#cuz so far I’ve been unhappy with it

[nanowatzophina]

A recreation/dramatization of my first meeting of Merrill.

I love my smol elf wife.

[peachesofteal]

peach… oh my god… i just finished reading sassy. it’s the first fic i’ve read from you and i’m so glad this was my introduction to you. i have been reading fics for maybe 6 years now, something from every fandom, every genre, lots of heavy angst, hurt/no comfort or unhappy ending, they’ve definitely gotten to me no doubt, having me contemplating and rethinking my life for the next few weeks. but your writing is different. i don’t know how you do it, what you put in ur pieces but very very few things have affected me the way sassy did. it’s officially in the top 10 fics of all time, it was so incredible and i’m so happy i stumbled across it. you write about pain in such a way that makes me feel it like no other angsty piece of writing has ever made me feel!! i don’t even know if angst is enough of a word for this because it’s so far beyond that!!! and i also wish i had a better way with words so i could fully get my feelings across!!! i read the whole series in one sitting, on a night that i need to be up kind of early so that definitely added to the experience (did u rlly read a fic if it wasn’t at 2am…) i rarely feel satisfied an angsty fic with a happy ending, but because i grew so insanely attached to these characters i was just so happy to see them living happily and loving each other it was the best ending i could’ve ever asked for. ugh the entire time i was reading i just wanted to grab the author by the shoulders, shake them, and tell them how talented they were!! thank you thank you thank you for writing this series, you are one of the best writers i’ve ever seen and i wish i could write an entire essay about how incredible and amazing and every other synonym for great this series was but i don’t have the brain capacity for that!!! i wish i did cuz u deserve to read that essay!!!!!! sorry if this is all over the place and difficult to read i just needed to get all of my emotions and gratefulness out. thank you thank you thank you again oh my god thank you for writing sassy.

Friend, thank you. I'm so thrilled you enjoy Sassy. It was such a fun journey for me and I loved writing about them and their relationship. 'I got you' was the very first thing I ever wrote for Simon and it really did spawn just a million other ideas and obsessions for the character. I am so, so flattered you liked it and my writing, you have no idea. It's been such a neat thing to experience other people liking my kind of whatever is going on here, and I'm really happy these characters and their crazy little stories are enjoyed so thoroughly. You're a sweet angel, thank you for taking the time to write this. 🩵

[ladysparklefarts]

I’ve been working on a fic that I plan to post eventually and to be perfectly honest it’s about the most Mary sue thing I’ve ever written. I have a lot of reasons for writing it, mostly cuz I wanna. But I’ve also been using it as a way to explore certain aspects of myself since it is a self-insert fanfic, in the most literal way possible. It basically explores what I would do if I ended up Isekai’d in Star Wars in the prequels. And yes I do plan on trying to give EVERYONE the happy ending I feel they deserve. I will also be dropping references left and right, introducing au’s that explore reverse circumstances, potential crossovers, and assorted other shenaniganry. I will also put this pre-post warning here. I am also using this to explore and move past certain traumas so please, TAKE CAUTION WHEN READING THIS STORY. I am trying my best to make this a rom-com type series but there will be some very dark moments as I work through my past issues. I have no doubts there will be people unhappy with the story, but I’m sure there will also be people who enjoy it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it thus far. The first however many chapters will be written in a first-person perspective until the main character has conquered her first major hurdle and can see past her own perspective. One of the biggest parts of the story will be the main character’s relationship with Anakin as he represents a lot of the issues I have dealt with, be it how i see myself or how certain toxic relationships have affected me. By giving him a happy ending and developing his character a certain way i hope to be able to work through those issues one situation at a time. So yeah, its gonna be me marysueing it up across the galaxy, fixing my brain, making good people happy, and wrecking the bad ones through hijinks and shenanigans. 

[asteriass]

Swallow Knights Tales

Elsewhere, I was originally making a post that was going to say something along the lines of:

“Sometimes what tempts me to pick up an action manhwa is simply cuz the characters are goodlooking, for example Swallow Knights Tales” 

But as I was taking the pictures of said good looking characters to put in the post, I noticed the series had a romance tag on certain sites. Curious, I looked it up on MU to confirm it and then I just fell down the rabbit hole of Swallow Knights Tales’s NUMEROUS adaptations 💀

Like, the series seems to be based on a popular novel series from the early 2000s (which has a currently ongoing sequel novel series too) and it has seen republications and multiple discontinued adaptations throughout the years 😭😭

- From what I could gather the first Manhwa adaptation of the franchise, called SKT +, published in 2007, got discontinued after 10 volumes cause it was apparently not made from the author’s permission? Not sure about the details, since that is as far as what the fandom wiki mentions [I’ve read that in terms of writing the adaptation was nice, however, apparently certain parts of the fan base didn’t find the art appealing (Oof… ☠️)]

- Later on, in 2010, it got an audio drama, SKT Audio Drama [The only thing I could find out about it was the music was too loud apparently & you couldn’t hear the actors properly so fans were unhappy about that part. Once again, don’t know much else]

- And then it got a manwha again in 2011, under the title Swallow Knights Tales Official Comics. But that got discontinued too cause while apparently the art was nice, it wasn’t well written/it didn’t actually follow the novel properly (seems you can still find reminants of discourse around it on twitter lol?)

- And finally, in 2023, it finally got adapted again, under the title Swallow Knights Tales, and it is currently ongoing on NAVER webtoon (& this is the adaptation I was personally familiar with)

I’m happy to see that atleast the adaptation curse(?) has been broken from the looks of it lmao 🤒

ANYWAYS, in the end, I never even managed to find out whether this actually had romance or not…. ☠️ I’m gonna guess, no…?? (Though, do correct me if I’m wrong!)

However, y’know, atleast I did succeed in my INITIAL goal a bit. As I got to view MC’s beauty in (almost?) every adaptation/work in the franchise. He’s beautiful ❤️🤧

[novelconcepts]

Started Santa Clarita Diet because of you.

Did I nearly spend $70 on Ebay for a new toaster just last week because the one my mom has always had since 1987? Yes it was simple and basic. So, I immediately relate with Joel from the very beginning because when it died, we replaced it with a new one that only burns things. And then he killed his toaster... the very toaster we might have replaced ours with.

Love the humor and the first kill was very satisfying to watch (I just have never liked him?).

Will this make the rest of my Justified rewatch very weird? Undoubtedly, but I love it.

Thank you for once again expanding my life in a joyous way.

I would LOVE to see your thoughts on Yellowjackets, but I haven't seen S2 yet. It hasn't been released on digital yet and it not being released during Pride month feels wrong.

Because of that, I have gone a Lauren Ambrose binge and will always be unhappy that the sitcom staring her and Parker Posey was cancelled.

This was meant to be a quick thank you, but it has expanded past that to a possibly awkward point, so I am ending it now.

(I also have a cold and have taken meds to treat it).

*looking around scurrying away*

Hahaha, hey, long time no…uh, message! This made me laugh, I’m very glad you’re enjoying SCD. (Having never watched Justified, I can only assume how weird that viewing will be. If I ever watch that show, it’ll be with Joel Hammond in mind, so. Reverse weirdness?)

My Yellowjackets S2 nonsense will be here when you’re ready. I have to assume they’re not going to release on digital/Blu-ray until they’ve dropped the mysterious 10th episode, so not sure when that’ll be. But very excited to be able to put it in my collection whenever it comes. And in the meantime, it seems I need to watch Lauren Ambrose’s filmography, cuz so far I’ve seen this, Torchwood, and *checks notes* Can’t Hardly Wait, and that’s it. I have work to do.

[phoenixyfriend]

Uhh for the prompt meme, 3 & 13 gives me Anakin and the Jedi Babies vibes, so Jango or Jaster & Anakin or Soka or Ben maybe?

390 Prompts!!!! 3. “Am I supposed to be scared of you?” 13. “BOOM! That oughta show you not to mess with me!”

IDK if I’ll get the actual line in but I’ve been meaning to write a bit about Jango and Sokanth, at minimum. Jango is just barely fifteen, Soka is two. She has very vague memories of her teen self.

EDIT: I GOT THE LINE IN

Objectively, Jango’s main connection to Anakin Skywalker should have been professional.

It wasn’t.

Jango hadn’t been one of the soldiers to bring in the little family. He’d heard about it after they’d already been taken to medical, arrived just in time to see them muttering about how fancy the prosthetic arm was as they removed it--frostbite risk, they said--and stripping the Jedi of his sodden robes. The man was only a few years older than Jango, and covered in battle scars. Attractive, maybe, but Jango wouldn’t be able to even think of that until he wasn’t staring at blue lips on a half-dead face.

“How did he know we were here?” he asks his father, stepping up beside the man at the overlarge window of the ‘secure’ medical room, and receiving half a glance in response.

“He didn’t,” Jaster says, looking supremely unhappy with the entire situation. “Had no idea who I was, when he saw me.”

“He talked to you?”

“For about five seconds before he passed out.” Jaster smiles, thin and grim. “We found an Ident card. It’s got a name, a few details that don’t make sense... we think it might have been prepared for a long-term mission in system with a non-standard calendar; the dates are in the future if we assume it’s Republic.”

“Weird,” Jango mutters. “He doesn’t look much like a Jedi.”

“Adi’ka, you’ve never met a Jedi,” Jaster scoffs, cuffing him on the shoulder.

“Jedi don’t wear black leather,” Jango argues, glancing at the nearest pile of cloth.

Jaster rolls his eyes. “He had four lightsabers on him, if that’s what you’re looking to ask.”

“Haran.” Jango whistles lowly, impressed despite himself. “What’d he need that many for?”

“The brown robes were too short for him,” Jaster says, voice not quite loud enough to carry. “And the other set were fit for a female youngling, even shorter.”

He hadn’t been alone.

And now he was.

“Bodies?” Jango asks.

“None dead,” Jaster says. “And the living are... far too young to match up.”

He gestures, and Jango belatedly sees the tiny, tiny things in cribs to the side.

Jango swears, quiet and angry. He’d heard there were children, but he hadn’t expected anyone quite that small.

Jaster takes the cursing in stride. “They’re estimating the human at six months. Togruta’s maybe two years. Jedi was damn near dead when they found him, but the kids seem fine. Medics are guessing it’s something to do with the Force, because neither of them were even that cold.”

“Any idea how he knows them?”

“Nothing yet, just that he cares about them like they’re his own,” Jaster says. “Scouting party claimed he said they were family. Even used Mando’a, called them aliit. We’re going to keep them together until we know more. No use accidentally enraging a Jedi by separating him from family, if that’s what they are. The Togruta seems to know him, at least.”

“I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to have families.”

“You also thought Jedi weren’t supposed to wear black leather.”

Jango huffs and turns away from his father, focusing in on how the medics are starting to pack in blankets on the man’s chest while they get to work on the thigh wound. It looks already cauterized, maybe a blaster, but that can still get infected damned easily. Jango’s seen it happen before.

“Can the togruta talk yet?”

“Only enough to ask for her... carer?” Jaster hazards. “She refers to him as ‘Skyguy’ and it’s been pretty much the only word she’s said that isn’t gibberish.”

Jango almost asks if they’re sure it’s not just Togruti.

Even as he watches the area below, the toddler starts crying. A few of the medics dart glances over, but they're busy with the adult. The crying starts increasing in pitch, heading to dangerous territory, and a number of people abruptly remember that a Togruta's cry is much more likely to destroy eardrums than a human child's.

Jango hesitates, but turns from his father and heads for the door. Nobody comments.

Jango slips into the room as quietly as a teenager in most of a beskar kit can, and goes over to the cribs that have been hastily set up. The human infant is quiet, blinking sleepily and furrowing their little brow, but the toddler has gotten to her feet, clinging to the bars and screaming her little head off. He stops in front of her and... tries to figure out what to do.

"Weks?"

He has no idea if that's a word. She's stopped screaming at least, is just rubbing her eyes free of tears and peering up at him. She hiccups.

"Hi," he says, unsure of what else to do.

"No weks," she seemingly decides, and her lip trembles. Kriff. "Obi-obi?"

"I don't know what you're saying," he tells her, but offers a hand that she immediately grabs for. "Do you know Basic?"

"Ya!" she cheers, and then starts trying to climb out of the crib. Jango panics and picks her up, because he's pretty sure this might be a Jedi baby, and if it's a Jedi baby, then what if she can float? He can't deal with an upset, floating baby. Better he just pick her up.

"Hi," he repeats, still unsure of what to do with this small child. She frowns at him, deep in thought, and pats at his face like she's trying to figure it out. "What are you--"

"Shi-ny," she suddenly insists. "Like Tup."

He has no idea what she's trying to say. "Sure."

She frowns harder at him, and then leans forward and drops her head against his beskar, seemingly unaware of how uncomfortable it's going to be. "Shiny. Weks 'n' Cody 'n' Echo 'n' vod."

"You don't even know my name," Jango says, panicking a little. "You can't call me vod."

"Shhhh now," she says, patting blindly at his mouth. He tries to crane his head away. He mostly fails. "Sleepy."

"Wh--okay," he decides. Sure. If it keeps her quiet, sure. He goes to sit down, and she immediately turns and tries to grab for her... fellow child? He has no idea what they are to each other.

"No!"

"Okay, okay, we can stay with the other baby!" Jango assures her, trying to bounce her up and down like he's seen new parents do, looking frantically for a chair to pull over. "I'm going to get a chair and we'll come right back, okay?"

She looks up at him, tears gathering. "Pwomise?"

"Uh, yeah, I promise."

He lets her bury her face back against his chest, and quickly grabs the nearest chair and drags it over to the cribs. He ignores the medics for the most part, just focuses on holding the toddler that he has, mostly against his own will, become temporarily responsible for. "Do you have a name?"

She just whines and cuddles closer. He sighs.

"Well, I'm Jango. So, you don't have to call me that other stuff." He moves a hand to pull her away from where she's about to topple off his lap. She grabs for it and pulls it to her face, apparently forgetting that she'd just declared herself sleepy. She examines the glove in fascination. "Please definitely don't call me vod. You have people here, and I just met you. Wait for your, uh, Skyguy? Wait for your Skyguy to wake up."

She bites his fingers. He pulls his hand away, swearing under his breath and panicking just a little. "Don't put that in your mouth, do you have any idea where my gloves have been?"

She bares her teeth at him and growls. Given that her teeth are barely more than nubs, this doesn't do much. "Am I supposed to be scared of you?"

"Ya!"

"I am not."

She pouts and whines and throws herself back against the beskar, causing a thunking noise as her montral hits the plate. She does not seem perturbed by the collision, just twists somehow closer and sticks her thumb in her mouth.

That is... also probably covered in germs. He looks over at the crib, spots a pacifier, and awkwardly leans to grab it without dropping the toddler in his lap or standing up and making it harder for her to start falling asleep again. There's a little togruta on it, which he figures means it's not going to be a choking hazard for non-human teeth. "Here, chew this instead."

She makes a curious noise and lifts her head. She wrinkles her nose at the pacifier, and then looks up at him. "Jan-Jan, no."

"Wh--you know what, no, you're a kid, I can't get angry at you for getting my name wrong," he sighs. "Take the pacifier, it's cleaner than your hand."

"No!"

"Please?" He tries.

She glares at him a little harder and then huffs. "Kay. Cuz shiny."

He still has no idea what that means, but if it gets her to fall asleep with this thing in her mouth instead of her dubiously-clean hand, he's fine with it.

(When he learns what shiny means, he will be much less fine with it.)

(It'll be far too late by that point, of course.)

