#disordered eating implied . i guess. not really.

[mermen]

years and years of trying to train myself into recognizing hunger signals again without success has led my body to give up on that and invent a new hunger signal: sneezing fits

[ardentpoop]

i havent eaten prior to 3 PM for the past 7 days

[arieswritez]

puppy love

puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 3

chapter 2

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you'll miss it), violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he's a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization

about; you don't know how long i could stare into your picture and wish that it was me i guess it's different 'cause you love him but i've got an interactive sick and twisted imagination and that's gotta count for something - not allowed (tv girl)

3.

you'd found a boy that made your heart go thump thump, thump. and you knew very well how the rest of that story usually went.

your love was encompassing. asphyxiating and obsessive. and in the very first moment the two of you interacted, you knew, this could be it.

you didn't blame yourself.

you couldn't blame yourself.

blame the love stories.

the disney movies with the princes and the magic mirrors. breaking curses with true love's kiss. much like the fabricated sugary fantasies, your potential life with him unfolded before your eyes.

he could be the one.

true love's forever kiss.

you imagined it all.

movie theater dates, awkward parental meetings, proposals, a home, kids, pets. arguments. therapy, even. pushing through at the end. death. rebirth. trying it all over again in the next life.

all you had to do was get him to stick around.

you had to make him understand that you could be his true love kiss, too.

you had to be perfect.

. . there was just one miniscule problem.

the boy so happened be on the same baseball team as mark.

it's the way the two of you had met.

despite the fact that you were supposed to be there for mark: your eyes were . . elsewhere. your eyes - then your focus - had gravitated towards him even before the first pitch. and you found yourself blushing as you watched him stretch: holding his baseball bat over his head.

you'd made it your only goal to attempt to extract as much information about it from mark as discretely as you could. and frankly, you should've known mark would be able to read you like the back of his hand.

because he found out what you were trying to do embarrassingly quickly.

and he was just as quick to shut it down.

you hadn't noticed the boy before. not really. but since the baseball game, he seemed to be everywhere. and you were excited to find that he was the new addition to mark's friend group. you knew this because you saw him and mark sitting together during lunch.

which meant they were at least acquaintances.

so imagine your shock when you came to find out. . mark didn't like him.

everything about him seemed to rub mark the wrong way. mark would clam up the moment you mentioned your boy. he'd change the subject. or his mood would just straight up sour. he'd go quiet and avoidant. and when you kept pushing, he finally snapped.

your boy was stupid.

your boy was shallow.

"don't say i didn't warn you." mark would mumble.

but warning you wasn’t enough.

your boy barely looked at you.

and you weren't sure if it was in part because of the way you acted. . the way you looked. maybe he was so out of your league that he'd completely removed you from his radar.

you'd watch him from across hallways and excitement would swell in your chest when you found that you'd be walking in opposite directions.

you'd see him coming.

he'd see you.

time would slow as you walked past him.

your heart rate would pick up.

but his eyes would remain forward and time would pick back up again as soon as you were past each other.

all it'd leave you with was the bitter taste of rejection in your mouth and a deep ache of anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

the only thing that sobered you up were the dizzying possibilities.

he hadn't seen you. he hadn't noticed the effort you'd put in.

but eventually, he would.

you don't know what it was that grabbed his attention.

mark was vehemently against introducing you two.

you were at a loss until you realized that you'd just have to try harder.

whenever mark left for the bathroom, you'd made it a mission to swipe mark's phone during study sessions. you'd go through his socials and send yourself screenshots of both his follower count and who he was following.

it was a long tedious progress but eventually, you'd found your boy's account.

thankfully, it was public. which meant the the decoy accounts you'd made to snoop just in case he was private turned out to be a waste of time.

you looked through his followers and did your homework on anyone he showed a particular interest in. you'd even made a list of the usernames of the people who’s posts he interacted with the most.

and soon you became a master of disguise.

you studied them top to bottom.

those that went to the same school were far easier to emulate.

you copied their mannerisms, the way they styled their hair, you changed the cadence of your voice, the way you rolled your r’s. your clothing grew tighter and your slouch was now an exaggerated upbeat gallop as you chased after the object your new affection, hoping one day he'd notice.

. . and the exact moment he looked into your eyes and did a double take. . you did one, too.

it was completely out of surprise before you caught yourself and continued to saunter away from him with butterflies in your stomach: flapping their wings so violently it felt like you'd be swept away.

his attention was the most excitement you'd felt. . in a long time.

and you knew you'd do anything to retain it.

it was a sickly sweet feeling: syrupy, sticky. clogging your vascular system to the point your head swelled. the lack of oxygen only heightened your fantasies.

the attention was addictive and so, so good you found yourself chasing that high all the time. going to extreme lengths to get his attention. even if they’d end up embarrassing you after.

you never allowed yourself to wallow in the feeling of dread that settled in your stomach when you did everything in your power to get his attention, though.

specially whenever it made a smile stretch across his face.

whatever you did faded into the background.

it was all worth it in the end.

something was wrong with mark.

and he needed to get to the root of the problem fast.

he was looking at you. . differently.

he talked to his dad.

nolan had said something about the changing moods having to do with his powers. how being intense and passionate was just in his blood.

he talked to his mom about it. albeit in a more discrete way. he'd never be able to live it down if she'd found out you were making him behave a certain way.

she'd just chalked it up to it being puberty.

mark didn't know who to believe.

he just wanted to stop thinking about you.

his nerves were shot to shit whenever you were near.

senses heightened: you were a fog blanketing his brain until your voice carried with it a technicolor vision.

he could smell you coming like a damn blood hound.

he could hear your pulse while sitting next to you.

something was wrong with mark.

he knew it when his teeth ached when you'd stretched your neck: raised your arms over your head and let out a little sound of pain and discomfort.

something was wrong with mark.

when the day's turned warm and wet. . and your clothing became more revealing.

he could see more of you.

freckles and moles, blemishes and scars, he hadn't noticed before.

he'd follow sweat drops rolling down your skin.

smooth. soft.

he'd held you, once.

when was the last time?

something was wrong with mark.

he'd lay awake at night staring up at the ceiling.

thinking about how you'd looked while you concentrated on a book. while you looked down at your phone. while you listened to music: smiling when a song you liked came on.

your little humming. . but not singing.

never singing.

mark noticed you'd stopped singing in front of him when he started to make fun of you for it.

that, too, was how mark knew something was wrong with him.

the way your moods would shift like tides under a crescent moon whenever he'd said something excited him. he felt pleasure - a violent zap of electricity shooting up and down his spice - watching your eyes light up or darken when he'd say something to you.

about you.

i like your hair today.

light.

you talk so goddamn much.

dark.

i missed you.

light.

your stories take fucking forever.

dark.

something was wrong with him when he found his own mood depended on fantasizing on how he'd make you feel that day.

if he was in a bad mood, seeing you in one, too, was a sure-fire way to make his day a whole lot better.

something was wrong with mark.

when he'd have to smother the sounds he made while imagining you -

something was wrong with him. . when red, hot anger consumed him when one of his friends made a smart quip about your body.

when he couldn't just laugh it off anymore.

something was wrong with mark.

. . or so he thought.

because he'd later find out. .

. . no.

something was wrong with you.

all of a sudden: mark was the one double texting.

triple texting.

mark was the one asking if he could hang out. . and when the fuck did he ever need permission?

mark was the one seeking you out.

something was wrong with you.

and he needed to get to root of the problem.

he picked his brain apart in an attempt to figure out what it was. you couldn't be under any stress. you looked fine. better than fine.

you looked happy.

fucking elated.

to the point where mark couldn't affect your moods anymore.

mark wanted to know what the fuck you were so happy about.

why the fuck you were so happy when he was falling apart at the seams. when his world was crashing down.

and there you were, completely fucking oblivious.

mark had always been curious.

and so, he went to see you.

the two of you were in your room.

you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

and mark started looking.

you were predictable.

he knew where you kept your journal. despite how many times he'd found it and read it aloud - holding it above his head whenever you tried to snatch it away - he'd always managed to figure out your next hiding place.

it was easier that way.

he pretended he didn't know where it was.

you pretended to have some privacy.

he pretended not to know every single, minute, insignificant detail of your life.

of your thoughts.

thank fuck you were still so naive.

thank fuck for dairies.

he'd found it in a box under your bed.

and after flipping to the page with the freshest set of ink. . he'd found out what your problem was.

you'd found a boy who'd made your heart go

thump.

thump.

thump.

[patscorner]

FAMILY DINNER PART2

Summary: Chris joins your family for dinner for the first time and it does not go as planned

Tw: Swearing, physical altercation, mentions of blood, verbal arguing, panic attack mentions of alcohol use, mentions of ed, lmk if I missed something

______________________________

The rest of the dinner was just as awkward as you'd thought it'd be. You can't really come back from your father implying you and your boyfriend just fucked in the bathroom of your childhood home, at the first family 'reunion' in 2 years.

So there you sat, eating your food in silence, waiting -no- begging, that someone cut the tension.

And finally someone does. And as they say, careful what you wish for.

"How many plates have you had, dear?" Your mom asked, looking up from her plate. You look back at her, before glancing at your plate and back to at her again.

"This is my second." You say, mouth full of food. You were thankful that people took your mother's talking as an invitation to also continue their conversations.

"Maybe we should slow down, you know? Save room for dessert, which you clearly don't need." She smiles, as if what she said was the best piece of advice she'd ever given anyone.

Her comments always bothered you, no matter how much you were told to ignore them. But when it came to your weight, it hurt the most. The comments were the worst in high school, as you were a little heavier than the average petite high schooler. But it was never as serious as your mom made it. So when you were a sophomore in high school, you developed an eating disorder, where you couldn't eat even if you tried, where you spent hours crying in front of the mirror, wishing you were skinnier to fit your mother's impossible expectations.

You fought that battle for years, 3 years to be exact. Your mom couldn't help because she saw nothing wrong with what you were doing. She would say, 'It's worth it.' And when you're young, you tend to believe everything your parents say because they'd 'never hurt you.' So after you moved out, Chris helped you get help, and you won your long and cruel battle. Obviously, you still have your days and your moments, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it used to be. Not with your new family. People who actually cared.

"S'cuse me?" You say, your voice laced with agitation.

"Well, honey, you don't want to get fat again, do you?" She said, shoveling broccoli into her mouth.

You had stopped chewing completely, making sure you heard her correctly. You looked over at Chris, who was looking at your mom with his jaw clenched. You look back at your mom and out your hand on Chris's thigh as to tell him to relax.

You felt him put his hand over yours and squeeze, a symbol of reassurance.

You sit back in your seat, looking at your plate in defeat. Guess you were done for the night. But your dad wasn't. In fact, your dad was drunk.

"Oh, honey, leave her alone. She's not nearly as huge as she used to be." He slurred, taking another sip from his beer.

"Okay, this isn't neces-" you start, only to be cut off by your parents. Shocker.

"What do you mean? I mean, look at her, David. She's just as big as she was in high school." You mom says gesturing to you.

Your heart dropped, anger and embarrassment filling your veins. "What the fuck, mom?!" You cry out. "Not only is that something you shouldn't say about people, especially your fucking kid, but I'm also right in front of you. At least have some decency to shit-talk me in private." You remove your hand from your boyfriends lap.

Your mom looks at you in shock, and your dad squints at you. "Woah, woah, relax dear. It's not only your fault. You can't help it." She said, reaching for your hand.

You pull your hand away, a look of disgust covering your face. "I don't want to hear that, mom, why's my weight always been a big fucking obsession of yours?" You snap. You feel Chris's hand on your thigh, which you push off quickly. Usually, when you're angry, the last thing you wanted was to be touched.

"It's not my fault. You were huge. I was trying to help you. Nobody wants a pig as their bride, y/n." She spits. Her words feel like daggers, stabbing into your heart.

"You weren't trying to help. You were doing this for yourself. You never cared about it. You only did it because it made you look good to have skinny, petite children. I'm not you or any of them." You gesture to you siblings. The conversations had stopped by now, all of them watching as you and your parents bickered. Embarrassing. "You're a selfish bitch, who never cared about anybody else but herself a-"

"Hey! You watch how you speak to your mother!" Your dad stands up, and instinctively, so did you and your siblings. James and Peter were the first up, while Julia walked over and made sure Maya wasn't in the room.

Nick, Matt, and Chris all stood up too, but they weren't sure what to do, which you would've found funny, but considering the circumstances...

"Let's all relax, okay." Peter attempts to butt in. He's always been so soft-spoken, but if he needs to, he'll beat the shit outta someone. You knew what he was capable of. You'd seen it when your first boyfriend cheated on you.

Your dad directed his attention to Peter. "You shut the fuck up. You have no room to speak because you're a sorry excuse for a son." He drunkenly pointed at Peter.

"You're talking. You can't even see straight half the time, let alone be eligible to give advice." James, your younger brother spits.

Ah, you'd taught him well.

"You watch your mouth before I knock you the fuck out." Your dad spits, and that seems to shut James up. It breaks your heart knowing your father hadn't changed, and when you left, probably laid hands on your younger siblings. And it appears as though Peter's heart broke, too.

Peter stepped closer to your dad, with the same face of anger you'd seem many times before. "You hit them too, Dad? After what you promised!?" He said, his voice raised.

It was all too much. There are too many memories, too many flashbacks. There are too many similarities of past events.

"O-okay, Peter, relax." You attempt, knowing how fast this could escalate. You hold Chris's hand and squeeze tightly.

"Yeah, listen to the pig, Peter." Your father gritted his teeth.

"With all due respect, sir, I'm gonna need you to stop calling your daughter a pig." You hear an unexpected voice. Chris.

Your dad whips his head, staring at Chris with his eyebrows raised, unimpressed. Little did he know, Chris played hockey, and his brothers, who wouldn't hesitate to jump in, also played hockey.

"Chri-" You start.

"No, no, I'd like to hear what he has to say." Your father mocks.

"No! No, please let's just sto-" you get cut off again.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, Y/N." Your dad yells, taking very quick steps to you.

Chris stood in front of you, Peter and James behind your father.

"Move." He growled at Chris.

Chris sucked his teeth, with fake disappointment on his face. "Sorry, can't do that one, sir."

Your dad huffed, allowing Chris to smell every sip of alcohol he'd drunk. "Move." He stated again.

Chris shook his head. "That's my daughter! Get the fuck out of the way, tough guy."

Chris cocked his head. "Really, because based off what I've seen, you sure don't talk to her like it." He spoke, his voice calm, but stern.

That was it. Your dad snapped. He swung his fist, hitting Chris in the nose. "Dad! What the fuck!" You say.

You watch as Chris doubles over, holding his nose, followed by yelling from everyone in the room. You can't understand anything, but you do know that your dad's got his hands around your collar and is holding you close to his face.

You feel the tears start to fall as the scent of alcohol burns your nose. "You're a little bitch, letting this puny excuse of a man speak to me like that."

"Let her go, dad!" James screamed, followed by Peter's yelling.

You look over and make eye contact with your mom. She stood there, arms crossed, not a single expression on her face. She just let it happen.

Your dad shook you. "LOOK AT ME." He shouted in your face. You closed your eyes, as tears began to fall.

"CHRIS NO!" Nick yells. That's all you hear before you dropped. You didn't realize he was choking you until he let go. You look up and see Chris on top of your dad, landing blows like he if were in a hockey game. Your dad got a few heavy punches in, too, as you expected.

Chris had a bloody nose, a bloody lip, and crimson knuckles. Blood stained his big hands, and you couldn't tell if it was his or your father's.

Matt and Nick finally managed to push Chris out of the house, leaving you and your family. Your dad was still screaming drunk profanities, while James made sure you were okay. Peter and your mom held your dad back from chasing your boyfriend.

You had walked out of the dining room and went to sit on the stairs. Tears streamed down your face as you felt yourself slip into a familiar but unfamiliar trance. You were completely unaware of your surroundings at this point, so lost in your brain that the rest of your body was just frozen.

You don't know how long you are disassociating for, but you heard muffled shouting until you didn't. The yelling was replaced with ringing, something your brain did as a coping mechanism, mostly when you were young and hiding with your siblings in the bathroom while your dad trashed your home.

"-aby, can you take a deep breath from me?" You look up, but your vision is blurred, and you can't make out who's speaking - or anything for that matter.

You blink slowly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It usually took you a while to come back to reality during these moments.

"Can someone get her a cup of water?" You hear the voice again, and despite your yearning to speak, you can't get any words out. Your mouth opens, and you try to speak, but it comes out more of a choked whine.

"Shh, I know, sweetheart, it's okay." Chris wipes the tears coming for your cheeks. Your pupils were enlarged, and your eyes were open, but you couldn't see.

"Thank you." Chris muttered as Matt handed him a cup of ice water. "Here, baby." He put his hands in the icy water, shaking them, so his hands are damp. He took your hands, which had a death grip on your hoodie, and rubbed his cold fingers over your knuckles.

You focused on the feeling of his frigid fingers and you felt yourself coming back to reality.

You blink quickly as more tears fall. "Aw ma, don't cry, it's okay, sweetheart." Chris coos, placing his hands on your hips, rubbing his thumbs on the bone.

His attempts to ground you are successful, as your eyes finally focus on his eyes. "Hey, hey, you coming back to me, baby?" Chris asks, his voice soothingly attempting to comfort you.

You nod absent-mindedly, relief flooding your body as you come back to reality.

You take in your surroundings for the first time in what felt like forever. You're sat on the stairs, your hands shaking from the adrenaline flowing through your veins.

You finally make eye contact with Chris, his eyes full of love and worry. He's got a bruise on the side of his face, a busted lip, and blood falling from his nose, smeared on his upper lip.

"Chris..." you say, cupping his face, rubbing his cheeks down to his lip, frowning when he winced. "Baby..."

He pulls away, chuckling lightly. "It's fine, baby, I'm okay. I just wanted to make sure you were safe." He squeezed your hips in reassurance.

"I'm okay." You say. But then your mind screams at you. "Fuck, where's Maya... an-and, James. Oh, fuck, what about Julia and Pet-" your cut off by Chris's lips on yours. You sigh into the kiss, your hands trailing down his neck.

He pulls away and smiles sadly. "Thank you." You whisper, looking down. "Anytime, baby. I'm so sorry. God, I'm so fucking sorry." He said, leaning his forehead on yours.

You shake your head. "It's okay, he's a fucking asshole." Chris kisses your cheek. "Let's get outta here? I made a little bit of a mess."

You raise your eyebrows. "A little?" Chris kisses his teeth and scoffs.

You smile and kiss his cheek. "Anybody would've done it, Chris. It's okay, really." You speak softly.

Chris smiles and helps you up. "Let's go home." He leads you down the stairs and reaches for the door.

But it opens before he can open it.

"Oh my god."

______________________________

(Man, I wonder who that is)

Taglist: @sturnioloblogs @y0urm4m @sturniolosmind @thenickgirl @muwapsturniolo @breeloveschris @worldlxvlys @freshloveforthefit @miloisdone1 @vanteguccir

@annamcdonalds67 @freshsturns @rootbeerworshiper @matty-bear @orangelala @imwetforyourmom @stunnaagirllsworld @lanixsturniolo @blackhorses-posts @starsturns234 @junnniiieee07 @pepsiboyy @deadxrx @ribread03 @ariieeesworld @venusxsturnio @mattslovelygf @@Spencereidismybitch @ablanstar333 @jjmaybankshousekeeping @Larnieboox88 @Preppy234

[cevansbrat0007]

Jiggly

Summary: You find yourself feeling a little self-conscious after it becomes clear you've gained a little weight.

Warnings: Insecure Reader, Ari Being A Menace, Discussions of Body Image, Mentions of Disordered Eating, Smut (Heavily Implied), Oral Sex (Fem Rec Implied), Light Spanking, Cursing, Clothed Male Nude Female (CMNF), Talk of Potentially Abusive Exes, Brief Discussion of Murder, Pet Names, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Dedicated to @curls-and-eyeliner and @dc41896. This story will more than likely take place in my upcoming Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

___

“Lemme see.” 

“Seriously, Ari?” You mumble, throwing your arms over your face. “Ari–no!” Your man’s eagerness has you almost immediately second guessing yourself as you hastily go back to protecting your middle. 

“Why not?” Your man purrs, nuzzling the fabric of your threadbare flannel shirt with the tip of his nose. It was your favorite thing to wear when you felt like this. Not because it was exceptionally cute, but because it was comfortable.

Nevermind the fact that it had once belonged to Ari. And that you usually only wore it when he was away on a job and you were missing him.   

“I just wanna see what all this fuss is about, Bird.”

“I already told you.” The words are spoken in a huff. After a brief debate, you decide to take advantage of the element of surprise and flip your positions so that you’re straddling him. “I’m feeling a little jiggly.”  

“Right, you’re…jiggly.” A small snort slips from his mouth before he can compose himself. “I heard what you said the first three times you said it. Didn’t make a lick of sense then and it doesn’t make any now.” 

Annoying bastard. Not everyone could walk around all day sporting washboard abs. Especially not a girl like you whose passion for baking was almost as big as her passion for books.

“Oh, shut up.” You grunt, rolling your eyes as you go to pin his hands above his head. 

“I’m just pointing out that my ears are working fine.” He picks that moment to buck his hips, almost knocking you off your perch. Somehow you manage to steady yourself, but it’s absolutely easier said than done.

“Hold still, Levinson!”

“Looks to me like you’re the one doing all the moving.” Ari’s hearty chuckle has you redoubling your efforts to hold him hostage. “Although, I can’t say I’m complaining.” He purrs, his lidded gaze straying to your now-heaving chest. “But I really think our next move should be gettin’ you outta that shirt.”

Fat chance of that one, pal. The last thing you wanted was to be naked in front of him right now. Sunlight wasn't known for being slimming.

“Nope.” 

“I vote yes.” Ari twists his big body, jerking against your hold. “And while you’re at it you can lose the shorts too, along with the panties.” 

“But I’m not wearing any.” The words tumble out faster than you can stop them. It’s enough to have you mentally slapping yourself in the face.

“Even better.” The feral gleam in his eyes sends sparks shooting straight to your core. “I’m a simple man, baby. And giving me easy access to that sweet pussy is the quickest way to my heart.” 

You roll your eyes so hard it’s a surprise that you don’t lose them. As it was, your flimsy shorts were already riding up your ass in a way that was kind of uncomfortable. Mostly because your man wouldn’t stay still.

“Bird, what have I told you about rolling your eyes at me?” The soft, silky timbre of his voice has alarm bells sounding in your head.

“Um…” Now, that one has you at a loss. And not because you didn’t know the answer to his question.

In the past, Ari had explicitly warned you not to do it. Not unless you wanted him to give you a few reasons to keep ‘em rolling. Specifically in the form of his thick, hard cock. Because while your man was usually more than willing to put up with quite a bit of sass from you...

There was just something about rolling your eyes that pissed him off. In fact, the last time you’d done it you’d found yourself bent over the couch with a sore ass and him balls deep inside you.

Granted you’d also been in the middle of a fight, but that was neither here nor there. 

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” 

“Bite me.” You snap, your mouth once again moving faster than your brain. Fuck, you needed to get a handle on that.  

Ari has you on your back in a flash. He looms over you, careful not to give you his full weight. It went without saying that you were well on your way to getting yourself in trouble with your man.

Him and stupid rules about maintaining proper eye eye contact and refusing to tolerate your brand of self-deprecating talk. He always maintained that if he ever found himself wanting one of those rail-thin Hollywood types over you, he’d go see about getting his head checked out. 

To him you were gorgeous. Not because of or in spite of your curves. But because you were you. 

“Where’s all this sass coming from?” Ari asks, shaking his head as his nimble fingers begin the work of unfastening your flannel. “It can’t all be because you’re feeling squishy.”

“Jiggly.” You correct him gently, your heart speeding up as he slowly unfastens one button, and then another. 

“My mistake, Duchess.” And there was his other nickname for you; the one you’d earned yourself during your very first meeting. “I just don’t like seeing my girl upset – especially not when she’s been walking around my place all day looking good enough to eat.”

Soon you’re down another button, but you hardly notice this time. You’re too busy getting lost in his sparkling blue eyes.

Only a few more to go. Frankly, the only reason Ari hadn’t ripped the damn thing was because he knew just attached you were to it. And he didn’t want to risk upsetting you further.    

“I’m sorry.” You try, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. While your boyfriend doesn’t say anything, the apology does manage to earn you a kiss. Even though it’s nothing more than a faint brush of his mouth over yours. 

“Swear to God, baby.” Ari hums as he resumes the delicate task of divesting you of your clothes. “If I ever meet the man responsible for planting all those ugly thoughts in the beautiful mind of yours…” Once all the buttons are finally undone, he parts the edges of the worn fabric, exposing your bare breasts.

“Ari…”

“I’ll fucking kill him.” His dark gaze locks with yours, making it clear that he’s not joking.   

“Beast…” A shiver courses through you, the cool air making your nipples pebble. “This has nothing to do with him. My clothes have been feeling a little snug lately, but then I stepped on the scale this morning and it confirmed everything. I’ve probably just been eating too much.”

“Bullshit. I’ve seen how much you eat.” The tick in his bearded jaw has you glad your ex no longer lived in the same county as you. “Some days it’s still nowhere near enough. Might as well be a bunch of birdseed. And since when do I even own a fucking scale?” 

