#do you think he could feel it happening. do you think he was aware he was losing his mind.

[sunnylucy31]

Some asks I got for these in discord, reposting my answers here:

Pierce is on the spectrum, though she does a good job of masking most of the time (until you get her talking about her special interest which is stars and astrology (fun fact she can tell your star sign just by looking at you, very useful power)).

Frieda has BPD, and she handles it by not handling it (that is, she bottles up everything related to it, The Queen must not show weakness to subordinates). Her people don’t say her name and only refer to her as “the queen” out of respect, but a large part of her believes it’s because they disapprove of her (RSD will have you making logical leaps like that, it’s a bitch).

20. Frieda is often jealous of how tight knit her peoples’ bonds with each other are; as the queen she’s often excluded from that since everyone else puts her on a pedestal (as noted previously, they refer to her by title rather than name). More specifically she’s jealous of Hunter’s ongoing thing with Siren, as she’s been yearning for his attention for years and never received it (not in the way she wants, anyway). Again, she handles this by bottling it up, as the queen cannot be distracted by such trivial emotions. Good thing glass bottles are famously sturdy, this practice will surely continue to be a sound one.

If Maya is jealous of anything, it’s her peers’ ability to be content with tedium. With a perfect memory, she’s painfully aware of how much repetition the average day has, but her fellows don’t seem to notice, or if they do, don’t seem to care. Hell, some of them appear to find comfort in the routine, the normalcy. She attempts to shake this feeling off, but like everything else in her flawless recall, she can never entirely put it away.

25. My favorite aspects of both are going to be the angsty parts because apparently I’m a sadist.

For Frieda it’s the dehumanization. The Titans made her to be a living weapon. The gods branded her as an abomination for existing. And her own people turned her into a martyr, a Messiah figure that could prop up their fragile hopes. At no point does Frieda get to be Frieda; She’s Zero, or Priority Target One, or The Queen. Max will be the first person to treat her as human in a long time, and that’s going to be a profound moment for her that I really look forward to.

For Maya it’s going to be exploring all the detriments to a flawless memory and how the human psyche wasn’t meant to handle having that sort of ability. Imagine every mistake you’ve ever made, every abuse you’ve suffered, every pain you’ve felt, as crystal clear in your mind as the moment it happened. How do you heal? How do you move on? I do so love a good “your great power is really a curse” trope.

Frieda certainly wouldn’t think she could get away with it. Tenet Two of the demititans’ code is to do no willful harm against a fellow demititan, and to her mind she isn’t above the code. Her people on the other hand would feel differently. As I said above, they’ve turned her into their Messiah; all their hopes for survival rest in her. While it would be a deeply unsettling event for many, they’d find some way to justify it if only to keep her at the forefront, to keep her trying to save them.

4. Frieda’s innate instinct when scared is to freeze, followed by flee. Years of training have embedded a fight response in her, but part of her still feels the urge to run and hide when shit gets scary.

9. “Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along.” -Terry Pratchett

19. Rage makes Frieda’s calm and collected queenly mask fall away entirely. It’s the one emotion she’s never had much practice at containing, so when it comes out, it really comes out. Violence is basically a guarantee at that point.

Edgy/misc OC ask meme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Send me a number and an OC, and I'll answer.

What memory would your OC rather just forget?

What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn?

How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder?

Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways?

If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

What is your OC's pain tolerance like?

What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal?

How does your OC behave when enraged?

Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?

What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

What is your favorite thing about your OC?

[galactic-magick]

Maybe in Another Universe, You're Still the Man I Love: Viktor x Reader

Summary: You get sent to the same alternate timeline with Ekko and Heimerdinger, and you find out just how wonderful your life could've been.

Words: 2.1k

Author's Notes: Yeah so that finale sent me into deep grief and writing is the only way I can heal I fear. I hope you enjoy this interpretation of what Viktor could be doing in the alternate timeline.

“Are you alright, darling?”

Your vision comes into focus, though your head is still pounding. You’re extremely nauseous, feeling like your body is not your own as you become aware of the all-too-familiar voice that just spoke to you.