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

I’ve been thinking about it way too much so, Encanto AU: (I’m just using the six Sides, Remy, Emile, and c!Thomas here sooo)

Abuela would be an basically still be Alma cuz I’ve only got nine characters and there’s twelve people in the family Madrigal, ten if you don’t include the husbands… which I will not be doing at this time :/

Logan as Pepa, the only time you really noticed that her mood affected the weather is when she was angry/stressed/sad and Logan, while denying having feelings, expresses his anger/stress/sadness more outwardly than he does anything else

Janus as Bruno. Now you may be asking, wouldn’t Remus be the best choice for Bruno (green, rat man, treated like a boogie man) and to that I say: if he wasn’t Roman’s brother, then yes, he would, but he and Roman are brothers so their dynamic is better elsewhere. Plus Janus is totally ostracized just for doing his job. It works

Emile as Julieta, (yeah, I know he’s not a medical doctor, but shut up) I don’t actually have much to say about this other than I vibe with it *shrug*

Roman as Isabela, enough said I think, a “perfect golden child” with immense pressure to be perfect for everyone else

Now for Dolores I flip back and forth between Virgil and Remus. Hear me out here, Remus could be Mirabel, living in Roman/Isabel’s shadow, but Dolores lived in Isabela’s shadow too, she wanted what Isabel had (or at the very least she wanted the guy). Now as far as Virgil goes, a). he has the line “~I’m listening~” which totally fits here, but also resigning himself to be unhappy to let someone else have what (he thinks) they want is very on-brand

Patton as Luisa, Patton is morality, and he puts a lot of pressure on himself to always have the answer and be perfect in his function (SVS redux), and Luisa was under a lot of pressure to be strong, always be strong and I think that parallels very well (plus Lilypatton, big strong frog man)

Remy as Camilo, he’s here for a good time, extra, it vibes

c!Thomas as Antonio, I offer you no explanation, just take it

And as I’m sure is obvious, Mirabel is either Virgil or Remus. Remus because, once again, living in Roman’s shadow, it would make them siblings, currently has no redemption arc (just accepted as a trash man). Virgil because, pre-AA, he was a lot like Mirabel, blamed for everything, and also had a beef with Roman (plus he’s my fav character so I want him to be the main character)

[amor-immortalem]

Can I Stay Up Here With You Forever Ch.2

Warning: abuse apologizing, mention of past physical abuse, implied manipulation, abuse minimizing

Taglist: @mediocredetective

Previous

“Here you go Solomon,” Asmo says as they pass the phone to the sorcerer. “Arella says she wants to ask you something. I’ll be back.” And with that the Avatar of Lust took his leave, leaving their older brother with a look of confusion as Solomon moved away from where he literally had the second-born tied down so he couldn’t move. He turned his lapis gaze over to his younger brother who merely shrugged as he went back to chowing down on a bag of crisps he had raided from Purgatory Hall’s pantry.

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know anything,” Beel said with a mouthful of crisps. “I’m going to head home too though. Dinner’s starting soon. Do you want me to try to save you some? It’s Lucifer’s night to cook.”

“Nah... it’ll just go to waste. Lucifer’s still probably mad at me so I doubt he’ll let me inta the house for the rest of the night.” The Avatar of Greed chuckles sadly. “So don’t worry. I’ll see ya tomorrow!”

The Avatar of Gluttony nodded as he left and Mammon impatiently waited for Solomon to come back.

“I’d offer you something to eat or drink but it looks like you’re... a little tied up at the moment.” Simeon tried to break the tension in the room with the unhappy demon.

“Why did ya have ta go ‘n call Arella like that, huh, Simeon?” Mammon asks, eyebrows knit together in frustration. “I told y’all I was fine, my arm was just a bit busted was all. I woulda survived without her knowin’ ‘n now she’s gonna go off the deep end thinkin’ I need ta be saved or some shit like that when I can take care of myself.”

“She loves you, Mammon. All she wants is for you to be happy and safe. You know that.”

“All of ya are makin’ it sound like Lucifer just straight up broke my elbow for shits ‘n giggles when it was an accident. I’m the one who didn’t wait for him ta let go a me before I started pullin’ ta get away, so really it’s my own fault that it’s broken.”

“Yeah, but things like this seem to happen between you and Lucifer a lot- and I mean a lot a lot.”

“Yeah but... he loves me though. He only does things like this because he loves me. I’m his favorite and he just wants me to learn my lesson is all. If I wouldn’t screw up all the time this wouldn’t happen as often- o-or at all even. ‘Sides it ain’t like I’m the only one who ever gets punished. The rest of my brothers all get their punishments too when they screw up. It’s all fair.”

Simeon gave the demon a doubtful look. “You seem to be the only one who gets any physical punishment though...”

“Yeah, but that’s only cuz I’m a blockhead who just doesn’t learn his lesson. I mean the physical stuff only started within the last century- that's when my dear ol’ brother got fed up with wastin’ his breath. You’d think I’d learn by now huh?”

The angel tries to find the words to say what he’s thinking but he can’t, so he just goes about it in a different approach. No wonder Arella worries about him like this. His brother has him completely manipulated into thinking this is acceptable.

“You... you can’t seriously think that, right?” Simeon asks incredulously. “Mammon, this isn’t okay. Regardless of whether your brother actually loves you or not,

“He does,” Mammon interjects.

“He shouldn’t constantly be putting his hands on you for even the slightest of transgressions- especially if it’s due to something you can’t help, like your sin.”

“Of course, it is. C’mon, Simeon, who’re ya kidding? We’re demons! Our morals are different from those of the Celestial Realm or the Human Realm.... That’s just the way things are down here. Do ya gotta like it? No, but y’all gotta accept it.”

“Don’t you think you sound a little... how do I put this... brainwashed?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Well... I just think maybe you’re so blinded by your love for your brothers that-”

“Hi! I’m back!” Asmo called as they lugged a heavy suitcase behind them. They plopped down on the couch. “Miss me?”

The pair just sort of regarded the strawberry blonde-haired demon as they sat next to their older brother.

“Goin’ somewhere, Asmo?” Mammon asks as he eyes the suitcase, “Wait a minute is that my suitcase?”

“Hm? Oh no, I’m not going anywhere. You are.”

“Huh? I’m not going anywh-”

“Well it was nice talking to you, Arella. I’ll untie him now so you can summon him. We’ll talk in a few weeks, yes?” Solomon promptly reentered the space, “Perfect- oh look Asmo’s back too. I’ll let you go then.” The call ended as Solomon undid the spell binding Mammon to the couch with a wave of his hand.

As Mammon stood, a portal opened up in front of him. “I’m not goin’ through that.”

“And why not?” the angel asks. “I thought you’d be delighted to have the opportunity to go stay with your human for two weeks.”

“Alone. Might I add.” Asmo smirks with a waggle of their brows.

“Shut up, Asmo!” The Avatar of Greed turned a shade of bright red, “Of course, I know we’d be alone! Who else would be there? But....”

“Are you scared Lucifer will be upset that you’re up there without his permission, Mammon?” Simeon asks.

“No! I ain’t scared of Lucifer! What gave you that idea, huh?!”

“You do realize you’re being summoned right? You don’t get much of a choice in that matter. Now, get going before you end up getting pulled through and hurt your arm again.” The sorcerer takes Mammon’s suitcase and tosses it through the portal, leaving the demon to squawk indignantly as he chased after it.

“You suck, Solomon!” Is all that could be heard from the other side of the portal as it started to close and the silver-haired human only rolled his eyes, chuckling amusedly.

“Have fun in the mortal realm, Mammon!”

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

The one thing Mammon hates about being summoned is how nearly every time he goes through a portal, he nearly slams into whoever it is that summoned him if they’re standing in his way which is exactly the situation he finds himself in with Arella right now- not a good look for his image, it's very ‘uncool’.

“Hey,” Arella smiles as she wraps her arms around him once they come to a stop.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me. I’m mad at ya.” The demon says with a deep scowl on his face.

“I’m sure you are. How’s your arm feeling? Does it still hurt?”

“I’m fine, Arella. Stop treating me like a kid.”

“Huh?” Arella asks, confused as she removes her arm from around him. “I’m... sorry?”

“Ya should be,” Mammon hums as he turns his back to her. “I told ya everything was fine. Ya didn’t hafta go ‘n do all this. I can take care of myself when it comes to my brothers so I don’t get why you think ya gotta get involved every time I get in a situation with one of ‘em.”

“I just thought... well I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re right.” She walked away headed to where the kitchen was to clean up the mess that had been left from the cup of tea she’d had before all of this.

“Huh? Whaddya mean by that?” The demon followed after her looking to continue their small spat.

“Exactly what it sounds like. You’re right. You can take care of yourself when it comes to your brothers and there really is no need for me to insert myself into the situation but I love you and I hate seeing it happen and not doing anything to defend you so... I’m sorry. If it offends you that much, I won’t do it again.” She says as she washes her cup and the other dishes she had left. “Do you want me to send you home after dinner?”

“I.... no- but not because I don’t want to go back and deal with Lucifer...” The white-haired demon takes a seat at the kitchen island resting his chin on his arms. “I only wanna stay cuz I missed ya...”

“I missed you too...” She rubbed his back as she leaned down to place a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m sorry you feel like I’m treating you like a kid... if you want to stay the whole time you can treat it... like a holiday of sorts.”

“Where are we anyway? I know ya said ya were sellin’ yer old house...but the air smells different. How far away did ya move? Are we still in England?”

“About that...” She looked away sheepishly, “I kind of told you a little white lie... I sold that house about a month or two ago. What I’ve been doing since then is house-hunting and all the things that go with buying a house in another country... We’re in Germany- Berlin, exactly.”

“You lied? Oh, you’re horrible.” The demon feigns a look of hurt as the human laughs. “But seriously, baby, why would ya move so far away?”

She shrugged. “Wanted a change. I can speak German so why not- it's not like I have any family to miss back in England, anyway.”

He nods at that. “So no one knows where we are?”

“Nope,”

“Not even my brothers?”

“Not even your brothers.” She smiled. “I told you: if we wanted to, we could disappear up here and no one would ever know.” She cupped his face in between her hands. “You don’t have to go back home if you don’t want to...”

“I don’t have to decide right now, do I? You won’t leave if I want to go home, right?”

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t ask you to choose between me or the Devildom- there's a lot to give up down there. You can think about it while we’re up here for the next two or three weeks and if you want to go home after then, then I will still be with you, okay? I just want to give you options.”

He nodded as he moved to wrap his arms around her in a tight hug. “Thanks, Doll.”

“Anytime, Baby.” She hummed.

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Find more on my masterlist

[moonsquaremars]

Saturn in 9th House

Since my last post got me on the topic of Saturn, I figured it deserved its own post. Personally, I don’t like Saturn all that much in astrology. The symbol is alright ♄ (I was honestly thinking of Jupiter’s at first which is much cooler (･_･;

:readmore:

(ﾟoﾟ;; but I digress. However, the themes of Saturn just do not appeal to me. Responsibility, rigidity… it just makes me think of a stern judge who passes judgment on others without compassionately understanding what they’re going through. I see it as faulty. Rigid, stiff, error prone but powerful enough to reap no consequence. Saturn gives us form, especially our entire earthly life. We get our Saturn return in our late 20s, which I am approaching. So far, I don’t quite understand what people complain about when it comes to Saturn returns, however I’m confident I’ve caught glimpses of it.

There is something to aging that is just uncomfortable and sad. And scary. However, Saturn being in the same sign as when I was born excites me rather than causes dread, cuz then wouldn’t that mean the world and I will be on the same page again?? I mean come on.

Aries. That is the sign with which one of the ring giants resided when I was born one morning in the summer of ninety-six. 9th house is its house. Don’t ask me degrees, cuz im not all into that. I suck at math. But my sun and moon are both at 0° which I find odd… Pluto too…. Anyways.

So my previous post talked about how Saturn in 9th folks like more orthodox and traditional religions, and that rings very true for me. I’ve always felt drawn towards Judaism, was a devout Mormon for a couple years, etc. Another issue of this placement is supposedly existential nihilism, which I’ve also suffered from greatly. I believe it was even enhanced, because my Sun (life, energy) tensely squares my Saturn, which I read can cause a depressive person. Which is also extremely true…

Maybe if I look at what transits were happening when I was 12, because that’s when I first began feeling depressed and suicidal. It was entirely because I was gay, and ashamed and afraid of the point of even living if I was damned to a life of mockery and eternal suffering afterwards. I was deeply depressed all throughout my teenage years because I honestly just grew comfortable with it. Once your brain is so serotonin and dopamine depleted, and you’ve been laying down for hours with absolutely no joy or stimulation whatsoever… you get kinda used to it. I was too scared to admit being depressed to friends and family, so I just dealt with it my own way. I fantasized about suicide often, wrote emo blog posts and journal entries. You know, the works. But I eventually got over it. But I attribute this to sun square Saturn, like Saturn was just draining and zapping the will to live out of me. I finally got over all of this during a church sermon one day, where the preacher of this architecturally lovely church said that perhaps misery is not something we need to run from or avoid, but a ship that must be set sail. And that really spoke to me. Like it gave my depression, my square, meaning and significance, rather than a fluke that needed to be avoided and corrected.

In my post high school life, I struggled to find meaning. I was constantly wondering what the point of everything was, in a way that was more frequent and emotionally taxing than the average guy or gal. Maybe, maybe not. Who knows. But I was unhappy. It’s interesting that Saturn in 9th could be what caused that.

For the Aries part of my Saturn, I have less to say. However, I am quite impulsive. I feel like I act more like my draconic sun and moon, sag and aquarius, than I do my natal cancer/virg at times. I’ve always been pretty rebellious as well, which I kind of interpret Saturn in Aries to represent. I’m not sure.

Aries was actually my least favorite sign for quite some time. I don’t exactly have a least favorite sign anymore, but if I had to choose, maybe Libra :P ahh got eem. No but seriously. It wasn’t until I grew close to my friend / former roommate who is an Aries, and had a romantic fling with an Aries or two, that I got over my Aries complex. It’s just like impulsive and childish and insensitive. But since I am a cancer, cancer and Aries naturally square each other apparently. So my feelings are in fact, understandable. Natural, perhaps….

Anyways. Those are my thoughts for now. Perhaps it’s the Aries in me, but the idea of growing up and becoming responsible just seems so sucky to me lol. But as I’m typing this I’m realizing that’s not necessarily the case. I’m turning 26 next month, so I’m not sure when my exact Saturn return will be. But I’ve felt the pang of Saturn a few times in my life. The existential realization that our actions have consequences. It doesn’t always matter what our intentions were, or that we didn’t know, or that somewhere someone loves us. None of that can save us from the hard fist of the law, or from the temperamental and violent nature of other humans. But I am 26, and I am officially no longer a kid or a teenager. I’m an adult. And I feel like I’ve gotten settled, and I’m just getting a peak of what is to come. And I’m less afraid than I was before :)

[moidse]

:/ 

cant believe love is blind is having me analyze everything. I mean, it is lowkey just like eye opening seeing another couple go through something similar as to what I’ve been dealing with -- I’m just very interested in learning how this turns out for them, but just hearing that dude talk about his feelings and why he feels conflicted over and over again just keeps triggering me and I’m like AHHHH that’s exactly how I feel I’ve just been pushing it to the back of my mind every few months it starts bubbling up!!!! 

Cuz it’s like, they were in those pods were is like a super intense retreat, and they committed to being engaged and in a relationship before knowing if they had a physical connection or not and after making such a commitment and then finding out you do not have a strong enough physical one, what do you do?

Honestly, I just got triggered watching that episode last night because it was like he was literally having the same argument in his head as me when he said to his mom how he has had a really strong physical connection with others but the emotional deep connection is never there and I was like whooaaaa this is all hitting way too close to home because that’s been my dilema too. It’s like, can I have a really strong physical connection and the person is very caring and nice and we also have a deep emotional bond? I don’t want to feel like I have to sacrifice one connection for the other though. It did hurt me when he was telling his mom this and his mom was like wow you suck and she deserves someone who is fully there for her-- I was like damn, that’s literally me.. I suck and they deserve someone who is fully there for them. Which I feel like I know deep down. I mean I have tried to break up with them several times I just always feel bad and guilty seeing them cry and want to try to make it work for them cuz i feel bad and i do care about them deeply... its just hard. 

Not to mention, this whole past year I’ve felt trapped because I was financially dependent on them when I moved here for like a year and not only was I financially dependent on them, I was dependent on them for having a car to use, and they were/are like my only friend out here so they are also my only emotional support out here-- basically when i moved here i was very depressed and deeply wanted to break up with them but i knew i didn’t have the resources to comfortably leave so I just had to deal with being very unhappy and depressed. 

I keep thinking about how with this new gig I got, like I have enough money that I am not financially dependent on them, I still depend on them for a car which does suck, but I can actually see myself being able to leave and move out of this house if it came down to that. I have the funds at least to do it.

It’s just hard and it’s gotten to this point that I feel ashamed and embarrassed I’ve let things get this far. It’s truly something I try not to think about and push to the back of my mind because it is just fucked up if I were to say my feelings... and lowkey this is why i didn’t want them to meet my friends cuz i would just tell my friends how i feel like i have no physical connection with this person but they are so nice and sweet and everyone I’ve dated before was very mean and toxic and so it was nice and I wanted that at the time. i had recently gotten out of a very toxic relationship and something just stable and loving felt like enough a little at the time and also if i’m being completely honest, when they first told me they were ace and my hopes for this relationship long-term started going down slowly ever since... like I felt like that year I had taken a big L. My friendship with my best friend from high school came to a very bad ending which left me feeling really bad about myself and I had a very toxic relationship end too. like I remember when they told me they were ace, I could still hear my old best friends voice in my head mocking me saying, you’re such a fuck boy of course you aren’t going to give them a chance because they don’t want to fuck you wow. and I could just hear her and her friends voices in my head mocking me and saying I’m a bad guy for wanting sex and it got to me and I was like okay let me try this for a while.... plus i hate being single i just felt like i’d be taking such an L...  and tbh back then I was a lot more physically attracted to them and i was very hopeful that it would only take a month or two and they would feel more comfortable and confident and boy was I wrong... literally like every 2-3 months i would be wanting to break up with them and I’d be like I want a sexual relationship and I’ve been waiting x months and it’s like idk how long I feel comfortable waiting to see if you will be comfortable one day... and every time I would bring this up they were say they feel a lil more comfortable and to this day I still feel like they just didn’t want to lose me and so they were more the bar a little smidge to show there is progress and I should keep waiting.. 

it’s just that it probably wasn’t until 8 months into our relationship that they were open to me touching them and i remember the first time i touched them it was very exciting, i mean i had been literally waiting for this moment for a year... but after the first time it was just boring,,, and then i would get bored of just kissing them... and I kept trying and then when i tried to push for them to change meds so they can cum and it was a hard no I was feeling more hopeless... like it just does make sex significantly less exciting for me. and it makes me sad to realize I haven’t made someone cum in 3 years almost. like that’s brutal. that’s longer than my previous gap.... nor have I seen someone cum in 3 years.. like bruh that’s depressing...