Since you’d relocated it from your house to his. But your man doesn’t even give you time to respond. He’s already decided on its new home.

“It’s going in the trash, Bird.” Ari growls, his tone dripping with authority. 

“But I need –”

“What you need to do is not worry about counting every single calorie in every tiny bite of food you put in your mouth all the damn time.” His big hands go to frame your face as he forces himself to take a calming breath. “Because I remember what it was like back then, when you were too nervous to even eat in front of me.” 

Shit. You did too. You’d been so worried that he’d make some remark about how much food you were putting in your mouth or on your plate that you’d done your damndest to avoid eating in front of him altogether.  

“And I will not let us go back to that place, baby. I just won’t.” Ari’s head dips once more – this time his tongue sweeping past your lips to tenderly dance with your own as he pours every ounce of love he can into the kiss. He groans when he finally feels you relax beneath him, almost as if he’s savoring your submission. “You have my fucking word.” He murmurs once he finally lets you up for air.   

“I think that maybe I just need to eat more salads.” You tell him as your toes begin to curl. At the same time, a delicious warmth pools in your belly as your man begin’s trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses down your body. Your fingers sink into his chestnut tresses, lightly ruffling the strands.   

“Eat whatever the fuck you want.” Comes his swift rebuttal, his sharp teeth grazing over your pouting nipple.

“Bu–but…then my clothes might not fit.” A hiss of breath escapes as his kisses continue to move further south. “Like, at all.”

“Then we’ll just have to buy you some more goddamned clothes then, won’t we?” Ari snarls before pausing his hedonistic assault to glare up at you. When you don’t respond immediately, one of his hands finds your chin – gripping it with just enough force to let you know he means business. 

Your man was also the type who liked to hear an answer when he asked a question. And that wasn’t something that only applied to you. It was true for everyone. He didn’t talk just to hear himself speak.

“Yes, Sir.” To be fair, it was hard to argue with your boyfriend’s logic. And if he wanted to spend his hard-earned money he’d made off of chasing bad guys, then perhaps you’d ought to let him. 

The last thing you needed was him off pouting in the corner somewhere. He was a sizable enough menace already. He didn’t need the extra help.

“Thank you.” He grumbles, shifting his attention to what’s left of your clothes. Namely, your shorts. The ones Ari wasn’t too keen on you wearing out of the house on account of the fact that they barely covered your ass. Shaking his head, he eases the thin material down your thighs before tossing them over his shoulder. 

Now you were well and truly naked – completely at the mercy of your still fully-clothed Beast.

“Show me what’s mine, please.” Ari rasps, nudging your thighs apart. In the mood to obey, you let them fall open, putting your glistening cunt on  display. “There’s a good girl.” His fingers reach out to brush over your sensitive folds, making you whimper. 

Feeling brave, your hand shoots out to wrap around his thick wrist. “Wait. I was thinking I’d like to, um…makeup for upsetting you a little bit ago.”

“Really, Bird? You wanna make it up to me?” He maneuvers himself on the bed so that he can help you sit up. Nodding, you move to reach for him – intending to remove his t-shirt. Only to be surprised when Ari stops you. 

“But I want it off.” You whine, poking out your lower lip. “You’re not playing fair.”

“That’s because we’re not playing. If you wanna make it up to me then you’re just gonna have to do what I say.” He smooths a thumb across the wrinkles in your brow. “You can suck me off later. After you’ve fed me.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” Grinning, Ari goes to lie flat on his back, his muscled arms coming to rest behind his head. “Now bring your sweet ass over here and sit on my face.” He pats his chest for good measure, licking his lips in anticipation. “And I mean all the way down.”

“But what if I –” Your stream of consciousness is interrupted by Ari tugging you forward. He grips your thighs, his slightly calloused palms tenderly kneading your flesh as he urges you up his body in the direction of his waiting mouth. 

This position always makes you nervous – regardless of whether or not you’d had to jump into your jeans that morning. 

“You just let me worry about all those pesky what-ifs.” Your man grunts, letting it be known that the only way to satisfy him right now is to submit. He spanks your ass when you hover too long above his face. “The only thing you need to be concerned about is how I’m gonna redden that ass if you don’t do as you’re told and sit all the way down.”

You feel your face flush as your empty walls clench. Your body was feeling more than a little needy. You were craving your man's cock like the drug that it was. But before you got what you wanted, you'd have to make a couple of concessions first.

Starting with this one...       

“I mean it, Bird.” He growls, delivering a sharp smack. “All the way down, please. I’m not worried about being able to breathe.” You jump when you receive another smack for your trouble. “Besides, if it’s my time to go…then I’d much rather go out with the taste of you on my tongue.” 

"Now let's see just how many you can give me."

END

[youremyonepiece]

anxious mornings

sanji x gn!reader (no pronouns used), sanji's pov

anxiety has a tendency to spread, as sanji discovers unexpectedly early one morning.

warnings: mentions and descriptions of anxiety and related symptoms; unhealthy eating habits; small implied mention of disordered eating; slight angst, comfort, light fluff (please lmk if there are any i should add!)

word count: 3k

sanji runs a hand through his damp hair as he steps out of the washroom, unsuccessful in warding off a large yawn. though the early waking hour is by no means unusual for him, he is but human, he thinks to himself with a slight chuckle; some mornings are just going to be easier than others.

shaking his head slightly as though attempting to scatter his thoughts around him like the water droplets that fly from his hair, sanji starts to make his way towards the kitchen. he needs to start prepping for the many meals of the day if he hopes to stand a chance at keeping up with luffy's incessant hunger. his fingers itch for a cigarette, anything to help stave off the remaining sleepiness in his system, but he resists the urge. while he knows he has little to no hopes of quitting, nor does he really want to, smoking this early in the morning feels like crossing a line-- not before breakfast.

it's as he's walking across the planks of the deck in the 4 AM darkness that he hears a sound he would recognize anywhere: the sound of a stomach growling.

sanji's eyebrows furrow as his thoughts about the day's menu are entirely forgotten. his head snaps towards the cluster of barrels from where the sound came-- a stowaway? he wonders briefly, but they've been out at sea for days now. there's no way someone could have gone unnoticed for that long. the growl is followed by a vaguely familiar soft sigh, causing sanji’s brows to furrow further.

he's at the barrels in a few long strides and can't stop his eyebrows from shooting upwards when he peers over their tops to find-- you. you're sitting on the deck with your back leaning against the barrel in front of him, eyes unfocused as they gaze across the distant horizon.

your name escapes his lips in confusion before he has completely processed your presence. you jolt slightly in surprise, clearly not expecting to have any company, before tilting your head upwards to peer at him.

"sanji?" you ask in your voice that he never fails to swoon at. a pause, and then, "is it that time already?"

sanji can't help but smile at your question. you truly are so sweet, so adorable-- he relishes the sight of your wide eyes, your slightly parted plush lips, your mussed hair. you're still in your pajamas, which isn't unusual in and of itself (you tended to get ready for the day after eating breakfast with the rest of the crew) but something about seeing you like this, alone in the early hour, feels more intimate than the two of you had been before. which, granted, was not at all, but that's only all the more reason he feels grateful to be here with you now.

he makes his way around the barrels languidly before leaning against the merry's railing, facing you with a warm expression. "indeed it is, sweetness. good morning."

he watches as a small smile forms on your lips. “good morning," you say, and sanji struggles to keep his thoughts from spiraling into bliss.

“you’re up early,” he comments casually with a friendly smirk, though a concerned quirk of his eyebrow gives him away. “to what do i owe the fine pleasure of your enchanting presence, my dear?”

the corners of your mouth turn upwards at his question, but he notices the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "just couldn't sleep, i guess," you respond with a shrug, breaking eye contact to stare back out at the dim horizon.

it’s clear you aren't being completely honest, but sanji doesn’t want to push you to share if you don't want to. after all, it isn't like you guys are particularly close or anything. actually, he isn't sure if you could be considered "close" to anyone in the crew, with the exception of maybe luffy.

it isn’t that you didn’t trust them, not exactly-- despite the brevity of your time with the straw hats thus far, you’ve been through enough harrowing experiences together to know that you’ve got each other’s backs. but trusting someone with your life is one thing, especially when it’s already been proven in battle, and trusting them with your feelings is entirely another. it just hasn't been long enough yet; you’re still getting to know them.

at least, that's what he hopes it is, anyway. with the way his eyes seem to cling to you like flies to fruit, he isn't sure what he'll do if the truth is actually that you disliked him.

"anything i can help with?" he offers, trying to keep his voice nonchalant. he wants to help, but he also doesn't want to impose if you don't want him around.

to his relief, you meet his eyes again and smile. "that's kind of you, but no." you don’t say anything for a moment, holding his gaze with unreadable eyes and suddenly sanji feels as though he is gazing upon anubis instead, his heart being weighed on your scale to determine his worth. after a couple of seconds that span eternity, you say, “honestly, i’m just feeling a bit... not great.”

“not great?”

you break eye contact with him to look down at your stomach, silent for a moment again. “just anxious,” you finally sigh, your hands moving to rest at a spot right below your rib cage. “i feel it right here. it feels like... like pressure is building up, but if i press down on it then it's like i can get it to release," you demonstrate, causing a growl to emanate from your torso as though you had simply pushed air out of a bag. you exhale with slight relief again, hands still firm against yourself, before looking back up at him with an abashed smile. "i think my anxiety gave me gas," you half-joke.

sanji forces himself to ignore his ecstasy-- you’re opening up to him! he had just been thinking about it, too! you trust him!-- and to focus on your words instead. it gets easier as you continue, his frown deepening at the sound of your stomach growling again as he remembers what drew him to you a few minutes earlier.

he pulls out a cigarette with the slightest tremble in his hands-- breakfast be damned. you had just unwittingly reminded him of the fact that he’s only human for the second time this day already; some things are harder to deal with than others.

he takes a long inhale of his cigarette, letting the smoke permeate through his system and dull his nerves before slowly exhaling it in a thin wisp. "sweetness," he starts when he finally feels grounded again, eyes full of concern as they meet yours, "i don't think that's anxiety."

you seemingly can't stop yourself from releasing a short, incredulous laugh, lips curved in a smile but eyebrows furrowed and eyes guarded. "what?"

"at least, i don't think that it’s only anxiety." he holds your gaze steadily despite your spike of wariness. when he speaks again, his voice is sincere. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to say you didn't know what you were feeling. it's just--" he pulls away from the railing to crouch in front of you, faces now at the same level. the cigarette between his fingers creates a soft haze in the air between you. "when was the last time you ate?"

sanji feels the guilt spread through him again and attempts to fight it off by taking another long drag of his cigarette. he turns away from you to puff out the smoke, lost in thought.

now that he's thinking about it, you didn't show up to dinner yesterday. or lunch. your absence hadn't been odd; in the not-quite-two weeks you had been aboard, you had eaten with the rest of the crew a whopping total of four times. instead, sanji had noticed you opted to grab your dish and eat in the open air of the deck, taking shelter under nami’s tangerine trees if the weather wasn't accommodating. but he can't even remember you stopping by to make a plate for yourself yesterday. and thanks to luffy, he hadn't noticed any discrepancies in leftover food (that is to say, there was none as usual).

you had been there at breakfast, but he can't recall you grabbing anything except a mug of coffee. how could he have failed to notice? when was the last time he had seen you eat in front of him? it's been maybe two days since, he thinks, hating that he isn't certain. this had happened under his watch. and that too, with you. the person he’s trying to get closer to, to befriend and become a trusted confidant of at the very least, and at the very best... well, he finds you very attractive. but he would never cross that line unless he was wholly certain you wanted to, too.

you're silent as well, seemingly thinking back to find the answer to his question. he watches color creep up your cheeks as something dawns on you, realization and embarrassment fighting for dominance over your features. "i ate last night. at like, ten," you finally respond in a meek voice, looking everywhere but his face.

he can’t stop himself from glancing towards the kitchen. “what'd you eat?” he wonders.

you remain quiet for a moment before sighing again. "you're right. i'm hungry. i... i hadn't realized."

he narrows his eyes at you without malice, seeing through your attempts to escape answering him. “what did you eat?" he asks again, his voice’s volume softening to match yours.

you wring your hands, still refusing to look his way. "a couple of almonds," you say eventually, sounding chastised.

"and?" he prompts.

you don't respond.

"okay," sanji says, feeling his hands tremble again as he takes in your words. "okay," he repeats, "what about before that?"

"um, i think right after you cleaned up for lunch? i stole a slice of cheese, the one with the peppers in it." he can see you’re struggling to keep your expression neutral, but he isn't sure which emotions you’re fighting off.

he does know which ones he’s struggling with, though. sanji feels his stomach turn with guilt and trauma at your words. "and before that?" he asks, his voice low.

"coffee, at breakfast." your hands still but they and your eyes remain on your lap.

he exhales your name softly.

"it had milk and sugar in it," you say defensively at his meager response, voice somehow even softer.

sanji lets out a quiet, humorless chuckle before taking your hands in his. he doesn't say anything, waiting, until finally you look up to meet his eyes. "why?" he asks when you do.

you look confused. "what do you mean?"

he raises one of his hands to tentatively cup your cheek, eyes full of tenderness and concern. "are you... unhappy with the way you look?" he asks carefully, trying not to word it in a way that could be misconstrued. when your eyebrows furrow deeper, he hurries to add, "because you’re-"

"no," you cut him off before he can undoubtedly shower you in praise, "no, it's not that." and then you add, cheeks flushing, "um. thank you, though."

sanji offers you a brief smile, his hand falling from your cheek and rejoining the other with yours, before frowning again. "is it my cooking, then? sweetness, if there's ever anything you don't like-"

"no, not at all," you cut him off again, this time with more certainty as you shake your head. "i love your cooking."

“then?" he prompts lightly when you don't say anything else.

one of your feet begins to flicker back and forth like a light switch against the deck, giving away your restlessness. you’re back to looking everywhere but at sanji, at his eyes. "i'm just... not hungry."

as if on cue, your stomach lets out another low growl, causing your blush to deepen in embarrassment. sanji wants to smirk at you, poke fun at how cute you look flustered like this, but the noise reignites his guilt. reminds him how you’d gotten to this state without him even noticing.

"your stomach says differently," he simply states. sanji pulls his hands away from yours before standing up and offering one back to you. you don't hesitate to take it, and he effortlessly helps you rise to your feet. "c'mon. let's get some food in you."

your wince at his words doesn't go unnoticed by him. he gives your hand, still in his as you both make your way towards the kitchen, a short squeeze before murmuring softly, "wanna tell me about it? you don't have to if you don't want to."

to be honest, he's surprised you've been so receptive to him thus far. he doesn't want to push his luck, your grace, because if he did-- if he made you feel uncomfortable, if you began to avoid him because of it-- well, it would feel crushing, that’s for sure.

the nervousness in sanji’s chest continues to blossom as you say nothing for a few steps. however, it’s swiftly replaced with concern when you do respond, your voice heavy with exhaustion. "like i mentioned before, it's because of my anxiety." you sigh once again, weighed down by your words. "sometimes it just gets... bad. i don't know why. i'm not even really sure if there is a reason, to be honest. it just happens every now and then."

the two of you have reached the kitchen by now. he silently holds the door open for you before leading you to a barstool at the kitchen island and walking around it to the sink to wash his hands. he holds his cigarette between his lips as he begins to gather ingredients from various shelves and cabinets and places them on the island between you.

“the anxiety makes me feel... full, i guess?” you continue. “i don't feel hungry, and i definitely don't feel like eating. and i feel so nauseated because of it, too. thinking about eating makes it worse. so does seeing or smelling food." you sigh. "i know i have to eat. i guess... i just didn't notice that i hadn't really eaten recently.”

sanji turns away from you, taking a final drag of his cigarette before snuffing it out and tossing it away. “you didn’t notice?”

“...i guess i didn't want to notice." you sigh for what seems to be the millionth time and sanji feels his heart twist. “noticing means admitting something’s not... okay.”

sanji hums once you trail off, signaling to you that he heard you and understood.

you start up again after a few moments of silence, restlessness shining through once more. “it’s not really that big of a deal, though. you don’t have to worry-- don’t worry about it. it’ll pass. it always does, eventually.”

sanji doesn’t respond, instead staring at the amalgamation of ingredients he had gathered specifically for you. his eyebrows draw together as he mentally rifles through countless recipes, determined to find the right one for you at this moment. something light, since you hadn't eaten properly in a little bit. no strong scents, either, except maybe ginger since that’s good with nausea. a variety of flavors and textures, to keep it fun. it’s early, so breakfast foods-- that means the bananas, yogurt--

"are you mad at me?” you ask timidly.

he freezes, mouth slightly parting in surprise before standing straight, his attention now entirely on you. "of course not, sweetness.”

"you seem upset.”

sanji takes a beat to process your words. he thought he'd been hiding his reaction well, but apparently not. "i suppose... i’m upset at myself,” he finally admits to you.

you frown. “why?”

he offers you a consoling smile, “you haven't been eating well and i hadn't noticed." he realizes you’ve reminded him for the third time that day that he’s only human-- as much as he wants to keep it to himself, to not burden you with his thoughts, he knows he stands no chance at resisting you. who could?

“but i didn't even notice," you insist.

he feels his adoration of you helplessly grow at your rebuttal. “true, but it isn’t your job to make sure all of our crewmates are well fed and healthy. it is mine."

“fine, but we're pirates,” you shoot back almost immediately. “we should all be taking care of ourselves-- i should be taking care of myself."

he chuckles at your fervency, the warm sound filling the room. “i get the feeling you’re not going to let me win this one."

"i didn't realize there was anything to win,” you grumble, making sanji laugh harder. when he glances over at you, he sees you're smiling, causing his own to widen.

sanji works in a comfortable silence for a few moments, his smile remaining on his face as he feels your eyes on him. he takes a step back when he’s done, admiring his handiwork before proudly presenting you with a small bowl and steaming mug. “made especially for you: peanut butter yogurt topped with diced bananas and granola, served with a cup of ginger herbal tea.”

simple, but he knows that’s always best when feeling nauseous. the cold yogurt should help settle your stomach, and the peanut butter provides extra protein which he had heard could help with nausea, similar to the ginger and bananas. and the granola ties it all together with its crunch.

you give him a genuine smile as your eyes glaze over the meal he had prepared before looking back up at him. “thanks, sanji.” you pause for a moment before adding, “are you okay?”

“what?” he asks, taken aback, then chuckles slightly. “aren’t i supposed to be asking you that?”

only you, he thinks to himself affectionately. only you would share something you’d been struggling with and then ask him if he was feeling okay. ever thoughtful, ever sweet.

his question seems to embarrass you and sanji can’t help the warmth that spreads in his chest as your ears turn red. “maybe not... one hundred percent, but better.” you meet his eyes again, your smile returning. “definitely better.”

his own smile grows uncontrollably wide as he leans over the island to place his hand on yours. “then, sweetness, i’m okay, too.”

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER TEN: RABBIT

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, implied child abuse, self harm, fatphobia, body dysmorphia

This is chronologically the tenth chapter in the series.

Read beneath the cut...

Napalm is the slow fire of waking from a terrible dream, blind, gasping, burnt. The pain, though delusive, is made actual by the action of nerves.

Only a hand at your shoulder, vigorous in its attentions, hauls you up from the putrescence of slumber into the light-dark of four in the morning. You find Hannibal's shape through lashes gummed with sleep's adhesive.

His face is as impassive as a star, but his hair, ever coiffed, is displaced from the friction of his pillow.

“You were screaming,” he says, as you sit, stunned, in his arms. “What were you dreaming about? Do you remember?”

“No,” you say, although the scenes remain briefly in your vision, doubling like silk screen prints upon the walls.

Hannibal fills up a glass with fresh water and bids you to drink, his eyes pensive, unconvinced.

Only the notion that he may suggest you share his bed or else intrude upon yours impels you to honesty.

“I dreamt that I was trapped in one of the Silicone Lover’s dolls. That he was trying to squeeze me inside, and I wouldn’t fit. He said, ‘You’ve gotten so big since I last saw you. I’d better do something about that.’

“Then he started cutting me up with kitchen scissors, and I couldn’t stop him.”

You pause, choking on a breath, a verbal stagger.

Dr Lecter offers you the water again, which you take in both hands and drain to its end.

“Take your time,” says Hannibal. “When you’re ready, go on.”

Lying will fail you before the all-seeing eye, so it is with a flat honesty that you say, “It wasn’t what the Lover did in my dream that scared me. It was what he said to me. Because he was right.”

You reach down to pull the quilt up across your stomach, which Hannibal, with a subtle gesture, prevents.

“To agree with such a statement there must be some basis of comparison for you,” he says. “You knew the person standing in as the Lover in your dream. Can you name him?”

Hannibal could guess it, from the little you’ve told him of your unclean past, but if memory conjures the name from the gully of silence he does not say so.

Instead, he comments, “I think it’s unwise for you to sleep again until your mind is settled. Perhaps we may take advantage of the hour to continue your therapy, in an informal fashion.”

He sits in a chair by your bed, producing a notepad and pen from a pocket of his dressing gown.

You see that he will not move.

"What if I don’t talk?” you ask, softly. “What if I say I'd rather take the punishment?"

Hannibal's slender lips upturn.

"I wouldn't be inclined to take such a claim seriously.”

In sullen defeat you flounce back against the pillows.

Dr Lecter takes his cue.

“I’m curious about the friendships you’ve formed throughout your life. Have there been any notable examples?”

“Not many,” you answer, looking at the raw edges of your fingernails. “I was kind of the weird kid. It was like looking through a dusty museum window at everybody passing by, not really knowing how to get out there and talk to people. Like I was too old and too young at the same time.

“I got bullied, kind of. Nothing worth talking about. Just dumb kid stuff.”

“Even persecution of a childish nature bears painful resonance in later life,” Hannibal comments. “Moreover, isolation from one's peers may disrupt development in those vital years.”

You think of dolorous hours patrolling a fallow playground alone, three hundred children staring through you with adult hostility.

“I did make one friend,” you say. “First year of high school. Amy Glass. She was a weird kid, too.”

Hannibal scratches deftly on his notepad.

"Describe how you met."

Closing your eyes, you find your way back through the forests of the past to a corridor whose tiled floor squeaks under your shoes. You smell textbook paper and saccharine body spray. The sweat of young bodies, and the stale cafeteria fare you’d never tasted throughout your time there.

“Between classes Amy would sit in a window listening to music, or reading,” you say. “Stephen King, usually. Sometimes Anne Rice. She seemed to be up there all the time. I don’t think she was getting shit from the other kids or anything; she just preferred hanging out on her own.

“I wished I was like that, not caring. I wished I was her, period.”

“In what way?” asks Dr Lecter, and in the hallway of your mind a slender figure appears, brown of skin and eyes, blue hair cut roughly to the chin, its roots seeping in atop it like a stain.

Amy.

“A lot of ways,” you say. “Before I really knew her, it was about how she looked. She had piercings— ears, lip, nose, eyebrow. Teachers would tell her to take them out, then the second she was out of their eye-line she’d put them right back in. And even back then she had these awful stick and poke tattoos of bats and crosses she covered up with band aids for classes.

“She did all of them herself with a safety pin. God knows how she didn’t get an infection or anything.

“Then there was the fact I knew we liked some of the same music because of the patches on her bag, and her t-shirts and stuff. Nothing you’d approve of,” you add, as interest touches the face of your listener. “Jesus, I can’t even imagine playing stuff like that in this house. Anyway, I didn’t want to just be like, ‘hey, you like that band, too’. It would have been too weird. Stalkery, maybe?”

“Music isn’t such a terrible way to form a connection,” says Hannibal, amused. “I was once approached in friendship through a shared taste in cheese.”

Picturing his restrained derision you cannot help but laugh.

“Oh, god,” you say. “What were they thinking?”

“It was a naive assumption of commonalities. Besides, my commitment to professionalism would never have allowed us to be as close as he would have hoped.”

You give a little start of affront.

“You’ve made friends with other clients.”

Dr Lecter’s smile remains.

“Only with those whom I feel my presence benefits.”

“Benefits you, you mean,” you say, pettishly. “Whoever it was, you just didn’t like him that much. That’s why you turned him down. Or maybe he was too like you.”

Without appearing offended, Hannibal turns a page in his notebook.

“I'm unconcerned with debating my personal relationships, little one. Let’s return to Amy. Who initiated the friendship between you?”

“Amy,” you say. “It was after this councillor was trying to get something out of me, and I didn’t want to talk. I walked out that room feeling so... heavy, and grimy, and embarrassed. Then there was Amy, heading to the same office I just walked out of. She looked at me, scrunched her face up, and said, ‘Wish me luck.’ Next time I saw her I made the same face back and asked, ‘how was it?’

“‘The worst, just like always,’ she said. ‘Where’d she get her certificate, anyway? Clown school?’

“I burst out laughing. ‘She’s so bad, right?’

“And that was it. Friends. We went everywhere together. Amy really liked me. I don’t know why. I think maybe she thought I was sort of mysterious and interesting rather than just depressed, probably because I didn’t want to talk about what was going on with me.

“She told me everything about her. How her dad didn’t believe in mental health issues even though he was just like she was, and how her mom just ignored everything, hoping it’d just... go away. But I didn’t tell Amy even one little thing about me, really. Not one.”