You’re sitting on a desk in an Academy classroom, journals and various papers surrounding you. The sun is shining through the windows, cascading gold onto the other desks and tables. It’s a peaceful, simple sight. Something that feels so wrong for precisely that reason.

“I don’t have another class for a while, you can talk to me,” Viktor says, brushing his fingers against your face. “Care to tell me why you’re looking at me like that?”

You suppose you look like you’ve seen a ghost, which isn’t so far from the truth. You must be dreaming—maybe hallucinating—anything to explain how this isn’t real.

“I…” you start, failing to find the words to say.

-

You storm into the lab, locking your eyes on the empty hexcore cocoon, then at Jayce.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“I don’t know!” Jayce fires back at you, clearly just as distraught as you are. “He woke up and told me he needed to leave me and this place. I have no idea where he went!”

“Why didn’t you follow him?” you scream, your mind spinning. Who knows how the hexcore changed him, he could literally be anywhere.

“He didn’t want me to! What don’t you understand?” Jayce slumps back into his chair, his face in his hands. As soon as he notices a tear fall down your cheek, his tone softens. “Look, I...we both know he’s been different since he started messing with the hexcore. He had told me to destroy it...but I couldn’t. And now he’s even more different. I’m so sorry,”

“Jayce…” you walk towards him. “I’m not blaming you for anything that’s happened. He’s been pushing both of us away for a long time. I guess...I just thought maybe when he woke up he’d love me again like he used to. Did he even ask about me?”

Jayce shakes his head, and your heart sinks even further.

-

“I think I’m dreaming,” you finally say, and Viktor tilts his head. “This...this isn’t real. We’re not like this, we haven’t been like this in a long time. You’re not...what are you here, a professor?”

He cups your face and kisses your forehead, “Darling, I don’t think you’ve been getting enough sleep, you’re talking nonsense,”

“No, no, no,” you jump off the desk and pace around the room. “If this isn’t a dream, then where am I? Some sort of other reality?”

“You mean to say you believe...this is not your world?” Viktor takes in your words intently.

“Well in my world, you fell out of love with me in favor of your work, and then you nearly died and got severely mutated by the hexcore. So yeah, I’d say things are pretty different,”

He raises an eyebrow, “Hex...core?”

“You don’t have that here?”

“Seemingly not,”

You sigh, perching yourself back on the desk, “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“No, I...I have theorized the possibility of alternate universes before, but I never thought I would come face to face with it in my lifetime,” he starts writing on the wall chalkboard. “I see no reason not to believe you. After all, my wife of this universe would probably not be saying these things,”

“We’re married?”

“Of course. Now tell me, what else is different in your universe?”

-

You’ve tried to find him everywhere—going all the secret places the two of you would go in the past, and asking people if they’ve seen him both topside and bottom. There’s no signs, not even a clue. He doesn’t want to be found.

You make your way back to Jayce’s lab, surprised to see Heimerdinger and a young man you don’t recognize with him. They fill you in on their concern about wild runes showing up around the city, and their plan to check on the hexgates. You’re desperate for anything to get your mind off Viktor, so you go along with them.

You’ve never been to the source of the hexgates before, and it’s even more grand than you imagined. One thing could go wrong and the entire thing would explode, but it’s precisely the potential of destruction that makes it all the more fascinating.

That is, until it becomes entirely unpredictable.

Your surroundings change at the blink of an eye—warped visuals and sounds you can’t make out. You scream for the others, but no one can hear.

-

You do your best to describe all the important events and details of your timeline, while Viktor takes notes on the chalkboard and compares what you say to his timeline. He seems particularly interested in his inventions in your timeline, and his partnership with Jayce—who’s no longer alive in his timeline.

“He died in an explosion here at the academy several years ago, it was a tragic accident that also killed a young girl from the undercity. He was a friend and a brilliant mind,” he pauses. “We...actually named our son after him.”