I just have always known longterm that I want to be with other people. I want to feel that strong physical connection I had with my ex again. I know I can feel that with other people. I want to be able to make my partner cum. I want to feel like the guy in the relationship at times... I want to feel like the girl in the relationship at times... I like switching roles and playing around and I just don’t get to do any of that anymore... it’s crazy cuz 3 years ago i was starting this sexual exploration journey and i took an L and then tried to jump into another relationship to feel better and after 3 months of talking and hearing they were ace I just felt so embarrassed and like i could hear my old friends that would bully me laughing and mocking me in my head and so i just pretending things were fine because i didn’t want to seem like I took another L that year. and I was hopeful things could change, i’m just not hopeful anymore but our lives our so intertwined that it’s hard to leave. I just feel like we are best friends. thats the relationship i want with them, but idk if they will be open after... we’ll see. 

Also, not to mention it’s just like useful to be with them, to have the emotional support, financial support from not only them but their parents... I really like that I feel comfortable and part of the family at dinners and that always makes me have more hope in our relationship because that’s something i guess i’ve always wanted.

but as I’m typing this it just feels like the past year I’ve just been using them... I used them to easily move to cali, used them for housing and financial support to make such a big move, used them for emotional support. idk. and I know when i did break up with them in Nov they were like if you have felt this way for so long then why have you been with me??? and I didn’t know what to say.. its like good question, because i don’t like being single and I didn’t want to take another L.

It triggered me when we first fought and they said i just wanted sex with them cuz my old friend would mock me and say I’m like that so I felt like I had to prove to myself that I’m not that person and I kind of used this relationship as a means to silence these voices in my head telling me I’m a fuck boy and I suck... would I fuck boy date an ace person for 2.5 years?? yes, he would and he would feel bad about himself the whole time!!!!! lol. 

I’m a bad person lowkey.  UGh, i can’t stop thinking about them and the way they made me feel. I never felt so good in my own body before, I’d never felt such gender euphoria... god i miss it... i can’t help but keep running through the memories of those 3 months we were together... god how sad am i .... they treating me like a man in every single way and i never felt so seen before in and out of the bedroom.. i remember i would cry after sex king of often with them because i was just in tears of joy at feeling so good. I had sex that was so good before and i was crying realizing like I have been too scared to be open about being trans to sexual partners and realizing this was the missing piece... i always felt like sex was overrated and not that good until I met them.... I mean they were my first partner i was open to about being trans, the first sexual partner i was open to about being trans and i was surprised how big of a difference that made and then i was disappointed when my current partner just doesn’t treat me this way and wants me to have to ask for them to do every little thing and the thing is i want you to feel a strong genuine physical connection with me to where you want to do these things to me and its hard to resist your natural urges and I feel hot and sexy cuz of it.... if i have to ask you to treat me like a man in bed that just ruins it for me and makes me feel like .. oh cuz you obviously do not see me as that otherwise i wouldn’t have to ask.... and that’s just like such a turn off...

dont get me wrong, sex has gotten better, they have gotten better at touching me but... i just know it will never be close to the level of connection I’m looking for and what I once had.... it’s hard...

it makes me think I need to date people who are open to dating cis men... cuz idk the way they were treating me like a cis man with how they’d flirt and seduce me and fuck me was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me,,, and then when we switched roles that was even hotter.... 

tbh i like playing with traditional gender roles and i like being able to switch them around with my partner and it really is hard for me to vibe with my current partner because they are very much genderqueer and don’t vibe with any gender roles and i think thats why they dont get what i mean when i try to ask them to treat me like im trans in the bedroom, they honestly probably over think it. and me having to explain makes me feel like you dont genuinely feel these things about me and you have to pretend... 

I’ve also just never been in a relationship before and been constantly wanting to be with other people... like idk doesn’t feel good... but i also have never been in a long term relationship before and i don’t know whats normal and that has also been something that has been stopping me. It’s also just comfortable to stay... its funny... i just took a break from writing this and forgot about everything.. i was on FB judging someone who seems like a closeted trans person, wants top surgery and starting t things but has a husband and is like well he wouldn’t like that so i can’t.... .. just has me thinking how common it is to be in a longterm relationship and be like i can’t have this thing i want but they treat me right! ..meh.. idk.. i’m hoping that when i’ve been on t long enough things will feel better for me in terms of gender euphoria... 

sometimes i also just think i just really wanna fuck a woman and that’s what I’m craving. A slutty yt girl who is confident in her kinks and moans so good and i make her cum over and over.... ugh... that would be so hot... 

i also hate that i feel like i can’t tell anyone these thoughts and so like the last year i’ve just been screaming into the void here... and then when i was telling my friend they gave me the confidence and support to break up and then i just went back after a few days and said im willing to try cuz i felt bad and also cuz i was mostly scared of how this would change my life dramatically cuz them and their friends is basically all i have out here and i also didnt have the money to move out either so i was just really scared and didn’t want to dramatically fuck up my day-to-day life and living situation.  but then its like, so if i get a stable enough job and can buy a car and afford a room somewhere else,,, which i can already do now i would just need a few more big gigs and i could probably afford a car. I mean i’m gonna start a savings, I just haven’t thought about how much it would cost. probably 10-15k i’m guessing. I would have to look into cars and ask people who know about cars for feedback. 

Like lets say if i had my own car, would i want to break up? .. i mean i don’t think so, but it might give me more courage to speak about my feelings and just try to communicate i’ve been fighting these thoughts in my head and i know this isn’t fair to you. 

its also like,do I like my comfortable lifestyle being with a fairly stable partner who has a career path and i family that is a big financial security net that extends to myself, like their dad did my taxes, like my life is pretty comfortable and nice with them. i do enjoy hanging out with them it really is just i sort of just crave having sex with someone else and it just is something that comes and goes,

i obviously am more horny on t and the sex honestly has been a lot better on t, like t has definitely made them more visibly horny at times and thats hot but idk there is just something that i think i will always feel is missing from our sex and a big part of it is i can’t make them cum. from that making me feel confident to also i just obvi enjoy making my partner cum it makes me feel good about myself and it is probably thee hottest part about sex to me and its definitely a big factor in me not being super motivated to top them which sucks but like, just touching someone for like 10-20 min and there being like no build up ... it just like isn’t the vibe.... like sex is usually like this sort of dance and it has different pacing and it can be fun to be in sync with your partner and its just like this body language of a dance of touch and breath and i just get the feel like they do not know this dance, they can’t read this body language because they don’t speak it. 

they need me to give them specific direction because they do not speak this language to get the hints i’m dropping. it’s just, I do not think we are the most sexually compatible but i do think we are very compatible in other ways so it is what it is. 

I think it’s also hard for them to understand that the spark isn’t there if they’ve never felt it before... this whole dynamic really gives me flashbacks to my first relationship where my ex couldn’t make me cum and it frustrated them and i just have a few specific memories that i can see now that I honestly wasn’t super attracted to them and I wasn’t super into the sex (at first, then I lost it and was a baby) but because it was my first sexual relationship i thought it was great because i didn’t know any thing else... i mean it wasn’t bad it was hot but i can now see there was a disconnect at times. because i would fuck them like it was a chore... we had just no communication either it was like if they wanted to fuck we fuck and it was just bad. but i didnt know any better and i thought we had a great connection... and now that i’ve had other sexual partners and one that I felt that spark with, i can now confidently say I know what an actual strong sexual connection feels like with another person... it feels so effortless and like you both just speak that same language and not much needs to be said when it comes to direction because you both just immediately get it and have such a strong sexually chemistry ugh i miss itttttt :( 

i miss having that. i just simply can’t be like this forever. I must leave or talk more and see if they are open to be having sex with other people because i feel like i need it. 

this is my horny diary. ugh dont even get me started on h***** akdnajknadsjsnaajkn they are so hot and i just don’t want it to be obvious i have a crush on them but i dont know them which is why they seem hot i dont know any of their character flaws yet,, just that they are hot, have nice tits, and also think that im hot.... although i am getting ahead of myself kaiya did say they didn’t want to hit on  me and s**** said i was hot when we were first hanging out to and ppl say that about their friends.. i mean it would be pretty confident to be into me and say that .. but kaiya also said they asked what type of relationship we are in... but they said it casually came up.... but idk i am reading into it because thats what i want it to be and thats what i do when i have a crush is read into everything and take the risk of them being interested.

but also i don’t know them... and usually the more you know about someone the less hot they are. cuz ppl suck. 

[loopy-froots]

Introduction Post! (TW: SA, PTSD, etc.)

Hello slasher fandom! I’m fairly new to this side of tumblr, so forgive me if I don’t understand how all this works yet! I just thought I’d introduce myself because I’ve already posted drawings and fanfiction writings so far, but maybe some of you want to know who’s behind it? If not that’s totally fine, just keep scrolling! But if you’re curious, keep reading! Btw! I’d love to get to know any of you as well, so feel free so say hi! :^]

Facts about me:

I go by the name Donn on this blog (for safety reasons I won’t be sharing my actual or preferred name anywhere on this blog, sorry!)

I chose the name Donn because of the name coming from the Celtic god of dead souls (I’m a Celtic witch by blood so I thought it’d be fitting)

My preferred pronouns when I write are she/they (leaning towards she atm because of some personal issues I deal with irl, but irl I prefer they/them more strictly… does that make any sense?)

Anyways, I’m 18+ and I very much prefer my viewers to be 18+ ONLY because of the NSFW content I post… and I also don’t want to influence anyone that impressionable cuz I have a kinda fucked up mindset atm…

But I hope that’s alright! I know kids will do what they want, and there’s not always much we can do to stop it, but please just be respectful of my wishes and DNI!

I have severe PTSD from many irl traumas that have happened to me throughout my life, and I currently live in an kind of abusive household, so my mental health has not been good…

That’s partially why I started drawing and writing fandom stuff cuz it’s currently what’s keeping me going!

I have diagnosed Adhd, but I take meds for it and am doing slightly better with my productivity! That’s why I’ve been able to crank out as much content as I have in the past few days!

I have undiagnosed autism, but it’s a work in progress cuz I’m like pretty sure I am autistic (for many reasons, the more you get the know me the more obvious it’ll get)

I am disabled in many ways: chronic physical and mental pain/illnesses, hard of hearing, etc.

I’m extremely liberal so DNI if you’re gonna be a bigot or anything cuz I will block you!

I have a partner (Who does not know about this blog yet cuz I’m v shy about sharing this kinda stuff with the people I love… partially cuz of my trauma from past relationships)

Ive suffered from THREE separate abusive romantic relationships… all of which kinda fucked with my head… so forgive my insecurities and everything! (I’m working on it tho!) but this partner I’m currently with is AMAZING AND LOVING so I’m v happy with them!

TW! I’m a S/A survivor, and it was by a friend I trusted, so I get very skittish by people irl because of the betrayal… but I find it easier to get to know people online cuz it’s not as traumatic imo

As you can see, I overshare EVERYTHING for literally no reason… like it just gushes out of me without me being able to stop it… Sorry if you’re unhappy with it! Feel free to block me if it bothers you!

I am currently seeing a therapist and a psychiatrist!! They both help me a lot with functioning as a normal person (even tho there’s no real such thing as a “normal” person imo, but it helps me survive in the society I live in)

I used to be goth, but now I’m forever torn between being goth again or being a cottagecore lesbian lol (I usually dress femme even tho my brain makes me feel like a boy a lot of the time…?)

I am extremely bisexual! Like holy shit! How come everyone is so hot?? Lol but seriously, I go all ways (I know some people say that’d make me pan but I prefer the term bisexual over being pan)

I used to be a little, but I’m not anymore because too many people took advantage of me when I was in my little mindset… I don’t let myself regress anymore unless I’m absolutely alone, but that’s rarely ever (my little age was around 10 btw)

I am extremely sensitive and am an empath! I feel my emotions EXTREMLY STRONG so I overreact to everything, am very passionate about the things I’m in love with, and cry at any given moment! I cannot and will not help it! I’ve been told too many times that I’m too sensitive and that I’m a crybaby and that my heart is too big for my body, but I don’t care anymore! Im refusing to see this as anything but a blessing for now on! Sensitive bitches are the baddest bitches lol

I used to get lots of hallucinations/psychosis, but I take meds for it and am now much better and less paranoid!

I still get paranoid about social situations tho for time to time, as im a very insecure person :(

Im a switch/power bottom! I like to be dominant on occasion, but I prefer to be a bratty sub most of the time!

I am a collector of taxidermy things!! I have several insects on my walls, as well as animal paw jewelry! If you don’t like it that’s alright! Just don’t tell me cuz I will block you! I make sure all my collection items are from humane sources and all the animals die naturally in the wild!

I am a HARDCORE clown/masked person fan… like clowns are sooo gay and sexy like why must you jingle jangle your lil clown bells when you dance like that??😩 and masked persons are just so mysterious and sexy omg

Cicero fro Skyrim was literally my clown sexual awakening… murder clown man… with a squeaky voice… yes… must have!

My first sexual awakening tho was probably Danny Phantom (Which is sooo funny cuz my partner actually named themself after him… coincidence? I think not! God does have a plan! Lol jk… unless?🥺👉🏻👈🏻)

Yes, I use the 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 emojis unironically… no, I’m not proud of it😔

HMU if you relate to any of this or just want to be friends! I’m literally so desperate for friends cuz my old roommate made me cut ties with them and then they spread rumors about me to all my other friends until no one would talk to me anymore… :( so I’m v lonely run…

But anyways, yeah that’s basically me… a huge mess but I’m on my way to getting better I guess…?

If you’re still reading all of this, THANK YOU KIND BEING! You are unlike any other…🥺❤️

Okay bye loves!

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 14 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Chapter warning: being attacked at home

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 14

“Well, at least we know your parents could hire him to clean their ceilings if he stays stuck up there.”

“You’re not helping, Tucker,” Danny snapped at him from his spot on the ceiling.

More amused than surprised anymore, he just let Sam continue to try to help Danny change back to his human form while he worked on his own project. When Sam messaged him earlier that there was an issue, he hadn’t expected to walk into Sam’s room and find Danny, in all his ghostly glory, sitting cross-legged on the ceiling above Sam’s bed and having a panic attack. After taking in the absurdity of the situation, he tried for several minutes to help Sam somehow get him down. When all rescue attempts failed, mostly because Danny couldn’t seem to hold on to anything they threw at him, Sam moved to a different tactic. She hoped getting him to relax would somehow help.

Since that wasn’t his forte, Tucker decided his way of helping would be to finish reviewing the information he got from Plasmius while making comments about his friend’s predicament. Although he knew the digs annoyed Danny and Sam, he needed to do it for his own sanity.

Up until this point, Tucker really hadn’t registered the paranormal as being truly real. Sure, they did get abducted by a crazed ghost and then attacked by an even crazier ghost, but the more time passed without a ghostly incident, he had almost rationalized it as some stress induced hallucination. Almost being the key word. He knew his best friend had been fundamentally changed by the event, but other than the freak out at school and his now permanently chilly skin, Danny hadn’t done anything ghostly until now. Speaking of which…

“How exactly did you end up like this?” he questioned moments before Danny finally fell from the ceiling and landed face first on Sam’s bed. “You okay, dude?”

“More okay then I was when I was stuck on the ceiling,” he sighed as moved himself to the edge of the bed. His unnatural green eyes scanned the room as if searching for something. “I’m like this because of Plasmius.”

“Wait, wait? That’s a pretty big thing to neglect to mention.”

“I’m sorry I got distracted by discovering I was walking around in my ghost form or whatever you want to call it.”

“Don’t antagonize him, Tucker. That seems to make things worse,” Sam scolded as she pointed at Danny, who started to float again. “See? But that is pretty important.”

Danny huffed as he experimentally shifted, making it look like he was just lying on his stomach… in mid-air. Seemingly alright with the position, probably because he was only about a foot above the bed, he continued. “Look, I was planning on immediately telling you guys as soon as Tucker arrived, but I panicked when I realized I couldn’t change back. But since that doesn’t seem to want to change any time soon, I guess I just explain what happened.”