Guilt you’ve never truly confronted falls like a petal from a late summer bloom, cloying the dark with its flavour.

“Did Amy ever indicate that she’d recognised your particular illness?” prompts Hannibal, and you shrug glumly.

“A couple of times. I ignored every hint. Changed the subject. Acted like it wasn’t a thing when it obviously was. I knew that she knew. That was the dynamic. She was softer, around me. She got it. She got me.”

Suddenly your breath feels very high in your chest, catching on a rib.

“I can’t help but notice your use of the past tense,” says Dr Lecter. “Might I assume that you are no longer friends?”

“We grew apart after school,” you mutter. “I think she would have liked it if I stayed in touch, but then sometimes I wonder if that’s just wishful thinking, and maybe she didn’t care all that much when we drifted apart and stopping talking.

“I have her on Facebook. That’s all, really. She was never a social media person anyway, but still. I could have tried harder. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

Hannibal allows the silence between you to ferment before he speaks again.

“Looking back, what do you think prevented you from maintaining contact?”

“I felt like after school was over she’d find other friends, and I’d just end up being left behind. So I got out of there before I had to see it happen.”

"You abandoned a friendship on the basis of a prophecy that might never have come to fruition."

"It would have,” you insist. “All my life I've had senses about things. Like, if I get a feeling something will or won't happen, I'm always right. Like I was right about you."

Swanlike, Dr Lecter’s hands move across his notebook, tactfully punctuating a note.

"It's common for sufferers of complex post-traumatic stress disorder to misinterpret their hypervigilance as psychic premonition. A heightened awareness of your surroundings and the behaviours of people in your vicinity develops in order to predict danger before it occurs. Pattern recognition is more mathematical than clairvoyant."

"What about my dreams?" you ask, sharply. “Are they math, too?”

"You've had other nightmares?” asks Hannibal, and leans forward, poised to digest you answer.

Canny, you hoard the matter like a serpent its glittering lair.

Hannibal accepts his defeat with grace.

Gathering up his notebook and the empty glass, he says, "That's enough therapy for now, particularly so early in the morning. I'll make you some tea, and you may return to sleep. Peacefully, this time, I hope."

*

Later, there is a meal that sits, sinking in a bath of bronze on Dr Lecter’s dining table, so much of it that you’re gorged merely from the arithmetic of its makeup.

“Arroz de Cabidela,” says Hannibal, as he pulls out his own chair. “A Portuguese dish made with rice, chicken, or rabbit cooked in its own blood. Today I’ve chosen rabbit. Have you ever eaten it before?”

It occurs to you that he expects you to be disturbed by the notion, but you are not. Meat is meat, all of it equally cruel. That life must end for the furthering of your existence has driven you to veganism many a time.

Little chance of sustaining such a diet now that you sleep in the devil’s slaughterhouse.

“No,” you say. “I’ve never tried rabbit. I heard it’s really... gamey.”

Your palate is scarcely educated enough to comprehend the statement. Still, it is apparently accurate, for Hannibal makes a low hum of agreement.

“It has similarities to poultry, in flavour, though it’s rather lean and dry. The blood stew adds a richness you’ll find complimentary, however.”

The scent is certainly inviting, but you are so committed to rejecting whatever is served to you that you feel lightheaded, succumbing to the altitude of starving heights.

“Couldn’t you have given me a smaller portion?” you ask, piteously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s so... much.”

Hannibal glances from your plate to his own, his visage neutral.

“I’ve served you a great deal less than I’ve given myself,” he says. “That said, I’m sure we can settle our differences. I’m not unyielding, if I can see some effort is being made.”

You look him in the eye, hoping you appear more bold than frightened.

“Dr Lecter, you make me all these courses, and they’re crazy even for a normal person. I feel like you do it on purpose. And afterwards my stomach hurts.”

“That’s normal, after a period of fasting. Your body will adjust. Now, please eat.”

You don’t. The cut on your plate makes you think of the Lover’s dolls, how even at your slightest you wouldn’t have fit into such a shell. How, changed as you must be through Hannibal’s cooking, you would ooze over every edge.

“I could use the feeding tube, if you’re unwilling,” says Dr Lecter, rising from his chair to stand at your back. “It would be relatively easy for me to administer. But I’d hate to sour an otherwise pleasant meal with brute force.”

He cups your throat in his smooth hand, and you envision how lovingly he’d coil about you in restraint, guiding the pipe down through you as you choked and flinched in his grasp.

“I’ll eat a quarter,” you say. “That’s it. Then... then nothing else until tomorrow. I won’t sneak out of bed, and I won’t do anything that breaks the rules. Please, Dr Lecter. Uh... Daddy?”

Your confusion between roles endears you to him, as does your breathless, eager willingness to beg.

“Should I allow you to barter?” Hannibal muses, still caressing the wand of your stiff neck. “It’s a symptom of your illness, after all.”

“Just let me choose how much and I’ll try anything you offer me.”

Dr Lecter releases a small breath of laughter.

“I wouldn’t like you to eat your words, little one.”

Gnashing your teeth, you say, “I won’t. I can do it. Please let me. You’re supposed to dote on me, aren’t you?”

You feel Hannibal’s lips against your hair in a kiss of paternal indulgence.

“Always so spirited,” he says. “Very well. I cannot deny my little beauty her request.”

What beauty does he refer to? You’ve only recognised it in the mine shafts of furthest hunger, mistaking a shadow for some precious stone.

Yet clearly you are not so low quality as you believe if both men have fucked you so freely over other women, whom they could conceivably draw into the net of the house.

Then again, there is no accounting for the tastes of madmen, and mad they both are, even Hannibal in his gelid divinity.

From the topiary of his language and flippant games you are beginning to see that you interest him in your very opposition to his being. Were you to succumb completely you would not be so worthy: all men bow to Hannibal, after all, seduced and deceived until they’d lick his fingers like lambs for the milk of his approval.

You, like Will, resist and evade enough of his passes to set yourself apart from the flock.

You may yet throw a halter over the head of the horned man, if only in as much as he allows himself to be reigned.

Quartering your meal as neatly as you're able, you glance up at Dr Lecter, afraid that, by some caprice, he’ll break his code and force you to eat down to the bare plate. But he merely stands by, retaining his honour, and as you look at him you picture his mild hands breaking the neck of the rabbit to drain as though for a ritual of blood.

*

Frequently through your days with Hannibal he immerses himself in hobbies and work about the house, cultivating a necessary solitude after the long hours of ingesting others’ anxious thoughts.

He reads, or writes music, sketches, telephones his friends and past lovers—of whom there are many—or else sets his pen to journals, having seen you safe to your locked room, where he need not prepare for misdemeanour.

In this way your residence in Hannibal’s home does not impede upon his individual pursuits, but rather compliments them, an accent of his sempiturnal glamour.

You are, after all, but one of his many pastimes. It is indulgence, then, when he insists on attending your evening bath.

As he kneels beside the tub to dampen a washcloth his intentions surface, another infringement upon the flesh.

“I don’t need you to help me,” you mumble, arms taut across your chest. “I’m not your baby.”

“Your inner child wails for the tenderness your illness has long obstructed,” says Hannibal, calmly. “Your independence would have you die like an infant abandoned to the forest. Let me carry you, at least in this small act of service.”

You look at him with eyes as dull as old blades and picture the futility of your struggle, his lithe arms holding you, kicking and airless, beneath the foam.

“Don’t you have your own daughter you can do all this with?” you ask; you’ve not yet needled him on his familial relations, and feel yourself more than entitled to know.

Hannibal begins to work the flannel over your naked form, paying no heed to your twitching affront.

“Abigail would have served the role admirably,” he says. “But it wasn’t to be. As for my own children, I have none.”

The revelation passes you without surprise. It’s only possible to imagine him having elegant, adult offspring, absent of the soiling indignities of rearing an infant.

“So you took me away for you and Will to raise,” you say. “Guessing he doesn’t have kids, either.”

The washcloth folds beneath the water, and you gaze studiously at the opposite wall so as not to think about the hand behind the fabric, how it has touched you in other ways, pleasantly, horridly.

“Will is also childless,” says Dr Lecter. “He has never known family, as you have. His mother left him when he was only an infant, and his father was a distant figure, though present. Now it seems that they’re estranged from one another. One can only imagine the loneliness Will has known in his life. Perhaps, with your assistance, this will change.”

Cloth, skin, hands, touch. Gentle and beguiling their trap, to distract from the permanence of this suggested triptych as fingers play against you underwater.

Unsteadily, you ask, “Is Will your boyfriend?”

Hannibal turns you an indecipherable look.

“Do you perceive our relationship to be romantic?”

A strange question, considering the violation with which you were inducted to their company. But not once did either man kiss or grasp the other— a technicality, certainly, yet one, it seems, that holds weight.

“Yes,” you say. “For you, anyway. I don’t know about Will. I know he thinks highly of you. He just sees me as something that’s in the way.”

You kick a foot testily, splashing water over the rim of the bath.

“What are you in the way of?” asks Hannibal, as he begins to lather your hair.

“Not sure. Your friendship, I guess.”

“Do you believe him when he implies that you're only an obstacle to him?”

Water pours over your head, and you close your eyes, enduring the sensation.

“He told me I’m unwanted,” you say.

“When you attempted to kill him?”

Fear bowls over you with a black suddenness.

“He told you?”

“I came to my own conclusions. You weren't quiet, either of you, that night."

You look at Hannibal, at the stag man of your dreams, and taste something like dirt, something like blood, at the back of your mouth.

“Had you seriously injured him or succeeded in your bid to end his life I would have been forced to conclude our treatment,” he says. “But you did not. I’m thankful to have been provided with a truth I hadn’t yet drawn from you: I know that you are not a killer, at least not at this present moment.”

In a strengthless whisper, you ask, “What do you mean?”

Hannibal draws a comb through your hair, unmoved by the conversation.

“As time changes the continents, people come apart through circumstance into new being. That shift may one day lead to the birth of murder’s country.”

A thought stings you like the cold: Will and Hannibal want you to be capable of killing, if not of them, then someone of lesser consequence, the hereditary illness emerging in the child.

That is the secret under this house, the whisper in the walls, its present haunting.

“I hope that never happens,” you mumble. “Never. No matter what you do.

“And yet the whetting of your blood thirst didn’t begin with Will and I,” says Dr Lecter, mildly. “Until you admit your liking of its flavour you will remain unsatisfied, little one.”

You do not ask how he knows you’ve thought of killing, once before, which you yourself had forgotten; having been in your home, the chill sanctum of your childhood bedroom, he may have learned, of you, a myriad, his interrogation merely a practice in contextualising his findings.

“I’d rather starve,” you say, at last, and sink your chin beneath the water.

Dr Lecter takes a razor from a nearby cabinet and begins to shave you with slow precision. He does not ask if you wish for it, only glides the razor across your underarms, groin, and each leg until you run silken beneath his hands.

That done, Hannibal rises, brushing unseen dust from his knees.

“I’ll bring you some fresh clothes,” he says, and leaves the room, a ghost departing the stage.

You look at the razor, entrapped in its plastic guard on the rim of the bath.

Had you a pair of scissors you might have cut the metal free to make a weapon, or else an escape into realms unknown to the living. Though its edge is still wickedness manifest, it would take a great deal of pressure to pursue death by this angle, though it would not be impossible.

It is not death you want to meet, however, but another, nameless coward.

You take the blade to your arm, and the pain is like eating, a sin that sates the freak of misery.

The bathwater turns like a devil’s baptism, and though they are but shallow cuts you feel suddenly faint. Lying back, you lay your arm against the porcelain, thinking murky thoughts of your mistake.

Hannibal returns carrying a muted lilac dress and pale stockings, stilling at the sight of you, of the water, red as autumn mud.

He sets down the clothing and kneels beside you again.

“Let me see.”

You let him take your arm and touch the crude little gashes softly.

“Shower, quickly. Then I’ll treat your wounds. Fortunately, they aren’t so deep.”

How gentle he is with you, this beast dressed as a man in his pressed shirt and waistcoat, guiding your numb form about with a soothing authority. You’d once yearned to be handled like this, to be absolved and set free of any and all expectation. That it comes from him is like being spit in the eye by the Fates, one after the other.

Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos: what have you done to so offend them?

It’s only after having bandaged your forearm and settled you, dummy-like, upon his bed, that Hannibal speaks again.

“What motivated you to do this?”

“You know.”

“Elaborate.”

You lie, face down, in the pillows. The cotton smells like him.

“To feel better,” you say. “Amy said it helped her, sometimes. Cleared her head.”

The mattress tilts slightly as Dr Lecter sits down beside you.

“You mirror her pain to feel closer to love lost. Has it helped you?”

“No. I feel stupid. I feel—”

Restless, you turn onto your side and feel a tear, compelled by gravity, mark your jaw.

“I feel like a kid,” you say. “It’s humiliating. I hate that I always feel this way. Don’t make me live like this.”

Dr Lecter presses a tissue into your hand, as much to save his bedclothes as to comfort you.

“Fighting the expression of necessary emotions will only stunt them further, little one. Will and I would dearly like to see you flourish. Amy would surely wish that for you, too.”

Cradling your wounded arm to your chest, you flick the used tissue to the floor with the other.

“Screw you,” you say. “Both of you. That’s what Amy would tell me to say to you, Dad.”

Hannibal stares at the tissue, and you sense the inward twitch of his irritation as he bends to pick it up from the ground.

“Your parents called again, this afternoon,” he says, offhandedly. “I informed them that you were struggling with your treatment. I advised that we continue your residence here a month longer than previously agreed.”

He casts you a pitying look, and you’re reminded of the futility of going to war with Hannibal Lecter.

“It seems that I made the prudent choice,” he says. “Don’t you agree?”

[jungwnies]

syn ' soobin sees that you're not really eating your food, and does his best to make sure you're healthy. pairing ' bf!soobin x gn!reader warning ' implied eating disorder, low self-esteem

401 words

“did you eat yet?” soobin asks, as he walks out from the bathroom drying his hair.

you shrug, “i’m not really hungry.”

soobin walks in front of you and reaches out for your hands, “eat with me.”

“i’m not really in the mood to eat.” you tell him, taking a deep breath.

soobin kisses the top of your head, “how about you share something with me.”

he gets up and walks over to the kitchen making a small cup of ramen. he walks back over to the couch with a ramen fresh out of the microwave and sits back down next to you. as the two of you guys wait for two minutes to take the lid off the steaming ramen, he sits a little closer to you and turns on your favorite show.

“what’s going on?” he asks, as he looks at you dearly.

you shrug, “i guess social media,” you tell him. “i just find myself comparing my features to these other people who are ten times more attractive than me and it makes me feeling disgusting.”

soobin holds your hand, “it’s all editing y/n.”

you sigh, “i know it is,” you pause. “but then i see your fans shipping you with these really pretty idols, and i don’t know, it just makes me feel like less than them.”

soobin leans his forehead against yours, “i wish i could tell the whole world who you are to me, and what you mean to me.”

you lean forward and grab the ramen and hand it to soobin, “this is a lot”

soobin takes the lid off and grabs a small bunch of the noodles and he holds it up to your mouth, “just a little piece then.”

you take a bite and smile at soobin, “i love you, thank you for understanding baby.” you tell him, kissing his cheek.

“i love you too y/n” soobin tells you, with complete adoration. “i wish you could see yourself the way i do, but all i can do is show you.”

the two of you spent the rest of the night talking, it wasn’t the most light-hearted conversation, but it wasn’t the deepest. he reminded you why you two were dating as he listened to your feelings and took care of you. there was no one else who would make you feel as loved as he does. 

2022 © jungwnies

[accirax]

As of the latest episode, with all the secrets out in the open, do you have any changed opinions on the general outcomes of your “Secret Swap: For Better or Worse”?

Now that is a fantastic question! Thank you for remembering that this post existed-- I wasn't sure if anybody other than me did 😅 (And also, thank you for your patience while waiting for me to respond to you.) Here's a link to the post in question for anyone who might not know what fatherfigurefusion is asking about. As for the contents of that AU...

DRDT Secret Swap AU: For Better or Worse - REVISIONS

(CW for the suite of issues that we always have to talk about when it comes to the DRDT secrets: murder, death, suicide, implied homophobia/transphobia, self harm, eating disorders.)

Well, first of all, it's good for me that (other than the Xander/Teruko swap thing still not being confirmed) all of the secrets landed in the way in which I thought they would at the time I wrote that post. I would have had a lot more workshopping to do if, say, Hu had been the murderer without remorse and Levi had been the hopeless child.

I think I'll run through each choice I made individually, and then maybe try to fix any issues I encounter at the end after summing up the situation.

The Good Timeline

Eden receives Levi’s secret

Well, Eden did have a more negative reaction to Levi's secret than I initially anticipated in this post, criticizing him for being selfish in hardly even remembering whose lives he took. However, Levi also (presumably) has a more positive reaction to being approached with his secret than I feared. He was willing to share it with everyone himself, so I doubt he would threaten Eden if she were to approach him with it.

An updated summary of what might have happened: Eden receives Levi's secret, and is a little frightened, but might want more details before judging Levi fully (after all, she already knows that his family weren't the best of people). If she decides to approach him about it, Levi coolly explains what exactly his secret means. Eden's discomfort grows, which makes Levi feel bad.

Is it a fantastic scenario? Not really. But are there any better solutions to Levi's secret out there? Debatable. I think this one held up decently.

Nico receives David's secret

I still stand by this one, despite David being even more wild than initially expected. There's definitely a chance that Nico would just bluntly say the secret at some point if they determined that David was being manipulative. But, at the very least, Nico wouldn't be bringing their own drama to the situation-- just potentially elevating others' via timing.

It's a hard secret to deal with, but I still think that Nico is one of the better options.

Hu receives Ace's secret

So, this one obviously gains the new complications that we now canonically know that Ace was the killer, and that he was planning to do so basically before the motives were even revealed. I still think that Hu would probably react in much the way I "predicted" (assuming Ace's former bullying of Nico didn't already damn him in her eyes too much). But, I also don't think that hearing kind words from Hu would be enough to dissuade Ace from wanting to kill for his own safety.

Therefore, what happens to Hu after Ace kills? Is she now stuck in the opinion of defending Ace at the Class Trial, and being inevitably disappointed when he's revealed to truly be the killer? I guess that's not that different from what Hu canonically did with Nico, but it's not like that's going to be great for her mental health either. Not to mention 1) she would have been speaking up for a previously more controversial figure, therefore bringing her judgment even further into question for ever trusting Ace at all, and 2) Ace would actually die at the end, which would be worse for Hu's "wanting to be reliable and save people" bit.

For those reasons, I think this assignment is... dubious, but Ace's secret is also much more of a loaded gun now that we know that he was already planning to kill prior to the secrets' existence. I don't think there's any assignment I could make that would convince Ace out of killing.

J receives Eden's secret

This one still makes a ton of sense to me.

Rose receives J's secret

While I may wind up shuffling this one around in order to defuse another secret's problem, I think the logic behind this assessment holds true.

"Xander" receives Arei's secret

Also still makes sense to me. Let my girl rest. (But not in peace.) (Well, wait.) (You know what I mean!!!)

Arturo receives Min's secret

I don't think that any of our further explanations of Arturo's traumas would make the "poisoning the competition" secret any more traumatic to him. Thus, it still works.

David receives Xander's secret

I. Um. Wow.

I'm pretty certain I wasn't the only one caught off guard by the true extent of how much David cares/d about Xander. With the "knowledge" that David was planning on throwing the killing game and slaughtering everyone in pursuit of Xander's ideals-- taking into account that his actions may have been falsified/exaggerated, of course-- I fear that leaving David with this secret might be irresponsible.

If his emotions surrounding Xander grew even fiercer, so might his determination to bring the killing game to an end. No matter how much what David said in the Class Trial was the truth, I don't think giving him Xander's secret would have the "out of commission" effect I wrote about. This is definitely one I'd like to reassign, if possible.

Arei receives Whit's secret

Now, we have the confirmation that Arei didn't tell anyone about having Levi's secret! We still (understandably) don't know anything about Arei's relationship with her mom, though. Still, this one is looking good.

Veronika receives Charles' secret

As it turns out, Veronika actually found the secrets overall pretty boring (or at least, so she tells us), and only didn't reveal Hu's secret because of the pact she made with Hu. However, I still think that the logic behind her revealing the secret to Charles early holds, and that it's for the best that Charles learns this information on the sooner side. So, this one is still good!

Levi receives Arturo's secret

Well. We know that Levi wouldn't condemn someone for murdering a family member! If anything, if he treated Felicity's death like his own father's, he'd just forget that he ever read the secret. That's a joke, but I think I did a good job with deescalating Arturo's secret.

The worst consequences I can see here are 1) Levi coming to believe that Arturo is a bad person (which may have been the case already?), and/or 2) Levi could callously spill Arturo's secret to the group if he didn't understand the gravity of the sentiment. We don't exactly know how Arturo would react to his secret being shared publicly in a non-Class Trial setting, but given how he treated Eden in his mini-breakdown in 2-10, I can't imagine it would be good.

However, those are only hypotheticals, and I don't know if I'd really get any better by giving Arturo's secret to someone else. I still stand by most of the logic, so I think this choice would remain.

Ace receives Veronika's secret

I still think that nothing bad would happen from this assignment. Which means... Ace would proceed in his plan to kill Eden. Yay...?

Now that we finally have the answer as to who the killer is, it's really weird to look at this good AU. Every time, I'm like, "phew, we didn't do anything to give someone the motivation to kill!" But, as I don't think there are any secrets Ace could receive that would convince him not to kill, that just means that the "good timeline" is condemning Eden to die. Is that really better than some of the other timelines?

That's a bit more philosophical than I think is required for this AU re-analysis, so we'll just give this one a pass.

Teruko receives Hu's secret

Honestly, I think this one got better since I proposed it. This was probably my least favorite assignment of the original good AU. However, now we know that Hu had interest in forming a pact of secrecy with the person who held her secret.

Naturally, it's possible that she was only able to make this pact with Veronika because they had each other's secrets. I have no idea how Hu would have figured out that Veronika had her secret otherwise, barring a Hu!Mastermind situation.

However, as we saw in canon, Teruko decided to approach Rose and ask Rose about her secret. If Teruko did that in this AU, then Hu could surely ask Teruko not to tell others about her secret, and I imagine Teruko would oblige. It removes the possibility I was worried about with Hu feeling insecure about someone learning this about her; while that may still be the case, we can assume that instead of lashing out, she would just ask Teruko to keep it on the down low. This one's good!

Charles receives Rose's secret

I mean. Yeah.

Whit receives Nico's secret

Yeah x2. I do wonder how Whit would react if Nico tried to ask him for help with regards to Ace's bullying, though. I doubt that would actually happen, given that Nico doesn't trust anyone. Still, I'm curious if Whit would turn a blind eye like he did to their arguing canonically, or if that direct connection to Nico's mental health would call him to action a la Charles.

"Min" receives Teruko's secret

If David's creepy-ass smile didn't convince you that this secret should remain dead and buried, I don't know what will. This one can stay.

-

Finally, we've finished recapping the good version! In the end, I was still happy with 13/16 of my answers, which is a pretty good batting average.

But, how would I fix it? Well, as I alluded to in Rose's section, I think I would wind up giving Rose a different secret than J even though it was fine, just because Rose is a really useful slot to have. The best solution I could come up with is that Rose gets Ace's secret, David gets J's secret, and Hu gets Xander's secret.

I don't think that anyone would get mad at Rose for throwing away Ace's secret because it's pretty personal and likely not murder-related. And, Veronika was able to figure out that the secret belonged to Ace mere moments after hearing it for the first time anyways.

While giving David's secret to J is a bit of a dangerous game, I don't think he'd really be able to do much with it pre-Trial without blowing his cover. He might reveal the secret at the Trial just to throw things off track, but even when the secret was with Rose, it probably would have been revealed via process of elimination at the Trial anyways. We don't get the "take David out of commission" factor that made the assignment extra good the first time around, but that was a fluke. I don't think there's anything here that could stop David from David-ing.

I am banking on the fact that learning about Xander's suicidal tendencies wouldn't reignite any old feelings in Hu, but I think it would be okay. I would imagine that their circumstances are pretty different, and (on the surface, at least) Hu seems pretty resolute in her newfound desire to live.

As for Levi's secret, I think the best path for it would be to bury it in the "Xander" or "Min" slot and hand Eden either Arei or Teruko's secrets. Obviously, both of those are very loaded choices, given that Arei and Teruko are almost certainly the two characters that Eden is most connected to in the narrative right now.

In Arei's case, if Eden approached her about her secret, I think that encounter would play out much like the canonical clock-making scene did. However, that means that (if David is still in the area, I guess) they would also have that same rebound that would lead to Arei declaring herself Eden's friend-- albeit probably not as dramatically, given that in this universe, Arturo never attacks Eden. Of course, if Ace is still in the area, that then raises the question of whether the target would still change from Eden to Arei if Arei didn't make such a bold declaration. Which is the better scenario? That's impossible to say, because they both suck. Still, things to think about.

In Teruko's case, it really depends on how kindhearted Eden is feeling at the moment. I want to believe that Eden would approach "the killing game is all your fault" with skepticism and patience, and talk to Teruko to learn that she (most likely) has no memory of anything like this being the case. If Teruko could see that Eden wouldn't immediately turn against her at her literal worst, it would probably go a long way. That being said, it would be totally reasonable for Eden to be upset and worried about reading this secret, and to therefore begin to distrust Teruko.

