzing carrying him away in real life, making the city more vulnerable the further he goes.

May is counting on him. She was certain he was having a paranoid episode, and it probably contributed to what he saw, but they’re counting on him. The real Mysterio is right here, heart drumming wildly from his adrenaline. He has no room for error again/

He ignores an incoming phone call from Matt in his mask, catching up to Mysterio transporting to below the Chrysler building. He thrusts his entire body into the velocity of his webs, falling dangerously slow to the ground and ascends straight into the heavy snow.

Spider-Man catches up to Beck on a new rooftop, taking a giant leap off of the Chrysler building to the supporting one below. He glides, landing on the rooftop. He’ll never be tired of the feeling of falling, the snow emulating the act even more and he moves faster.

He runs into him from above, tackling Mysterio to the ground.

Mysterio’s upgraded tech clatters across the ground, and the storm does not clear at all. None of the hail stops, the buildings shake in anticipation for a disastrous fall. Peter sees stars when he swings his arm back, landing a punch on him and immediately getting striked in the head by a drone.

Beck grabs Peter by the neck, using his size on him to slam his head back into the brick wall of the building. He kicks himself off the wall, tackling him and hits him. He strikes, producing red, blue, and purple contusions that the snow can’t cover now. He attempts to yank his helmet off to strike more skin, avoiding drone strikes surrounding him.

“She’s ready!” Mysterio shouts, shoving Spider-Man off and he’s too frozen to strike any of the drones now in formation, in an arrow.

Like a deck of cards shuffling, he watches a new scene in front of him, where his webbing failed and crushed a few dozen meters of buildings crushed under rubble, dust and snow swirling in the sky while the city bursts into haunting tears.

Spider-Man quickly recovers, shaking under his webbing that attaches to the drones, flying at full force. He tries to web them all up, but they relentlessly demolish and set flame to each high-rise nearby. He watches the city crumble, the tarmac of the streets withering under destruction, and he watches helpless people fall into these abysses along with cars and tons of snow, and he tugs on his webs.

“S..See, I was ri—ght, I will kill everyone you love— we will be back.”

He stops one drone, but halts to a stop when the drones crash into another building. He hooks Beck’s suit into a drone, finally having the upperhand and more leverage on the older man. He uses his free hand to grab the helmet, slamming his face into the drone repeatedly, watching the glass break and shatter, cutting him up.

Peter continues to land blows to the face, red blooming and turning to blues and purples around his face. His nose is bloodied, his mouth is ripped apart, and glass shards cut him further. He hopes his head slumps forward, watching an avalanche in the distance makes it way towards fucking Manhattan. His own chest flickers in pain, and he looks down to see the suit torn in half at his chest to reveal a pool of blood thickening. He checks to see if Beck is unconscious, they can hardly hold onto the crashing drones in flight.

He presses the controls, any, hoping to override his coding and deactivate them. This is all too familiar, he must be behind him, waiting. He’s hauled through the sky, grazed against each apartment complex and school and office buildings. He’s woozy, spinning in the air at a high velocity and they begin to crash head-on into FEAST, and his heart lurches.

He sees black.

He’s buried deep in the snow, searching for a pocket of air to breathe through and begin digging from. He can’t feel his hands, but he blindly flops around, trying his hardest to hold his screaming back and failing. His suit is soaked through, offline, and the seams tore and burned his skin with pure frozen snow.

He gasped, not remembering if Matt called back or not, did he ever answer the call? Was the call an illusion? He hears more blood curdling screams surrounding him, and this is real. Not an illusion. Real, real, or.. Fake?

He screams into the dark, the irony of the white-reflecing snow drenching him in blackness. Pounding fear in his body, his veins giving up on him, his cells killing him. Frozen. Only fear courses through each neuron and each cell.

Not knowing if Beck destroyed his city, his family—

He needs out, maybe this is an illusion. Is he back to a few months ago, not believing anything is real? He didn’t see Beck, but he heard him, he should be dead from those drones.

He stares into the finally relenting sky, wondering if he escaped his sisyphus destiny. His vision falls into another illusion, everything’s black, but no this is real, he’s real. He succumbs to exhaustion instead.