Once Danny was done, Tucker let out a whistle. “That’s some story. Glad he let you go, but it’s really creepy that he can just pluck you into that other world when he wants.”

“Why was he here in the first place?” Sam asked as she worked up enough courage to sit near where Danny was still floating. “That’s what’s bugging me about it. Was he just really here for information?”

“That’s what I don’t get either. Whoa! I’d like it if my body would make up… its mind?” As Danny fell onto the bed once again, a blinding light suddenly washed over him. Once it faded, he was back in his human form. “Well, at least that fixes that problem for now.”

Deciding not to comment on his friend’s obvious relief, Tucker somewhat changed the direction of the conversation. “At least Plasmius confirmed he’s interested in Vlad Master’s companies for something nefarious. Most of what I’ve gotten so far on that data are files on different employees.”

Danny’s eyes lit up at the statement. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Vlad’s in town.”

“That’s convenient,” Sam dryly stated after she shared a look with Tucker. “Why’s he here?”

“Apparently, when my parents asked him for help getting some information, he decided he needed to be directly involved. He was visiting when I got up.” He glanced down and wrung his hands before adding, “But he seemed really off today.”

“Off how?”

“He gave me literal chills. I mean, if I think about it, that’s happened when ghosts were around, but not people. He also seemed off… like he was a different person.”

Unnerved, Tucker placed his PDA on Sam’s desk. “I hate to bring this up, but didn’t you say that thing that attacked you was able to change how it looked?”

Danny’s eyes widened briefly before he shook his head. “I… I don’t think that’s it. It was close, but there was still something off about how it looked. It also didn’t feel the same… the chill was different. Vlad felt… Vlad felt like Plasmius but not as strong? I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You mentioned that chill before when you freaked out because of Maura… do you think you can sense other ghosts now?” Tucker felt himself grin despite the situation. “I mean, cuz if you can, that’s really useful. I’d like to be able to stay on the complete other side of the city from where that creepy thing is.”

“Maybe? I certainly didn’t notice anything like it when we were trapped or escaping from Plasmius… but he did say something about how that’s possible.” A thoughtful expression briefly crossed his face, until he gave a wry grin. “Fat load of good it does if it only goes off when something is like ten feet away.”

“Darn. Well, still let me know if you notice anything else weird. I’d like a head start over anything that might harm these good looks.”

xxx

After their initial discussion of what happened, the rest of the time was spent seeing if Danny could get any sort of control over his ghost form. It took a while, but he did manage to find the preverbal trigger for the change. Via a couple hours under Sam’s Spartan-equse training, he was finally able to change to and from on command. While he hoped he’d have a chance to work on more of his abilities, it was definitely a success.’

Around dinner, he and Tucker left Sam’s and headed to their own respective houses. While his parents were relieved to see him before sundown, he couldn’t return the feeling. Vlad was still in the house. According to his parents, the businessman would be staying with them in the guest room for a while.

“A while? How long’s a ‘while’?” he questioned as he looked for something to drink in the fridge.

“Well, that’s up to Vlad,” his mother replied as she added a few shakes of something to what smelled like stew. Vlad and his father were still in the lab. “While he’s not entirely certain how long he will be able to remain away from his businesses, he’s hoping to be able to stay for a couple weeks.”

Unhappy with that answer, Danny grabbed his drink and disappeared into his bedroom. If he was honest, he wanted to practice more with his abilities. It would be a shame not to with how much progress he made earlier, but he wasn’t exactly certain what tools his dad and Vlad might be using. Some of them where supposedly able to detect differences in energy levels. Without knowing the specifics of his abilities, he really didn’t want to clue them in.

Actually, was he ever going to tell his parents? That was a good question. Right now, when he didn’t have much control or understanding over anything, it didn’t seem like a good idea. Perhaps down the road? Maybe. Actually, maybe they might have so information regarding what happened to him.

A little later, his parents called him down for dinner. For him, it was a relatively normal affair, save for the chills Vlad kept giving him. Seriously, what was up with that? Vlad had been a fixture in his life for years, and there was never an issue before. Maybe Plasmius somehow influenced him or something? He guessed it was possible. There were legends about ghosts doing stuff like that, but he had no idea how to even begin figuring that out.

After dinner, he once again retreated to his room. Frustrated, he decided a few hours of Doomed would be a good distraction from everything.

…

Right around three am, something woke Danny. Rubbing his eyes, he realized he fell asleep gaming. Stretching, he turned off the game before checking one of his drawers for clean pjs. Deciding it wasn’t worth it, he headed to his bed only to stop when his breath misted in front of him.

Now wide awake, he stopped and listened. There were the normal sounds of the furnace and his dad’s snores. Wait, the furnace? Then why could he see his breath a moment ago? Spooked, he opened his door as quietly as possible and stuck his head out into the hallway.

Nothing seemed out of place. No one was in the hall. There was no light from his parents’ room or the spare bedroom Vlad was using. Deciding something still didn’t seem right, he crept down the hall and peaked down the stairs.

Eyes, dark eyes with a faint red glow, peaked out at him from the darkness of the living room. Knowing whatever it was saw him, he panicked and ran towards his parents’ room. “Mom! Dad! There’s something in the house!” he yelled as he frantically beat on the locked door. Of course it was one of those nights.

“Oh my god, what is that thing?” Vlad’s voice and the growl that followed forced his attention to the staircase. The sickly gray color of its skin made it somehow stand out in the shadows. The creature, the same one Danny encountered in the alleyway, stood in all its horrible glory at the top of the stairs. Its face was twisted in a grotesque snarl, and it swayed slightly. With an uneasy jolt, Danny realized the thing seemed to be debating who to go after first.

At the sound of the lock on his parents’ door turning, the thing lunged forward. Danny barely had time to register his mother pulling him into the room while his father roared, “Eat this!”

The familiar whine of one of his parents’ blasters powering up was followed by a blinding green blast and then another. As his parents decided to chase the thing, he curled up behind the door. The sounds of the blasts and something else, something unnatural, crashing into furniture could be heard from the downstairs.

How did that thing get in the house? Better yet, how did it find him? It was his fault. He needed to help, but what could he do? He had no ability to fight against it. Heck, he still didn’t know what it was other than dangerous and evil.

When the sounds in the downstairs stopped, he held his breath and waited. A sigh of relief escaped him when his mother called for him and Vlad. Not caring he was a teenager and by default hated hugs from family members, raced to his mother’s side and embraced her. Understanding he was frightened, she rubbed his back and reassured him she was fine.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the light snapped on to reveal blast marks, destroyed furniture, and Vlad appraising the scene from the bottom step, “but what exactly was that thing? Should I contact the police?”

Embarrassed someone saw him, Danny quickly let go and retreated a few steps. His mother smiled at him before replying, “It’s already been taken care of.” She pointed to what Danny recognized as the button of one of the alarm systems; it was flashing. “Jack’s checking the perimeter to make sure that thing is gone. In the meantime, I’m going to make us hot chocolate.”

“But what if that thing comes back? Surely Jack wouldn’t just leave you alone.”

She flashed him a grin as she held up a miniature blaster. “Thank you for being concerned, but I’m actually the better shot between the two of us.”

After glancing at Vlad, who seemed both dumbfounded and proud, Danny hurried into the kitchen after his mother. He really didn’t want to leave her side if that thing came back.

“Danny,” his mother stated after they were seated at the kitchen table with hot chocolate in hand, “be honest with me, was that the same thing you saw in the alleyway?”

He took a sip of his drink before answering her. “I… I think so. I mean, I’m not exactly sure if it was the same thing or not, but it looked similar.”

“You’re telling me that’s the thing you’re researching?” Vlad sounded surprised, but Danny noticed how tightly he gripped his mug. Why did he seem angry? “That thing was an abomination.”

His mother nodded. “While there are some stories regarding things like that in folklore, most of the recent ones seem to be more fiction than fact, so Jack and I tended to disregard them.” She sent him an apologetic smile, “However, with Danny’s report, we decided to look into it and didn’t like what we found. That’s why we reached out because we needed to get the resources to verify the data.”

“What do you mean you didn’t like what you found?” His whole body felt icy again, but this time, it seemed to be from fear and not some paranormal creature.

“I want to verify something with the officers,” she glanced at the clock on the wall before muttering, “when they finally get here first. However, if Jack didn’t manage to get it, I’m not sure if it’ll come back or not. We definitely wounded it,” she pointed to a spot in the living room where something wet, dark, and faintly glowing could be seen, “but I don’t know if that was enough to ward it off or if it’s vengeful enough to return.”

“But why was it here?”

“If I may?” Vlad glanced at his mother, who nodded. “If it was in fact the same creature Daniel saw, it may have come for him, or, it simply could have been drawn to the house. Forgive me, but you do have a lot of ectoplasm and other potential energy sources on hand.”

“Hmm… we have been meaning to update our storage devices. That can easily be done, but if Danny is a target, that would be much harder to fix.” His mother reached out and gently put her hand on his. “Sweetie, don’t take this the wrong way, but your father and I are worried you might have been changed because of your disappearances.”

That was putting it lightly, he ruefully thought. However, instead of agreeing, he asked her to explain what she meant.

“Well, you know we theorized you temporarily slipped into a different dimension when you were younger? It’s possible that somehow altered you. Pass reports of those ‘spirited away’ often report the person was somehow changed. Since before you seemed fine, save for the times we caught you staring as if you saw something we couldn’t, we figured you may have developed a sensitivity to the paranormal.”

He nodded. That made sense. Although, he was embarrassed his parents picked up on how he sometimes saw those shadows. Apparently he didn’t do nearly as good of a job as he thought at keeping that a secret.

His mother bit her lip before continuing. “But, this past time… something changed. I know you told the police you were abducted by a person, but the complete disappearance and then reappearance… and that none of you who disappeared could be tracked… and the injuries… and how that poor boy was found… it never made sense it was a human. And when you came back, the changes in your vitals, we knew there was something more to it. You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready,” she added when she noticed his panicked expression, “but whatever changed might have made you something like beacon to creatures of other worlds.”

His mouth felt dry. His parents actually suspected there was something off about him, and they just accepted it? Should he tell them how much he really changed? No, Vlad was in the house. He didn’t need to know anything about it. However, he could start probing for some of the answers he wanted. “If… if I have changed, how…?”

“We’re not exactly sure what will happen in the long run,” she replied as she picked up on his train of questioning. “Old accounts vary, and it’s difficult distinguishing fact and legend. Anyways, Danny I just want to verify the thing that attacked us tonight and whoever abducted you on the camping trip are not the same thing.”

He violently shook his head. “No, they’re completely different…”He debated with himself for a moment. Should he tell her about Plasmius appearing? Or the thing Clockwork discovered? Or the horde that attacked Sam, Tucker, and their classmates on the way back? “At least, whoever took me, Sam, and Tucker was completely different. I don’t know what grabbed the others.” That was true enough.

Vlad remained unusually quiet during the exchange, but unlike other times where he seemed disinterested or involved, this time it seemed like he was mulling over something. Also, Danny hadn’t missed the way his eyes narrowed when he added on the information about the camping abduction.

A knock at the door spooked everyone. They turned to see his dad opening the door followed by a couple police officers. “I found the police!” he said with a grin. “They thought it was another false alarm.”

“False alarm? False alarm?” His mother stood and marched over to the officers who were taking stock of the damage with wide eyes. “My family gets attacked, and you have the nerve to think it was a false alarm? If my husband and I didn’t have the means to defend ourselves, we would have been killed!”

Danny just sighed and continued sipping his drink as he watched his mother scold the officers. His dad joined him. Both of them knew it was better to let her get it out of her system than to try to get involved. Besides, he’d probably never get to see police officers get chewed out like that ever again. Now if only he had some popcorn.

====

Note: if it hadn’t been implied earlier, Maddie and Jack are going to be involved/decent parents in this fic. It makes sense with how this story is laid out – their son has gone mysteriously missing 3 times. They try to keep an eye on him.

[loyally-unfaithful]

—; but “sentimental boy” is my nom de plume

word count: 1916

pairing: connor/gn!reader

genre: slight fluff; hurt no comfort

summary: it has been a year after the android revolution. humans and android alike settled down, an olive branch was offered as a sign of reconciliation. with newfound peace came along newfound love, and many open roads to choose from. this was no different for the rk800—connor. surprisingly or unsurprisingly, he decided to continue working at the dpd, this time as a bonafide detective. but he has also accepted the thrilling uncertainty of life that deviancy has brought; the same strings that brought his lover in his life.the same ones he hated and cursed, the same fates who ripped it all away.

a/n: everytime i convince myself i came out of my dbh hyperfixation i just look at connor and i become lovesick again.

gosh i know i should be finishing my other fic or work on the prologue script for my vn, but,,,,,,, i just had a sudden hankering for connor angst,,,,

written during a sleep deprivation induced moment of epiphany,,,,, (purple prose cuz im extra af uwu)

I’ve never written angst before so i’d love to hear your thoughts on it

maybe if you asked him one year ago whether he’d consider returning someone’s feelings, romantic feelings, he’d reply to you with a placid smile and a polite « i’m sorry, i wasn’t programmed to reciprocate romantic interest. ». he remembered that he’d sneer at them internally. now thinking about it, long before he questioned his obedience towards her, he already showed signs of deviancy.

you did what you were designed to do.

memories from his past would still torment him erratically, doubts would resurface on particularly dark days. but you were the light that cut through that haze. this wasn’t a “fake deviancy”. it couldn’t have been. not when he is holding your body so close to his, warmth radiating off of each other, two heartbeats—similar, but different—thrumming together. all the softly whispered and adoringly announced « i love you »’s; all the quick and coveted pecks and all the feverish and passionate kisses. no, he was alive, he was sure of it—alive and absolutely enamoured by you. all semblance of doubt ebbed away when you entered his life.

whenever he’s around you, he feels more alive: you make him feel everything, all the little precious things. tenderness and adoration when he shares tranquil mornings with you. he feels more alive when he’s with you, all the little habits and routines too endearing: the sweet post-it notes scattered over your shared flat; scribbled upon it are encouraging words or sweet nothings. conflicting work schedules meant that moments spent together were scarce, but that made them even more valuable and coveted. captivation, was another emotion that he felt around you. your mannerism, your dreams and interests, your physical attributes and quality of voice. logically speaking, you were just another human, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. you’d live and then one day, you’d die. as if you never really existed. but he wasn’t being logical. how could he be? when you were right there in front of him? you made him irrational, and he found that new aspect in life thrilling. confusing at first, but exciting. he was eternally grateful that you let him experience all these beautiful emotions with you. he was grateful that you allowed him in your short journey that you called life.

he was happy, absolutely content, with his shared life with you. you were both in perfect places in your respective lives: you both had a stable job, loving family backing you up, and a fulfilling love life. what seemed to be a mismatched couple at first turned to be 2 pieces of the same puzzle finally finding their place. life for the both of you couldn’t be better.

but along with the many exquisite moment that your romantic endeavours brought you, the android didn’t only taste the sweet delicacies of life; no matter how idyllic a moment may be, there were times when he had to taste the astringent and sour desserts life offered.

anger. that was an emotion that he felt. but that’s not accurate, no… it was frustration and shock and betrayal, all the unsavoury feelings in the world. perhaps it was due to his inexperience, maybe his lack of exposure to these negative sentiments, that caused him to snap the way he did. to hurt you the way he did. but it happened and there was no turning back the clock.

no matter how much he begged and cried for it.

he was proud that you got the job offer in canada, he really was. and he, like any other caring boyfriend would, offered to accompany you there, an offer which you gladly accepted. that was the plan. but plans were difficult to follow. crime waits for no man, working for the law meant that connor must always be available for duty. no excuses, he was an android. but connor wasn’t just a simple android detective, no, he had a much more important role: he was the link, the messenger, between jericho and the police force. he was the crucial communication between the two forces. so when jericho contacted him about threats of anti-android attacks, he had to make an appearance at their base. the meeting coincided with the day you were meant to travel to canada. it was a simple trip really. it only took a few hours by train, stay in canada for 2 days (it was the weekend), and then return back to detroit, probably arriving in the late afternoons to their home.

but you were looking forwards to traveling with your wonderful partner after « [we] spent so much time apart ». the day he told you the urgent change of plans, connor was tired, overwhelmed. you were frustrated and expectant. a fight was bound to have erupted. accusatory statements, along the lines of: « you don’t actually care about me! it’s all about work and work and work! » and « i can’t believe how selfish you’re being right now! » in between shouting and yelling and frustration and anger and contempt–

you both went to bed exhausted but spiteful, still not forgiving each other. in hindsight, he felt so utterly pathetic, so unbelievably childish, for being that cruel, and uncaring. he didn’t want to be like him again. so many glares and insults were thrown at each other, tears threatened to spill, LED flashed and shone a true red, doors were slammed. he felt awful, plain and simple. you both lied in the same bed, under the same cover. so close yet so excruciatingly far apart. back facing the other’s, no one said a word.

you woke up before him. bitter and unhappy. no morning kisses, no whispered « i love you » to wake your other half. you wordlessly got yourself ready, grabbed your bag and quietly snuck out. no post it notes were left. no sweet promises or encouraging words. you could do this work trip without him. you were independent. you didn’t need a tin can to chaperone you everywhere. so you left. plain and simple. gone. since you woke up and left earlier than planned, you boarded an earlier train. how lovely and convenient. the carriages were mostly filled with androids. perhaps they were trying to immigrate to canada like the others. who knows. you paid no mind and absentmindedly scrolled through your phone, obsessively checking your messages to see if connor realised. to see if he apologised. because frankly, at that point you were tired of being mad and just wanted to spend the day in his arms. but prideful and petty as you were, you weren’t willing to apologise and admit your mistakes first.

connor roused from stasis a few moments afterward, less bitter and more regretful. he wished to right his wrongs but the normally warm presence beside him was not there. his system was slowly booting back up when his audio sensor picked up an incessant ringing from the living room. he jolted up and rushed out to pick up the ringing phone call and waited for the other side to speak up.

the room was so utterly quiet, a silence so suffocating engulfed the room, that you could hear a pin drop. the voice on the other side asked whether this was indeed your house and that he was indeed connor anderson. he swallowed dryly and answered with a soft, « yes ». running a quick check in his database, he matches the caller’s voice with a certain nathaniel edwards. first responder. he allowed his HUD to display the news. if androids could get pale, have all their blood drain from their faces, his would have certainly done so. he stood, rigid and motionless, consumed by shock and horror.

the news and the first responder’s words blended into one as he gripped the phone tighter: « this morning, at 7:48 am the train from detroit to toronto was caught in a devastating turn of events: the train soon caught in fire and exploded as it made its way over the border. it has been confirmed that there has been 0 survivors. it is unclear whether this was an unfortunate accident or the result of anti-android terrorism. »

the other person’s voice poured through the speaker but he wasn’t listening. he stared blankly in front of him. no way, he thought, it couldn’t have been… the only sign that the android was registering the other man’s input was the now constant red LED.