Both of these situations raise enough issues that I can't decisively determine if they're better than just leaving Eden with Levi's secret. I'll leave it up to you to decide which iteration you personally prefer.

On to the bad section!

The Bad Timeline

As I said in the original AU post, it's difficult to determine which options are truly the worst when there are so many terrible options. Therefore, I expect that most-if-not-all of these options will still get a pass at least. We'll see if I wind up having enough brain cells to change anything in the end.

And, on that note...

Ace receives Levi's secret

Yeah, this one is still bad! Knowing what we know now, Ace is definitely killing if he gets Levi's secret, possibly faster. I do wonder if it would wind up leading Ace to target Levi, even if I'm not sure how he would pull that off. If Ace tried and failed, could it lead to Levi killing Ace instead? Eh, Ace probably wouldn't even try, given that everyone would suspect him if Levi were to turn up dead. "A reason to stay mad at you," indeed.

Veronika receives David's secret

The logic behind this one still cracks me up. Totally still think I'm right, though.

Levi receives Ace's secret

This one is okay. Really, the pushback I'm running into is just that things are already so bad with Ace that I don't think this extra layer of distrust would make things all that much worse. Plus, I don't know if Levi would pick up on the subtler implications of Ace's secret anymore. The question is just, "is there a better way that we can screw over Levi in this situation?" We'll just have to wait and see.

"Xander" receives Eden's secret

Sorry for kinda closeting you, Eden. But, that's what makes this selection so bad. And that's why it stays.

Arturo receives J's secret

There's no way to make J more miserable than to directly hand her secret over to Arturo. We'll continue sticking with canon on this one.

Hu receives Arei's secret

I didn't even mention in my original passage that Hu's love for her family would put her at odds with Arei's treatment of her sisters. That's really terrible, I say with a thumbs up.

Rose receives Min's secret

Tracks.

Teruko receives Xander's secret

While the whole David thing didn't really pan out, I do think that Teruko's segment still makes sense. It's possible we could do worse, but it's not like giving Teruko more reasons to hate herself is a terrible conclusion. I mean, it is, but not for the sake of crafting the worst possible timeline. You know how it is.

Charles receives Whit's secret

Charwhit angst :((((( Good thing that'll never happen in canon! Ha ha. This section is oxygen-potassium, which would also be potassium oxide (K2O), a corrosive compound! Or, you can just call it O-K.

Whit receives Charles' secret

Meanwhile, this section gets a heart from me.

Arei receives Arturo's secret

So if Arturo were in this even worse mental state after Arei wrecking his shop, possibly even being the blackened himself, would Levi also die? Because, Teruko was presumably planning on enacting her plan no matter who the blackened was, and DefaultTV would presumably always punish Teruko for it, and Levi (unless he too was too distracted by this motive) would probably still step in front of Teruko to repay his "debt" to her. However, if Arturo was either the one up for execution or too hateful of himself or anyone else to be spurred to surgery, we'd probably lose Levi too. It's even worse than I thought! Which means it's fully approved.

David receives Veronika's secret

Although this one kinda reads to me as "not that bad," it's important to keep in mind that I gave David a "not that bad" secret so that he would continue to encourage other people to share theirs. That's important for screwing over everyone else. So, I think this one will remain, but I could see blowing it up if it would help something else worsen.

Nico receives Hu's secret

This choice has always been one that I've felt was difficult to talk about, as was probably apparent by the million disclaimers I put at the beginning of it. Because of that, I'm sort of inclined to dissolve it. However, I... think it still holds up?

We also now have the direct confirmation that Hu wanted to keep her secret under wraps because she didn't want others to see her as weak or unreliable. If Nico was holding on to Hu's secret, she would likely only figure that out in a moment of stress, when people needed her to be reliable the most. My point is, she might go into further overdrive trying to prove to Nico that she really is reliable, which would only make things more stressful for Nico and more annoying for everyone else. With that additional reasoning, I don't currently see any reason why this should be changed.

"Min" receives Rose's secret

I didn't realize before that I had Rose and Min swap secrets-- not that it really matters, given that I could have just as easily given Rose's secret to "Xander." Anyways, this also tracks.

Eden receives Nico's secret

I still feel mean for this one 😅 But, y'know, that's just what life is like for a professional Eden Bully. Which is worse, threatening a lesbian with homophobia or falsely accusing her of murder for a year and a half? (/j) Jokes aside, this will remain.

J receives Teruko's secret

Guys, did you know that J HATES MURDER? Forget the theorist's "I feel like" disqualifier, J would definitely tell everyone and their annoying celebrity mom that everything in Teruko's life is worth killing for. Like a fine wine, this got better with age.

-

Unsurprisingly, after what I predicted at the beginning, I wound up approving 15/16 of these options. The only one I really had any issues with was Levi getting Ace's secret.

The worst secret for Levi to receive would probably be either something that makes him perceive a "good person" as a "bad person" or a "bad person" as a "good person." So, like, Teruko maybe for the former? And the worst person for Ace's secret to go to would probably be someone who would outright weaponize it against him, so possibly someone like Arei or David.

If I wanted to shuffle things around, I think it would give David Ace's secret and give Levi Veronika's secret. Ace's secret is also the kind of juicy insight that could still allow David to pull his manipulator BS, and David could absolutely destroy that man in the Class Trial, blackened or not, with the info when the time was right. Meanwhile, I could see Levi being like, "well, if it's stopping Veronika from hurting herself, then... her talent is a "good" thing, right? Every day I grow more jealous of you and your amazing perception, Veronika..." Honestly, I think I do like that one more than what I originally wrote. Let's roll with it.

And now, nearly two months after this ask was sent in, I'm finally done with it! Once again, I'm sorry I spent so long to complete this relatively simple ask. I hope this lived up to your expectations! Thanks for sending it in :)

[starsandgutters]

Kevaaron Mind meld/telepathy/mind reading sounds very intriguing if I can request one still? Hope you’re having an amazing day!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

—💖💖

Hello I’m still chipping through requests just 🥲 y’know 🥲 actual job and half marathon training eating my time, how DARE ! 😤

4. Mind meld/telepathy/mind reading [read on ao3]

I made this a Misfits AU so I didn’t have to come up with any logical or scientific reasoning for the telepathy hehe (if you’re unfamiliar with Misfits it’s a show where a load of young offenders get superpowers from a freak storm and each week get into Some Shenanigans involving said powers - also the power you get is based on a regret or character flaw. Like the guy who gets invisibility feels really overlooked and left out, or the guy who has the power to go back in time was a really promising athlete who made a career destroying mistake and wishes he could undo it. You don’t really need any previous knowledge for this - that’s just some fun bonus context!)

Due to the nature of this AU the content warnings are a bit mad this time lmao

CWs: Discussion of food/eating habits/implied disordered eating/food criticism Okay this one is WILD as a CW because it is not explicitly what it says but I HAVE to warn anyway - Implied non-consent, including between family members (this is only in one brief flashback of Nicky’s power, and it is stopped before anything happens. Nicky is also unknowing and unwilling as he wasn’t yet aware of his power) (hopefully if you read my writing you trust me enough to know I’m not throwing in a Macauley twins style twist) Brief mention digit loss (non permanent) References to violence in the Nest (waterboarding, SA, Nathan, Riko breaking a Kevin’s hand) References to Aaron’s trauma (child abuse, drug use, bathroom rehab, Thanksgiving) Non explicit sexual content

“Can you stop talking to me about exy right now? Practice is over. I no longer care.” 

“I need you to care. We have a game this week-”

“And so I will care on Friday.”

“Aaron!”

“I have an important assignment due before then. Do you care about that?”

“It’s different.”

“Right, yeah. Different. As long as it’s only important to you.”

“No. Exy and school are separate. I do far more training than you and still get better grades.”

“You do a humanities subject,” Aaron hisses, turning sharply on his heel and poking Kevin in the chest. It always irritates him when Kevin mentions his better grades. “It is easier to get better grades in, and you’re just barely doing better than me.” 

“Excuses, excuses.” Kevin gives Aaron a shove in the chest to send him back. Aaron glares at him. 

“Watch me try even less in exy,” he says, and Kevin lurches after him. Aaron reaches up to grab his hands before he can shove him again, and they’re so busy tussling they walk right into someone. Aaron jolts as he gets a static shock. From the way Kevin leaps back, Aaron guesses he also felt it. 

“Oh.” The girl stumbles back, looking up at them with big dark eyes widened in surprise. Her water bottle has fallen from her hand. 

“Why on this whole path were you right in front of us?” Kevin snaps in the few seconds it takes him to remember he is Kevin Day. Aaron is already ducking down to grab her water bottle for her.

“He means sorry,” Aaron says, glowering over his shoulder at Kevin. His face softens fractionally when he looks back to the girl. “We weren’t paying attention.”

He hands her bottle back to her and she gives him a timid smile.

“That’s okay,” she says. “Easily done.”

She glances between the two of them, and her smile grows. It makes the skin on the back of Aaron’s neck tighten. He wonders if she’s recognising who they are, but she just side steps out of their way.

“Have a fun night.” She walks off swiftly, giggling to herself. 

Have a ‘fun’ night? Fuckin’ weird choice of words, but okay. Can’t believe this asshole couldn’t even get an apology out before she left.

“You already apologised! Why would I have to do it too?”

“What?”

Aaron winces as he feels something in his head. Like a pulsing shape of irritation. A cloudy, dark area of his brain taken over by it before it melds back into what feels like the normal shape. 

“You said I didn’t even get an apology out.”

“No I didn’t.”

Does he think I’m stupid? I just heard him.

Aaron can hear Kevin’s words, but his mouth is not moving. He blinks, then narrows his eyes, staring hard at him. What the fuck?

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything!”

Oh for fuck sake, I don’t have time for-

“Stop playing.”

“Kevin!” Aaron reaches up and grabs Kevin’s face in his hands. Kevin tries to pull away, but Aaron holds tighter. 

His hands are always so cold what is he doing now what is-

Kevin. Look at me. Do you see my mouth moving?

What is he talking about?

“No. So what, this a new trick of your power or something?”

Is that music? Why can I hear music? Where is that coming from?

The music is coming from Aaron, who never manages to hold just one thought at a time. Even as he is trying to think direct messages at Kevin, there’s a background list of everything he needs to get done tonight before he goes to bed, an absent pondering about what he’s going to eat when he gets back to the dorm, and whatever song is currently stuck in his head playing random fragments on loop. 

Kevin. Focus. You’re hearing the music from me.

“I didn’t say-” 

Anything. You didn’t say anything, you thought it. As I am thinking this. (Fuck his jawline is so sharp I swear I could cut my palms on it) That’s what I’m trying to get across. 

Wait. Stop. Slow down.

“Seriously? You’re hearing my thoughts right now?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

How?!

I don’t know man probably more of this weird storm shit. It’s always powers (power, power, I still need to get a better grasp on mine before the next game or I’m going to-) when something starts acting up isn’t it?

“Why are yours so fast?”

I don’t know that’s just how I think (fuck was I supposed to email that back today I think so did I actually do it wait yes I did it before-) it doesn’t feel fast to me

“Can you stop jumping around?”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you’re thinking? It’s like multiple voices at once.”

“Yeah, but I just focus on the main one, the others are background noise most of the time. Like thoughts I think without really focusing on them.”

He’s insane.

I’m not insane! It’s not my fault you’re too stupid (his eyes are so fucking green in this lighting) to keep up

“Why are you thinking about my eyes?”

“What?” Aaron feels himself immediately flush.

There it is. The Aaron Minyard blush. Adorable.

“Shut up! I’m not adorable.”

“I wasn’t- Aaron, you can’t just hide when you don’t want to have a conversation.”

Aaron looks down at his hand, but all he sees is the ground. Fuck. His power kicking in without his control again. He looks up at Kevin, who is glaring above his head. Heh. Go invisible and he suddenly thinks I’m taller. (God please let this be only a Kevin thing if I have to hear what Andrew thinks about Josten I’m going to kill myself, and I don’t even want to think what Nicky-)

“I can still hear your thoughts, Aaron. You can’t really hide.” Seconded on Nicky. Maybe we should stick to this so people don’t think I’m a weirdo talking to myself.

I don’t want to (he didn’t mean it like that he was being a dick obviously get over yourself) talk to you anyway 

Aaron takes off at a swift stride back towards the dorm. He’s happy to find that just as if Kevin were calling after him, the voice in his head gets quieter the further away he moves. 

Don’t be childish. Aaron? Aaron! Have you left-

Realising this, Aaron tightens his grip on his bag and starts to jog. His body is already aching from practice, but the desire to escape Kevin Day is a great driving motivator. He runs until the only voice he can hear in his head anymore is his, and as he slows down to catch his breath, his body flickers back into visibility. 

*

Kevin makes his way back to the dorms in a mood. Thankfully, he does not hear the thoughts of anyone he passes on his way there. Which means either this only works for people he knows, or it is tied specifically to Aaron. Aaron who he just thought was adorable. Kevin needs to try and keep a lid on thoughts like those if Aaron can now tune into his frequency. Thankfully Aaron took it as an insult and did his little invisibility bit. Kevin’s not sure what he would have said if Aaron had confronted him about it. How can you lie when someone’s in your head?

As per evidence found in (god I’m so tired I wish I could go to bed my body actually hurts with it) we can draw the conclusion that (and my eyes are burning wait shit I forgot to eat when I came in okay no don’t stop stopping is the enemy just try and get three more paragraphs finished food can be your reward) these findings suggest (that’s a waste of words you already implied that) 

Kevin hears Aaron’s running internal dialogue as he makes his way up the stairs in Fox Tower, growing louder the closer he gets to their dorm. Of course Aaron was so focused on getting to his work he forgot to eat. If only he applied that focus to exy.

Get out of my head Kevin.

Get out of mine.

He hears some mental grumbling from Aaron as he tries to pull his attention back to task, but there’s a background insecurity running beneath his thoughts now of Kevin might still be listening don’t think anything weird don’t think that either he’ll be wondering what weird things you think about oh my god stop. Kevin has to really focus to pick it up beneath the chaotic mess of Aaron’s other thoughts. He doesn’t understand how he can exist with so much going on in his head, but slowly Kevin is learning that if he does just focus in on the main thought, the others sink more into background noise. 

For his part, Kevin is thinking about this week's game as he goes about the kitchen making himself dinner. He’s pulling up stats in his head, marking weaknesses, implementing potential strategies. He’s already got notes on it all, but he’ll run through it countless times mentally before they actually have the game. As he makes himself up a salad, he pulls out a second plate and makes Aaron a sandwich, using some of his salad for the filling and then adding cheese and meat from the fridge.

“Are you trying to keep me out of your thoughts or do you really just think about exy nonstop?” If so that is so sad.

“Shut up.” I made you a sandwich.

You made me a sandwich?

Yes. You forgot to eat. Now you can keep working on your assignment.

“Oh.” That’s uncharacteristically nice of him (does he want something is this a bribe-)

“It’s not a bribe. I just think you should eat, especially after training.” To aid recovery.

“Thanks.” You know if you want to aid recovery (he never eats enough) you really need protein and some carbs (I don’t know how he keeps going) to replace what you burned (I wish he’d take better care of himself)

“I take care of myself.” Take better care of myself than you do. I eat healthy 

Healthy food is only one part of diet you still need to eat enough

I don’t remember asking for your commentary on my diet

Yeah I’m not giving it (I’m just worried about you idiot) you’re just listening to my thoughts 

You don’t have to worry about me

“I don’t.” I can’t help it

“The stoic act doesn’t really work when I can hear what you’re thinking.” I like that he worries about me oh he’s blushing again

“Fuck off.” FUCK OFF! Aaron turns bright pink and then disappears. He reaches out and lifts the plate, taking his sandwich and walking back to the bedroom. The plate appears to float from Kevin’s perspective. Aaron slams the door behind him. Stupid annoying Kevin let him starve for all I care (he made you a sandwich) I can’t deal with this (he wanted you to eat too) this is supposed to be the one place that is mine and now I can’t even have my own brain (it sounds nice when you hear his thoughts all low and close and intimate-) Stop.

Kevin feels a shiver of heat in his stomach. A sudden flush of arousal from nowhere, like hot wax dripping down over him. He shifts his shoulders as if he can shrug it off, shaking his head and sitting with his salad at the island. He’s trying to focus back in on exy but all he can think about now is Aaron, and the flush running down his neck, and how he wants Kevin to take care of himself, and how apparently he likes hearing my thoughts.

Get. Out. Of. My. HEAD!

Kevin winces at the sudden volume blast, but it doesn’t stop his train of thoughts. Thinking of how this would be so good if they were together. How Kevin would be able to get immediate feedback on Aaron’s response to his touches. He really should not be going down this track, since Aaron can hear his thoughts, but the more Kevin tries to think of something else the more he thinks about Aaron beneath him, his mouth to Aaron’s throat, his fingers-

The door to the bedroom slams against the wall with the force it is swung open. Kevin jolts. The doorway is empty, but he can almost see the ominous aura coming from around Aaron’s invisible form. Or maybe he can just sense the irritation in his thoughts so clearly it seems like that.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He hears the words twice, spoken and thought, and Kevin panics. Shit shit shit he knew Aaron wouldn’t appreciate it if he knew Kevin was harbouring those kinds of thoughts about him, but he never thought Aaron would actually know. “Kevin.”

Air catches in Kevin’s chest. Everything constricts. The panic of his anxiety a sharp, tight sensation, except then there is a drop in his stomach, and oh. Not just anxiety. His power kicking into play. Kevin feels himself fall backwards. When he lands in time again, he’s back on his feet, and Aaron’s sandwich is floating away from him. The bedroom door slams. (it sounds nice when you hear his thoughts all low and close and intimate-) Stop.

Kevin feels the same warmth drip over him, but this time he immediately brings up an old game on his laptop and puts on his headphones. It doesn’t fully silence Aaron out, he still catches snippets of his essay here and there, and the other random seemingly disconnected thoughts he bounces between, but it’s easier to make it background noise when Kevin has his own attention focused on something else. 

When Nicky comes back and starts moving around the kitchen, Kevin slides one earphone off and listens to him chatter. He looks at Nicky’s face. His mouth is definitely moving. Those are the only words Kevin is hearing. 

Seems to be just Aaron. Then Kevin tries to aim his thoughts towards the bedroom. He has no idea if this actually works, but he visualises it anyway. Can you hear Nicky?

Just you. Distracting me. Again.

So you don’t want me to tell you he brought pastries that you both should absolutely not be eating at this time of the night.

The door to the bedroom opens. Aaron is visible once more and has changed into his pyjamas. His hair is a ruffled mess from where he’s been running his hands through it in stress, a gesture Kevin has seen him do countless times, and he’s wearing his glasses. He looks soft and ruffled and painfully adorable. Aaron flips him off, ears turning pink again. 

“Aaron! I got apple turnovers,” Nicky says, and Aaron beelines around the counter, nudging Kevin with his elbow on his way past. Aaron holds his hands out demandingly. Nicky sets the box on the counter and carefully slides it across to him to avoid making any contact, as Nicky’s power is touch activated, and absolutely not the kind of touch he wants to use on his cousins. There had been a whole thing before he realised what it was, involving Andrew attacking him when he accidentally touched Neil, which had turned to… 

Well. Considering Andrew’s power is also touch activated, it had not been good. Neil had been dazed when he broke free from Nicky’s power, and Kevin had been stunned by the whole turn of events. Only Aaron, overlooked and invisible in the background, the first to realise there was something up with them, had been able to use his invisibility to his benefit and break them apart before anything went further. Nicky had cried, and Andrew had disappeared for a full night and most of the following day with Neil. Nicky had tried to apologise on their return, but Andrew shut him down and refused to talk about it.

“Do not use that on anyone else,” he had seethed, teeth bared, and Nicky tried his best not to. An accidental brush of skin was usually recoverable, people would just glance his way with interest, but if Nicky got a hold of someone or vice versa on bare skin…

Kevin doesn’t really know what the official name for Nicky’s power would be, but basically whoever is in his thrall becomes very determined to fuck him. Whether Nicky wants them to or not. His power does not come with an off switch. 

After Andrew stormed off and Nicky hid himself in his room confused and upset, Aaron had reappeared with considerable frostbite on his hand. Aaron blinking into existence weirdly seemed like the least upsetting part of the evening, but it had taken too long with everything else happening, and he ended up losing two fingers to the frost damage. 

Which activated Kevin’s power. So the next time it happened - and really, Kevin could have lived with only going through that night once, thanks - he was able to draw attention to Aaron before Andrew left. This meant Andrew could drop them at Abby’s on the way to wherever he was going. He did not speak, and he did not apologise for almost freezing Aaron’s hand off, but the fact he took them when he clearly just wanted to get as far away from everyone as possible immediately said enough. 

Shouldn’t be eating those, Kevin thinks chidingly, but he keeps his mouth shut. Aaron glares at him as he bites the corner of his.

Mind your business (oh god that’s good)

Kevin is the one to flush this time. He feels his cheeks heat, though his skin tone hides any outward sign of it, at least. Nicky is saying something to Aaron but Kevin isn’t paying attention past Aaron’s fucking mental foodgasm, apparently. For someone so stoic, Kevin would not have guessed there is so much going on under the surface.

You know what they say about assume. Aaron glances sideways at Kevin as he licks cream from the centre of his apple turnover. Kevin’s gaze locks onto the flash of pink tongue as it pushes between the layers of flaky pastry. The hint of green from his tongue stud. There’s sugar crystals on Aaron’s top lip. He drags his tongue out, cream on the tip of it, and Kevin’s mind of course leaps to various other scenarios. Aaron abruptly lowers the pastry, looking at Kevin with an appalled expression.

What the fuck-

Jolt in his stomach. Feeling of falling. Still in the kitchen with Nicky and Aaron, but a handful of seconds back.

Oh god that’s good

Kevin turns away from Aaron before he starts licking cream this time, closing up his laptop and gathering his things, done for the night.

“Do you want one, Kevin?” Nicky shakes the box at him. Kevin shakes his head.

Coward

How am I a coward for not wanting to eat that sugary abomination?

You just are (worry about how bad his eating is going to get when he’s alone)

There’s nothing wrong with my eating and I’ll have a meal plan when I go pro anyway

Whatever (will anyone actually check if he follows it)

Kevin flicks Aaron in the forehead as he walks past him. Aaron ducks away, then bats at Kevin’s hand, too slow. 

You are so annoying

Kevin ignores Aaron and goes to get ready for bed. He’s already tucked in by the time Aaron and Nicky come through. Nicky collapses into his bed and crashes out fairly quickly. Kevin’s usually the same, but tonight he has to deal with Aaron’s constantly overlapping trains of thoughts.

Did I pack for the right classes tomorrow? (Will Katelyn want to go to the library between classes?) Pretty sure I checked (wait what day is tomorrow) maybe I should go for a run in the morning (calves kind of aching after practice, might help) Hope my stupid power doesn’t activate during this week's game (what am I supposed to do if it does) ugh wait tomorrow is Wednesday session day (wonder if Andrew will even look at me this week) 

Can you shut up?

Not talking

Is this why you’re always up so late? How do you ever sleep when it’s all so constant

Usually just hit the point of exhaustion and pass out

That can’t be healthy

You’re one to talk

I sleep!

So go to sleep now and leave me alone (should try and sleep eyes are burning was so tired earlier why can I never shut off when I want) 

Aaron.

It’s weird when you do that

What?

Think my name right in my head. Weird.

How is it weird?

Just feels weird. Kevin.

Yes okay I understand.

Kevin Kevin Keviiin (kind of weird that we just make noises and those are our names and we respond to our unique set of noises)(and that there are so many dialects and languages and how they developed so differently)

It’s interesting

Yes (can you imagine if everyone had telepathy)

That sounds like a nightmare

Absolutely 

This is unideal but out of everyone on the team I think having this with you is probably the best scenario. It would be helpful to have this kind of communication with Neil on the court but otherwise I would hate to know what’s going on in his head

Oh yeah god no. I do NOT need to know what that freak is thinking about 

Especially since a lot of it would probably be about Andrew-

Stop. (might be interesting to know what Andrew is thinking but if I had to hear about Josten-) Shut up. (wonder what he thinks about me) Shhh shh shh. (probably don’t want to know)

I don’t think Andrew would think anything bad about you

Go to bed (probably doesn’t think about me at all)

I’m in bed

Then go to sleep 

I would if you’d stop thinking so loud

Can’t help it

Yeah. I know.

Kevin rolls over to face the room. He can’t see Aaron in the dark, but he hears the shift of Aaron’s bed, imagines them rolling to face each other. He closes his eyes and lets the cotton warmth of sleep start to descend over him. It takes longer than usual, Aaron’s constant stream of thought an irritating background radio frequency, but Kevin tries to extend out the tired feeling in his head until eventually he drops off.

*

Weird images are flashing across Aaron’s mind. He’s somewhere dark, and there’s a glow of red lights which makes it look even darker. He doesn’t like that. He’s following long corridors, trying to find his way out, feeling like he is trapped in a labyrinth. Every time he opens a different door, he sees something he doesn’t want to. 