Your eyes widen, overwhelmed by this possibility of what could’ve been, “We have a son?”

“We do. And he’s perfect,” Viktor smiles softly. “You really are from a different time, aren’t you?”

You nod, trying to hold back tears. Why does this reality’s version of you get to be happy? Why does this Viktor get to dodge corruption and the hands of hubris?

Viktor gazes once again on the chalkboard notes, looking for patterns and causes for the differences in your timelines. Would he have reached the same fate if Jayce was still alive? What caused the Undercity to heal and thrive in his timeline but not in yours? Was this hextech you speak of really so destructive?

You are the same person he fell in love with, there’s no doubt in his mind about that, but you’ve been significantly more hurt than the Y/N he knows.

He steps close to you again, wiping the tears from your face and pulling you into him, “I’m so sorry your version of me has taken a different path.”

You sob into his chest, gripping his clothes. He runs his fingers through your hair and rubs your back, soothing you as if you’re his own.

But you’re not his. This isn’t your life.

You pull away, taking a deep breath, “As much as I want to stay here, I can’t keep taking over the consciousness of the me in this world. I need to find the others,”

“I don’t know if it’s possible for you to get back,” he says. “You say you got here through hextech, and that was never invented here.”

“We’ll find a way,” you run to the window, looking out to get a gauge of where you are. Heimerdinger might have landed somewhere here in the Academy too, and Ekko probably went back to the Undercity. But Jayce—if he’s dead in this universe—where would he be?

“Before you go,” Viktor places a hand on your shoulder. “Would you like to meet our son?”

Anxiety washes over you, your body going numb from the prospect. Would it only hurt you more to see a life that you could’ve created?

“Don’t you have more classes to teach, professor?” you smile, trying to turn your nervousness into something lighthearted.

“I’ll cancel for today. It’s about the time you usually pick him up from school anyway,”

He grabs his cane with one hand and takes your hand with the other, posting a quick note on his door as you leave.

-

You sit on a bench outside the elementary school, your heart pounding. This child is going to run out that building any minute, eager to see the mother he’s always known.

But you’re not her. You didn’t carry him, birth him, or raise him. You don’t have the same memories and experiences.

But you must pretend that you do.

You know which one he is immediately. He’s a perfect combination of yours and Viktor’s features, just like you’d imagined. His smile is contagious, and he wastes no time jumping into your arms.

“Look what I made at school today, Mommy!” he puts a crafty contraption in front of your face, a colorful collection of sticks and paper glued together.

“That’s so creative, honey, I love it,” but your attention is solely focused on him, his sweet face glowing with pride and joy.

“Quite the little inventor, aren’t you?” Viktor applauds him. “What else did you learn today?”

“We did reading and spelling. I can spell family now. F-A-M-I-L-E!”

“Close, sweetheart. There’s a ‘Y’ at the end,” you laugh,

“Are you sure about that?” he says, wincing his adorable face in thought. “Whatever. I learned how to spell brother and sister too, but I don’t have any of those. How do I get one of those?”

Viktor chuckles, “I’ll talk about it with your Mommy, how about that?”

“Okay!” he jumps up and starts walking home with the two of you.

-

What if I stayed? You wonder.

You’re playing with your son on the living room floor, with toys mostly made by Viktor himself. The house is small but cozy, a home you wish was really yours. What if you just stay in this dream reality forever?

What if you never find the others? What if there really is no way to get back?

But no, that wouldn’t be fair to the you of this reality. She’s the one who has this life, not you. Besides, Viktor and his son deserve their wife and mother back.

You hear a knock on the door, and Viktor goes to open it.

“Oh, Viktor, it is so good to see you.”

Your head swivels instantly towards the yordle in the entryway, “Heimerdinger! You found me!” you join Viktor at the door, “Where’s Ekko and Jayce?”

“I have not found Jayce as of yet, but I did find Ekko and sent him back to his timeline about a week ago. We found some hextech fragments and were able to use them to jump through time and space.”

“So...I can get home too?”