« sir? sir. i’m sorry to bring this— – no, this isn’t right… you must have the wrong number, he interrupted. there were probably others with your name… maybe they were mistaken... – sir that’s not possible, w— – you must have gotten the wrong house… not… it-it couldn’t have been…» but he knew how improbable it was that they got the wrong number. he was built to be logical, to believe statistics. the statistics told him you were dead. long gone. he hoped and prayed that you stayed back, didn’t get on the earlier train. the statistics told him you did.

he choked out a response, quiet and defeated. you were gone. he’d never get to see you again. « i… i’m sorry… i-i don’t understand… – we tried our best to find them sir, but… the fire was too severe… if we gain any new developm— – you didn’t save them. »

still in a daze, he must have hung up on the poor man and unceremoniously dropped the phone. its clatter the only sound in this deafening silence. the reality of it all comes crashing through and he collapsed, ugly sobs escaping him as the denial faded away to make way for the pure and unfiltered grief. he felt lost. for the first time in a long while since amanda he felt so utterly and completely lost. no more shining beacon during his dark and stormy nights. no more valued affection and coveted kisses. no more notes and no more smile to come home to.

he laughed bitterly, devoid of any humour. it was funny, just how cruel the fates were: made human life so fleeting. lachesisonly gave them such a short eternity. and when he thought you both found your missing halves, bound to another by an invisible string, atropos cuts it. a small snippet that is so easily ripped away from you. he belonged with you, he felt at peace with you. he was able to be what he struggled to be for the majority of his miserable and artificial existence. with you, he was able to be happy.

but now he’ll have to get used to not coming home to a warm embrace. he’ll have to get used to going into stasis alone, in the cold bed. he’ll have to get used to his aching heart being greeted by an empty house. every cold and lonely  nights. it’s ridiculous how human he felt because of you. and he was both thankful and spiteful for it.

sadness and bitter regret ripped through him when he remembered that he didn’t  share goodbyes before he left. he remembered how he couldn’t have apologised to you and tenderly held you. he regretted not being able to tell you how much he loved you and how much you meant to him for the last time. ra9 only knows the things he’d do and the things he’d sacrifice, just to have you in his arms again.

instead he was faced with the bitter reminder that the last thing he’s ever said to you, your last memory of him, was a contemptuous and scornful « i wished i never met you ».

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[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #30)

(cw: long post, drunkenness, brief discussion of abuse, brief mention of sex) ----------- 01/16/88  12:26 AM

Hey.

If you were really reading this right now, you might question why I called this a good memory in the last entry. Well, bear with me. I think a lot of good things are made better when they’re in relief of the bad. And relief came.

It really did.

That night, we both said a lot of things we regretted. And after that, we said a lot of things I sometimes wish I could forget. If I could forget what you said, it would be easier to be mad at you. To pretend you didn’t care about me at all. Maybe then, I wouldn’t miss you near as much as I do. Maybe, somehow, I could actually want to let you go.

And, y’know, if I remembered all this when I woke up all ashy and dazed on Fix-it’s bed on the 7th, maybe I could have started blaming myself for your death a whole lot sooner and saved myself that whole breakdown at Tapper’s.

In the bathroom, I did what I could for my cut. You were low on first aid supplies, for some reason. It looked way less gnarly with the blood all wiped off, but it was definitely deep enough to need stitches, of which you had none. But there’s always a hammer back in my game for such things, so I just bandaged it up for the time being.

When I came out of the bathroom, it was near pitch black. You’d closed the blackout shutters all the way. You slipped past me for your turn in the bathroom. We didn’t even glance at each other as we passed by.

My eyes took a bit longer to adjust than usual, but that didn’t really matter. I knew your home like the back of my hand, you know. I even painted a broom and swept most of the glass shards out of the way (I have to assume I missed a few, since I was too drunk to think of painting a flashlight, or even just opening the shutters back up). But it was a quick and half-assed effort. I really just wanted to go to sleep. The thought of crawling into your bed kind of made me ill at that point, so I curled up tight on the couch, facing the back cushions so you wouldn’t see my face, not even bothering to pull the blanket down.

I listened to you in the bathroom. Not on purpose -- I was attracted to the idea of pretending you weren’t there for the rest of the evening -- but there was literally no other sound to drown you out. I’m still not sure what you did in there. I expected to hear vomiting, or at least drunk grumbling, but all I heard was the tap running uninterrupted, like you weren’t even using it, for what must have been a full ten to fifteen minutes.

I heard you open the door, turn off the light, and pass by me without stopping. Your bed creaked in alarm, like you’d just dropped yourself onto it. After that, the place fell silent. 

I tried really hard to fall asleep. I kept my eyes shut tight, relaxed my body one part at a time, ran through my old songs in my head, et cetera, but nothing was working. The room was spinning, the silence was excruciating, and I just couldn’t stop hearing the things you’d said to me. They’d cut so deep and were just burrowing deeper and worming around my insides. The things I’d said to you kept me up, too. That stricken look on your face, like I’d whipped you around and stabbed you in the back. You looked the very same way I felt right then, lying there in complete disbelief that the sprite I trusted more than anyone in the world could have agreed with the cruel voices in my head.

Really, more than anything else, I was overcome with the cold question of what we’d just done to each other and how we were going to fix it.

I couldn’t tell you how much time passed before either of us moved, but it was a fair bit. I heard your blankets rustling. You were restless, tossing and turning, making the springs creak. Couldn’t say the same for me. I was still as a rock, and tensed like one, too. I was just trying to pack it all down. To shove it all in a chest and lock it. I didn’t want to think about any of it, but, as you might have guessed, I had no choice in the matter. 

I heard you stand up.

I expected you to walk past me again to the bathroom, but you stopped next to me. For a few minutes, as far as I could tell, you just stood there, but then I felt the couch cushions past my feet shift kind of awkwardly, like you couldn’t decide if you wanted to sit down. Eventually, you settled for sitting on the floor, your back against the couch. You said nothing, but I heard you anxiously tugging fibers from the carpet.

I wanted to tell you to go away, but I decided to wait. I was curious as to what your deal was.

When you spoke, you spoke quietly, but it was still enough to make me jump.

“Does it hurt?”

“What?”

“Y’know,” you paused. “Your cheek.”

I thought for a second, probably a second too long, and lied. “No.”

You kept inhaling like you were about to speak, and stopping. After a minute, you managed to say earnestly, “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

I wasn’t in the mood. I grumbled, “Go to bed, T.”

“But you do know that,” you insisted, kind of urgently. “Don’t you?”

I did know that. I was just… so bitter. I was still pissed at you for the things you said to me. The cut didn’t matter to me in the slightest, so I was annoyed that you were making a big deal of it.

I sighed hard. “Well, you sure didn’t try not to, either, hotshot, but whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

“No, actually. It kinda does.”

I said, a bit louder, “No. It doesn’t. Just go back to bed. I don’t want to talk about it.”

You matched my volume, “Well, I do.”

“Why?!” I snapped, still refusing to turn around. “Why do you want--”

You cut me off hurriedly, “Because I can’t let you think I enjoy it!”

“Enjoy what, Turbo?!”

“HURTING you!”

We both went quiet. I heard your back drop against the couch again, as if you had been twisting around towards me a moment prior. My heart was racing. It was time for me to be lost and confused again, with an overwhelming desire to hit the brakes. But, really, by your silence, I guessed that you were in just about the same boat as me. But you were trying, despite that. I supposed I owed you the same effort. So I drunkenly staggered forward in this harrowing conversation.

“Well…” I said quietly, “you used to.”

Pausing briefly, you asked, “What?”

“But I liked hurting you, too,” I said, uselessly. “That’s how we met, ain’t it? At least how we got to know each other. Let our fists and broken glass do the talking.”

You sighed roughly. “That was a long time ago. And besides, that’s not what I’m even talking about, and you know that. I’m not talking bar fights and sparring matches. I’m talking…” you trailed off in thought, but couldn’t quite find the words, “...this mess.”

I considered what you were telling me, and I was a little surprised by it. “...I know you didn’t mean to. And I know you don’t enjoy it. Obviously, I know that.”

You didn’t answer. 

“T…” I continued, softer, “just how often do you think you hurt me? It’s not a lot.”

You still didn’t answer, so I kept going, carefully.

“I mean… yeah, you’re not exactly always a breeze to hang out with, but, come on, you know me. I’m not easy all the time, either, but that’s how I like things. You know that if I really thought you liked hurting me, I wouldn’t be here, right?”

I barely heard you breathe, “Yeah. I know. That’s the point.”

I asked, “What?” 

You didn’t answer, so I asked again, “...T?”

Voice low, you explained slowly, “If you don’t like something, you clear out. I know. I’ve seen it happen. You’re not the type to stick around if you’re miserable. I just…” you took a deep breath, and spoke as if you were carving the words crudely out of a slab, “I want… to keep it from getting… to that point. It’s like… like what you said. I never… try to make you unhappy. I never… really want to. Y’know. But it’s not… not like I try that hard to stop it from… happening. And look what not trying did tonight. I--” you stopped for a second, and I heard you steady your breathing, “I cut… your face open… and I didn’t even notice.”

You took a deep breath, and let it hiss slowly through your lips. I felt frozen. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to have a response yet. Thankfully, you continued. “And if that ain’t enough, I mean… I… said… a whole lot. A whole lot a’ stuff I… really didn’t mean. I was mad. I was pissed at you for saying--... I think… the only reason I said what I did was because I knew it would hurt you, and I… hate… that. I really just… wish I hadn’t. That’s not… That’s not how I wanna be. I wanna--...”

Through the pounding in my ears, I heard your hand fall defeatedly against the floor. “I hate this. I just know I’m makin’ this worse, somehow. Just… don’t… don’t--... Don’t run off just yet. I don’t know what my deal is-- and, yeah, I know somethin’ ain’t right, okay-- and I’m trying-- I’m trying to figure it out, and I will, but I’m--” your voice lowered, “I’m gonna… try harder. ‘Cuz I didn't try tonight, and… if anything like this happens again, you’ll--... I just… need you to know that I don’t enjoy all this, ‘cause… I mean, it’s obvious what everyone else would think, right? They’d take one look at that cut on your cheek and say…”

I waited, and prodded tentatively, “Say... what?”

I heard fabric shift against your shoulders as you shrugged. “That… you oughtta have nothing to do with me anymore. ‘Cause I’m no good, and it’ll just happen again. Right?”

I waited for your words to sink in. They were slow moving, but soon enough, I figured it out. And, honestly, I was taken aback that you would have looked at things from that angle.

“So… what, you think this means…” I asked carefully, “you think this one stupid mistake means that I’m not safe around you?”

You replied quickly, “No. You are.”

“But you’re… You’re freaked out that it looks that way. You think this makes it look like I’m your victim, or something.”

“No--” you stammered, “I don’t know. You don’t have to say it like that.”

“How should I say it?”

“I don’t know, just…” you sighed a bit. “You know… Them lowlife scumbags who keep girls around just to use ‘em as punchin’ bags?”

At that, in a weird way I can't quite explain, I think something in my heart broke for you a little bit. Just knowing you were battling the fear of that over a dumb mistake that I easily could have made myself.

I asked softly, “Is that… what you think you're doing?”

“No,” you answered quickly, and I heard you turn. “I'm not. I swear I'm not. I’m nothin’ like those guys.”

“I know,” I said plainly, as if it had to be obvious. But I presented as gently as I could, “But it just sounds like… you think I'm gonna think you are. You think you’re gonna chase me away.”

You were quiet.

“T…” I said. “I know you better than that.”

You said quietly, “I just want you to believe me when I say this won't happen again.”

“Say it, then.”

“What?”

“Say it won't happen again.”

You paused. “I swear this won't happen again.”

“I believe you.”

You went quiet. I knew that I hadn’t quite gotten through to you, but I wasn't sure how to. There were so many things running through my head that I didn’t know how to say. Maybe I was afraid to. I don’t know.

I just kept getting tripped up by one thing. You were so, so terrified that I was going to leave you in one way or another. It’s not like I didn’t know what that felt like. I knew all too well. But the fact that you would have felt that way about me, well… that raised some questions. Ones I was not about to ask you. Some were about how you felt about me, but… I think way more were about how you felt about yourself.

One thing was for sure. I didn’t want you to be afraid for a second longer.

Fumbling in the gentlest voice I could manage, I said, “T… Tonight has sucked. Royally. I’ll give you that. But… it’s all just been a stupid mistake. I know you. You get pissed and act like a jackass. I do the exact same thing. That’s all this is. You’re talking like this happens all the time. Like I’m stuck with you and you’re constantly doing me wrong. If this were fun for you, I feel like… this would be a regular thing, but it’s not. If you enjoyed it, you’d do it all the time. When was the last time we even had a fight?”

You thought for a while. “I don’t remember.”

“Me neither.”

I hadn’t actually thought about it, but it was true. We’d gone so long without fighting that I didn’t even remember the last time anymore. It was a weird thing to think about for some reason. 

“But,” you said, “there hasn’t been one this bad before, either.”

That was also true.

“Well… first time for everything.”

“And last,” you added lowly.

For a little while, we were both quiet, but I could tell you were in silent distress. I heard your feet shift a bit against the carpet and your fingers tug at the fibers again. I was a bit reluctant to ask, because I was already so emotionally spent, but, damn it all, I wanted you to feel better.

I asked, “Hey, T… you okay?”

You didn't answer right away, but after a moment, I think I heard you whisper, “I feel like I’m losin’ my mind.”

I asked for clarification, “T?”

I heard you shrug, and I heard your breath stammer, voiceless, before you said in a voice more humble than I ever would have thought possible for you…

“I just… wanna be good for you… Mav.”

My heart just about skidded to a stop, hearing exactly what I had thought about you that very same night. Remembering the way you said that and what it meant to me, just… hurts. It hurts so bad how much I miss you. Because you were good for me -- damn what anyone else might have said. You were the best thing in my life, and now you're gone.

This is one of those good things I try to forget. I try to pretend you didn't say that. I don't know if it eases the pain, but it makes it different.

Missing something good is just so unbearable for me right now.

But in that moment, while I still had something good, I was near speechless. There was only one thing I could think to say, only one thing that really made sense to say.

“...You are.”

I sort of wanted that to be the end of it, but you didn’t move. You were silent as the grave for a few minutes. I wasn’t sure you were even breathing, until I heard you inhale to speak, and pause.

“Mav…”

I just waited for you to continue.

You began to say, “Listen… about the stuff I said…”

I flinched. I was still raw from all that. I said quickly, “Whatever. It’s fine.”

You insisted, “Don’t give me that. I know it’s not.”