He opens one door. It’s a bathroom. Jean Moreau is under a flow of water. Riko is holding his hair to keep him in place. He puts a cloth over Jean’s face and Jean’s body convulses as he tries to breathe. Aaron staggers back out of the room. He races down the corridor to the next room. He can’t see in this one, but there are hands on him. He does not want them to touch him, but he has the knowledge that he has to let it happen whether he wants to or not. Aaron fights his way through to another door and stumbles into the corridor again.

Neil Josten is in the third room. That is what Aaron thinks at first glance. An older version of him. But then he realises that there is a younger version of Neil standing beside him, along with a younger version of Riko. So the man currently slicing someone up must be his father.

“Keep watching, Kevin. No looking away,” a voice says, and Aaron’s head snaps back to face what is happening. He wants to cry but he knows if he does he will be punished, so he has to fight it back until later. He can cry when he is alone. That is what he is supposed to do, but there are tears on his cheeks as he backs up towards the door. He doesn’t make it this time. His foot catches on something and he falls backwards, and then Riko is coming towards him, Riko is standing over him, Riko is slamming his foot down on Aaron’s hand and the pain explodes through him, but worse, worse is the knowledge that he is losing everything.

Aaron gasps awake trembling, sweat sticking his shirt to his back. He’s breathing hard like he really has been running. Dim morning light leaks into the room. Nicky is sleeping soundly beneath him, but across the room Kevin’s usual heavy breathing has been replaced with soft sounds of distress.

Kevin. Kevin. Kevin!

Aaron hears Kevin jolt, the start of his own gasp before he muffles it off with his hand to his mouth. Aaron’s limbs are still shaky, but he’s starting to feel steadier now in the knowledge it wasn’t his dream. He’s just getting secondhand effects. Kevin must be feeling much worse. 

Riko-

Riko’s gone. You’re safe. You’re at Palmetto. Jean is safe. He got out, he’s with the Trojans. Everything is okay now.

The blood my hand-

Your hand is better now. You’ve trained back the strength in it. You can play with it again. You won your first championship with the Foxes playing with it, remember? You scored the winning goal

Yes

Yeah (that was horrible does he still have nightmares like that often no wonder he’s so anxious)

Not that often anymore

Thank you

It’s okay (was all of that real) 

Yes

Even the bit with Josten’s dad?

Yes

That’s fucked up

Yes

Try and get more sleep

Don’t know if I can. Do you want to go for a run?

(not really) Okay

You don’t have to

Let’s go (needs the distraction want to make sure he’s okay tired but always tired anyway)

Aaron drops down out of bed. He has so much to do today. He tries to build a mental to do list as he staggers sleepily around the room, pulling on his running gear. Kevin is still shaken from his nightmare. Aaron keeps getting brief flashes of his thoughts, more images and feelings than words this morning. He bumps his arm against Kevin’s as they head out, letting Kevin set the pace and falling into place beside him.

Always starts off too hard he’ll lose his breathing

Shut up. Kevin is in fact wheezing already. One handy thing about this new connection is they can easily pass thoughts back and forth without having to slow their pace.

Why don’t you go back and stop him? You can do that now you could save your hand

I can’t choose. Can’t control it. I don’t know if I can go back that far, but I also don’t think I want to

No?

If it didn’t happen would I still be stuck there? Would Neil have died if he hadn’t joined the Foxes? Would I spend my whole life stuck in Riko’s shadow?

Seth would have lived

Kevin stumbles. Aaron catches his elbow, steadies him. Kevin jerks away.

That wasn’t targeted at you it was just an automatic thought (don’t be mad) I know Seth wasn’t your fault (don’t yell at me) if anything it was Josten who aggravated Riko but it’s all on him Kevin not you 

I know. I wonder sometimes if I could go back and stop that but then would anything play out like it did? How much more do I fuck with the further back I go?

Do you wish you had a different power?

Sometimes

Which?

Something useful like super speed could be good. Would make me better on the court

Oh my god Kevin we’re talking about superpowers and you’re thinking about exy (of course he is)

What about you?

Shapeshifting.

Why?

Taller (so I could be my own person) (and who doesn’t want to look better) (I mean the height wouldn’t hurt) (would Andrew be offended if I changed the way I look) (maybe people would like me better maybe you-)

Right. Of course.

Invisibility is okay (if I could control it) I mean it’s an A list power (people don’t really see me anyway) could be worse (at least it’s not Nicky’s)

Yes I definitely would not want Nicky’s

I think it would be the worst (do most people not want to fuck you anyway)

Not that I’m aware of

That you’re aware of. Aaron gives Kevin a wry side glance. He’s Kevin Day. Of course most people are tripping over themselves for him. Kevin just socialises within a distinct circle that keeps him separate from most of that. Free of anyone who wants him that way. (almost free)

What does that mean?

Nothing sometimes my brain just thinks random words get over it (fuckfuckfuck) I didn’t realise

What?

The extent of the Nest. I knew it was bad but I guess there is no way to describe that kind of thing in a way that catches how it actually feels

Those were only snapshots

I know

I wish you hadn’t seen that

Didn’t mean to (would I want anyone to see-) Aaron’s own memories flash across his mind without permission. His mother lashing out at him, throwing things at him, a bottle shattering against him, a knife sticking in a wall, his tiny child body being shoved so hard into a glass table it breaks beneath him, the pain of his sliced back. Swallowing pills until he felt so sick he was convinced he was going to die. Holding his own over earnest letter with FUCK OFF scrawled over it, returned from Andrew. That first meeting under the too stark fluorescent lights of the detention facility visitor room, Aaron’s fingers picked bloody, Andrew’s narrowed eyes, him reaching across to grip Aaron’s already aching wrist as he asked about the bruises Aaron had failed to cover well enough. Puking his guts up while trapped in the bathroom, sprawled on the ground trembling, curled tight into himself in the tub once again thinking it was over. Walking into that room on Thanksgiving. Alone in the back of a cop car not knowing if Andrew was alright or what was going to happen to him. On the stand, facing a crowd of unfamiliar faces. Stop stop stop stop stop.

Aaron

Don’t look! 

Aaron you’re thinking about them I can’t help it

I’m not thinking about them (not on purpose) I don’t want to think about them (stopstopstop) you don’t need to see this (he’s already been through enough with his own)

“Hey.” Kevin stops running. He catches Aaron’s arm. Aaron yanks away from him, but realises that he’s breathing harder than usual. He doesn’t know if he’s sharing Kevin’s anxiety or if his own flashbacks have caused his chest to tighten. 

What?

“It’s okay.” You don’t always have to worry about me. 

“I’m not.” Can’t help it (breathe just breathe you’re embarrassing yourself) 

“Aaron.” It’s okay

“You’re shit at the comforting thing.” So am I

I think you’re quite good at it

“You don’t have to be fake nice.” Stop thinking about it stop thinking about it stop. “Come on. We should finish this run.”

“Aaron.” Are you okay to run?

Yeah I’m fine (you can’t say “jar” I didn’t say it out loud)

Loopholes

Exactly loopholes (breathe just breathe focus on it count your steps breathe out when the left one hits the ground)

Thank you for coming running with me 

??? it’s okay (is he feeling better?)

Yes. I am. Thank you. 

Good (can I get him to eat this morning)

You concern yourself far too much with my eating habits

No I don’t (if you only knew how much I concern myself with- stop)

Aaron starts thinking about the lyrics of a song. He focuses on it as hard as he can, repeating it over and over again. Bad enough Kevin knows he worries about him not eating enough, he doesn’t need Kevin to know just how far Aaron is concerned with him. He tries not to have any other thoughts as they make their way back, but his brain has never been good at sticking to one thing. 

Still need to ask Kate about the library (if I can get five hundred words minimum done today) I need to do laundry (it would be great if I could get to one thousand but how likely is that really) awh shit session day (not likely at all then I cannot be assed with Dobson today) are we going to Columbia this weekend (god I want a hit so bad all this powers shit has me fucked up) really hope I don’t turn invisible during our game (or during class) probably the only time anyone would notice (fuck hope it doesn’t happen at Dobson’s office) my lips are dry I wonder where I put my chapstick

Is he going to relapse?

“What? Of course I’m not.”

“You were just thinking-”

“I think a lot of things. Do you control every thought you have? I don’t act on it. That’s what counts.”

“Okay.”

Should I tell Andrew-

“Do not tell Andrew. What is wrong with you?” Aaron abruptly stops running to glare at Kevin. Well that’s too long to get into, really, isn’t it, Kevin?

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Do you realise the fucking argument you would start over a stray thought. How about I police every stray thought you have?” Aaron steps closer and shoves Kevin hard in the chest, his whole body flush hot with rage. Kevin catches Aaron’s wrist before he can move away, holding him in place as he leans his sweaty face in close to him. 

“I wasn’t actually going to do it. That was just a stray thought on my side.” His eyes are always the nicest in the sunshine. Liquid gold.

Aaron goes slack in Kevin’s hold, blinking at him. His mouth works uselessly.

What.

Lips don’t look dry to me. They look soft and pink

Aaron automatically licks his lips.

Fuck. One more time. 

Then Kevin is kissing him, and the world feels like it has tilted sideways. 

Said I’d stop doing this.

Aaron’s free hand fists in Kevin’s shirt. His brain is still a loud neon scream of ??? and yet he’s not pushing Kevin away. 

Is he kissing back?

No. He’s definitely not doing that. Aaron finally shoves Kevin, stepping back from him. What is he doing (is this a joke) why is he doing it (I don’t understand) what does he gain from this (what the fuck) Despite the frantic, frightened tone of Aaron’s thoughts, his expression is furious

“What are you-”

*

“I think a lot of things. Do you control every thought you have? I don’t act on it. That’s what counts.”

I have to stop doing that.

“Okay.”

Doing what?

“Thinking stupid things,” Kevin says. Aaron’s mouth twitches, the knife edge of a smile that doesn’t quite make it over the precipice. Kevin focuses very hard on not thinking of anything even in the vicinity of the topic of kissing.

So, here’s the thing. It’s not that he intends to keep kissing Aaron and then reversing time so he forgets. Rather the opposite. Kevin has told himself he will absolutely not kiss Aaron ever again, as he never reacts well, and yet every time they get riled up, or in each other’s space, or Aaron looks at him all sleepy and soft, or anything that happened during any of the seven previous occurrences, Kevin finds himself leaning in. He feels like he’s going a bit insane, because sometimes he’s convinced Aaron is looking at his mouth, or he’s the one leaning in first, and on at least four of those occasions Kevin swears Aaron kissed him back, but then he always draws back with his flushed cheeks, narrowed eyes, angry eyebrows, and Kevin stumbles back in time before he even has the chance to hear what Aaron is going to say. 

He’s not running on purpose. At this point he’d kind of like to have it over with and out of the way so he stops ending up in situations where it happens again. Surely if Aaron gets really, truly angry at him once, then there will be a safe boundary between them going forward. Unless Aaron hates him for it, and stops talking to him, and this is exactly the line of thought that keeps triggering Kevin’s power. 

He’s thinking about it now that he’s alone in the dorm, everyone else out at afternoon classes. Aaron currently too far away to be prying into his thoughts. Except it’s a depressing line of thought, and his brain doesn’t want that, so it starts thinking about what would happen if Aaron did kiss him back. If Aaron kept kissing him, hands in Kevin’s hair, body pressed forward against Kevin’s hips - Kevin initially thinks of their hips pressed together but logistically this would not work with Aaron’s vertical challenges, so he shifts them to a seat where Aaron can straddle Kevin - strong thighs squeezing around Kevin’s legs, breath warm in Kevin’s mouth. 

Kevin checks the time. He should have at least a good hour before anyone gets back. He moves to the bathroom just in case, pushing his sweats down low over his hips. He leans back against the wall, thinking of Aaron again, lost in the fantasy. He’s thinking of how their telepathy would add to it. How Aaron gives so little away outwardly, but now Kevin has this secret window, he can see exactly how good he makes him feel. Because Kevin would, of course. It’s his fantasy. He can be the queen of exy AND sex if he wants to be. Then he’s thinking about Aaron’s power - anything Aaron has on disappears with him, but if he lifts something new it doesn’t - and wondering if he would be able to see himself if Aaron were blowing him. He’d be in the hot warmth of his mouth, but would it just look like bucking against air? As much as Kevin would absolutely rather see Aaron, it’s kind of a turn on to think about. He thinks about using his own power to go back and watch Aaron orgasm over and over again, luxuriating in the fact Kevin brought him that pleasure. Though Aaron wouldn’t really benefit, as he wouldn’t remember-

What the fuck are you thinking about?

Kevin freezes.

How can you hear me from class

Professor cancelled. There’s a bang as the front door slams closed. Kevin frantically pulls his trousers back on, even though it’s not like Aaron can see. 

Fuck fuck fuck 

*

Aaron feels ablaze. It had confused him why, as he got closer to the Tower, as he trudged his way up the stairs to the dorm, there was a building sense of arousal curling in his low stomach. Considering his only thoughts - beyond being fucking annoyed the professor couldn’t give them a heads up before he walked all the way across campus to his stupid class - before were that at least he’d have an extra hour to work on his assignment. He’s hoping to finish it up tonight. Except then there had been images of Kevin, and Aaron thought they were absent background thoughts at first. Irritating, but not entirely unusual. He has, unfortunately, been thinking about Kevin in that kind of way as of late.

Except it felt weirdly like he was in Kevin’s place in the thoughts. Rather than his own. Looking at a vision of himself that Aaron did not entirely recognise. His hair definitely doesn’t fall as neatly as that, or look as golden in colour, and he doesn’t have as many freckles sprinkled across his nose. His shoulders are not that broad, and there’s an awkward blockiness to his sides, not the softness of the version he was seeing in his head. Which is when it occurred to him that it was not, in fact, his own weird thoughts. 

Can’t just hide in the bathroom forever… can I? He’ll get bored eventually.

Kevin. Aaron thinks it because he does not trust himself to say it right now. His face is burning up. He presses a hand over it. This can’t be happening (oh my god) I can’t deal with this right now (and we have training in like three fucking hours) why was he (doesn’t mean anything) I don’t understand (can’t wouldn’t obviously) I just (why was it kind of) how the fuck am I supposed to (hot)

Aaron bangs his fist against the door. 

Go away

Open up

No. Go away. 

Kevin. Aaron bangs the door again, trying the handle. It opens. Kevin forgot to lock it in his… ponderings. 

“What are you-”

*

Kevin’s just sliding his sweatpants down when he jolts back in time. He pulls them firmly up again, splashes cold water on his face, and runs to be sitting in a normal position by the time Aaron reaches the dorm.

“Why are you just sitting in here in silence?” Did he have another panic attack after yesterday 

No

“Just tired. We need to do something about this.”

“About what?”

This. It’s not good.

Obviously 

We have to work out what happened and how to stop it 

“You’re very insistent all of a sudden.” There is something rotten (you want it gone too) at your very core (this is a good thing) and everyone senses it eventually (obviously why would you want to keep this) and no one wants to know you when they see the rot (think what happened before this started) and no one will ever stick around if they see the real you (we were leaving practice-)

“Aaron.” 

“What?”

That’s not true

“What’s not true?” We were leaving practice, and we were arguing. 

“You’re not- There’s not-” There’s nothing wrong with you.

How about you mind my own business and we don’t talk about things you hear in my head (and then there was the girl) WAIT !

THE GIRL !

Woah, that was weird

We haven’t thought the same thing at the same time before 

“She must have done something.” Felt like static when I touched her

Same

“How do we find her?” I don’t even remember what she looked like

Of course you don’t. I do we’ll just have to look around campus (really need to finish that assignment)

“Can you picture her in your head? As clear as you can remember.”

“Uh. Sure.” Aaron scrunches up his nose, and Kevin sees a girl take form. Her face shifts and melts and morphs as Aaron changes his mind about details. She has dark hair cut into a shag and big, dark brown eyes that are the central feature of her face. Narrow nose, thin lips, smudge of mascara under one eye. Kevin wonders if Aaron actually remembers this clearly or if he’s invented some of it. 

“Okay. You work on your assignment, I’ll go…” walk around and see if I can find her I guess

Is he the best one to handle this after being so rude to her

“Hey!”

“Well you were.” Didn’t even apologise (probably why she did this)

“That’s victim blaming, Aaron.” Maybe she shouldn’t have been right in our way. It was a big path

“Whatever. Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own?” He gets so anxious

“Yes.” Maybe

Ugh I have time (a bit) I can probably leave my assignment to later (just stay up tonight) could look until practice

“No. I’ve got this.” Trust me with something 

“Okay.” Call if you need anything 

“Telephone or tele-pathy.”

“That was terrible.” At least he makes jokes now (his stupid dorky smile is so cu-) APPLE BOTTOM JEANS BOOTS WITH THE FUR (WITH THE FUR)

Ugh.

“Right. See you in a bit.” Kevin winces as Aaron continues to blast the song in his head, making his way towards the door. He jogs towards the main campus building and stalks his way through halls, glancing in the windows of classes, doing a lap of the library. He doesn’t even know what year the girl is or what she’s studying, so he has no idea of where to look for her. Over an hour later he gives up and heads dejectedly back towards the dorm.

No luck

Fuck (what if we’re stuck like this) it’s okay (I guess it won’t matter after he graduates) we’ll likely see her again at some point (but that’s a long time to have someone in my head)

Worry about it later. Get ready for practice now.

Oh fuck off

Their newfound connection, Kevin discovers, really serves them on the court. 

Behind you left shoulder

Aaron turns just in time to block Neil coming up from his blind spot. Kevin can feel the wordless burst of his delighted pride, and it makes his own chest swell, because Aaron is enjoying exy! He can’t hide. Kevin is there in his head, and he can’t lie about hating it all the time anymore. 

Yeah yeah. Quick turn quarter clockwise

Kevin turns and catches one of the freshmen trying to pass around him. He flicks his racquet against theirs with enough force to knock it unsteady in their hands. The ball falls loose and Kevin catches it in his net. He fights down a smile as his and Aaron’s thoughts overlap.

It’s like being able to see all around

It’s like having eyes in the back of your head

Think you can catch this?

No way you can send it that far

Go to your right I’m going to change angle last second

As several of the younger Foxes scramble to Kevin’s right, thinking his left hand will send the ball that way, he swaps hands last second and fires it down the court towards the corner that is left for him, but to Aaron’s right. Aaron’s moving before Kevin even passes, which gives him time to gauge the position of the ball and get himself in place. 

YES! Square your shoulders more before you pass again. Just like that. Yes

Stop mentally coaching me

But look how much better you’re doing

Kevin (why is it kind of nice when) stop it (don’t go there)

Kevin doesn’t stop, because his tips actually are improving Aaron’s game. In real time! He can deal with Aaron’s annoyed mental missiles if they are the price to pay. Aaron flips him off down the court. Kevin can’t see Andrew’s expression, but his head moves between them. 

Kevin makes sure he’s on the far side of the changing room to Aaron after practice, because if he’s too close he might steal glances, and if he starts stealing glances he is going to start having thoughts. Which Aaron can hear now. So Kevin decides the safest route is avoiding temptation. They elect to walk back after practice, ignoring the questioning way Andrew narrows his eyes, combing over the campus for the girl. 

Really need to finish that (so tired) am going to have to stay up (this has taken longer than expected) ugh morning class tomorrow should I skip that (no don’t want to lose participation mark)

Their fingers brush between them as they walk. Aaron yanks his hands back. Kevin looks down at him, Aaron looks back, his eyes shadowed underneath. He really looks exhausted. Kevin has always brushed Aaron’s bad sleep pattern off as a lack of discipline. He always thought he sacrificed rest to do his own unimportant nonsense, but he’s realising that Aaron holds himself to high standards in a different way from Kevin. That while he seems largely laid back about things on the surface, he’s a tycoon underneath, and that his brain never seems to stop.

Why is he looking at me (and what does that expression mean) what-

Kevin reaches up and touches Aaron’s cheekbone. He smooths his thumb along one of the dark marks beneath his eyes. He scrunches up his nose, trying to force his power into action, but he can never make it work when he wants to. 

He looks so exhausted if only I could give him time back

What is he doing what the fuck

Kevin slides his hand down and grips Aaron’s chin. He told himself he wasn’t going to do this again, but it is the only thing he knows activates his power everytime. This is a much more gentle kiss than the previous eight. Usually when Kevin kisses Aaron it is an impulsive, passion driven action, but this he does with purpose, slotting their lips together. It is a good kiss, even if it is much more chaste than a lot of their kisses.

Would have been a good first kiss

What the fuck (what does that mean) why is he (have you done this before) has he been turning back time

Aaron pulls back sharply from Kevin, and there is the familiar rage on his face. Kevin sighs through his nose as Aaron opens his mouth, but before he speaks, Kevin feels the familiar tug of his power. 

His lips are still tingling as he lands back at the court. Aaron is just about to turn down Andrew’s ride back to the dorms.

“Yeah, we’re coming.” Kevin speaks over him. We didn’t find her. Waste of time. You should work on your assignment.

Did you come back?

Yes

So you used your power on purpose? 

No it just happened

If she wasn’t where we checked we can look elsewhere (assignment can wait a bit I’ll just-)

No. We checked all over and you just got more stressed about your assignment, so take the time back and go work on it 

Okay

*

“Thanks.” That’s nice of him (why is he being nice what does he want) Aaron takes the steaming mug from Kevin, eying it suspiciously. It’s an old mug, chipped at the rim, the colourful print on it faded but still bearing the title of Scorpio with a scorpion and some traits listed beneath it. Nicky had gifted Aaron and Andrew them not long after he came back to the US, making a joke about how they were twins and yet he was the only Gemini. They had not laughed. Aaron doesn’t believe in starsign bullshit, but it’s one of the first things Nicky ever gave him. He hasn’t grown out of it like clothes or shoes. He always brings it when they move back to the dorms. 

“I can be nice.” Know you’re stressed just want to make it easier 

“Rarely.” I know you can.

“Almost there?” Heard you thinking about a conclusion

“Yeah.” Just need to read over it but should have it submitted tonight (hope it’s good enough)

I’m sure it is. Almost understand some of that when I hear it from your thoughts. Almost

Yeah well I’m writing with the assumption my audience already knows the basic terms so it’s not aimed at an introductory level (it’s okay if you don’t get it you don’t study this)

No, but I like hearing about what you study sometimes

I like when you talk to me about something other than exy

I like that you listen when I talk about anything other than exy

Yeah well there’s a brain in there somewhere

That gets better grades than you.

“Out.”

Kevin laughs as he leaves the room. Aaron cradles the mug to his chest, warming his hands from the heat of it. He breathes in the steam spirals, inhaling the scent of peppermint. Aaron blows on the surface, takes a sip, and then sets the cup down to type more. The warmth doesn’t leave him though, spreading out through his body, more than just his hands.

He feels less fondly for Kevin when Friday night comes. Weirdly, he also feels a bit high, a rush of adrenaline and excitement that is not his own coursing through him in the few hours before the game.

How do you still get worked up (passionate) after all this time (like that) it’s not even a big game

Every game should be treated like a big game, Aaron.

Aaron rolls his eyes, but once he’s on court, he does apply himself. Kevin has done small things to help him with assignment - giving him time back, bringing him tea - and so in return Aaron tries his best during their game. As annoying as Kevin’s barked commands in his head are, he follows them, and he acts as Kevin’s eyes on the far end of the court. Even though their positions mean they rarely interact on the court, it’s beneficial. Having someone with eyes on the action Aaron can’t always see. And when he is sitting out for a quarter, he is able to warn Kevin of movement on the court before it reaches him. There’s still an undercurrent of concern running through Aaron, a constant chant of don’t turn invisible don’t turn invisible don’t turn invisible. It’s a relief when the final buzzer blares out, the Foxes three points ahead. 

Kevin slaps Neil on the shoulder but ignores everyone else as he jogs down the length of the court. Ugh tired now (do I want to go to Eden’s tonight) wonder if we’re getting food on the way (probably feel better by the time we get there) we should I don’t want to cook (what if I think something stupid with drinking) maybe pizza (would like to blow some steam off though). Aaron assumes Kevin is running to Andrew, so it surprises him when Kevin charges into Aaron, tackling him into a hug. Aaron staggers under the force (ugh ow) before steadying himself (can’t really feel through my gear but how does he still smell so good even after-).

That was amazing! Think of all the possibilities of this, the kind of plays we could come up with-

We’re trying to get rid of it remember?

Yes but if we don’t.

Kevin, we have to. Aaron feels a wave of disappointment that baffles him. Surely he doesn’t want to be stuck with me in his thoughts forever

“Come on, we should go get cleaned up.” You’re right. 

Of course Aaron is. No one would want to be stuck with him, especially not when he can’t hide, when they can see right into his damaged centre. He tries to shrug those thoughts off as Nicky claps him on the shoulder. He’s always more affectionate with Aaron when they’re in their gear now, since it’s the only time it is safe for him to make contact. Aaron leans into him just for a second, knowing how much Nicky must miss affection. Nicky beams through his helmet grate.

They do get pizza in Columbia. Kevin’s in too good of a mood to argue. Aaron gets a vegetarian pizza so they can share it, and a warm glow of happiness radiates from Kevin through to him. It’s funny, because Kevin’s scowling face would suggest anything but. Aaron supposes they both are often hiding their true feelings from the world, intentional or not. 