His body feels too heavy, he slumps down weakly and lies on his left side.

“I just said, found him outside of FEAST--”

“And what the hell were you doing there?--”

“Does it matter? I called him, he ignored me, and we knew the consequences when we agreed to take on this case--”

“Matt, it’s alright. Foggy, take a breath. You both handled it well.”

He’s in a car. The low hum soothes his aching body and it smells like clorox and blood in here.

“He lost a lot of blood on the scene, he’s hypothermic, for hell’s sake! Do not antagonize me right now.--”

“—We’re not!—“

“He’s a kid. He doesn’t deserve this. Matt, this is extraordinarily worse than when I found you half dead on your couch, already writing your eulogy because I didn’t think I could save you. You were doing it all alone, and I—“

He hears cloth moving around, probably a hand rubbing their back.

“We have it handled.”

“What do you mean handled?! You mean a just as self-sacrificial vigilante clad in red that’s a total maniac? Possible psychopath mercenary? With pool in their name?!”

“Foggy, calm down before your artery bursts.”

Pans clattering and humans talking around him awoke him, and he could’ve sworn he was just at Nelson and Murdock’s law firm in search of a first-aid kit. The talking is what he becomes most aware of when he returns slowly to consciousness, able to feel his limbs.

“Hmfh,” he hums, burying himself further into the warmer clothing he’s wearing and the familiar Hello Kitty blanket a 6 year old he knows owns. The pillows feel like homes, though.

“Welcome back, walking dead,” Tony greets, waving someone over from beside him. He’s walking in from around the corner where the kitchen is, a familiar smell of his favorite chocolate babka simmering through the air. Tony sits down beside him, feeling the couch cushion sink down. He runs a hand through his hair, squeezing his shoulder and sighing. Peter props himself up on one elbow, his smile returning when he sees May run into the room and tackle him into the couch cushions with a hug.

“I’m so sorry for not believing you, honey,” May tears up, pulling back to take a closer look at him. He’s hyper aware of his surroundings, his memories slowly fade back in. He sees the confusion run across her face, and she makes no move to bring it up. “You did so good.”

The next few days result in the same ways. He’s bedbound for now, receiving updates by his own lawyers that the city isn’t suing him for damages this time and that local vigilantes and authorities are cleaning up the city. He was an open book to his family and friends, splayed out for all of them to pick, poke, and prod at.

Even with the best intentions, they were overbearing.

He spent most of his newfound freetime continuing his part-time jobs. His photography job at the Daily Bugle is allowing him, graciously, to write articles in the meantime he’s out of photo-commission. He picked up writing articles for Nelson and Murdock, who were still a mess.

He and May both had many emotions over this, what this meant for his recovery, and how he won’t put his recovery on the back-burner.

They all avoid talking about him. Where he is, what happened. News articles never seem to reach him.

Closer to Christmas during the time his friends celebrated, he can’t help but feel isolated and the paranoia coils through him once again. He needs to begin recovery slowly, because he can’t handle being separated from Tony, Pepper, and Morgan currently, and especially May when she leaves for work or to pick up groceries.

Despite receiving a scholarship to MIT, all of his trauma probably counts out any chance of college anytime soon. He doubts he can go back to being a normal person, preparing every possible scenario for when he returns, and he feels like begging on his knees for help. He and May pass more time saving up for tuition money, just in case.

He’s safe now. He’s home. He waits for the other shoe to drop. For the boulder to fall off the top of the cliff.

[dem-cp-hoes]

live for the little sister proxy hcs cuz I literally haven’t seen anyone else do it and I love your writing, so I was wondering if you had any more general hcs of cps like clockwork, Helen and Liu

Thank you so much😘

Btw since I forgot to mention it in a previous post, @lyssophobiia has made a very cute oc based on my sister!reader hc. You should totally check it out!!