“‘Kay, maybe not, but it happened. We both said things that we know were crappy. So let’s just settle on that and forget about it. It doesn’t have to be a big deal if we don’t make it one.”

“Mavis,” you said, clearly frustrated, “will you quit snubbing me for one second? I don’t-- I don’t exactly know what I’m doing here, but will you just let me try--”

“T. It’s fine,” I was starting to get anxious. “You didn’t tell me anything I don’t already know. It’s whatever, alright? Please go back to bed.”

“No, you don’t know it,” you insisted, to my surprise. “You don’t, because it’s not true. The gamers… The gamers do love you, Mav.”

That wasn’t the first thing I’d heard you say that night that I never thought I’d hear in your voice. I was too stunned to respond.

You continued, “Y’know, in their gamer-y sort of way. I’ve always known that, and I’ve never quite got why you don’t. But I guess you don’t know nearly as much about ‘em as I do.”

I felt a prickly sort of misery weigh down on my body.

“No, they don’t, T. You don’t get it,” I grumbled into the couch. “A Good Guy could never understand.”

“Oh yeah? Well, lemme ask you this--” I felt you turn around a bit and lay your arm on the cushions, “Do gamers punch in your combo just to play as you?”

I wasn’t sure where you were going with that, but I didn’t like it. I could feel a nerve being slowly pressed. I said, “That’s my program, yeah.”

You pressed harder, “Do they smile and get all excited and call their friends over when they see you?”

I wanted you to stop. Really bad. “Yes, Turbo, but--”

“And do they sink more quarters into your game to see you again?”

“It’s-- That’s complicated--”

“Do they?”

“YES, but only--”

Your hand clapped against the couch. “That’s gamer love! And I’d know more about that than anyone else in this arcade, so now you--”

I snapped. I twisted back to fire at you, “If they LOVE ME so much, how could they THROW ME AWAY like I’m NOTHING?! If THAT’S what love is, I don’t WANT IT!”

In the dark, your eyes stared back at me, wide, still brutally honest. I waited, but you didn’t have an answer. Your gaze just fell to your hand, and then you fell back into position, back against the couch, looking away from me.

I’d screwed up again. I already told you that the gamers never loved you. In a way, I just told you again. I said that if the gamers drop you like garbage, they don’t love you. And you were so afraid that’s what they were doing to you.

I turned back to curl against the corner of the couch again, feeling like crap, feeling like I ought to have just shut up for the rest of the night. But, Devs be damned, you were actually making an effort to set things right.

You.

So, as much as I hated it, as foreign as it felt to me, I had to try to right my wrongs.

I said softly, and sadder than I intended, “Turbo.”

You barely grunted.

“I don’t think you’re being ridiculous.”

I paused, but you said nothing.

“And…” I swallowed, “I say that, because… I talk like it doesn’t matter to me anymore, when this happens to me. When the gamers… drop me. Like I’ve gotten used to it, so it all runs together and I’m just… numb to it. That’s… not true. It’s not. I mean, I’m used to it, sure. But it still hurts. It hurts every damn time. I see it coming, I know it’s going to happen, but it still stings. I can’t… imagine what it’d be like, what it’d feel like, if I…”

I didn’t want to say. I just hoped you understood. Apparently, you did, because I heard your muffled voice say, “No… you can’t.”

I said, “I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

“But, well, the thing is… I’m not pissed at you. I’m pissed at them.”

I took a second, and you waited.

“Just when I think I have them figured out, when I think they’re about the worst they’re gonna get, they go and pull something like this. It doesn’t make sense. Why would they do this to you? With me, it’s-- I mean,” I sighed, my heart pounding, feeling myself begin to spill things I didn’t want to, but my drunk ass couldn’t stop. “I get it. It sucks, but I get it. I’m an Easter Egg -- it’s part of the job. No one’s supposed to want me for too long, I’m supposed to be temporary, I’m not supposed to be loved the way you are--”

I heard you cut in with a “Wait--” but I stopped you short.

“No-- No-- Don’t. It’s fine. I know it’s true. I know it, okay? I’m just not made for it, and I get that, I get that. And, yeah, sometimes it’s easier to believe that’s not true, and that the gamers don’t love anyone, which is why I said what I did. But let’s be real, here. It’s like you said. I’m the only sentient Easter Egg here, I stand alone, and it makes sense for them not to love me--”

“Wh--” your voice jumped up in pitch, “I never-- That’s not what I--”

“Yes! You did!” I snapped a bit, “And, y’know, screw you for saying that, and everything, but I know it already. I know it doesn’t make sense for them to ‘waste their love on me’ when there are more important sprites around, like you. Them loving you? That makes sense. That’s the deal. That’s the program that’s supposed to work. So then how-- how--”

I clenched my teeth and dug my nails into the couch fabric, willing myself to not start yelling again. The same ugly anger from earlier pushed up my throat again, only this time, it was not misdirected. I knew exactly who I was angry at.

“How DARE they turn around and do this to you?! A Good Guy, the arcade champion, the one sprite I never thought I’d see going through the same garbage they put me through. I hate watching you go through this, because you shouldn’t have to. It’s all just because they’re fickle and uncaring and-- and-- they’re not WORTH the sort of pain they can deal out. They’re not worth mine, and I know now more than ever that they’re not worth yours. So that’s why I-- That’s…” I sighed, slowing myself down. “...That’s why I got all pissed at you. I hated that you were giving them any time of day. That you were hurting over them for even a second longer than they deserved. I thought that you ought to know that they ain’t worth it, and I was frustrated that you didn’t. ‘Cause if you knew, then… maybe you wouldn’t be so upset. So I tried to tell you… and make you see things the way I do. But I screwed it up. I went too far and just… made it worse. I don’t… really blame you for getting upset and… biting back. I wish you didn’t say what you did, but… I get it.”

After a pause, you spoke quietly and slowly, “I was already pissed when you came back in. I’d been pissed all night. ...All week, probably. Not at you, but… having you come back in and start gettin’ in my face and shouting and sayin’ some… really crappy things, that just…. I didn’t need that, y’know.”

I felt fifty pounds heavier. “I know…”

“And that, well… you made me mad, yeah, but it was so much more than just you. Everything just… exploded. You didn’t really make the bomb, you just lit the fuse. I dunno if that makes any difference to you or not, but…”

“I guess it does. Maybe.”

“I mean, what I’m getting at here is… Yeah, you screwed up what you were trying to do. You did make things worse. But I’m already so freakin’ messed up right now, there was only so much damage you could do. Don’t… give yourself too much credit on this, y’know. Don’t convince yourself that you did more than you actually did.”

My mind was starting to float away. I felt a quiver start to grow in my bones. The emotions that had started to snowball were sticking to me like steaming tar. All the mental hits I’d taken, all the hurtful things you said, started to bleed through whatever crappy bandage I tried to cover them with.

I tried with all my might to not let it show. I answered, voice low, “...Okay.”

“And hey,” you wheezed what might have been a weak laugh, “Whatever, right? I’m a tough guy. You ain’t gonna get to me. And you’re a tough gal. Right?”

Right. ‘Right’ is what I wanted to say. It’s what I should have said, because I am a tough gal. But, Devs above, I did not feel tough when you asked me. And that fact… started to bring tears to my eyes. I should have been able to keep it together. But I was drunk. I was hurt. And I could not stop thinking about the very worst thing you’d said. ‘Wasting their love on you.’

When I didn’t answer, you prodded cautiously. “...Right, Mav?”

I couldn’t control my words anymore. My emotions just took the wheel by force. I drew in a shuddering breath, and tried to say steadily, “Yeah. Of course. I’m good. But just-- Just one--”

Against my willpower, I sniffed. I heard you turn, and felt you staring. I’m quite certain you had never seen me cry before, unless I did during a night of blackout drinking. I make a point to have as few people see me cry as possible. But there was very little I could do about it that night.

Bracing myself against the pitiful display I was plunging into, I stammered, “T-- Do-- Do you really think I’m--...”

I heard you barely breathe, “...Wha--...”

I spat out, broken up by growing sobs, “D’you-- think I’m-- I’m a waste-- A waste of--”

And I completely broke down. Full on pathetic drunk sobbing, half-muffled by my feeble attempt to hide my face in the couch corner. If I could have, I’d have shrunk down and hidden my entire body inside the couch. I’d never felt so naked in my life, but I was helpless to move. The full-body crying was incapacitating, and showed no signs of stopping.

I remember hearing you practically leap to your feet, and not move at all. You watched me for what felt like forever before I realized that you’d been muttering distressed and confused curses under your breath. Of course you didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what I wanted you to do.

That’s when I felt your fingertips make contact with my shoulder, and I jumped. You pulled them back instantly, and stammered, “Ah-- No, no-- I just--” before taking some steadying breaths, and asking shakily, “Mav?”

I couldn’t answer.

You finished your question anyway. “...Can I touch you?” 

I appreciated so sincerely the fact that you asked, as I always did, every time. I’m not sure what I expected you to do, but I nodded. I thought maybe you’d… rub my back, or something. I don’t know. What you actually did was… Well, I don’t know how you managed to do it so quickly.

You grabbed my arm to turn me over and yanked me right onto my feet, fully upright, so that you could just… hug me. 

Really, really tight. 

My arms just kind of floated at our sides while you buried your face in my shoulder. You were shaking nearly as much as I was. I was too disoriented to get what was happening right away, but when I heard your voice, and heard how it barely sounded like you with how high and cracked it was, I had to question reality for a second.

You were crying.

I never thought I’d see the day. I wasn’t even sure it was possible, honestly. I just couldn’t picture it. But there it was, literally clutching onto me. Equally hard to believe were the words spilling from your mouth.

You rambled quickly, muffled against my shoulder, “I didn’t mean that. I didn’t. I’m-- I’m sorry. I should have freakin’ said so sooner. I didn’t mean any of it. I don’t think that about you, I swear I don’t. I don’t know why I said it. I’m sorry. Don’t cry, Mav. Please. I’m sorry-- Devs, I’m sorry…”

Apologies. From you. Like… real ones. Not that I have the best track record with them either, but… wouldn’t you know it, you got to me.

My shock wore off, and I went back to full bawling. I finally hugged you back, so tight my arms ached, at which point you squeezed even harder than before. And it all came pouring out of me.

I sobbed grossly, “I’m sorry, too-- I’m sorry, I’m sorry for everything I said. I take it all back. I take it back. I can’t believe I-- Damn it all, I’m so sorry, T!”

And we stood there, a couple of wobbling disasters, sobbing more than our stupid drunk brains could handle, slurring out apologies and clumsy comforts. We were pretty pathetic. But I think we really needed it. Everything started falling out. Apologies for this and that, regrets, bad feelings, reassurance. All the crap we had been trying to tiptoe around in our previous conversations. It just burst out like a broken dam. Then, eventually, I remember… you started stressing yourself out. Again.

You kept asking me not to leave. I tried to assure you I wouldn’t, but it seemed like the more I tried, the more you convinced yourself that I would.

You said in broken whispers, “Stay. Please. Please don’t go.”

I told you for the hundredth time, “I’m not leaving. You know I won’t.”

“Everyone else is. Everyone’s leaving me. I’m losing everything. Say I’m not losing you, too. Say I didn’t mess this up. Say it’s not over. Please.”

“T-- T, listen to me,” I said, and I managed to pry you back enough to grip your face and look you in the eye. I caught only a glimpse, but it was enough. I keep saying how I saw things in your eyes that night that I’d never seen before, but… seeing them shine with tears, full of this inconsolable, miserable, impossibly lonely fear, just… I would barely have believed I was looking at you, if I didn’t feel your code under my hands. I knew you so well, better than anybody. I saw sides of you that I know no one else ever got to see. That always made me feel… special, I guess. But I always got a sense that there was a side you kept under lock and key, even from me. And I never pressed it, because I hid mine from you, too. But that night… I’m pretty sure I met that side. 

I tried my best to handle it gracefully.

My glimpse was over the moment you saw how I was looking at you. In an ashamed sort of way, you squeezed your eyes shut and bowed your head. In my attempt to be reassuring, I pushed my forehead against yours. You did not shy away from that.

I said slowly, trying to rein in my tears, “T… I’m not… leaving.”

You shivered, just barely shaking your head.

“I’m not,” I repeated. “Look at me.”

You opened your eyes, and they were at once so vulnerable and so guarded, as if your misery were impenetrable. You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to. I could tell that you wanted to believe me, but just couldn’t make it stick.

I asked, “How can I make you believe me?”

“I don’t know…” you muttered, letting your eyes fall closed yet again.

“What if I…” I grasped at straws, hoping I’d figure it out if I held you there long enough. “What if… What if I promised? Like… big time promised?”

You gave a flat, dismissive laugh in your throat and lifted your head away from mine.

I asked, “What?”

“As if I’d believe a promise from you.”

“Excuse me?”

You looked at me again, “Look, no offense, Mav, but… I’ve seen you make a billion promises in the time I’ve known you, and I’ve never, ever seen you keep one.”

You had me there. I said, “...Okay, but, those were all little ones that didn’t matter. This one’s important.”

“If you can’t even keep little ones, what makes you think you could keep a big one?”

“Oh,” I suddenly felt offended, “you think I can’t? Like I can’t make my own choices?”

“All I’m sayin’ is you’ve always been a creature of impulse, Make-it.”

I hated how right you were. There seemed little I could say to argue against it, but I scoured my brain for anything useful. I didn’t find anything to help me win the argument, but I strayed into a train of thought that made me rethink the whole ‘promise’ idea entirely. I reminded myself of a few… unfortunate things. Reminded myself why it would be a bad idea to go making commitments that had little to no chance of being reciprocated. I wasn’t too eager to set myself up for that good ol’ pain of abandonment, not from you. I was afraid enough of that already.

So I looked down and said, “Whatever. Bad idea, I guess,” before prying myself out from your arms and walking over to your bed. 

“Woah,” you staggered a bit, “hey, what--?”

“I dunno how to convince you, T, but… I think I’m too tired and drunk to think of something right now,” I said as I started to half-heartedly get undressed. “Let’s go to bed. Maybe I’ll think of something tomorrow.”

You didn’t come any closer at first. You just spoke in a suspicious voice, “You never give up that fast. You’re tellin’ me you just agree with me outta nowhere?”

“No,” I said as I tossed my belt to the floor and got frustrated with my smock for having so many damn buttons. Occupied with a stuck thread, without even a thought as to what I was saying, I told you, “I just wouldn’t want to make that promise to you unless you made it back.”

You pondered that for a second, and your voice wandered a bit closer. “‘Kay, ‘kay, seems… fair. I get it. So… what, you think I wouldn’t do it?”

I paused. “Well… I dunno. Commitment.”

“Oh… you think I wouldn’t keep it. You think I’d get bored of it, and ditch you anyway. That’s it, ain’t it?”

“Well, thats--” I fumbled, frustrated. “That’s what you think I’d do, ain’t it?”

“You’re deflecting, Mav,” you observed astutely. “We’re talkin’ about why you think that about me.”

“That’s-- It’s just--” I started to get really anxious, to the point that I tried to slip out of my smock before I finished unbuttoning, and got way too confused about why it got caught on my pants. “That’s just… That’s just how it works for me, T.”

I didn’t hear your footsteps, but… I distinctly remember feeling your heat radiating from behind me, and the way it made my bare shoulders suddenly feel so cold. You stood right behind me, and you said in a low, serious voice, “Why you…? This is… This is some more Easter Egg crap, ain't it?”

I managed to get my smock off, finally, but I held onto it. I stood still, worrying my fingers over the fabric, hoping that if I said nothing, the conversation would just fly away on its own.

Obviously, it didn’t.

You continued, “Okay. Okay. Yeah, I was listening earlier. I heard all those ‘supposed to’s you yammered out.” Impersonating me in a quiet, high voice with an exaggerated accent, you said, “‘Supposed ta this, not supposed ta that, bla bla bla.’ Look, I know I hit a sore spot earlier, but… really? I dunno where this Easter Egg rulebook is, or whatever, but… I ain’t never heard of Make-it Mavis following the rules. ‘Specially not fake ones.”

I just squeezed my smock, trying to bite back tears.

Then you said, in a voice unnaturally soft for you, “And… gag me for being so corny, but… That’s… probably what I like best about her.”

Tears came. They came hot and silent -- gentler, this time. I just shook and lowered my head, until the touch of your hands startled me upright. You just held onto my hips, ducking your thumbs under my shirt to rub my skin. I’m not sure you even realized you were doing it. But, y’know… the warmth of your hands felt so damn good. I’m not sure why that, in particular, feels so weird to say, but… here we are.

You spoke up again, your tone a bit firmer, “You said you know me, Mav. If you know me, how could you think that some made-up rule you’re all hung up over would stop me from doing literally anything? It wouldn’t stop me from walkin’ to the freakin’ fridge and drinkin’ a soda, let alone keepin’ a promise I was serious about. I’m Turbo. I’m Turbo-freakin’-tastic. I only ever do what I want.”