“As soon as you’re ready. We built the machine in a young girl’s lab in the Undercity,” he looks between you, then Viktor, and finally your son. His attitude of urgency dissipates as he begins to understand. “But...I could not blame you if you want to stay longer.”

Your son Jayce comes running to join you, grabbing onto your leg, “Who’s this guy, Mommy?”

“This is Professor Heimerdinger, he used to work at the Academy,” you pat his head, “Your dad used to be his assistant.”

“I’m sure you already have a brilliant mind, my boy,” Heimerdinger says. “Your parents must be proud.”

Little Jayce giggles.

“Actually, I would very much like to see this new invention you’ve built, Professor,” Viktor speaks up. “I’m now quite intrigued by the prospect of other universes.”

“I have no rule against you observing, Viktor, but I’m sure you understand I must destroy it after we all get back. It is too dangerous to be left here unsupervised,” Heimerdinger’s tone becomes more serious. “I’m sure Y/N has told you of the destruction hextech caused in our universe, especially to you.”

“Of course, Professor. I understand.”

-

You’ve never seen the Undercity look this beautiful.

It seems that the other version of you comes here often, so many people wave to you and little Jayce automatically runs off with some kids his age to play.

You meet a blue-haired young lady named Powder, who helped Heimerdinger and Ekko in their experiments. She looks so familiar to you, but you can’t place where you’ve seen her in your reality.

Heimerdinger explains how it works, and both you and Viktor listen intently. With everything up and running, you could go back this instant.

The pull to go back is strong, like an obligation to return to your rightful place in the universe. But the pull to stay is equally strong, as you gaze into your husband’s beautiful amber eyes that you want to find solace in forever.

“It’s your choice, my love,” Viktor says, as if reading your mind.

“I know I need to go back…” you exhale, tears welling in your eyes once again. “But I don’t know what I’m going back to,”

“I don’t know either,” he caresses your face, “But I do know you are strong in every universe,”

“I’m not,” you shake your head, “Not without you.”

“Don’t say that,” his thumbs smooth across your cheeks.

You nod, turning towards the device.

“Could you…could you kiss me one last time?” you ask.

Viktor wastes no time honoring your request, crashing his lips to yours with lasting passion. He pulls away only as you back into the circle, leaving you with one last affectionate whisper:

“I’m so fortunate to have met another version of you, my love.”

[anyaskalliope]

Mel and Jayce Deserved Much Better

After experiencing horrors and walking through valleys and shadows, I truly hoped Mel would break down this season and unleash her emotions. Especially since she spent the entire season unlearning hardness with Jayce being so openly affectionate and emotional. This final act was honestly a slap in the face.

The one person she hoped would offer her that safety net to do this completely shuts her down. Mel was always cognizant of his feelings, constantly looking out for him, advising him, and teaching him. She shared with him her deepest insecurities and vulnerabilities. I can understand if Mel and Jayce are both going their separate ways because of the Noxus plot but to have him be this cold, and distant, and show a lack of understanding toward her plight is bizarre.

Mel comes back with a changed appearance and a different demeanor, and he doesn't even ask what happened. He seems to not care. Jayce isn't even giving her a chance to explain herself and just keeps coming at her and you can see the moment when Mel puts all her walls back up. Don't even get me started on the fact that he held the hammer in his hand for most of the time.

Their interactions during this act paint Jayce as one large hypocrite. He benefitted from all of Mel's teachings, from her providing comfort and affection, to her investments in Hextech. Asking her why she didn't save Viktor like she had something against him was wild.

This is the same Mel who offered comfort to Jayce when Viktor was severely injured during the explosion. The same Mel who immediately understood why Jayce left after their night together, recognized the importance of Viktor to Jayce.

If Mel could protect everybody in that room, she would. When she explains her lack of awareness of her abilities to him, he just keeps going on and on.

And the apology with the "passenger" line was just bad. It lacked a certain level of remorse that I would expect from Jayce of all people. Where is that good-hearted man who could tell when people aren't feeling their best, that person who always wanted to help people and make their lives better?