Despite his concerns, when Nicky pours pre-drinks, Aaron joins in. He’s buzzed by the time they hit Eden’s, and has another couple of drinks before disappearing onto the floor. Nicky goes off somewhere by himself, dressed in far too many layers to be clubbing in, probably, keeping his skin covered so he doesn’t touch anyone. Lost in the press of bodies and loud roar of the music and flashing lights, Aaron’s brain actually stops whirring as much for once. He closes his eyes, tips his head back, and bounces along to the beat. He catches snippets of Kevin’s thoughts, but it’s hard to fully focus on them with the volume of the music.

So good… the way the lights… bicep muscles… peek of his stomach… hair sticking to his forehead with sweat… wish I could go dance with him… hands on his hips… mouth to his throat… pull him back against… 

Aaron shakes his head and tries to focus on something else, an aching twinge in his chest. Stupid. He shouldn’t care about whoever Kevin is thinking about.

I can’t… know exactly how it’ll end… said I wouldn’t… can’t do it a tenth time.

Aaron’s ears are ringing. His limbs are pleasantly achy and his skin is slick with sweat by the time they pile into the Mas. He’s in the back, Kevin relegated to the middle despite his long legs to act as a dividing wall between Aaron and Josten. Nicky gets front seat privileges due to his power now. A precaution.

Who caught your eye tonight?

What?

Heard you thinking about someone

Doesn’t matter. Why do you care?

I don’t. Just curious (curious curious curious sure)

Nothing is going to come of it.

Something could (who wouldn’t want you)

Just drop it, Aaron.

Aaron arches a brow, not appreciating that tone at all, especially inside his head. He’s too tired to poke at Kevin further though, shifting in his seat to try and get comfortable until Kevin thinks just lie against me and stop moving. Aaron rests his head back against Kevin’s shoulder, eyelids heavy, lulled by the gentle movement of the car. Still smells good.

*

THE GIRL I SEE HER (he can’t even hear you) SHE’S IN MY SIGHTS

I JUST GOT OUT OF CLASS WHERE ARE YOU?

COMING FROM THE SCIENCE BUILDING TOWARDS THE QUAD

I WILL MEET YOU THERE FOLLOW HER

Kevin picks up his pace, putting his long legs to good use as he starts a swift stride, weaving his way through other students.

SHE’S SEEN ME SHE IS WALKING QUICKER

DON’T LET HER GET AWAY!

CALLING OUT BUT SHE IS IGNORING ME

ALMOST THERE

As Kevin finally makes it to the quad he whips his head around, eyes narrowed. He spots Aaron first - he feels like he will always spot Aaron first in a crowd - and follows his gaze. The girl is striding swiftly towards Kevin, but she hasn’t seen him. She’s looking over her shoulder at Aaron, who has broken into a jog. She turns forward, her expression panicked, and almost walks right into Kevin.

“You really have to start watching where you’re going,” he says. The girl shrinks back, clutching her bag. Aaron arrives a second later, breathing heavy. 

“We need to talk to you.”

Her name is Kiera. Aaron asks. Kevin would not even have thought that important enough information to ask.

“What did you do to us?” He folds his arms, towering over her. Aaron glares at him. If we want her to help we should probably not snap at her.

I don’t have to play nice. She used her power on me!

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You bumped into us, and now we can hear each other’s thoughts. So you must have used your power on us,” Aaron says. Kiera’s gaze brightens.

“You know about powers? Do you have them?”

Don’t give her information.

Shut up

“You’re changing the subject. Can you undo your power?”

“No.”

“So you’re saying we’re stuck like this.” Kevin’s voice has a sharp edge to it. Kiera flinches back from him. Aaron doesn’t scold Kevin this time, evidently also annoyed by this information.

“It’s not forever! It goes away after… after…”

“After what?” 

“Okay, it makes more sense if I explain my power. So, I’ve always been good at spotting which characters have good chemistry in stories. I always know who should get together. Then after the storm, I started seeing people who would be good together, and when I touch them, something happens that helps with whatever is stopping them from being together.”

“Telepathy,” Aaron says. What does she mean (she’s wrong) who would be good together (Kevin would never)

“Not necessarily. Like once it  was that someone was too immature, and my power made him a lot older, which changed his perspective. Then when they got together he changed back. Or I had someone who was too scared, and my power made them really brave. It’s just whatever is blocking it from happening.”

“How does us being in each other’s heads help? Not that we’re-” Aaron isn’t, anyway. 

What do you mean? I’m not what?

“Maybe you just need to understand each other’s perspectives. I don’t know.”

“You can’t just go around trying to manipulate people into relationships, it’s not your place to interfere just because you think something is going on.” This is so awkward (he would never) how the fuck are we supposed to navigate this (not Kevin Day) we’re going to be stuck with it (not with me)

I mean, if she’s wrong about anyone here it’s you

“I don’t just think! I can see. I told you. I literally see chemistry, it’s part of my power, and it is pouring off of you two. So when you were fighting I knew I had to-” Kiera cuts off, but it is too late. Kevin and Aaron’s attention focuses in on her, both of their faces tight with anger.

“You did this on purpose,” Kevin says.

“I just wanted to help!”

“Well, you didn’t,” Aaron says. 

“You’ll be happy in the long run.” Keira’s back is to the wall, but she sidesteps, starting to slide away from them. “You’ll see.”

She takes off. Kevin starts to step after her, but Aaron puts a hand on his arm to stop him. Let her go. We got the information. She can’t help anymore.

She might be lying.

I don’t think she is. Let’s go back to the dorms (we probably need to talk about this) (fuck)

Aaron-

No. Dorms first (what did he mean I’m the one she’s wrong about)

Obviously we’re both going to be thinking about this on the way back

Well she got it wrong, right? (Did she though Aaron) so there has to be some other way to undo this (she got it half right didn’t she)

That’s what I mean. She got it half right. 

Did you (does he know) ?

There’s a hopeful flutter in Kevin’s chest, followed by an aching pining sensation. He looks at Aaron. Aaron looks back, then blushes and looks away. 

Don’t be stupid (he would never) don’t even think (he can hear you) how embarrassing (to think he would ever) shut up 

“Aaron.” Could he…

“What?” Stop thinking 

Can’t do this again if you’re not sure. You said you wouldn’t. Nine times is enough.

What did you do nine times?

Kevin thinks of every time he’s ever kissed Aaron. Aaron goes still. Kevin is so lost in his memories that it takes him a few steps to realise. He pauses and looks back at Aaron. Aaron’s expression gives little away, but Kevin can feel the resounding echo of his utter shock. The slight twinge of betrayal. The heat of underlying anger. 

“You’ve kissed me and rewound time so I wouldn’t remember?”

“Not on purpose!” I can’t control it. I never mean to go back. 

Nine times?! How can you make the same mistake nine times?

You know the powers are unpredictable.

I wasn’t talking about your power (I meant me in the mistake obviously)

Kissing you was never a mistake.

But you-

You always got angry at me. I panicked and accidentally went back. I don’t want you to hate me. 

Kevin (I don’t understand) I don’t (why would I be angry) why would you (probably didn’t believe it) 

What are you not understanding?

Why would you kiss me?

Why does anyone kiss anyone?

Kevin (why me what am I compared to Kevin Day I’m just-)

“Stop.” Kevin closes the space back to Aaron, taking his face in his hands. Aaron’s cheeks are warm beneath his palms. He gazes up at Kevin, his eyes wide. Stop thinking like that. “I’m not Kevin Day. Not with you.” I can just be Kevin with you. I like being Kevin with you. I like you. 

He doesn’t mean that-

“Meant it enough to have nine first kisses with you.”

That’s so annoying I don’t remember any of our first kisses

Well it’s not you it’s the variants of you in different timelines

Still me!

There’s a timeline where you have two fingers frozen off, but here you are, all digits accounted for. It’s not you. It’s a different timeline version of you. I haven’t kissed this you.

Kevin starts to lean down. Aaron puts a hand to his chest.

“This is your tenth kiss with me, but it’s my first kiss with you. So I’m going to kiss you, and you’re going to let me do it my way. But we are going back to the dorms first.” 

“Okay.”

The whole way back Kevin’s mind is flicking through memories of his kisses with Aaron at other points in time, wondering if this one is going to be similar to any of them. Aaron is also imagining their kiss, though he keeps trying to shut that thought down, not wanting Kevin to know how it’s going to happen before he decides. He’s also wondering if this will actually work.

Once they’re back in the dorm and the door shuts behind them, a silence lingers heavy in the air. Not just their words, but even their thoughts still in anticipation.

Here goes nothing (make this good)

Aaron steps closer. He reaches up and cups Kevin’s cheek with surprising confidence. Kevin leans down so it is easier for Aaron to reach. His other hand slides to the back of Kevin’s neck, encouraging him closer. Their noses brush together, breath mingling between them.

Tenth time is the charm.

Aaron presses up towards Kevin and firmly slots their lips together. It is nothing like any of their previous kisses. There is so much more purpose and intent behind this kiss, Aaron slotting his lips against Kevin’s, pressing firm but gentle. Even though it’s a chaste kiss, liquid heat cascades through Kevin. He feels like there is an electric current running beneath his skin.

Can I touch him?

Yes (please do)

Kevin wraps his arms around Aaron and pulls him close. Aaron exhales heavily through his nose. He slides his tongue along Kevin’s lower lip and Kevin opens to him immediately. Aaron’s hand moves up to his hair, gripping, using his hold to angle Kevin’s head to his liking as he brushes their tongues together.

He’s so good at this. Kevin grips Aaron’s hips, grounding himself as much as he’s holding Aaron. This is the best kiss we’ve had.

Fuck. Can’t believe-

Aaron. Wanted for so long-

“What?” Aaron draws back just enough to speak. His nose is still against Kevin’s, lips brushing Kevin’s mouth with his words.

“Hm?” Kevin tilts his head, catching Aaron’s mouth in their first second kiss. Aaron huffs, then turns his head away. 

“What have you wanted?”

To kiss you.

Kevin moves forward again, but Aaron leans back.

“Kevin.”

“I told you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I- Oh. Has it worked? Can you not hear my thoughts anymore?” 

“No. Can you hear mine?” 

Kevin shakes his head. Aaron trails his fingertips over Kevin’s lips, causing tingles to burst through him. He’s slightly disappointed. He’d have liked to explore their telepathy in the bedroom, but on the flip side, if Aaron had thought something even slightly less than positive about Kevin, it probably would have sent him spiralling. 

“Wanted to do this,” Kevin murmurs, taking hold of Aaron’s jaw. He presses their third kiss to Aaron’s mouth, and thinks I hope that number just keeps going up.

[sillystringpony]

Reflections on Rosemary:

experimenting with a psuedo-pop-art style (ben day dots yay!) for some angsty chalmskinn fanart, and a discussion about Rosemary Chalmers.

[TW: discussion of eating disorders]

I made this piece because I feel like I haven't really seen a lot of chalmskinn content that takes Shauna into account, which I guess makes sense since she isn't given all that many interactions with her dad. Anyway, I've always seen her delinquency as stemming from her mother's death: in my eyes, she's not a bad person, she's just a girl who misses her mother. I started wondering how that would play into the chalmskinn ship; I feel like she'd be fine with her dad's various flings and one-night-stands, but would recoil at any sign of her father moving on emotionally from Rosemary. I definitely want to explore how that might impact the dynamic between Seymour and Shauna a bit more in the future, especially since I've always been a huge fan of the new step-parent trying to connect with a hung up step-child trope (I really love Quibble Pants/Clear Sky because of this... if there are any bronies reading).

Her Father's Temper and Her Mother's Eyes, 2024.

no need to grip the pancake so hard girl it aint going anywhere

If I'm remembering correctly, Rosemary's character was first introduced in season 16 when the superintendent mentions his wife is very sick. There's then no real mention of her until season 23, in Bart Stops to Smell the Roosevelts, when she's pretty much confirmed dead, and Gary reflects on how he misses her (which was way more upsetting than it should be, fuck you, you funny yellow people). She's finally explicitly confirmed as dead in season 30.

Autism is as autism does, so I fixated in on these little tidbits and tried to fill in the gaps with my own headcanons. Around the time I was doing so, I was going through a really hard period with my own anorexia - I was experiencing a lot of potentially fatal symptoms and beneath the anorexic delusion, I was genuinely scared for myself. Because of that, I sort of subconsciously projected myself onto Rosemary; it's never explained how exactly she died, only that she was 'very sick'. Rather than take the more conventional route of headcanoning her as having fallen victim to a fundamentally physical illness, I decided to go the route of having her lose the struggle to anorexia nervosa.

At first, obviously, it was just a simple projection of my own issues and illness at the time. You know: I'm scared I'm going to die from this illness... I'm going to cope with these fears by exploring the lives of a person's loved ones after an eating-disorder-related death. It did kind of start to make sense to me, though: Gary Chalmers is a very traditionally masculine man, and I feel like the struggle of losing someone to a mental illness is something that would play with his character with more depth than simply losing her to physical illness. This, in part, came from seeing my own father (who admittedly reminds me of Gary) react so poorly to my own eating disorder: there is something very emotionally impactful about witnessing men who only have the capacity to understand mental illness as a non-physical, unmanifested ailment fight to understand why their loved one is fading away because of something that cannot be cured with surgery, or medicine, or physical therapy. Also, inpatient treatment isn't exactly cheap; so I feel like Chalmers' working an extra job to earn money for what was implied to be Rosemary's treatment checks out under my headcanon.

I haven't really thought much about the specific timeline of things, but a few months ago, I was writing a chalmskinn oneshot where the boys get drunk and wind up on Mount Springfield in the middle of the night (sadly unfinished): there's a moment where the two discuss the death of Rosemary that I think pretty much sums the details of my headcanon up:

“Doy,” sang Seymour: admittedly in slightly bad taste. "You know, you never said what it was. Oh- Hic… Let me guess. Was it, ya' know... The big C?” “No, no… Heart failure.” “What-? Wait, wait, wait… All those years ago, you said she was sick.” “She was sick, you… You… Stupid,” grumbled Gary. He collapsed backwards and next to Seymour with a resigned sigh. “She had anorexia.” “...Oh.” “Mmm… I- I paid for every single treatment I could, Seymour. Behavioural therapy, so, so many inpatient stays in the psychiatric ward, but no matter what she went through, she just kept getting worse. It was so scary- I, she- The woman I married was, she was disappearing right in front of me; a little more every day. I tried to get her to eat; I- I tried to stop her from throwing it up… God, it got physical, once: she was a small, small woman, but that day… She fought like a, a wild dog- Scraping, and kicking- Fuck, even biting, just to get herself free enough from me to vomit.” “Goodness. I- I had no idea.” “Pssht… Nobody did. She- she hid it so well, but behind closed doors,” Chalmers had to stop speaking for a moment. He swayed from side to side in silence; as if the rocking would stop the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “She was dying… Sometimes I wish it was cancer. Well- No, not cancer, just- Something physical, something that could have been cured with treatment, or a pill, or surgery, or what-fucking-ever. But nooo, it had to be a disorder that me- Stupid fucking me- That I couldn’t understand. That I couldn’t help her with… Besides paying for her treatment.”

I'm currently just over two months into recovery for anorexia, and I'm doing so much better (not to be TMI, but I definitely will not miss the gastrointestinal bleeding and incontinence, haha). Anyway, I just wanted to half-dedicate a post to talking about Rosemary; I was really socially isolated when my symptoms were at my worst, and it was headcanons and projections like this that helped me feel a bit less alone, and at the end of the day, really got me through the struggle of fighting a disorder on my lonesome. I'd love to hear your guys' thoughts on this, or if you personally have any similar headcanons for other fictional characters.

[endcrman]

Allostasis

(Chapter 2)

As a general rule of thumb, Grian doesn’t do public servers for a multitude of reasons. This one hadn’t even made it onto the list.

TW for implied sexual assault, PTSD symptoms, Self-Neglect, and minor Disordered Eating

Read the whole fic here.

-

Grian woke to more messages. Some from hermits, but he didn't bother looking at those too closely, too preoccupied with the hours-old notification in the universal chat.

samgladiator: griannnnnnn

samgladiator: i know you havent blocked me grian cmon

samgladiator: are you mad about the redstone thingy? i was just goofing and gaffing you know what im like lol

Grian laid his head back against his pillow, eyes closed as he tried to figure out how to respond. His eye hurt. He didn't want to get out of bed. He didn't want to build, he didn't want to fish, he didn't want to work on anything right now. He was tired.

His comm buzzed again.

GoodTimeWithScar: hey grain, how are you doing after yesterday?

Grian: bit tired, but just fine! thanks for checking in

He was tapping out a lie before he could even think about it, not wanting to worry Scar. He had enough to concern himself with even before Grian was involved, he didn't have to add any more stressors to his plate.

Scar said something else, but Grian had closed his messages already, opening Sam's again, staring at them. What was he even supposed to say to that? Call him out on his bullshit? Laugh along with his shitty excuse of a joke? A voice in the back of his head was telling Grian to block him, but that would just make Sam mad, he reasoned.

Grian: what do you want sam

He regretted the message the instant he sent it, flinching as he turned off his comm again. Why was he so stupid? Why couldn't he leave well enough alone?

Grian turned over on his side, pulling a pillow over his head with a groan as the communicator buzzed. If only he hadn't just woken up, then he could fall asleep again and ignore all of this for even longer. 

Of course, Grian had no such luck. Instead he laid there, staring at the blank wall in front of him.

His comm buzzed yet again and Grian let out a bitter laugh, he could almost imagine Sam staring in anticipation at his own comm, waiting for Grian to get back to him after all this time. It was kind of pathetic, if that was what he was doing. How lonely was he?

And yet, Grian was reaching over to read his messages anyways.

samgladiator: i'm sorry.

samgladiator: like for real. no jokes. i know we were really messed up as kids and ive been working on it i promise. i guess i saw you and it just felt like we were kids again. fucked up but still in it together. i didnt mean it

He was still trying to process the words when another message came through, automatically populating the chat.

samgladiator: you can keep ignoring me if you want, i get it :( but if youre ever willing, i wanna make it up to you. text me whenever

He was going to throw up. There were a few panicked moments as he dug through his chests, silently pleading to anyone listening that he actually had a bucket up in his base, not just lost in his chest monster down below. His wishes were answered luckily, however unneeded, as he curled over the metal bucket on the floor, retching and dry heaving. His stomach was already empty, bile burning his throat, but that wasn't enough to curb the ill piercing it's way through his entire being.

Grian wasn't sure how long he sat there, bucket in his lap as his body tried to evacuate his stomach's non-existent contents. He was trembling when he finally managed to stop gagging, the bucket empty aside from a couple stray tears that had made their way down his cheeks. He was so tired again.

Shakily, he set the bucket down on the ground, easily accessible just in case. The sound of metal meeting the wooden floor was so, so loud in his ears, echoing around his base, making him flinch. Grian took a deep breath, carefully getting up on two wobbly legs before rolling into bed again. He should eat. 

He didn't get up, falling asleep again.

-

I'm sorry. Sam might as well have written those words on the inside of Grian's eyelids, as often as he was stuck thinking about them. Sam didn't apologize, that was part of what made him so insufferable to begin with, always convinced that he was in the right. So what the hell was this?

Grian wasn't sure how long it had been since he received those last messages from Sam, not really bothering with the passage of time. He'd spent most of said time thinking, turning over what had happened and what Sam had said in his head, picking at pieces of food he had laying around the base, and making up excuses to not have to see any other hermits.

He knew he was in a sorry state, and he knew he had to pull himself together before anybody saw him. Unfortunately, the universe seemed to have other plans.

“Grian!” Joel's voice was loud, Grian almost didn't recognize it as his own name, directed towards him. He pulled a pillow over his head, squeezing his eyes shut. Maybe if he ignored him, he'd go away.

That was too much to hope for though. Why would Joel ever go away when he could cause problems instead?

“Grian! It's Sunday!” His voice was getting closer, and all Grian could think to do was hold the pillow even tighter over his head. “It's Sunday and you're not at the permit office! Get your butt out here! Or else I'll come in, and drag you out of your birdhouse by your scrawny little ankles, I swear to-'' Joel's voice peaked in both volume and proximity the same time it petered off into uncertainty. Then, it was quieter again. “Grian?”

Grian just groaned in response, holding the pillow even tighter over his head, maybe he could suffocate in it. Then he would respawn, Joel would laugh it off, call him some names for being stupid enough to do something like that, and everything would go back to normal instead of whatever else was about to happen, whatever lecture he was about to receive.

No such luck. Instead he felt a touch on his forearm, something he instinctively rolled away from which left him looking up at the other, wide eyes meeting even wider. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t force anything to come out. He noticed too late to stop just how tightly he was clutching the pillow to his chest, he must look like a mess.

Joel slowly withdrew his hand, and judging by how his brows furrowed and ears flattened against the top of his head the mess part was definitely true. Without wasting another moment, Joel schooled his expression into something more neutral— as if his tail flicking back and forth didn’t give him away— and sat bodily onto the foot of Grian’s bed, bouncing on the mattress.

“You seem busy, the permit office can wait,” he said with a shrug, not looking directly at Grian. He sat cross-legged, pulling his tail into his lap to brush the fur into place, pulling out a leaf and dropping it on the floor without even checking if Grian would care. His wings itched at the reminder of what could be. “Impulse’s wall is starting to get some graffiti on it, have you had a chance to see? Gem’s got a real good tag up there, I think you’d like it.”

Grian was silent, pulling his legs up just a bit so they weren’t in Joel’s way and shifting onto his back to look up at the ceiling instead of the tanuki in front of him. He couldn’t tell if this was better or worse than if the other had just confronted him about what was going on.

“I’ve actually been thinking about what I want to put on it,” Joel continued after a moment, as if the other actually had responded. Grian’s muscles ached from the sudden movements after what felt like days of disuse, leading to him stretching his legs out again, around Joel this time, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I need to put something up over by my base, I couldn’t stand it if it didn’t match my build, even if it was undeniably fantastic.”

He just kept talking, filling the empty air with his voice. Grian wouldn’t admit it, but it was sort of soothing, having somebody else around instead of just jumping from thought to thought, getting lost in them and feeling worse and worse.

It did start feeling awkward after a little, having Joel sit while he laid in bed, so Grian forced himself to sit up even as his muscles protested, at least a little, leaning back against the headboard of his bed.

“Thought you might have fallen asleep or something,” Joel joked once Grian had settled, making him look away in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t have blamed you, you look blummin’ tired, huge bags under your eyes. Something bothering you?” He asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious. Grian only shrugged, not trusting his voice after so long, thankfully Joel didn’t push for an answer beyond that, coming to the same conclusion. “Stupid question, sorry. New question, when’s the last time you got out of bed?”

Grian must have made a face at that, because Joel laughed before managing to catch himself, snapping his mouth shut, which pulled the quietest huff of laughter out of Grian in turn. Just that by itself made his throat hurt a bit.

“Don’t laugh at me, I’m trying to be a good friend here.” Joel’s tone was light, and his smile made it clear he considered the small noise a success. “Hey, bed boy, let’s get you up and clean, how’s that sound? You go shower, and I’ll make you some real food.”

He wanted to protest, but his throat felt all closed up, and his traitor of a stomach growled at the thought of something other than stale bread for the first time in forever. Instead he pouted, petulant, and held his hands out.

“Yes!” Joel pumped his fist, making Grian roll his eyes. This was so stupid. “Sorry, come on, let’s get you moving again.” He slid off the bed first, taking Grian’s hands and helping him stand up. He almost fell at first, leaning far too much of his weight onto Joel, his legs wanting to do nothing but lay down again. “Careful, can you stand by yourself?”

It took a couple hundred ticks for him to stop swaying, and a couple more for him to finally stand on his own, wings spread just a bit to help him keep balance. He took a deep breath, trying to think of anything but said wings.

“Good job, you’re doing great,” Joel murmured, and it didn’t sound mocking at all, but Grian couldn’t help himself from ruining everything good that happened to him.

“I’m not a child,” he croaked out, voice rough from disuse, it almost didn’t sound like him.

Joel must have thought the same, because he looked shocked, though he quickly gathered himself again. “I know you’re not,” he scolded gently, too kind, “but you look like you’ve been through hell and back, and I want to make this as easy for you as possible."

And now he felt bad, guilty, for ever considering anything different than that. “Sorry,” he managed, even quieter, but Joel shook his head.

“Go get cleaned up, alright? I’ll make some food for you.” He brushed Grian’s hair out of his eyes, brows furrowing again, and he only pulled away when Grian nodded, throat hurting too much to say anything else at the moment.

He didn’t think Joel was going to find anything to make in his base right now, having neglected to actually fill many of the chests, Grian was lucky to have had enough bread to last him as long as it had. Regardless, he made his way to the tiny shower he’d managed to cram into the base, cranking the water heat up as high as it could for now and carefully pulling his t-shirt he’d been wearing for void knows how long off over his wings. He crinkled his nose, imagining the smell he’d become blind to and immediately feeling grateful that Joel hadn’t said anything about it.

Grian kicked off his pants without much fanfare and immediately dove into the shower, melting under the hot water. Now that he was made aware of it, he could feel the layer of grime that was surely there covering his skin, burning water finally melting it away. He carefully sat on the floor of the shower, barely managing to fit in the small space, especially with his wings. He took a deep breath, resting his head on the wall behind him, and just soaked it up like a fish left out of the river for too long, he chuckled softly to himself at the comparison.