“By that logic,” I butt in, fighting to keep my voice steady, “You shouldn’t doubt my promise, either. I’m Make-it Mavis. You’re supposed to know me, too. You oughtta know that I only ever do what I want. It’s all I’ve ever done.”

You waited, and prompted me quietly, “And what do you want… Make-it Mavis?”

I mumbled, “I… want…”

My words started to get stuck. I realized I was about to attempt a whole heck of a lot of words that I didn’t know how to use outside of songwriting. I’d sang sappy, flowery crap before, because… whatever, it’s just music.

Saying it and meaning it… now, that threw my head for a loop. I was lost. But I gave it my best shot.

“Hopefully, the same thing you want,” I drew in a steadying breath, and exhaled, “...To stay together. To stay… with you.”

You went completely still for a second, until you whispered, “Yeah…” and squeezed my hips, “...ditto. So… you oughtta know that if I say-- if I promise that I’m not gonna leave… y’know, all I’m doing is promising to do what I want. And that, you can always trust me to do.”

Hearing everything you were saying was… surreal, I guess. We were already talking about things I never thought I’d open up to you, even just the tiny bit that I did. But on top of that, you were saying such… real things. I know you had trouble with that, even more than I did. But I think all the hits you’d been taking knocked so many layers off of you. You were so cold and afraid that you just couldn’t afford to waste time and energy faking it. Drowning yourself in root beer all night probably had a thing to do with it, too. And it’s not exactly that being real and open was coming easy to you that night -- you still stammered and stumbled, but you were trying. You were really trying. And we both know that opening up isn’t easy for me, either, but… seeing you do it just pulled me right in, and I could hardly stop myself as the night went on. It was more than a little uncomfortable. It was agonizingly wrong. But, Devs, was it incredible, too.

But as great as your words sounded… I didn’t know how to let them sink in. Everything I’d learned about my lot in life was shutting you down with an infallible counter argument. No matter what you said at first, even if you meant it, over time, you would change your mind.

I stared at your bed, and I tried to pretend I wasn’t really speaking. “...But how do you know… that’s always gonna be what you want? Like… how can you promise you’re never gonna change your mind?”

“I-- Well--” you coughed a short, stressed laugh, “I don’t know… I mean, I could ask you the same question, couldn’t I?”

“You’re deflecting,” I told you, and I finally let my smock slip from my fingers. I was certain that I would not change my mind, but I had no idea how to say so in a way you’d believe. I wasn’t… even sure how I knew, honestly. But I did. 

“Alright, fair enough,” you replied. Just then, you stepped closer to me and slipped your hands around the front of my belly, sort of rubbing and squeezing in ways that felt more distressed than affectionate. You leaned your head forward above my shoulder, and said, “If you really need an answer, then… I mean… I’m gonna plagiarize a bit here and say that I know… hopefully the same way you know.”

Your grabby hands were starting to make me jumpy, so I held them still over my shirt and breathed deeply. I said, “That’s not a real answer, T. How do you think I know… exactly?”

“Mmm-- Why… don’t… you...” you mumbled, and I saw your face turn towards me from the corner of my eye, “tell me?”

I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t freakin’ know. I got a tad frustrated at the circles we were talking around each other. So I leaned a bit to turn my head back and give you a look, but in my drunken grace, I tipped my center of balance right over your bed. I toppled right over it, and, naturally, took you down with me, knocking your head right against the wall. You yelped and cursed and whined like a princess, lying next to me and holding your forehead.

And, obviously, I burst out laughing. Which felt like a cold drink of water after everything we’d just done. You were offended, of course. Shoved my side a few times and buried me in blankets and accused me of enjoying your pain. By the time I wormed my way out of the blanket trap (which took way too long), you were leaning back against the pillows at the head of your bed. You’d finally taken your shoes off and stopped using your jumpsuit as pants, so you at least looked a bit more ready for bed, something I was mostly glad of. But you still looked anxious and pensive, folding your arms and staring at your feet. I knew we were far from done.

After taking off my shoes and jeans, I joined you at the head of the bed. I just mirrored your position, sitting next to you and looking straight ahead. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to start, or if you had something else to say. But I figured that we did technically leave off on my turn.

“So…” I started awkwardly, “What do you think? Are you ready to believe me?”

You were quiet for a long time, but answered plainly, “No. Will you believe me?”

I wanted to, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. “No.”

“Great. So, what now?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “I mean… Can you really prove you’re gonna keep a promise… before you actually keep it?”

You considered that. “I… dunno. Not this sort, I guess. You have to just, sorta… do it.”

“Well, let's see… I mean, the passage of time is proof,” I offered. “I think the only way you’ll be convinced that I’ll do good on my word is to just… look over one day, see I’m still there, and go, ‘Hey, it’s been long enough now, I bet she really will keep her promise.’”

You scoffed. “You? It’d take a good chunk of time to convince me of that.”

“I’m an Easter Egg, I’ve got more time than I know what to do with. BFD. We’ve been hanging out for, what, nearly five years now? I can do that again. Easy.”

“Five?” you laughed, unimpressed. “BFD. Five is nothing. Definitely not convincing.”

I looked at you, suddenly feeling like I’d been issued a challenge. You peered at me from the corner of your eye, with a look that just confirmed my suspicions. 

Eyes narrow, I said, “Did I say five? I meant ten.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is that really the best you can do?”

“What’s the best you can handle?”

“More’n ten, that’s for sure.”

I leaned into you. “Twenty.”

You closed your eyes. “More.”

“Thirty!”

“More.”

My brain grinded to a halt. I took a step back from the silly little game we had clumsily fallen into and thought about what I was saying. About what you were saying. It’s not in our nature to surrender to each other. We would just keep climbing higher and higher, stretching on until…

I leaned back from you and stared, a realization settling into me that stoked a painful heat in my chest. You didn’t open your eyes, even after a good long while. I got the sense that you’d stopped playing around, too. But I knew you were waiting for me to say it.

I said slowly, “It… would really take… forever to convince you, huh?”

You paused, and I saw you swallow before you cracked your eyes open a bit and said, “Yeah. It would.”

We stared at each other for a minute.

You asked quietly, “...Well? You… still think you got what it takes?”

Everything in me was still screaming to abort, to not be so monumentally stupid. But what you said about breaking the rules really stuck in my crazy head. I was determined to not let the voices in the back of my head win this one. It was a big risk, sure. But what’s my life without stupid, crazy risks? 

So, like a big, dumb idiot, I breathed, “Yeah. Easy.”

I saw you take a deep breath, and you started tugging a bit at the rolls in the sheets. “Okay. Cool. Good,” you nodded, the faintest tremor in your voice. “And… what do you think? Would that convince you?”

I answered without even thinking, “I don’t know. I’ll see when we get there.”

A lone, wet laugh cut from your throat, but then you went quiet, fidgeting and looking me up and down. I wasn’t much better off, but I thought I’d go ahead and ask what you must have been thinking. 

“So, now… do you wanna do this?”

You nodded once. “...Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Heart pounding, I sat back and looked forward, amazed at the strength it was taking just to raise my right hand. I did so, and I lifted my pinky finger. You did the same with your left at my side, but we didn’t hook our fingers just yet. We waited a long time before saying anything, for any number of reasons. You were the first one to speak.

Barely above a breath, you said, “Promise you won’t leave.”

I whispered back, “Promise,” and said to you, “Promise you’ll never ditch me.”

You replied, “Promise.”

I was ready to shake on it then, and even tried to hook your finger, but you pulled away a bit. 

“Promise you won’t go,” you repeated, your voice starting to quiver.

I was thrown, but mostly, my heart just ached.

“Promise,” I assured you.

“Say you won’t go.”

“Turbo.”

You were stressing yourself out again. I could feel you shaking next to me. I don’t think you were crying, but I’m sure you would have started hyperventilating again if I let you keep going. You were in such rough shape, and while I had every intention of staying with you forever like we said, I sincerely hoped it wouldn’t actually take that long for you to believe I wouldn’t leave you. The thought of you living with that fear forever was just… awful. If only you could have seen inside my head and known that I was telling the truth.

I said slowly, “Get this through your head, okay? ...I promise this'll last. But you gotta promise, too.”

You took a long, steadying breath, and waited for the words to come to you. “I promise… I didn't mean all that crap I said. And I'll never… y'know, I'll never hurt you again. And I’ll stay with you. Promise.”

I clenched my jaw, affronted by how many times I'd cried that evening, and refusing to add one more to it. “‘Kay,” I half-laughed, “why'd you make yours better than mine?”

You were startled by your own chuckle. “‘Cuz I'm better than you.”

“Yeah. There he is.”

You laughed through your nose.

Heartbeat in my ears, the room starting to spin, I crossed my pinky over yours. “...Forever?”

And you hooked it. “Forever.”

I felt a chill of sweat in my palms as I stared at our intertwined pinkies, that tiny bit of physical contact, the very first safe touch I managed to hold for over a minute with you back in the days of our beginnings. The sight just threw me back, and it made me marvel at how far we had come. It all started when I humiliated you for pay. We got in a bar fight. We fought again and again and again, because I just loved messing with you. Then you messed with me back. Suddenly we’re hanging out. We’re singing, we’re dancing, we’re joking, we’re being no-good punks and kickin’ ass. Then we touched. We kissed. We made out. We had sex, for Pong’s sake. And somehow, we ended up right there, locking pinkies again, swearing that this bizarre, chaotic, spectacular ride would last forever.

When the Twins hired me to prank their insufferable Good Guy all those years ago, I never would have predicted it would lead to this.

I had no idea how lucky I was.

Just that moment, I had something to say to you. I’m gonna be honest with you, here -- I don’t remember what it was. All I remember is that when I turned my head to say it to you, your face bumped right into the bandages on my cheek, and I cursed.

I said, “Nana Litwak, Turbo, watch it!”

“Oh! Geez!” You jumped back, releasing my hand to bring your hands to my face, apparently making a drunk, knee-jerk attempt to fix your mistake. Your fingers poked onto the bandages again, and I smacked your leg.

“Well don’t freakin’ touch it!”

“Sorry! Sorry, geez,” you slurred, not quite taking your hands away. You just held onto the lower halves of my cheeks, coming in for a closer look. Well, that’s what I thought at first, anyway. I was just about to complain more when you showed me what you were trying to do the first time you bumped me.

You just… kissed me. Right on the mouth, out of nowhere.

By startle reflex, I gasped and jumped back a bit, just enough to break the kiss. You still held my face close enough that I could actually see the red irises in your wide eyes. I could tell you were a bit freaked out by my silence, thinking you’d just made an ass of yourself, but that… wasn’t it.

The second I felt you kiss me, something in my mind turned over, and all those memories I’d been reminiscing on seconds before… tilted. Just the slightest bit. And I saw them all from a new angle, one that I realized had been there the entire time. I even felt pretty stupid for not seeing it sooner. But just that tiny new angle sent a swoop of gravity in my stomach that nearly took the strength from my bones. I felt the whole world fall silent, and I got the feeling that… this was it. This was my last chance to walk away before getting in too deep. I thought I had a choice to make.

But I found something else, looking back on those memories. I saw just how many chances I had to walk away from you. How many times I could have played it safe and kept you at a distance, the same way I’d do with anybody. Each and every chance that came, I let pass by. I never took a single one. I was kidding myself that night, thinking I had a decision to make. I’d already made my decision.

I’d made it a hundred times over.

I saw you start to pull away, a look on your face that clearly spelled what you were about to do. You would try to play it off, maybe say that you were drunker than you thought, maybe suggest we forget about it and just go to sleep. Fat chance.

You started to say, “Look, I--”

But I told you, “Save it,” and pulled your face back to mine.

You jumped right back into it with this overwhelming sort of urgency, struggling to decide the best way to hold me, like your life depended on keeping me close. I couldn’t stop myself from doing the same. I felt like I wanted you all to myself, even though there was no one else to take you.

It was… weird. Weird and gross.

Which is strange in itself, because it’s not like we’d never kissed before. It was just the wrong context. We weren’t just making out for the heck of it. We weren’t fooling around. We weren’t teasing, or joking, or bored, or high. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t steamy. You did push me down against the pillows, but no hands wandered. It carried on quite a while, but it never escalated -- we just took it for what it was. And, honestly, I think we were both sort of afraid to stop and think about what the hell we just did. About what it meant. About what might have changed.

It pains me in so many ways to say this, but… again, the fact alone that we were kissing wasn’t gross. What was gross was the fact that… it was the very first kiss we had that felt… anything but platonic.

It was also our last.

And our best.

When we were done, we still held our faces close for a minute. I’m not sure how you looked, because I refused to open my eyes. I was too… nervous, I guess. About what, I’m not sure. All the same, you dropped to lie by my side, and pulled me into a firm embrace under your chin. You didn’t move after that, save for deep, shaky breaths. I could hear your heart pounding. 

I wasn’t sure what to do. I shifted and got a bit more comfortable, and you pulled me back in just as tight after. I laughed awkwardly, “Sheesh, T. Clingy much?”

You said, “Just holdin’ you to your word,” muffled against my head.

“Funny,” I said, “my word feels an awful lot like your body.”

You huffed a single chuckle. “Lucky you.”

I scoffed a bit, but as the humor died down, and I was thoroughly soaked in the heat of your body, a sort of peace and anxiety settled into me at the same time. All was dark. All was warm. All was still and quiet, save for your heartbeat. If I tried, I could have easily imagined that your trailer was floating somewhere far away, so far that the drama and abuse from life in the arcade was out of earshot, out of sight, out of mind. I wanted it to stay that way. I wanted it so badly that I was worried you would let go too soon, and the moment would end.

So I wrapped an arm around you, held onto your shirt, and muttered against your chest, “Don’t… Don’t let go.”

Your fingers squeezed my shoulder, and you said quietly, “Wasn’t plannin’ on it.”

It was my turn for insecurity. To need reassurance. I repeated, “Just-- just say you won’t let me go.”

“I ain’t lettin’ you go, Mav.”

“You’ll never let me go.”

“Never.”

“Like we promised.”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Yeah, like we promised.”

We sure did promise.

I can’t tell you how gut-wrenchingly, heartbreakingly painful it is to look back on that, knowing you broke your promise almost immediately. Knowing how badly I wanted to believe you. Knowing how badly I wish my promise had saved you, even for just one more day.

But you were already too far gone.

If there’s anything good I can say… it’s that I’m glad our last moments were meaningful. I’m glad to have had even one night with you after I figured out how I felt.

How I feel. How I’ll feel forever.

Like I promised.

Now, unfortunately, I can’t say for sure what happened here. You see, the GC in my code really began to dig its claws deeper, and my hallucinated memory took a turn for the abstract and unreal. Lying there with you, I suddenly felt cold air blow in on me in stark contrast to your warmth. At first, I just shivered and curled tighter, but once I realized something was off, I finally opened my eyes again.

Your trailer was gone. Your game was gone. It was just you, me, and your bed, floating on a patch of ice on a calm, black ocean that stretched on forever in all directions. And up above, oh… up above was a sky full of more stars than I ever thought possible. It was like someone had spilled a bag of sugar across the night sky, and every grain glistened so brightly. There were no clouds, no moon. Just stars. Some of them started to streak across the sky and fall away into the horizon.

In my awe, a thought occurred to me. I’m not sure why it did, which really leads me to wonder… Did I really say this to you, or was it part of the hallucination?

I said, “T… all that stuff you said… about no one remembering you once you’re gone… Do you really believe that?”

You didn’t answer.

“It’s just… you know, I’ve always thought that I… when I go, there will be so many gamers who never knew me in the first place. That’s always freaked me out. But with you, I’ve always thought… Well, I look at you, your game, and your life, and it’s always been clear to me that… you’re unforgettable. You’ll go down in history, one way or another. I don’t know how to convince you of that. I sort of… thought you always knew it. You sure acted like you did. But… I know this won’t count for much, but believe me when I say… Even if somehow, everyone else forgot about you… I never would. As long as I’m alive, there will always be at least one sprite who remembers you. Even if no one remembers me, I’ll remember you. You can add that to my promise.”

I pushed my face back into your chest, and said, “I promise I’ll never forget you.”

I sure hope I said that. I hope you heard it.

I just don’t know.

Because the second the words left my mouth, you released me and sat up, holding your face with one hand and shaking. My heart nearly stopped. I was afraid it was something I said. I sat up when I heard you start sniffling.

“T? What is it?”

You just coughed wetly.

It was then that the suffocating smell of gasoline hit me like a brick wall. Eyes watering, wheezing, I covered my nose and mouth with my shirt. I didn’t understand until I looked out at the ocean again, and realized we weren’t floating in water at all anymore. 

It was gasoline. Miles and miles of gasoline. 