I think the Survivor Jayce is not the Jayce that Mel fell in love with, this is another man. The Jayce she fell in love with died at the bottom of that cave. The survivor Jayce is Viktor's passenger.

Jayce abandoned not just Mel but also his mother who protected him many times to be with Viktor in the afterlife?? In what universe is Jayce pulling that shit?

Now Mel's heading off to Noxus. A nation that doesn't align with her values and morals and would most likely have to harden herself to rule or have influence there. I hate it all. I hate that Black women always have to be strong. We actually had an opportunity to see a Black woman who grew up in that environment slowly shed those walls with a man who actually loved her and was openly affectionate and vulnerable. I'm so sad that it was taken from us. I'm sick and tired of the strong Black woman trope.

With how mischaracterized her motives and actions towards Jayce are, I for one cannot say that I'm excited for a spin-off series with Mel as a main character. Not with this writing team and this fandom.

To me, this show ended in season 1 with Zaun becoming independent, Jinx not firing the rocket, and Mel and Jayce growing together as individuals and as a couple.

[subcultureblues]

Don’t You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 3

———

Steve and Eddie are either hooking up or dating - and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

1 / 2 / 3

———

“I’ll be there in thirty!” Dustin said. He slammed the phone down and dashed to his room to round up his notes.

“Bye mom love you gotta go!” He shouted as he hustled out the door and jumped on his bike. Dustin had just made it out of the suburbs and into town when he spotted a familiar Maroon Beemer in the lot by the Quickie Mart.

Steve was standing beside his car in a fluorescent windbreaker, leaning on the open driver’s side door. He was staring at the bouquet of flowers in his hands like his nose was about to start bleeding.

Dustin slowed.

….He could probably spare a few minutes to see what the hell that was about.

Really, it’s been a while since Dustin made peace with the fact his curiosity would almost invariably get the best of him.

“Hey Steve!” Dustin hollared, dinging his bike bell a few times.

Steve startled, comically jerking to attention. As a thoroughbred jock, Steve could be ever so slightly air-headed at times. But that usually didn’t extend to a total lack of situational awareness.

Steve waved at Dustin as he approached.

“Why are you angry at those flowers?”

“What? I’m not - “ Steve cut himself off with a sigh. He shot the flowers another grimace. “I’m just trying to decide if I’m being a total idiot right now…”

Ah, Dustin realized. Must have pissed off Robin.

“What happened?”

“I fucked up, I think. And flowers, that’s my go-to right? That’s the move. But…” he tapped above his temple with the side of his fist - as if to dislodge the stupid. He rested it there for a second. “I can’t help but think I’m becoming totally neurotic.” He said, vaguely concerned.

“Girls like flowers.” Dustin offered a simple shrug.

“Yeah, girls do.” Steve agreed. Then sighed again, shaking his head.

Jesus, he must be gone bad.

And Dustin likes Robin. More importantly, he liked her for Steve, they were a perfect match. But most importantly of all - if Steve fucks this up, Dustin spends the next who knows how long listening to him complain about his endless strings of unfulfilling dates.

“And red roses? Can’t get more romantic than that, right?” He said, trying to sound encouraging.

“You don’t think they’re… I don’t know. Lame? Christ, what the hell am I even - I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing here.” Steve said, sounding totally defeated. He dragged a hand through his hair, displacing his artfully styled do. And too distracted to even notice? Dustin was very nearly starting to get worried. “Never mind forget it. Just, forget I said anything…”

“Who even is this guy? Your Steve.” Dustin scoffed. “Legendary lady killer of Hawkins High. Remember? You’re great at this.”

““Yeah, that’s different though. I guess... I don’t know.”

“Different how?” Dustin demanded.

“How about because this is important. That’s how!” He said.