He must have dozed off or something, because he jolted awake at the sharp knock on the door, and Joel's voice coming from just outside of it. “You alright in there Grian? Food’s almost done!”

“Y-yeah!” He called back before even thinking about it, regretting it immediately, voice scratchy. His throat hurt, but he didn't have time to worry about that, fumbling for the shampoo among the other bottles in the shower with him.

He definitely spent too much time just sitting under the water, so he tried to properly clean himself up as quickly as possible, so Joel wouldn't be left waiting. It wasn't long before he was out again, towel around his waist, hair and feathers dripping as he peeked out the door into the rest of the base.

“Joel?” He tried not to speak too loudly, not wanting to irritate his throat more, but he needed the other's attention. It seemed the other wasn't wandering far though, with how quickly he reappeared. “Can you-” He coughed. “Can you bring me clean clothes?”

Joel brightened up the more he spoke, nodding quickly as his tail swished behind him. “Of course! Be right back!” And he was off again.

He was back just as quick, and Grian didn't have the energy to ask him how he managed to find everything so easily, and whether or not his closet was left in decent state. Instead he closed the bathroom door again, pulling on clean clothes and already feeling a bit better. The sweater topped that feeling off, covering him like a security blanket. He shook the water out of his hair and wings before padding out into the main room again, catching a whiff of something that smelled amazing.

“Hey,” Grian's gaze fell on Joel, who was setting up a place for him to sit. “Your hair's a mess still.”

He blushed, shrugging his shoulders. He sat down before Joel even suggested he did, feeling tired.

“I can brush it for you,” he offered, setting down a grilled salmon in front of Grian, whose mouth was watering already. “I've done it for Lizzie before, I promise not to pull.”

“Did you catch this?” Grian asked instead, forcing himself to slow down before he ate the whole thing immediately.

“Borrowed one of your poles, figured you wouldn't mind too much,” Joel explained, setting a steaming mug down in front of him too.

He hummed softly in response, forcing himself to slow down after a couple bites and taking a sip of the tea Joel had made him. Far too sweet.

“I added some extra honey,” either Joel was reading his mind, or he'd made a face without realizing. “Your throat sounded pretty rough, it'll be good for you.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, truly meaning it, whether it sounded that way or not. Joel was pretty quiet while he finished eating, puttering around the small base, occupying himself. Eventually he finished, pushing the plate away for later, and he heard Joel coming up behind him.

“I found your brush, mind if I take care of your hair?”

Grian sighed, a little smile creeping onto his face. “I guess, you promised not to pull though,” he reminded the other, head tilting back a bit.

“And I meant it!” Joel sounded offended, though he snickered after a second. “It'll help, you'll feel more like a person,” he murmured, and Grian felt him starting to work his fingers through his hair.

“You've been helping a lot already,” Grian admitted softly, relaxing easily into the touch. How long was his hair now? It couldn't be too much longer than he usually kept it.

“Glad to hear,” for once Joel didn't sound smug or full of himself, just genuinely glad. “How long have you been out of it?” The brush started working it's way through his hair.

“Dunno,” Grian mumbled, taking a deep breath. “Since… Since I last went off server,” he felt himself tense a little at the reminder, wings twitching.

“With Scar and Mumbo?” Joel kept his tone even, non-judgemental for once. “They mentioned your eye, was that what happened?”

A hand suddenly flew up to his eye, gently touching the skin near it. “P-part of it. Is it still there?” He'd been avoiding looking in the mirror since.

“Barely,” Joel assured him, and the motion of the brush through his hair started relaxing him again. “I only noticed because I knew to look for it. You said part, what else happened?”

He felt like his throat was closing up, eyes watering a little. “My- my wings,” he managed out, taking a deep breath. “Something happened.”

“Something,” Joel repeated, hands never stopping. “Are they alright? Nothing broken at least? They don't look broken.”

“N-nothing broken,” Grian confirmed, feeling them tremble, just a little. “Don't really wanna-”

“That's fine,” Joel murmured, and it was quiet for a moment. “With me? Or with anyone?”

He didn't know how to answer that, opening his mouth to begin speaking, only to close it when he couldn't think of anything. No, not Joel specifically, but he wasn't sure who, if he would anyone.

“I usually braid Lizzie's hair when I'm done,” Joel said nonchalantly, the brush regretfully leaving Grian's head, “but yours is pretty short. We could try a little ponytail if you want, I think it'd be fun.”

Grian shook his head, reaching for the mug of tea again. Knowing Joel, he'd gather up all the hair in front of his head, pull it all together right on his forehead… Though maybe not today specifically.

There was silence for a bit, comfortable, until Joel decided to speak again. “Would you tell Mumbo?”

Grian froze. Would he? He could. Mumbo knew the kind of stuff he went through when he was young, even if just vaguely. He was scared though, there was always the chance, no matter how small, that Mumbo would scold him when he found out just how deep that rabbit hole went.

“Careful, you'll shatter that,” Joel warned him, moving to take the mug from his white-knuckled hands, setting it down on the table again. Grian hadn't even noticed how tightly he'd been holding onto it. “Not Mumbo then, what about Scar?”

Scar. Scar didn't know any of it. At least, he knew less than Mumbo, he'd have less context clues to put it all together, he'd be reliant on the details Grian told him, and only those.

“... Maybe, I don't know,” he answered honestly, tracing the grain in the table with his finger.

“Maybe is better than no, or trying to shatter a cup of boiling tea all over yourself,” Joel was being dramatic, it wasn't even steaming anymore. “Why don't you take a nap? I'll get him over here in the meantime, I think he'll help, even if you don't tell him.”

Grian hadn't even realized how tired he was again, the thought of a nap sounding much more pleasing to him than it usually would. He didn't even think to argue, nodding as he carefully got up from the table, a yawn escaping him.

“Careful now,” Joel warned, helping him to bed. Grian would have taken offense at that were he not so exhausted, and the second he was laying down again he was out like a light.

[jacksfandomrandom]

Body problems

Summary: Charlie has the perfect date in mind. Unfortunately while Vaggie is getting ready, she gets self-conscious of her body. Luckily, her girlfriend is there to assure she's okay.

Tw: slight implication of an eating disorder and implied sexual content (nothing graphic or smut)

“Vaggie, Vaggie, Vaggie, Vaggie!” Charlie ran into the mini library where Vaggie was reading a book. This day was one of the only day’s that they had free time and weren’t doing any activities to help redeem sinners.

“Huh, What?” She looked up, a little surprised. 

“I just had the best idea!” She prompted. “You know how we haven’t been on a date in like 8 months?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to take you out!” she said. This was the best idea ever. Both of them needed a break from everyone, even though they slept in the same bed and were near each other almost all the time, they needed a date night. They haven’t had one in so long. It would be fun!

“I don’t know, Charlie… what if the hotel gets attacked while we’re gone?” 

“Alastor will take care of it. You don’t gotta protect everyone, silly,” Charlie ruffled her girlfriend’s hair.

“I guess it has been a while since we went on a date… alright, lets do it!” Vaggie shut her books and got up from her seat.

“Wait, wait, what we’re doing is a surprise. You go get ready while I prepare the date,” Charlie kissed her cheek.

“But don’t you need to get ready too?” Vaggie asked.

“Babe, you know I slay in a tux, no matter the occasion,” Charlie said confidently. Vaggie chuckled at the pure cinnamon roll of her girlfriend.

“Well, maybe not in bed,” whispered Vaggie in a seductive voice. She inched closer, putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked into Charlies eyes, swooning in her own head. Charlie moved closer too as Vaggie tried to stand up tall. Their lips connected and vaggie put both hands on Charlies cheek’s. Charlie put her hands on Vaggie’s waist. They pulled apartbut only about an inch before passionately colliding their mouths together. 

“Wait, wait, you have to get ready,” Charlie pulled apart. Vaggie whined slightly but knew that they didn't have time for this right now. 

Charlie knew exactly what she was planning. She was going to take Vaggie on a perfect, picnic date on a hill behind the hotel. It was also a perfect day. Luckily the sun would start setting in about two hours, so the two of them could watch the sunset together and get all snuggly and share their feelings and swoon over each other.

As Charlie was setting up the picnic basket in the hill in the back, Vaggie was quietly freaking out over what to wear. She wanted to be perfect. But her body wasn't perfect. She was flat. Not skinny. Her nose was so long, she looked like a witch. And her arms and hands were covered in battle scars. She was a bit muscle-y but had a bit of meat on her bones. At least that's what she thought. She found that she had gained weight from the past couple of months. It really hurt her and she constantly tried not to cry every time she looked at the scale. It made her feel worthless and ugly. Her nose was so masculine but also looked like an ugly witch nose.

Vaggie looked through her closet, trying to find something that'll cover her up a little more. Maybe that was why Charlie hadn't taken her on a date in a while. She was disgusting for letting herself go. So she grabbed a white short-sleeve dress shirt and black sweater vest and put it on. It covered her up a little bit. She put on a black and red plaid skirt and finally rolled on her gloves. She looked a tiny bit better. Her stomach didn't show like it did with her crop top polo shirt.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a while, thinking ‘why can't I just be perfect?’ She couldn't start crying though, Charlie was probably waiting for her. 

“You almost ready? You've been in there a while,” Just on cue, Charle knocked on the door.

“Yeah, I'll be right out,” Vaggie called back. She sighed, looking at herself one last time before trotting over to the door and opening it. 

Charlie stared at her, blushing  behind the red circles on her cheeks. She thought Vaggie looked absolutely stunning. However, Vaggie thought she was staring because she noticed how imperfect her body was.

“You look…Amazing!” Charlie complimented. 

“You… you don't have to lie, Charlie,” Vaggie mumbled. Charlie sensed immediately that something was wrong through her defeated look and mumbling.

“I'm not lying, though,” She doubled downed.

“But I look so… ugly, my nose is weird and I've been gaining weight…” she tugged at her other arm with her hand.

“No, sweetie, you're not ugly,” Charlie took her hand and cupped it with both of hers. She looked Vaggie in the eyes. 

“Honey, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my hundred years in hell. You are amazing, and shit, I don't even care about what you look like, I love you no matter what,” She promised.

Vaggie’s eyes watered and her lips quivered. She ran into Charlies chest and hugged her. She needed comfort from her biggest supporter. The whole day she had been feeling unworthy of food and love. She thought she didn't deserve it with her disgusting ass self. Now she just felt emotional. All of the icky feelings she had over the couple of weeks came out in tears and sobs.

“There, there, babe. It's okay, we all become our biggest enemy at times,” Charlie told her. She wanted her girlfriend to feel loved.

“I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner that you were so self-conscious. I promise that I'll constantly comfort you whenever your mean thoughts get into your head. But you have to promise me one thing,” Charlie said. She pulled away a little and put her hands on her shoulders.

“What's that?” Vaggie sniffled.

“That you come to me whenever you're feeling like you're hideous or disgusting. Please, come get me when these thoughts get to you. You could easily develop an eating disorder-” Vaggie tensed at the words, “And your mental health could get really bad,” said Charlie.

“O-okay, I promise…” Vaggie answered. Charlie gave her one final hug before stepping away.

“Now come on, let's go on this date, I have a fun couple hours planned,” Charlie grabbed her hand and pulled her down the stairs. Vaggie laughed a genuine laugh to see how excited Charlie was to take her on this date.

The picnic was absolutely amazing. The food that Charlie prepared were pretty simply but just spending time together while watching the sun start to set made everything feel terrific. 

[ageofhearingloss]

Pick Yourself Up Pt. 2 | Jake Kiszka

a/n: y'all got homework! mandatory listening assignment to accompany this part:

this is a major plot point in this part of the story😎 y/n makes an appearance, but i really want this story to be about jakey so this is not my normal writing from y/n's pov. i'm really happy with how it turned out, and even more excited for where this story is headed!!!! as always, let me know what yall think xoxoxoxo

here's pt. 1

summary: after years of trying to make his dream of being a musician a reality, jake continues to fall short. on the brink of giving up, can his passion alone keep him afloat, or will he need help from others?

pairing: jake kiszka x fem reader

warnings: language, angst (although this part is much happier than the last) , alcohol consumption, light themes of depression and possible eating disorder

word count: 6.9k lol

“Ma, for the millionth time, I’m okay. Really,” Jake assured, phone held between his ear and his shoulder as he struggled to set a couple dirty plates in the sink, “I don’t know why that asshole called you.”

“Josh called me because he’s worried about you, honey, and so am I. You promised me you’d call me every week and I haven’t heard from you in a month.”

He let out a deep sigh; Josh only ever got Karen involved when he deemed the situation drastic enough. It was true, though. He hadn’t reached out to his mother for a while now and that alone was cause for her to worry. It’s not that he didn’t want to talk to her, but it was the same reason that he couldn’t face his brothers: he didn’t want for her to see the truth of how he was living. Sure, he was close with Karen, but he never had the relationship that Josh had with her and because of that, it was easier for him to hide from her. 

“Look, I’m sorry, I’ve just been… busy-”

“With gigs?” she questioned innocently, “How are they going?”

Jake didn’t see the use in hiding the truth from her further but he paused, thinking about the correct way to imply how he was doing without saying it outright. 

“Jakey?”

“Uh, they’re not going so hot, Mom, if I’m being honest,” he said as he straightened up over the sink, bringing a free hand to the back of his neck, letting a shaky breath escape from his lips. “Just kind of same old, same old.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. How so?”

“No one is biting, I guess. I play the same gigs nearly every week in hopes that the consistency will land me in front of the right eyes and ears, but nothing’s happening,” Jake explained, closing his eyes before continuing, “Barely making any money these days, either. It’s been a real drag. I’m feeling a bit hopeless.”

Shit, that part wasn’t supposed to come out. 

His mother was silent on the other line, surely waiting for him to continue. He was half expecting her to begin down the road that she always went down; how he was the most talented kid she’s ever heard, how he just needs to continue to be patient, but it never came. He listened to her breathing before he finally asked, “Mom?”

He was then met with sniffles from the other line. Fuck, is she crying? 

“Ma, hello?”

“My baby, I didn’t know you were struggling like this,” Karen began, voice wobbly as she spoke. “This has been your dream since you could walk, I assumed that since I hadn’t heard from you that meant it was finally coming true.” 

Damn.

“I know Josh probably told you to keep going and be patient. He’s always been right when it comes to giving you advice. Whatever he said, I’m sure I agree,” she continued. “What do you need, Jakey? Should I come down to see you? Do you have groceries? I can-”

He laughed before cutting her off, “No, Mom, really I’m okay. I swear. Plus, I’ll be home soon enough for Dad’s birthday.”

“Are you sure, baby? Josh mentioned to me that you’re looking a little…” she hesitated before finishing her thought. “I’m going to send you some food whether you like it or not.”

That bastard really sees through everything, doesn’t he? 

Jake knew that he had been disregarding his health recently, but his mind was elsewhere. And he absolutely hadn’t realized that it had gotten so bad that his physical appearance had shifted, but of course his twin was able to detect any subtle changes before Jake saw them himself. Trying to scrounge up the money for monthly expenses had become increasingly difficult; he couldn’t remember the last time he had been to the grocery store. 

Before he could respond, his phone began beeping signifying he was getting another call. 

Sam. 

“Hang on, Mom, Sam’s calling me. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Love you.”

“Alright honey, call me when you can. Watch your front door for groceries! I love you!”

After briskly disconnecting the call, he answered Sam with a meek, “Hello?”

“Can’t believe you actually picked up. That’s the first time in weeks!” Sam laughed out, his cheery, sarcastic tone palpable through the phone. 

“Sorry man, I’m trying to get better at that. What’s up?”

“Well, Josh clued me in that he had given you some instructions and knowing that you don’t have a gig tonight, I believe you are contractually obligated to go out with me and Daniel. Josh will be joining us at some point, too.”

Jake took a sharp inhale through his nose. Truthfully, he was nervous to begin socializing with his brothers again. He had grown accustomed to being by his lonesome; he didn’t particularly enjoy it and was lonely most of the time, but at least he could be his authentic self and process his emotions freely without the eyes of others watching him. He racked his brain for a sufficient way to decline his little brother's offer, an excuse that would seem legitimate enough for Sam to believe. 

“Sam, I-”

“Remember, you can’t say no!” Sam yelled through the phone, partnered with a poor attempt at a maniacal laugh. 

Jake closed his eyes once more, bringing his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. He knew he would never hear the end of it from any of his brothers if he declined yet another invitation.

“All right, asshole, I’m in.”

Jake could hear Sam hollering on the other line, seemingly pulling the phone away to tell who he assumed to be Daniel, “The fucker said yes! Can you believe it!” Then, speaking directly into the phone,

“Meet us at Robert’s at 8pm, and don’t be late! Oh, and bring your guitar!”

The phone disconnected with a swift click, leaving Jake to wonder just what trouble his brothers had in store for him tonight. I think Robert’s is that place I’ve been trying to play at for months now…

He looked around his apartment and thought to himself, “Man, this place is disgusting. You really let yourself go.” He continued collecting dirty dishes from all corners of his home, placing them in the sink before cranking the faucet and filling the basin with warm, soapy water. It’d only been a couple days since his talk with Josh, and he found himself surprised that his brother's words had affected him as much as they had. There was hope in his heart, even if it was just a small glimmer, but he felt compelled to begin trying again. To make an effort to show up for his brothers, but also for himself. 

A couple hours later, the dishes had been dried and put away, garbage collected and taken down to the dumpster behind the building. He even took the time to wipe down his counters and finally change the lightbulbs in the hanging lamp that illuminated his kitchen. To keep him company while he worked, he put on his favorite records, something that again he hadn’t done in what felt like months. He let the familiar songs soothe him, his mind lulled into a comfortable rhythm. Humming along as he worked, he began to realize that he felt the most at ease he’s felt in ages; his head was free from the heavy thoughts that have been clouding his brain for the better part of a year, the tension in his shoulders beginning to feel a little less tight. Sure, he still felt the gravity of his situation, but having the motivation to clean himself up a bit was a new, welcome change. All thanks to Josh, that fucker. 

Cleaning out the fridge, he was startled by the sound of his doorbell buzzing. Throwing on the pair of beat up Birkenstocks, he made his way through the door and ran down the stairs to be met with a grocery delivery. He picked up the large cardboard box, hauling it upstairs and setting it on the kitchen counter. He noticed a note from Karen lay on the top as he opened the box:

Take care of yourself, sweetie. Can’t wait to see you soon. 

Love, Mom

He smiled to himself, carefully placing the note next to the box before digging through it, noticing how she sent him all his favorite foods. He put the groceries away swiftly, and as he closed the door to the fridge he caught sight of the clock on the stove, 7:46pm.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath before running to his room to throw more presentable clothes on, grabbing his guitar case on his way out the door. Sam had told him not to be late. 

~~~~~~

Y/N POV

“Yeah, yeah, Caitlyn, 7:45 sharp. I got it,” you said as your phone was snug between your cheek and your shoulder, bringing your bags and equipment down to your car. It was nearing 6pm; you and your bandmates had a local gig tonight at a bar that you frequented. 

“Just please don’t be late like last time! This gig is actually really important, and we’ve only got 15 minutes to get set up,” your drummer explained, concern and anticipation evident in her tone. 

“I’m sorry I was late last time, Cait, I promise I won’t be again!” You slammed the trunk of your car shut with your free hand, “You know I’m not usually like that.” She knows I was having car trouble… 

“I know, tonight is just nerve wracking. I’m kinda freaking out. The whole open mic thing… who knows who’s gonna be there.”

“I can tell! But it’s gonna be fine. I’m heading to Jen's now to make some last minute tweaks to her solo. I’ll see you soon!”

You said goodbye to your friend before shoving your phone back in your pocket. Not too long ago, you and your childhood friends had set out to Nashville to live out your dream of making it as musicians. You had all been playing together for longer than you could remember, the band falling into your lap without any real amount of effort. Caitlyn, your neighbor growing up, was a force to be reckoned with on drums, Jen, your best friend since kindergarten, on guitar, and your cousin, Tyler, holding it down on the bass. You had been chosen as the lead vocalist before you truly knew how to sing, but once falling into the role, you took your job incredibly seriously, taking as many voice lessons as you physically could to solidify your now resonant and skilled voice. 

The four of you hit the ground running once getting to Tennessee, and somehow luck had been on your side, managing to play for the right group of people and now you had your first EP out, working to get your debut album out after having signed with a label. You were confident in your abilities and even more confident in your sound, having pushed many other priorities aside to focus on this career that you had set in motion with your friends. 

After climbing in the driver's seat and twisting the ignition, you blasted the AC in your car. Who knew how long it would take for you to get used to the southern heat. It was only a short drive to Jens, something the two of you made sure of when you were looking at apartments, and as you drove you began humming possible riffs for her to try out on the new song you’d be debuting tonight. 

She ushered you inside her place quickly upon your arrival, clearly anxious about your performance tonight. 

“Cait is totally getting to me. I wasn’t nervous at all until she called me a couple minutes ago,” she fussed, leading you into her makeshift home studio and slinging her guitar strap over her head, walking over to the amp and plugging in. 

You chuckled, digging your own acoustic out of its case, “I really think it’s going to be great! We’ve been rehearsing day in and day out, and we’ve played this bar before so at least that bit isn’t new.”

“I think she’s nervous because they asked her to be the drummer for the open mic that’s happening after our set. They’re paying her good money so she didn’t turn it down, but you know how she is.”

Oh shit, I didn’t know that part. 

“Did they ask you or Tyler to stick around, too?” You realized that tonight may be a bigger deal than you had originally thought. 

“Nah, it sounded like they already had a guitarist, and I think they have someone on both electric and upright bass. We’re going to stick around for Cait’s sake, but who knows, we might hear some good shit tonight,” she said, pulling her hair out from under the guitar strap and throwing it over her shoulder, “Now, show me what you’ve been thinking about.”

You beamed at her, situating your guitar on your knee before strumming out the ideas you had come up with.

End of y/n POV

~~~~~~

“An open mic?” Jake spat out at Sam, grasping his brother's forearm tightly. “You shithead, why did you bring me to this place?”

Sam was howling with laughter as he yanked out of Jake’s grip, leading him to the table where Danny and Josh sat, somehow already inebriated, whooping and hollering once Jake was in their line of sight. Jake reluctantly plopped down in a chair beside his twin, facing the tiny stage in the corner of the bar that was illuminated by soft overhead floodlights. Nonchalantly swirling his whiskey in its highball glass, he glanced around the bar. So this is Robert’s… 

It looked like any other dive bar, but a little tidier. The walls were painted a dark crimson with neon beer signs and vintage pinup posters consuming every inch of space. The booths were made of brown, worn leather, the floors a warm hardwood. He took inventory of the instruments already set up on stage, and noticed the upright bass snug in the corner. Maybe this wouldn’t be a waste of his time after all. 

Josh nudging his shoulder caught his attention.

“I’m really glad you're here, it means a lot,” Josh slurred, just above a whisper that only Jake could hear. 

A slight grin graced his lips as he shrugged before Josh continued, “Did you talk to Mom?”

“Yeah, I talked to her,” Jake replied, jabbing his elbow into his brother's ribs, “thanks for ratting me out. She was all worried and shit. Even sent me groceries.”

Josh shook his head, a cheesy smile plastered to his face accompanied by a pink flush of his cheeks, surely due to the alcohol in his system, “Sorry, man, but you looked like crap! I had to tell her!”

Jake couldn’t help but match his brother's smile; he was beginning to feel true gratitude for all three of them. He was realizing exactly how much they cared for him, willing to carry his burden on their shoulders in any way they knew how. He glanced over to Danny and Sam where they were having their own conversation, and he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell, an emotion that was only supplied when he was spending time with his brothers. 

Danny caught his eyes for a split second and offered him a tight smile; Jake hadn’t apologized to him yet. 

Tonight, if I can find time alone with him. I need to do better. He knew he potentially hurt Danny more than any of his other brothers, and there was still a piece of him too swollen with pride to completely let himself admit just how badly he had fucked up. Before he let himself get too much in his head, something that Josh consistently warned him about, he cleared his throat to gain the attention of the group. 

“Alright, Sammy boy, wanna tell us why we’re here? And why I needed my guitar?” He accompanied the question with a raised eyebrow, inclining his glass towards Sam. 

“Well, brother, if you would be patient for just a couple minutes, we’re here to see a band and they should be starting any second now,” Sam replied, clasping his hands together. “The lead singer is a waitress at my restaurant. She told everyone their band had a gig here tonight,” he explained, taking a second to glance around the bar, searching the crowd, “but it looks like I’m the only asshole who bothered to show up!”

“I’ve heard them play before, they’re pretty good! And her voice is unbelievable,” Daniel chimed in, eyes piercing Jake’s as he added, “I think you’re really gonna like her.”

Don’t tell me these assholes are trying to set me up. 

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain why-” 

Jake was cut off by the lights in the bar dimming, turning his attention again to the small stage to watch three musicians climb the few steps up to the platform. A tall brunette took her place behind the drumset, muscular arms and stoic features that seemed to be evident in every drummer he’s encountered. He observed the spritely woman with flowing hair plugging her cobalt guitar into the amp, throwing her wavy locks over her shoulder in the process, and a towering, lanky man who stood impossibly still as he clutched his bass guitar, a mysterious air around him, his eyes hidden behind dark aviator sunglasses. Each one different, surely bringing their own unique voices to the collective whole, but Jake could already tell that their chemistry would likely be unmatched. 