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Helen:

He is one of the world's biggest introverts

That's not to say he doesn't have any friends (I'm a huge supporter of the fandom's belief that he's friends with Puppeteer)

You just have to try a little harder for him to let you in

Helen has a lot of humor

But it comes in one liners and comebacks, so you have to be around him a lot to appreciate the full extent of it

He has the most deadpan, stoic expression when he delivers any line

And that just makes it even more hilarious, the others lose their shit

Although he paints a lot (both with paint and blood), his favorite form of art is sketching

He has sketched everyone in the mansion at least twice

His room is covered in them, he doesn't remember the color of his bedroom walls anymore

He's disappointed at everyone and everything 24/7 and he makes sure to let them know

You don't want Helen to scold you for anything

He doesn't yell, oh no...

He just crosses his arms, looks at you dead in the eye for a minute and then slowly shakes his head and walks off

To give you an example of how powerful that is, he managed to make Jeff feel bad

"Look, I just like the roof, ok? Let me sit on the roof"

The only reason Helen is alive, is coffee, sometimes spite, but mostly coffee

And on that note, let me point out that his coffee is 10% actual coffee, 90% milk

He likes a lot of foreign rock bands, pass it on

Really likes flowers

Clockwork:

Stabs as a warning

Will deck a mf

Helen and Natalie are drawing buddies

They swap supplies and ideas

"Is drinking vodka a hobby? Well I think it should be"

I don't care what you say, if you try to tell me that Natalie can't silence anyone with just one look, you are just plain wrong

She has several piercings, including a tongue piercing as well

Is a decent cook, but she's also a lazy piece of shit who can't be bothered

If it wasn't for Jane's nagging and whining, she would live on nothing but cereal

Anyone who comments on the "clock-in-the-eye" topic gest bitch-slapped

She would punch them, but she doesn't think they deserve it

She can bench press Masky

She has gifted everyone a pet rock

When it's humid her hair frizzes up

She's so passive aggressive, it hurts

She has changed the Wi-Fi password to 'IWasWrong' or 'IAmALittleBitch' and watched with a smug look as people died inside by typing in the password

When she argues she will leave the door open as she leaves the room because she gets satisfaction out of the fact that the person will have to go close it

She's the embodiment of the:

"Can you get me a glass of water?"

" Sure." [brings a glass full of ice] "Now wait"

Cannot be woken up

No, but really, you can try but there is no possible way that Natalie is going to wake up unless her body wanted her to

She once slept through an argument and fight between Toby and Masky (which are very loud)

Liu:

The Mom Friend and not even ashamed of it

He sees you haven't eaten today

He will slam a tray of food in front of you and glare until the plate is basically licked clean

It's better to accept Liu's motherhenning because if not, he'll get pissy and that sucks for everyone

Really into poetry

He can turn everything into a dick joke

It's impressive really, Jeff is oddly proud

He can go from everyone's best friend, to terrifying killer in like 0.2 seconds

^And that's not even Sully taking over, that's all Liu

[small incident happens] "Literally did not sign up for this"

He can crack his wrists and neck so goddamn loud!

He even makes Toby, who's used to the sound, flinch sometimes

E.J. always checks in concern when Liu does crack a knuckle because, God that sounded painful

Always looks like the undead (he kind of is tbh) no matter how many hours of sleep he gets

Does everything for pranks except execute them because if Ben or Toby get caught, there is no way to tie it back to him

He's a little shit smh

Now let's move on to Sully!

Will deck a mf #2

If you want to know what's going on in their(?) head just watch a video of any interaction between Eddie Brock and Venom

Sully's voice is slightly deeper than Liu's

^That and the constant scowl on his face is the only way people recognize who's in charge at the time

Sully is the one that truly hates Jeff between the 2

I mean, he was created as a coping mechanism for the trauma so...

But because of Liu's insistence he doesn't try to harm him

Instead he just sasses the shit out of him

Has definitely told Jeff, "Blink motherfucker!!" after staring at him for a minute at least once

[skimmilk11]

:0 angsty back story for kaiji,, could we see?

oof so

manga spoilers I guess??