“Ok? That’s a good thing, Steve.” Dustin said, which even to his own ears sounded just a little bit demeaning. Maybe he did need to work on his tone…

“Is it? The last time I really thought there might be something there, it was Nancy. So of course, I manage to fuck the whole thing up. Because that’s my thing I guess.” He deflated. Then quietly, as though speaking to himself, he said. “Things were going so good too… I just had to start a stupid - “

He finally looked back up at Dustin. He closed his mouth and the far away look cleared. He shook his head, like was done thinking about it right now. Or at least done talking about it because he said,

“Henderson, what are you doing running around this early anyways?”

“Pft, what are you doing running around this early? You and Eddie. I’m surprised you’re not sleeping off your… illicit activities.”

Steve made a face. “No. Don’t call it that. I - we… called it an early night last night.”

“Figures. I’m headed to Eddie’s right now.”

“Ah...” He muttered to himself. He looked down at the flowers again and his shoulders wilted. Then he chucked them into the the passenger seat.

“Woah, man, careful with those.” Dustin scolded him.

“No, it’s fine. Look, I gotta go pick up Robin soon. We have a shift together later. See you around, man.”

Dustin frowned. Why were adults so goddamn weird? Is Dustin gonna start acting like this in a few years.

“Good luck.” Dustin offered, tilting his head optimistically. Steve just waved him off, still very obviously distracted.

“Yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

Dustin watched him climb into his car. Steve would figure it out. Dustin had faith in that, at least. He could have a thick skull, but give him enough time and eventually he got it together.

Steve drove off and Dustin started pedaling again, in the opposite direction, towards the Forest Hills trailer park.

Dustin was at the trailer almost till dinner time, fine tuning what will soon be the very first one shot, nay the very first D&D session Dustin will ever orchestrate. He can’t help violently oscillating between excited and nauseous, but Eddie’s advice genuinely did provide a solid foundation to work with.

Eddie even assured Dustin he’d act just as shocked as the rest of the party, gasping during the big moments. Stuff like that - even though he knew pretty much every story beat he had planned just from helping Dustin sort it all together.

They were just packing up to leave when the phone rang.

“Shit. Give me a sec. That’s probably Wayne.”

“He’s not at work?”

“A buddie’s house. He got the weekend off.” Eddie said, picking up the receiver.

“Munson’s Mortuary Services. You got the purse, we got the hearse. Are we picking up or dropping off, cause - ” Eddie cut out mid bit. He grimaced, looking back at Dustin. “I - uh, hey. Look this really isn’t a good - “

Dustin was only really half ease dropping as he tried to order his session notes correctly. Eddie was talking quietly for the first time in his life, holding the receiving close to his mouth, which was making it kind of difficult.

“No, it’s fine… I’m serious, it’s fine. Yeah, I’m sorry too…. Well, I was being an asshole. Look this really isn’t a good time…” Eddie glanced back over his shoulder at Dustin. Dustin tried to look busy. “Just, don’t worry about it, seriously…. Yeah. Sure, talk to you later, ok?” Eddie started to move the phone away before bringing it back to his ear.

“This week? I’m not sure… Maybe. I’ve just - I got a lot of stuff going on… I’ll call you… Yeah, bye.”

Eddie hung up, hand lingering on the phone for a long moment.

“Who was that?” Dustin asked, so casually it was probably immediately suspicious.

“Funny how you think I won’t make you walk home.” Eddie said, a bone dry threat. That roughly translated to, it was definitely totally my secret girlfriend. “Pack your shit, dude. I’m calling Wayne so you better be ready to go by the time I’m done.”

It seemed like Eddie took it to heart what Dustin said about them never hanging out anymore. That week, Eddie really seemed to be making an effort to start making time for him again.

And the rest of the party of course.

On Monday, Eddie suggested Hellfire (plus Max!) hit the arcade after school. He didn’t give them any quarters, but that was fine, they had enough loose change to have a good time. They’d just need to plan ahead and bring Steve next time.

After school on Tuesday, Dustin called to see if Eddie wanted to keep working on the one shot. Which he couldn’t cause Corroded Coffin had band practice.