The three musicians checked their sound, the guitarists making sure their strings were in tune, before the lead vocalist made it onto the stage. And as Jake watched her ascend the steps, lights glistening off of her hair and bouncing off her features, his breath was stolen out of his chest. 

She took center stage, if he could even call it that with how confined the space was, and he watched with rapt attention as she adjusted the stand to her height and spoke a hushed “Check, check,” into the microphone. Her voice was low, sultry, alluring, and everything clicked into place as to why his brothers had brought him here tonight. His eyes were glued to the stage, however, oblivious to the three men observing him, smiles plastered wide across their faces upon realizing that they had been successful in their plan. 

She then turned around and spoke something to the rest of the band, all of them nodding and smiling in agreement before a light shuffle began sounding from the drumkit. They all fell into an easy groove, their sound a tempting soulful rock that only few could pull off these days, in Jake’s opinion. He couldn’t take his eyes off the singer as she turned back to the mic, her eyes closed and head softly lilting along rhythmically, an easy, almost lazy smile dancing across her face. 

Jake brought his glass up to his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, settling in for what he knew was about to be a fantastic set, but paused his actions as she stepped closer to the mic, drawing a breath as her eyes opened and the first note slipped past her lips. 

He was sure he looked ridiculous, glass held halfway between the table and his lips, eyes blown wide and mouth slightly agape, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. He was entranced by her voice; his personal siren calling only to him, hypnotizing him. He watched as she effortlessly swayed, interacting with the other musicians she shared the stage with. She was completely in her element, no sense of anxiety or nervousness written in her complexion or any of her bandmates. She acknowledged the audience only a few times, graciously accepting their applause and smiling at Sam when he waved excitedly at her, only to flit her eyes around the rest of the table, pausing when she finally landed on Jake.

His breath caught again and he could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. For a fleeting moment, they were the only two in the dimly lit bar. 

All he could do was stare, and she held his eyes for longer than what would be deemed comfortable, but it seemed as though she couldn’t bring her eyes away from his, either. Only when she heard a familiar cue did she drop his heated gaze, returning to her revelry-like state as the band began another song. 

Jake caught himself blinking a few times in an effort to try to bring himself back to reality. He glanced briefly at his brothers sitting with him and cursed under his breath when he noticed all three of them already looking his way, knowing smiles evident on each of their lips. He was still clueless to the fact that they had been observing him all night long, not noticing Sam when he leaned over to whisper to Daniel or Josh, “I told you so!”

The set was about 45 minutes long, giving 15 minutes until the open mic started. An older man hopped onto the stage once the band was done, saying that there were still plenty of spots available and that the sign-up sheet was taped over on the bar. The four brothers were still huddled around the table when Sam popped up quickly to announce he was going to get them all another round, which none of them objected to, before hurrying over to the bar.

It was hard for Jake to turn off the voice in his head that was begging and pleading him to go back to the safety of his home, but he had to admit that listening to her sing had been well worth his time. And although he groaned at the thought of listening to whatever “nonsense” was going to be played at the open mic, there was no way he would turn down the opportunity to have the chance to talk to her once her and the rest of her band finished packing up their instruments. 

9 o’clock rolled around, fresh drinks arriving on the table as the brothers talked amongst themselves; it had been far too long since Jake had caught up with them. He learned about the upcoming movie Josh would be working on in the next couple months, always excited to hear his twin talk about something he was so passionate about. The first couple of acts had played their songs, none of them horrible but none of them garnering any of their attention, all too engrossed in each other's company.

Jake was right in the middle of hearing about the most recent tournament Daniel had been involved in when he heard his name being called.

“Jacob Kiszka and Y/f/n Y/l/n, come on down!”

What the fuck?

He panicked as he looked between his brothers, darting his eyes between them until he landed on the culprit, Sam. Of course it was Sam; his little brother was known for getting them into all types of trouble, saying that it was always easier to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. “Plus,” he would always say, “you guys have to admit that was pretty fun.”

Sam was already beaming, not faltering when Jake gritted at him through his teeth, 

“You motherfucker, what did you do?”

All Sam did was shrug and gesture towards Jake’s guitar case, not intimidated in the slightest by Jake’s blinding rage. 

I can’t play with her, let alone begin to think about what we could play together- His mind was running a mile a minute as he glanced between his guitar and Sam, cursing his brother to the high heavens.

Finally, Josh clapped his twin on the back and whispered, “Don’t you know it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?”

He finally looked to the stage where she already stood, a sheepish smile evident across her mouth as she waited for him to make up his mind.

How did she know it was me?

He then looked around the bar, noticing many eyes on him and a hush falling upon the crowd in preparation. 

Oh, idiot, she recognized your last name. She works with Sam.

Turning back to the stage, he saw that the drummer was seated behind her kit, and there was an older man picking up his upright bass that had been gently laying on its side, plucking the strings and tuning it ever so slightly. 

Jake squeezed his eyes shut and let out a deep sigh before opening them, bending over to grab his guitar case as he stood from his chair. Delighted applause erupted from the patrons of the bar, making him wince, and before he made his way over to the stage, he made it a point to menacingly tower over Sam who was still seated, grabbing the collar of his shirt and whispering a curt “We will talk about this later.”

He let go of Sam’s shirt with a little force, his brother laughing at him and cheering him on, knowing Jake’s threat was completely empty. 

Jake had to take a few calming breaths, in through his nose and out through his mouth, just like Josh taught him. He stalked towards the small stage, knuckles surely white from how tightly he was gripping the handle of his guitar case. He was all too aware of the eyes on him; he was used to performing and others watching him do so, but he always performed solo and on his terms. This was new territory for him, and it had his nerves blazing. 

Her eyes followed him as he climbed the couple of steps, and he met her gaze and gave her a shy smile as he passed behind her to the unoccupied side of the stage. He made quick work of unpacking, silently thanking his lucky stars that something had told him to bring his acoustic rather than electric. He plugged it into the amp that was sitting behind him, and continued to crouch with his back to the audience as he tuned his guitar quietly. Fortunately, those sitting out in the bar had begun to talk amongst themselves, effectively helping his nerves settle ever so slightly. 

As he stood, he looked to the other musicians, nodding to the drummer as she sent him a sweet smile, and the bassist who gave him a jovial thumbs up. He could feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards as he finally faced her. 

She was standing in front of the mic, neck turned to watch him make his way to the front of the stage, a grin still on her face but accompanied with an expectant, raised eyebrow.

Oh shit, that’s right. What are we going to play?

He paused once he reached the front of the stage, taking a moment to look between the musicians again, racking his brain as to what would fit their instrumentation best but better yet, what would do her voice justice. 

A smirk found his lips as he settled on a suggestion, feeling much more confident now that he had an idea. Jake found his feet taking him to her without a second thought, closing the short space that distanced them. She turned her body towards him, welcoming him with a warm smile, eager to hear what he was going to offer.

Only once he was truly in her presence did his nerves take the reins again. Her beauty was evident when he observed her from the crowd, but seeing her this up close was something else. His heart hammered in his chest once more as he realized that he got to hear her sing again, and better yet, got to hear her voice sing along with him. He let go of the neck of his guitar, the strap snug across his back, and wiped his clammy hands against his faded jeans in a gesture that could only suggest how anxious he truly was. 

Say something, damnit.

“Hi,” his voice cracked. 

Shoot me now. 

“Hey,” she chuckled out, thankfully not noting his aura of insecurity. She glanced to take a look at his guitar, his hands still resting on his thighs, and then brought her eyes to meet him again. He shifted his weight between his feet; why did she make him feel like a hormone-ridden teenager talking to a girl for the first time? His lips parted to speak again but was interrupted by her bringing her face closer to his, leaning to whisper in his ear,

“Seems like you have a song in mind.”

She retracted her head to stand upright before the mic stand once again, an expectant, but patient, look upon her face. 

Jake cleared his throat before leaning in to softly say, 

“Yeah, you know Lilac Wine?”

Her face flushed and she beamed an earth-stopping smile as she whispered back,

“Jeff Buckley or Nina Simone?”

“Can you play piano?”

She smirked and shook her head, “Not like Nina.”

He chuckled softly, “Me neither.” 

“Jeff Buckely it is, then.”

He backed away from her, inclining his head in confirmation, before making his way back to the drummer, asking her if the song was to her liking and she nodded excitedly, switching her drumsticks out for a pair of brushes. 

Y/n had gone over to the bassist, and he watched as the bassist put his hand on his chest, hopefully a sign of how much he loved the song. Jake looked between all the musicians, making his way back to his spot on the stage, saying loud enough just for the bassist to hear, “G Major.” The bassist winked, leaning his bass against his hip.

Jake watched as she made her way back to the front, only after exchanging a quick glance to her friend at the drums, the bassist, and then directing her stare to him. She gave him a slow nod, indicating that she was ready and waiting for Jake to begin. 

He fixed his attention back front, and took a deep breath as the crowd hushed, watching with bated breath for the music to begin. 

Jake inhaled deeply, exhaling as he strummed the one, solitary chord. And then he heard her voice.

“I lost myself on a cool, damp night,”

Jake heard a few whistles of exclamation from the crowd which caused a slight smile to form on his lips as he played the next, slow chord,

“I gave myself in that misty light,”

He couldn’t help but shift his position to face her, only to realize that she already watched him, her head turned just enough so she could still sing into the microphone. 

“Was hypnotized by a strange delight,” she sang, a sultry smirk gracing her lips as the lyrics came out,

“Under a lilac tree.”

Jake watched her with rapt attention, knowing that it was his cues she was waiting for, and even though his heart was racing in his chest just by the fact that she was staring at him, he wouldn’t let that hinder his performance. 

His strumming picked up as she sang the next couple lines, her voice seeming to rumble through the speakers as she sang the line before the chorus, 

“Because, it brings me back you,”

Jake turned to the bassist and gave a cue, letting him know it was time for him to join even though he was sure he already knew that. The rhythm section set the perfect slow, sleepy tempo to paint the mood of the song, and Jake felt overjoyed to be in the company of such talented musicians. It had been a long time since he played with others, and he forgot how great it felt to collaborate. 

The four musicians were feeding off of each other's energy, the song going off without a hitch considering he didn’t know them at all. He locked eyes with his mystery girl, y/n, he remembered, for the majority of the song, her voice tugging at his heart strings and filling the air with nearly palpable warmth. He knew the song would sit perfectly in her register, but he couldn’t have imagined how beautiful it truly sounded coming from her lips. Her voice would stay with him for a long time; he had never heard a voice quite as unique as hers.

He had to play with her again. 

~~~~~~

The song finished all too quickly. Jake had completely forgotten about the audience he stood before, completely enthralled by her voice and the musicians he was playing alongside. Only until he heard Sam’s cheers cut through the applause was he brought back to the moment, focusing his gaze forward to the sea of clapping hands. 

For once, he didn’t have to fake the smile that graced his face. In fact, he didn’t have to think about it at all. Jake was beaming, graciously nodding to the patrons of the bar before his eyes landed on his brothers, clapping excitedly and more obnoxiously than anybody else. It was Josh he lingered on though, his twin giving him a smile that seemed to absolve every insecurity, every heavy weight plaguing him. Before Jake knew it, he was placing his hand over his heart, hoping to convey the immense gratitude he had for his brother, Josh mirroring the action not a moment later. 

Jake ripped his gaze away from his band of brothers and turned to the musicians he just played with, all of them eagerly meeting in the middle of the stage to congratulate each other on a job well done. The drummer, he learned, was named Caitlyn, and she gave him a celebratory firm whack on the back that made him chuckle. The bassist introduced himself as Max and instructed Jake to find him later so they could exchange information. “I can tell you’re a talented kid; it’s not very often I meet a guitarist who truly knows his guitar like the back of his hand,” Max had said, shaking Jake’s hand with a vice-like grip. 

Jake turned to Y/n to say something, anything, but as he opened his mouth he heard the next band called out over the mic, effectively ushering them off stage. Her eyes twinkled, though, and she grasped his shoulder as she inclined her head over to the bar, silently asking him to meet her there. He gave her a shallow nod, not able to keep himself from smiling at her. 

Jake scampered off stage, leaving Y/n to talk with her band as he went over to the table where his brothers sat, waiting for his return. Once Sam saw him approaching, he leapt up off his chair, bringing his brother into an excited embrace that Jake was not all too eager to reciprocate. 

“Oh come onnnnn, you can’t still be mad at me! We all saw you up there!” Sam laughed out, still clutching Jake’s shoulders. 

Jake rolled his eyes, once again not able to hide the smile that was on his face, “Watch me.”

Danny clapped for him from his seated position at the table, giving Jake the most genuine smile he’d received since his fight with him, saying “Brilliant, as always.” Jake shrugged it off, all too aware of the words that continued to be unspoken, but still feeling that this was not his opportunity to apologize. Finally, Josh stood from the table, placing a hand between Jake’s shoulder blades. 

“I think you found it, brother.”

Glancing into Josh’s eyes, he felt all of the words his twin didn’t need to say out loud. All he could do was nod. He agreed; even though he was mere accompaniment, it hadn’t felt that good to play his guitar in a very long time. The feeling of adrenaline, of pride in his abilities, had been lost for months, and he forgot just how addicting the feeling of his calloused fingers against the steel strings could be. Maybe his passion was starting to come back, and it sent a pang to his heart to know that Josh had somehow seen that from the 10 minutes he spent on the stage.

Jake glanced over to the bar, seeing Y/n casually chatting with the bartender. Josh followed his gaze, dropping his hand away from his brother's back and returned to his seat. Jake took a deep breath, trying to figure out what he was going to say, not registering that he was already making his way over to the bar. In the distance, he heard Sam yell, “Jakey! She likes gin!” but all he could do was give his little brother a dismissive wave of his hand from over his shoulder. 

He grinned to himself, logging away the bit of information. Don’t meet too many gin fans these days. 

“So, Jacob,” she said, swirling her straw around the glass of her gin and tonic. His name tumbling from her lips felt like a bolt of lightning through his system. 

His smile was bashful as he glanced down at his own drink, trying to keep his composure as he assured that she could call him ‘just Jake.’ Their conversation flowed effortlessly; he learned all about her band and the members within it, as well as how she could handle Sam as her boss. She asked him a multitude of questions, as well, but he couldn’t think about himself at the moment. Any chance he had to think about his own life sent his mind swirling in a downward spiral, so he would deflect the question back to her, genuinely interested in the words she had to say. He found out that she, too, was from the Midwest, both of them commiserating about the heat before he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

Jake turned around to see an older man, probably in his 50s, standing behind him, a knowing smile on his face that immediately put Jake at ease.

“Jacob, right? I’m Robert,” he held out his hand, Jake quickly taking it into a handshake, his eyes wide. 

Why the hell is the owner talking to me? 

“I heard you play, you have a really great sound. You a solo musician?”

Jake flickered his eyes between Robert, Y/n, and then over to the table where his brothers sat, before responding, “Yeah, I mostly do solo shows,” he beamed, "It’s really nice to meet you, Robert. I’ve heard so much about this place, it’s great.”

Robert laughed as he thanked Jake, the older man asking a few more questions about Jake’s situation as Y/n sat and listened, a lopsided smirk on her lips. 

“Well, Jacob, I’d love to have you regularly play at the bar. The crowd seemed to love your sound, as did I,” he said, pulling out a business card from his back pocket. “Please feel free to email me if you’re interested.”

Jake blinked a couple times before gently taking the card from Robert's hands. He heard about many great musicians passing through this bar; it was a family-owned place, ownership being passed down from generation to generation, helping artists get off the ground and into the spotlight. Jake met Robert’s eyes again, smiling from ear to ear as he shook the man's hand once more, thanking him and assuring him that he’d be hearing from Jake very soon. 

Once Robert walked away, Y/n chimed in, “He’s a really good guy, but doesn’t interact with a lot of people much. From what I know, he hardly invites anyone to play here. You should count yourself lucky.” She winked at him, a smile evident on her face before bringing her straw to her lips. 

“Your band plays here all the time, did Robert contact you guys?”

“Nope,” she shook her head, “he’s friends with Jen’s dad. Her dad called in a favor, got us our first gig here. Thankfully, everyone liked our music enough that we were invited back.”

Almost as if she were summoned, Jen called Y/n’s name from across the bar, beckoning her over and signifying that the band was heading out. 

Y/n turned back to Jake with an apologetic look, “Looks like it’s my time.”

Jake gave a soft smile, glancing at his watch and realizing that already an hour had gone by, the open mic long abandoned. He flickered his eyes back up to hers, “When can I hear you sing again?” 

He felt the air leave his lungs as he watched her blush at his words, but she regained her composure quickly before holding out her palm. She was so sure of herself, an air of confidence around her that he was envious of. If she had any insecurities, she would never let the world know. 

“Can I have your phone?”

“Sure,” he fumbled around for it in his pocket, “what for?”

Her smile only grew at his oblivious question, “So I can give you my number. Maybe you can call me and ask when our next gig is,” she wiggled an eyebrow as she added her number to his contacts. 

“There,” placing his phone back in his grasp, “don’t be a stranger.” In a gesture that was over before it began, she leaned in close and gave him a chaste peck on his cheek before sliding off her bar stool and making her way through the crowd.

He sat and watched her as she greeted her friends, completely dumbfounded. He’d lost track of how many times she had stolen his breath that night, and as he glanced down at his phone that lay waiting in his palm, he brought his other hand to faintly stroke where her lips had grazed his cheek. 

Jake’s heart faltered.

Lilac. 

To be continued....

taglist: @joopsworld @gold-mines-melting @shutupdevvie @indigostreakmorgan @sacredjake @malany-gvf @writingcold @mountain-in-springtime @anthemofgvf @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @songbirds-sweet @katelynn-gvf

[stellernorth]

[dashboard simulator of a world without the ghostfacers effect where the true supernatural show is perceived]

🫀waityourrturn Follow

spot the difference stick figure violence and samruby moments

(1 note)

🟪 sparklezzstiel Follow

if i was the mall cop who got kid sam in trouble for stealing nail polish i would have instead helped him steal more nail polish. also i wouldn’t be a cop

(184 notes)

🧪dogsogdog4 Follow

hey i’m finally watched lazarus rising and i cannot see anything when “castiel” enters its just fully white and the static noise is kind of painful tbh lol. is this a my computer problem or what

(7 notes)

🎉 rowenapublicindecancy Follow

(52 notes)

🫐 numberfff000 Follow

you all aren’t taking like medical advice from supernatural right??? the medical advice that has resulted in canonically [checks notes] one (1) instance of blindness due to ingesting rubbing alcohol, two (2) toe amputations and one (1) case of SEPSIS?!

🎪 kevinscriminalrecord Follow

no we aren’t doing that

🌠 mixtapesextape Follow

Sounds like someone hasn't heard about the kitchen accident diy stitches girl from LiveJournal. So weird that the fandom today doesn't know about her, back in the day it was everywhere.

🎪 kevinscriminalrecord Follow

huh???

🧔‍♀️ heritagepostsof-spn Follow

Heritage Post.

(1943 notes)

🥬 fishhooklove Follow

day 1 of asking john winchester to put his cigs out on me

🤟hannahgirl Follow

could you stop

🥬 fishhooklove Follow

oh here come the buzzkills. i bet you thought it was hot when bela did it to dean. but i’m not allowed to express my interests i guess.

(218 notes)

⛸️ mangojuicecas Follow

Um Guys i had this guy i’m seeing over and we were taking. about watching a movie. and. im the most embarrassed i’ve ever been i can barely type this. and i opened my computer and clicked to the netflix tab. and it was paused mid crypt scene blowjob kill meeeee 😭😭😭

🩶 charlierowena2024 Follow

why would you ever stop halfway through. that's like looking at half of starry night then closing your eyes and leaving the museum

(78 notes)

🧑🏻‍🦳s6monster Follow

Uquiz - Which Supernatural scars are you?

I GOT RUBY’S ARM SCARS WAAAH

(3 notes)

👩‍🦰 cleopatralumineersrowena Follow

depeche mode master and servant spn bdsm and fight scene compilation amv we're really in it now

#using lyrics as censor bars is the innovation of the century

(59 notes)

🌂 kansaslawrence Follow

for everyone who said dean slamming his hand in the impala door when he was drunk wouldn't do that to his fingernails i did a similar thing (accidentally, before the show aired) #deancoded loll and it looked basically the same. here are pics of my and his hands afterwards side by side for reference

(482 notes)

🍄 0nth3h34d0f4p1n Follow

Another reason samruby is queercoded is how her spitting blood into his mouth parallels the champagne scene in my beautiful laundrette

(38 notes)

🎃 sammmyspooks Follow

2.16 "this disease pumping through my veins and i can't rip it out or scrub it clean--i've tried; i'm a whole new level of freak" and 8.21 "you used to read to me when i was little i mean really little" etc we all remember sir galahad speech. sooooo how young do you think sam was when he first tried

(739 notes)

🪼 ccoldfridge Follow

just remembered how dean tried his best to ask cas to take a female vessel so they could fuck heterosexually in ftbyam and i nearly passed out in the post office . castielllllll he was saying he wanted to fuck youuu

(63 notes)

🤵 a1waysenduphere Follow

comparing the endverse sam arc to the classic structure of a shakespearean tragedy

part 1: aloneness and exposition

keep reading

(382 notes)

👩 isolationnatural Follow

the way people #coquette #lanadelrey #femaleangst -ify claire's s12 shoplifting eating disorder getting into fights self medicating situation is so so weird and fucked up. we saw stanford era dean do literally exactly all the same shit but with him it's ohhh classic beautiful americana what a tragic figure i understand his emotions have depth and complexity THEY DID ALL THE SAME STUFF maybe think about why you see the situations differently

(294 notes)

🔵 butchruby4femanna Follow

why did i have to see dean naked that many times. just wondering again

(2 notes)

⚡ cassandrasam Follow

ok spn 5x20. so sam's kissing the demon possessing brady out of nostalgia and grief for his dead boyfriend, the demon's kissing back because he knows it will make sam more likely to listen to him, imagine if dean had walked in in that moment

❗greendean Follow

or crowley

(158 notes)

🍇 notgoodnatural Follow

hey everyone. wjsh i could have seen dean naked more times.

(10 notes)

[vouam]

I'm gonna be honest, telling fat people "Your body is unhealthy, go fix your lifestyle" is not really body neutrality. It's the same thing any random fatphobic person tells us every day.

I get that there's an issue with the body positivity movement relying too much on just sexualizing women. But there's one thing that movement has that I have just never, ever gotten from the body neutrality movement, and that is kindness. The world tells me I'm disgusting and worthless, and the response of body neturality people is, well, very neutral. It's mostly a "Whatever. You shouldn't care about that. Also eat healthier lol".

Body positivity, however flawed it may be, at least shows kindness and understanding. And has the courage to actually disagree and outright say "No, your body is not disgusting. You are allowed to exist the way you are and you can still find love and happiness". Which are extremely normal things to want, but when fat people want them, the body neutrality position say that it's suddenly bad to even say that because it means you're defining your worth via your desireabilty too much and you should just learn to not care that people find you gross and will never want you (and also you should really stop being so lazy and learn some self control when it comes to food).

I hear you, and thank you for sharing your perspective.

I feel like I’ve seen a lot of ‘body neutralist’ conversations being led by gym-bro types that basically just say ‘it’s toxic to say everybody is beautiful, its enabling fat people, they need to just be healthy’ and I really don’t like that because it feels like they’re missing the point of why I like the movement.

While I agree that someones worth and desirability shouldn’t be determined by their size, I would never say that they are wrong for wanting to be loved/desired while being fat.

People have this misconception all the time that overweight/underweight means unhealthy. In extreme cases of course it is, but sometimes people are quick to label someone as unhealthy from just a number on the scales, when in reality everyone is different - you can be ‘overweight’ and healthier than someone who isn’t, the BMI scale is awful 😭 The body neutralist movement would (I guess should, in an ideal world) tell people that they don’t need to change themselves if they don’t look like the typical standard of beauty, and instead the only weight advice would be given by a doctor, asking if someones weight could be causing them problems/worsening problems that are already there. (And yes I’m aware that often doctors do this too much, and ignore other possible factors just because of someone’s weight..)

I’m kind of between two sides when it comes to a lot of things. Like for example I don’t like when the body positivity movement implies that people don’t need to change their body when they are actually unhealthy due to their weight. They would never say it to someone who is underweight due to anorexia nervosa, then why say it to someone who is overweight from a different type of eating disorder. But I say that I’m between two sides because I understand that fat people face a lot more abuse and less compassion/sympathy over their weight than underweight people. Being underweight is often seen as desirable and overweight isn’t. People deserve to always feel kindness no matter their size. And a lot of buddy neutralists need to learn that it is not easy to change your weight, for both mental and physical reasons. They shouldn’t be hounded at for not being the epitome of a healthy body.

I really enjoy this discussion, please feel free (and others who see this too) to share your opinions on this. I’ve never been fat, so I really don’t think I’m the best person to speak about the negative sides of the movement. But of course I would love to hear more, there are probably things I’ve never even thought about.