I was thinking about how Kajii could have ever gotten into a situation where he was exposed to a bomb as a civilian, much less a lemon-shaped one? Yes, it’s possible that he was exposed to one after he became a member of the Port Mafia, but it would be strange for the Port Mafia to take in someone who, as far as they know, doesn’t have an ability, especially with Kajii’s, uh, eccentricities. The Port Mafia, as Mori has stressed multiple times, is, first and foremost a gifted organization. Almost every position of power in the mafia is occupied by ability users, save Gin and Tachihara(;)), who more than make up for it with great skill at their weapons. The only non-ability users are the grunts, and I doubt Kajii could ever be a good and obedient henchman.

Kajii, while talking to Yosano, describes death as something to admire and study, as the apex of science. We see two other characters in Bungou Stray Dogs who are obsessed with death- Dazai, whose mental health is the ditch and witnessed the death of one of the only few people he cared out, and Fyodor, whose ability revolves around death and probably affected his life greatly. But why is Kajii, who could probably lived the rest of his life as a normal civilian, obsessed with death? Besides, he’s an physicist- not even a doctor like Mori, and you don’t see Mori ranting about death. Idk, but to me, Kajii wanting to dissect what he sees as the ‘apex of science’ almost seems like a coping mechanism. This led me to believe that, as a child, he experienced death firsthand in traumatic incident in which he discovered his ability, before he joined the Port Mafia, which also hurt his mental health. Kajii’s ability really has astounding potential for survivor’s guilt. In his talk with Yosano, he also questions why death is, ultimately, completely unavoidable, asking why everyone has to eventually die- very sus. Why is lemon boy, who is, on all counts, presented as a simple-minded unhinged manchild, so fixated on the irreversibility of death? 

Also, why is Kajii so loud, playful, immature, and theatrical? It’s not something you’d expect from a mafia member almost thirty years old. Something- some trauma, coping mechanism, etc may have hurt his mature. Or, I mean, it could just be that he’s really self-confident like Ranpo.

Okay, so the actual headcanons! Misfortune seems to dog all ability users, so Kajii is no exception. (; (Do we know a single parent of an ability user who’s still alive?)

Kajii was raised by a single father, who worked at a factory! They had a close relationship, and his father inculcated his love of science, who, in turn, loves science because of his mother, who was a science teacher. She died when Kajii was two when a bus blew up. Kajii’s grandfather, on the other hand, was a baker, who specialized in lemon tart! They do a lot of science experiments together! His grandpa’s friend is also a scientist, and shows him around the college lab where he studies. Kajii’s grandfather died of leukemia when Kajii was six, but taught him how to make a semi-decent lemon tart before. His grandfather’s friend drifts away. 

 So, all Kajii had now was his father. At age nine, in a Leo Valdez-esque tragedy, he was helping out his father finish things up in the factory. He was in the office, his dad in another room for one last check when a machine blows up due to a mechanical failure.

Kajii is far enough to survive, but his dad dies. Injured, he runs away, and when he finds out the police are looking for him, he immediately thinks they think he was the one who set off the explosion and is scared farther into hiding.

Instead of joining a gang of some sort, he ends up sort of stealing food(mostly lemons) from an old physics professor, and keeping off boredom by reading his books. He notices and invites him in. Kajii refuses and runs away, afraid that it’s a trap.

Then, what do you know?? He finds a lab belonging to the Port Mafia, and in all his love for science, breaks in and snoops. Kajii is caught, and, like Tachihara, is forced to join the Port Mafia. But he’s not too mad. He has a home, and some friends. Life is good.

But the Port Mafia is, obviously, not a good environment for a preteen to grow up in. He’s forced to kill people. It disturbs him, and he disassociates, making the deaths as flamboyant as possible. He chafes against authority and severely reprimanded for his carefree ways, but it’s still not too bad. He’s sometimes allowed to experiment in the science labs, after his affinity for it is discovered.

Then, Kajii is eleven when the Lime Bomber shows up. The Lime Bomber is from a rival underground organization who wants to take revenge against the hawkish Port Mafia leader(remember, this is before Mori) while he’s rumored to have become sick. The Lime Bomber makes a mockery of death, and his bombs are lime-shaped.