This overwhelming feeling of dread came over me, like I knew what was coming. I had to get us out of there, but my paint tools were nowhere to be seen. I reached out to you, to try to warn you, but when you turned your face towards me, I choked on a scream.

Your eyes were flickering like broken lights. One of them was throwing off sparks and cracked in like broken glass. You were crying these popping, spitting streams of black oil, and thick plumes of smoke were curling out of your mouth.

I was paralyzed, but you tried to play it off with a smile. “Hey,” you said, your voice crackling like a failing radio, “I’ll be fine. Come find me in the fire, later.”

A star fell, and the ocean went up in flames.

Then it all went black.

And I never saw you again.

[hollyhomburg]

I must be the only one offended by the Korean “ideal type”. They literally say things like “white skin” “blue eyes” “5’7” “one monolid” nd more like wtf is that? I’ve never seen anyone be that specific on a someone. What happened to great personality?m nd getting along? Am I ugly because I’m brown with kinky hair nd brown eyes? I feel insecure reading those. Are BTS like this with ideal types as well? Personality doesn’t matter to them? All they care for is white skin blue eyes straight hair

I think that anyone who has been in love a few times and had a ton of failed relationships can tell you that an ideal type as far as physical features go is a load of shit. at the end of the day, if someone looks good but dosent make you feel good then you’re not going to want to stay with them.

 I wouldn't stress about trying to conform to beauty standards too much because if you do- you’re just going to become self-regulating and critical and internally unhappy- because there is no true ideal type. and I think you can agree- you’d rather be with someone who made you happy and could be happy with you and enjoy life at the moment when compared to someone who criticized themselves to the point where they couldn't enjoy the good things that came to them and only obsessed over how much better they could become.

I had a relationship with a very insecure man once, who couldn't get over the fact that I wasn’t sexually attracted to him- even though I tried to explain that im asexual and never feel it and don't feel sexually attracted to anyone- he couldn't let it go. Even though I loved him for who he was and wanted to be around him because he made me happy. He sabotaged our relationship by trying to guilt-trip me into having sex with him before I was ready, even though I told him I wanted to wait until I felt ready. it wasn’t that i didn't tell him i liked how he looked either- because I did, I was never shy about telling him what I liked about him- like his hair or his hands, or that I appreciated who he was and what he did for me and loved how he made me feel. 

I don't know why he did this, why he insisted we needed to be sexually active in our relationship even though I felt uncomfortable. Probably because he was trying to prove he was sexually attractive. or maybe it was because he couldn't get over the fact that he felt sexually unattractive and tried to use me to prove to himself that he was- I don't know. My point is- being obsessed with how you appear to others can ruin relationships if you let it, because even though I was prepared to love him for a long time, he didn't want it unless I was sexually attracted to him. 

I’m not saying it's not human to care about how we look because it is, or that looking at a person whose cute and to like them because they’re cute is shallow, cuz that is how most of our initial attraction to someone can be triggered. but after a relationship develops it becomes unimportant. you’re not always going to look pretty to the person you love. those ‘ideal types’ you see in magazines or on the computer screen don’t exist without boatloads of prep. but my point is, life and love is a balance of these things, and i think its mostly because we live in such a visual culture that the idea of an ‘ideal’ type is so prevalent. 

but in reality, love is not about looks- at least not entirely. it’s more about if they love us the way we need to be loved, and if they perceive our love in a way that makes them feel good.  

as for the boys- I don't know how they feel, and they probably won’t ever be able to express it correctly because of the lives that they lead. but I like to think that they view the person they love as more than just look. when I think about namjoon’s lyrics “your sexy mind and your sexy body” - like body come before mind right? and Jungkook singing in euphoria about how he feels- that's a real love song. not singing about who’s got that booty or those boobs or those eyes, but who makes you feel euphoric and giddy and in love. I like to think that they love in this way.  But I won't lie to you, I doubt we’ll ever know for sure- or at least- that we’ll know before they’ve already found their person and have gone public with them. 

[betterdaysareatoenailaway]

Sleep Tight For Me...I’m Gone

Lately I’ve been writing these Better Days Are A Toenail Away™️ posts in Microsoft Word, selecting all and changing the font to Garamond, which is so readable and beautiful, and posting the Word docs, paragraphs by paragraph, inside these Tumblr drafts. It makes things look nice, to my old fashioned sensibilities, but fixing errors is a time-consuming and needlessly convoluted four-step process.

First, I have to copy, then delete the paragraph containing the error. Then I open the doc. and paste the error-ridden paragraph back into Word. After I find and fix the error, I need to save it and copy and paste it back into the post. It's time-consuming because I’m not just copying a paragraph. As you can see from more recent post, what I copied looked more like a photograph of the paragraph, not the words themselves written in Tumblr’s default font Arial. For an example of this, see below. I like the way it looks like old newspaper clippings. I posted an article about how my fent dealer John Smith kept getting robbed, and had resorted to putting a machete in front of his front door as a way of preventing this, a lever of sorts, which is plainly visible in the video I posted,

So today I’ve given up on trying to make my posts look like books or zines, and have given into the Tumblr font, which is about as pretty as a horse with his snout shot off.

There are two much longer posts I’m working on right now, one about Nirvana and one about Soundgarden, respectively, and how both bands were very unlike their public perception, but those posts are taking a lot of work so I’m putting them on the backburner because today is some dumbass corporation’s day where it tries to synthesize mental health and profit and the end result is as baldly capitalist and clumsy as you would expect. 

I’m not gonna name the company, or repeat their stupid fucking slogan. As far as I can tell (which isn't very far), talking about my trauma has never made me feel better. And in fact it has sometimes made me feel worse, because in telling you what hurts and scares me, I’ve given a part of myself away that I can’t get back. When you’re like me, and you’ve lost everything multiple times, sometimes the only form of power you have is how you choose, or do not choose, to tell your story. And in a world where everybody wants to tell “their truth,” silence is power. 

You don’t get to know me, sorry. I’m not gonna hand you my life, both my bad and good experiences, and conclude: “Welp, that’s why I’m so fucked up. Case closed.” 

Honestly, I used to be a little confused, or miffed that my former partner (who is an amazing person btw, in every respect) almost never spoke about some of the traumatic things she’d experienced in her past. I took it as a sign that she either didn’t trust me, or she didn’t think I would be a sympathetic listener, or the mere fact of my gender precluded her from sharing because I couldn’t truly understand what it was she had gone through. It’s not like I ever asked her to talk about it, but I did say, once or twice, “hey if you ever wanna talk about that stuff, I’m around.” She never took me up on it, and I let it go. 

But as I watched her, and saw her life unfold, over the years we spent together, I began to realize I wasn’t exactly in any position to be telling her how to live her life or how to be mentally healthy. After all, she has found success in a number of avenues, both creative and occupational, and I’ve found neither. I'm not saying the fact that she didn't talk much about her trauma is the reason for her success. I'm saying that she's forged a better path through life than I have, and maybe I should take a cue from that.

She never told me what to do, per se. It was more like living by example. But because I’m pretty dense, and a severe addict, our time together actually sorta reminds me now of that Cornell lyric from his first record: She’s going to change the world. But she can’t change me.

I have certainly found that talking about how shitty my life is only makes me feel more shitty, not free, or unburdened, or better. If you wanna talk about your problems, and you find it helpful, more power to you. Just don’t wait for a corporation to tell you it’s okay to not be okay. 

When Chris Cornell died I was so shocked. Of all the grunge icons he seemed the most stable, and he'd survived the rise and fall of two major label rock bands. If anyone had survived the media machine that chewed up and spat out Staley, Cobain, and to a lesser extent Andrew Wood and Shannon Hoon, it was Cornell. He would be the last guy to support hashtag activism like #StarbucksMyLifeSucks. Chris Cornell actually loved to fuck with the best laid plans of corporate rats. Molson once had a few promotional concerts in Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territories, called Molson Canadian Rocks Arctic, with both Hole and Soundgarden playing to a crowd of flown-in grunge fans and bemused locals. But the whole anti-corporate thing grunge was known for actually came through when Courtney Love told the crowd she “use[d] Molson Canadian to douche.” Lol. Here’s a photo of Love arriving in Tuktoyatuk.

Cornell told the same people “so we’re here because of some beer company? Labatt’s?” Both artists’ jabs are funny. Cornell’s was a bit more subtle, but that’s what Cornell was like. 

So today’s post is about Chris Cornell’s suicide, more specifically the media’s reaction to it. For whatever reason, when Cornell died, every single news outlet, from CNN to Fox to CBC, posted “Black Hole Sun,” as if it’s the only song he ever fucking wrote, or – and this is far worse – the only song he wrote that’s worth hearing. The problem with this is more than twofold or threefold. It's fucking hydraheaded. 

Not only is “Black Hole Sun” a mediocre piece of music, it’s a complete misrepresentation of Soundgarden’s sound. 

Now, I’m a huge fan of the A.V. Club series HateSong, in which public figures gleefully talk shit about the one song they hate more than any other song in the world. The Max Bemis (Say Anything) one where he talks about Nirvana’s “Rape Me” as a terrible rewrite of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” is terrific, but comedian Anthony Jeselnik’s HateSong takes “Black Hole Sun” apart, and I love it. I think the best line is: I think the more I hear it, the worse it gets. AVC: After the song became a huge hit, Chris Cornell said that he’d written it in about 15 minutes. AJ: I totally believe that. I don’t believe that Soundgarden likes that song. Like, I remember Eminem once said that he knew his song “My Name Is” was going to be a huge hit because the first time he heard it he was annoyed. It’s something about an annoying song that just grabs onto people. But I don’t think that anyone likes “Black Hole Sun.” I’ve never heard of anyone who likes it. I don’t understand why it gets played so much. It’s become a summer jam, and it’s not a summer song at all. Jeselnik is right that Soundgarden didn’t think much of the song. Guitarist Kim Thayil wasn’t kidding when he disparagingly called it the “Dream On” of their live show. And Cornell himself, known for a meticulous approach to his songwriting, had admitted that with “Black Hole Sun”was “probably the closest to me just playing with words for words’ sake, of anything I’ve written. I guess it worked for a lot of people who heard it, but I have no idea how you'd begin to take that one literally.” I mean it’s obvious from the opening lines that Cornell is just playing with words and how they sound: in my eyes/indisposed/in disguises no one knows What songs would have been more appropriate for Cornell’s untimely death? Glad you asked! Cuz there’s like…fucking at least ten that would have been better. I’m not tryna be one of those “the deep album cuts are better maaaaaan,” but with Soundgarden, it happens to be true. With some bands, the single are their best work. With other bands, the singles are the hors d’oeuvres for the entrees. So what deep cuts would have celebrated Cornell’s death a bit better? Well, to begin with, Superunknown’s strange and stately closer “Like Suicide” would have worked, for obvious reasons.

“Tighter and Tighter,” a song that is actually about the moment of death and what it might feel like, is one of my all-time fav Soundgarden songs. Not only is it a creepy and prescient prediction of what Cornell’s death by hanging himself may have felt like, it’s opening line is a good description of the personification of death: Shadow face/Blowing smoke and talking wind

Another sample lyric: “A sucking holy wind will take me from this bed tonight/and bloody wits another hits me and I have to say goodbye/sleep tight for me, I’m gone/and I hope it’s  a sweet ride/here for me tonight/cuz I’m feel I’m going/feel I’m slowing down.” 

The morning after Cornell’s death hit the news my buddy and bandmate James told me that en route to work his phone, which was playing music randomly through his car speakers, landed on “Tighter and Tighter” and he had to pull over because he was tearing up. 

“Fell On Black Days” is another song about depression and mortality. Cornell had the following to say about the song: “Fell on Black Days” was like this ongoing fear I’ve had for years ... It's a feeling that everyone gets. You're happy with your life, everything’s going well, things are exciting—when all of a sudden you realize you’re unhappy in the extreme, to the point of being really, really scared. There's no particular event you can pin the feeling down to, it's just that you realize one day that everything in your life is fucked! 

Now, if that’s not a cogent and even-tempered explanation of suicidal thoughts, what is? Why else would Cornell have admitted to being “really really scared” by his depression unless he knew what that depression could ultimately leasd to? Here’s some lyrics to “Fell on Black Days.” Dig the high literary use of “whomsoever” and “whatsoever.” Whatsoever I’ve feared has come to life Whatsoever I fought off became my life Just when every day seemed to greet me with a smile sunspots have faded and now I’m doing time cuz I fell on black days

Whomsoever I’ve cured I’ve sickened now Whomsoever I’ve cradled...I put you down I’m a searchlight soul they say but I can’t see it in the night I’m only faking when I get it right I sure don’t mind a change but I fell on black days how would I know that this could be my fate?

Eagle-eared listeners might think this version different from the album version. They are right. The rendition in the video was recorded live off the floor @ Bad Animals, the Seattle studio owned by Heart, where Soundgarden would record Down on the Upside. 

“Boot Camp” is a scary meditation about loss of agency that for years was tied with Zeppelin’s “I'm Gonna Crawl” for Creepiest Song to Cap a Discography, until Soundgarden reunited and released King Animal.

“Taree” is about ghost light, influencing events after dying and features Cornell’s most exhausted, convincing “yeah” @ 2:57.

“Applebite” is a Matt Cameron-penned ponderous clunker about Adam’s original expulsion from Eden. Doomy and death-laden.

“Let Me Drown” is a song about letting someone die.

“The Day I Tried To Live” is frequently cited as Soundgarden’s finest achievement, its odd time signature somehow sounds straight, thanks to Matt Cameron’s brilliant time keeping.

“4th of July” is a song about a post apocalyptic urban landscape, where the speaker isn’t sure whether he is seeing fireworks or bombs. 

“Limo Wreck” is a cool death song and has an eerie 9-11 prediction. “Building the towers belongs to the sky/when the whole thing comes crashing down don’t ask me why.” 

ANY of the above songs would have been better than that fucking asinine dirge-like major key fuckaround that has somehow not just become Soundgarden's signature song...but their ONLY song. 

Does nobody remember Johnny Cash covering “Rusty Cage?” 

“Outshined?”

“Burden In My Hand?”

“Blow Up The Outside World?”

Did none of these other songs get stuck in the electric head? (The electric head is Rob Zombie’s term for the technologically advanced culture we have found ourselves enmeshed in, or imprisoned by. It was the subtitle for White Zombie’s 1995 hit album Astro-Creep 2000: Songs of Love, Destruction, and other Synthetic Delusions of the Electric Head.)

For my money (which ain’t much honey), the song that best fits both Cornell’s artistic integrity and the sad circumstances of his suicide is “Tighter and Tighter.” I once wrote a whole article on the way artists use “yeah” as a placeholder or as a way to convey emotion when words themselves aren’t adequate. Dig that tired, world-weary exhausted “yeah” at 5:35 of “Tighter & Tighter.”

Or the creepy line going into the first chorus: remember this...remember everything’s just black or burning sun. Not that I agree with such a bleak worldview. It’s a writer’s line. And Randy Bachman has said, “when you’re a writer, you’d step over your own mother.” That’s the Cornell I want to remember. Not that he would step over his own mother. By all accounts he was a committed family man. I mean, I want to remember the Cornell who created strange atmospheric sonic worlds, who explored the dark side that sadly, eventually won out. His otherworldly beautiful music is what I choose to remember about Chris Cornell, not his estate tastelessly exploiting “Black Hole Sun” by using a line from the song to title a posthumous Cornell album of covers No One Sings Like You Anymore. Sigh.

First Cornell’s widow said this was “Chris’s last album.” Okay. What about the Soundgarden songs he recorded vocals for before he died? Kim Thayil was pretty diplomatic about it when asked recently. Cornell did record vocal tracks for the follow up to King Animal.

Kim Thayil: “Given our love for Chris, I do not see us reconfiguring without him.”

But he makes it clear in this interview that Cornell’s widow Vicky has those tracks and won’t release them to the band. Maybe because she blames the band for Chris dying that night? She’s not wrong to believe that they would have known, and seen, what kind of shape Cornell was in, at least at the venue, maybe not later at the hotel.

Kim Thayil: “It’s entirely possible that a new Soundgarden album will be released. Certainly. All it would need is to take the audio files that are available. I tighten up the guitars. Ben does the bass. We get the producers we want to make it sound like a Soundgarden record.”

Interviewer: “Is there an obstacle stopping that?”

Kim Thayil: “There shouldn’t be. There really isn’t. Other than the fact that we don’t have those files.”

Interviewer: “They’re not under your auspices?”

Kim Thayil: “Right. It would be ridiculous if [the record wasn’t made]. But these are difficult things. Partnerships and...property.”

You’re just gonna keep those wav files? And why title his covers album Volume 1 if it’s his “last album?”

Oh right. $$$

No one does sing like Cornell, but is “Black Hole Sun” really the best thing he ever did? The best song he ever sang? Should an album of covers be the last thing he gives to the world?

The only honest answer is no.

Sleep tight Chris. You’re gone.