Kajii and his friends are ambushed, and they all die. Kajii still hasn’t connected his survival with an ability, and is wracked with grief. Why did he survive? Why didn’t the others? Can he trade their lives for his?

The people he’s relied on as his foundation for the past four years are dead, and he’s expected to continue on as if everything is normal. His mental health and trust in authority plunges. He’s distracted. He’s petty and spiteful and takes comfort in the things he can. At this point, Kajii is trusted to oversee and help out the mafia’s arms dealers. One of the workers is kind to him and lets him help. Kajii makes the outer casing of the bombs lemon-shaped as a ‘fuck you’ to Lime Bomber. She gets angry at him- he ‘messed them up’.

At the same time, he’s getting sloppy. He accidentally sets off a small bomb. He ends up with a broken leg, which takes months to heal. The leaders of his division in the Port Mafia notice, his former mentors who he used to respect and trust, commit the ultimate the ultimate betrayal- they decide he’s a liability and to let him die. He’s not too useful anyway- a twelve year old without an ability. His death will be useful, though- he’ll blow both himself and the enemy up.

Like, what Fyodor did.

Kajii realizes this is a suicide mission, but he’s simultaneously too angry and too empty to care. He’s equipped with the bombs he made himself and is sent to the front lines.

One of his friends who survived because she wasn’t at the incident comes to save him, even after he pushed her away, but it’s too late.

He sees Lime Bomber and is so angry he starts crying, and as the bombs explode around him, he’s still crying, and kills everyone around him, including his friend. It finally clicks for the higher-ups- Kajii has an ability. Kajii, meanwhile, breaks. He wants the innocence of his childhood and the childish wonder of science back. 

He can’t.

He’s promoted, studies science more extensively. He takes the name of the late Lime Bomber, who he hates so much. His personality breaks and reforms. He’s obsessed with death now, and how he seems to be able to avoid it- as long as they’re citrus-shaped bombs. He sometimes accidentally kills other Port Mafia members when experimenting with his ability, but who cares? There’s nowhere he can go now. Where would go? His friends fade from memory and now he’s stuck. His identity revolves around his ability now. What else is there? Was there anything there to begin with?

He doesn’t remember how to make his grandpa’s lemon tart anymore.

Oof this is stupid and really ooc but take it. I wrote this when I was really tired. I’ll probably delete this later lol. Pleas tell if this romanticizes mental illness in any way, which wasn’t my intention. I’m too tired to check. 

[catharticdevice]

maybe life is not for everyone

I’ve been meaning to translate these jumbled mess of thoughts into coherent sentences. Just to see them from a distance. I don’t know why I think it matters—it really doesn’t. But here we are.

Come on in, everyone. Welcome to my version of a ✨spiraling free fall ✨

I’m okay, by the way—I think? If we share some commonality in terms of how we define okay, it really is not that serious. My suicidal thoughts have all been passive and my brain hasn’t lost its chemical capacity to perform my role as a functioning adult. In all honesty, I’m a bit wary of using the word depression; it’s such a blanket term that’s too intimately linked with the clinical branch of depression. The more nuanced lower end of the spectrum gets slided onto the back burner, because it’s not pressing—which is a perfectly sound logic. Given that none of my symptoms directly point to major/clinical depression, I’m more inclined to stay away from it altogether. My episodes are never debilitating to the extent that I ignore hygiene or fail to keep my job. So it feels stupid to be open about my minor inconveniences. I’d much rather invalidate my own mental struggle before someone can say to my face “You’re just faking it for attention—”

You know how people sometimes say “I haven’t been feeling myself lately,” More often than not, it indicates a varying degree of emotional disturbances—be it gloomy, anxious, in despair, discontent, bitter, or what have you. You recognize what your normal behavior looks like and you get a sense when it deviates off the course. In contrast, I can’t really tell if my low-spirited nature is just a part of a temporary mental distress or is it actually me. It has been my default state for as long as I can remember that it successfully assimilated into my personality traits. So much so that if I were to say “I haven’t been feeling like myself lately,” it would mean a good thing.

I learned to make peace with the way life works; how to navigate through the challenges while keeping my head above water. The secret is to give up all your hopes and be okay with not thriving. Life is not actually that bad when you feel apathetic. I’ve fully embraced my apathy and made it my home—very comfy here, 10/10 would recommend. Because who the fuck got time to do some thriving? Also, why must we thrive as humans? Why is that a necessity? Who decided that? Why can’t we just survive? How is it not enough to survive? 

Not quite sure what else there even is to life that makes me willingly choose it every single day. But surviving has to be enough for now. I am not putting any more effort into this bullshit. 

Anyway, that’s the baseline. That’s what my good day looks like. Lukewarm, with a hint of melancholy. Now, on to the good stuff—

Every time something drives me over the edge, my go-to coping mechanism has always been limited to safe non-lethal strategies, which include social withdrawal (textbook self-sabotaging behavior) and restrictive food intake (an effort to regain some sense of control apparently). It wasn’t until recently that my brain got a bit more creative and incorporated suicidal ideation into the mix. Whenever I only have my thoughts to keep me company, it’s incredibly easy to spiral into a self-destructive existential conundrum. Although the problematic eating behavior has now also progressed into a more frequent pattern. Anxiety is no longer needed to spur the action. I just need a win sometimes. And running on two cups of coffee and nothing else all day is the most instantaneous way to earn a sense of accomplishment. (PSA: I don’t recommend it though. It’s ok for me and me only, it really is not good for you, kids.)

I wonder, why has nobody told you that as you get older, cutting your life short is becoming a more and more interesting option? It really feels like I’ve maxed out on my lifetime serotonin quota—it’s all spent. I’m done. At this point I’m not even living anymore; I’m just wasting everybody’s time. The thought of having to endure 20-30 more years of this fucking non-consensual existence is such a nightmare. (Actually, with the rapidly accelerating climate change and billionaires continuing to play gods, 30 years is probably too generous.) 

When it comes to the subject of suicide, some people’s prevention approach is to say stuff like “...think about how that makes your loved ones feel,” or “There’s so many things you’re going to miss out on,” First of all, let’s think about how I feel, ok. This is about me—focus up! Secondly, I don’t know where you got your biology lesson from, but you actually don’t have to worry about missing anything if you don’t wake up tomorrow. Because when you’re flatlined, your neurons stop firing. Ergo you can’t think, you can’t feel—so you wouldn’t have any function left to miss anything. Win-win.

I’ve been told countless times that it’s temporary; that there will come a time when I won’t feel this way anymore. But man...when you’re swimming across any large, deep body of water and then around mid way you’re slowly feeling your energy level is plummeting below zero, we all know how that’s gonna end. There’s no way you would ever be able to make it to the shore. Even if it’s only a few feet ahead of you. There’s nothing you can do except to let the water take you in. 

I’ve been enjoying looking into how body donation works lately. Interesting hobby—quite niche if I do say so myself. Unfortunately Science Care does not currently operate where I live. Also, in Mass you have to sign a consent paper that’s called Instrument of Anatomical Gift. But there has to be two witnesses. Urgh...! Ideally, I’d like my heart to stop beating at the exact place where they would actually store the bodies before they’re being used. Dying in my apartment room doesn’t really appeal to me. I don’t want to create a hassle where somebody has to schlep my body around. Can you imagine being dead and still be a burden to someone? Also, where do people buy body bags? I wonder if they do like a prime 2-day delivery. In the event of a demise-causing-amount-of blood spurting out of my person, I wouldn’t want to leave a mess for someone to clean up—that would be rude. It should be much cleaner and easier to manage if everything is contained within a cadaver bag. 

...

Ok, you know what, never mind—too many things to be mindful of. Fuck. I can’t believe being too polite is the only thing keeping me from actually executing any plans. Nope. Let’s be honest, you’re just a wimp, Sash. One day, maybe.

Again, let me reiterate: I am A-OK. I assure you, you’ll still see me being miserable and think about dying tomorrow and the day after.  But other than that, everything’s fine. 

Peace out, homies.