So instead, he invited Dustin tag along. It came with the strict stipulation he kept his mouth shut, his ass glued to the couch, and he not try to touch anything, on pain of a swift and merciless death. But Dustin’s come to understand Eddie’s threats have a lot more to do with his penchant for dramatics than any honest hostility.

Eddie was just heading out the door when Dustin called so he said he’d come grab him from his place on the way to Jeff’s.

Dustin thought for a moment about changing out of his pun-derful shirt but ended up scrapping the idea for time.

He kind of regretted it when Eddie rolled up. Music loud and looking, as always, too cool for school. Summer was still fading, so he was wearing a loose, faded Cult shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had more tattoos than Dustin realized (all of them ugly.). There was a red flannel tied round his waist and he was wearing a thin leather bracelet.

Dustin couldn’t pull off a leather bracelet in a million billion years probably.

“Little mans sitting in on practice tonight.” Eddie announced as they walked into Jared’s garage. He got a scatter of hey’s and what’s up’s.

Dutifully, Dustin belined it for the couch. He sat next to the plastic Halloween skeleton that was already sitting there posed to watch (Dustin was introduced to him as Manny).

Eddie seemed to switch into DM mode, someone had to keep the boys focused and on track.

Dustin sat still and didn’t touch anything, which was easy enough.

But come on, their music was way too awesome for a passive listening experience.

Gareth, Jared, and Jeff seemed to appreciate his enthusiasm. Still, Dustin made sure to keep distractions to a minimum. A reasonable minimum, at least.

“God, you guys are just so - “ Dustin rambled. It had gotten dark outside and they were started to pack up their gear.

“Metal?” Eddie said, winding up his guitar chord with a smile.

“Metal as hell.” Dustin agreed, standing and walking over.

“We’ll make a public menace outta you yet.” Eddie said proudly.

“You can always bring the kid around more during practice.” Jeff said to Eddie. The rest of the band nodded around and shrugged.

“Actually having a live audience every once in a while couldn’t hurt.” Gareth said, nodding his head at Manny. Him and Jeff were dragging his drum kit back into the corner of the room.

“Yeah?” Dustin asked, grinning.

“Maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two.” Eddie grinned back, shoving at him a bit and fucking up Dustin’s hair.

“You’d teach me?” Dustin asked, swatting him away. Eddie shrugged easily.

“Oh man. That’d be so cool!” He said. “Maybe next time I could bring some of the other guys? Oh, and Steve could come too!”

Jared practically choked on his instant laughter.

“The King?” He said sarcastically. “Yeah, sure - you wanna bring King Steve here, to sit on the ratty couch in my garage and listen to us thrash around and scream for a few hours?”

“I dunno, could be pretty entertaining.” Gareth elbowed Jeff, nodding down towards Eddie. He was on his knees, focusing intently on tucking his Warlock away in its hardcase. Gareth leaned in closer and whispered. “He’s getting a little too cocky with those guitar solos, don’t you think? Could use a chance to play under pressure.”

“Oh, that does sound entertaining.” Jeff snickered, just as amused by the prospect.

“Can it.” Eddie said, without looking up.

“Eddie?” Dustin insisted, looking to his DM for backup. They were talking like Steve was gonna march in here and just start heckling. Or throwing tomatoes at them or something.

“Sorry kid, they’re right. He’d probably hate it.” Eddie shrugged.

“Come on, it’ll be cool! I could at least ask? You don’t know he’ll hate it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Steve Harrington would think our heavy metal band is so totally cool.” Jared said flatly, as he leaned over to grab the handle on his bass amp.

“Hey. I saw a Metallica tape in his car the other day!” Dustin said to Jared. Jared’s eyebrows climbed, surprised. Maybe even a little impressed, though clearly too stubborn to admit it.

Dustin turned back to Eddie. He was still expecting him to come to Steve’s defense. But he stayed quiet, barely a part of the conversation. “Come on, I thought you two were friends now.” He accused.

“Sure, Harrington’s fine.” Eddie shrugged.

“Yeah he is.” Jeff muttered under his breath. Gareth puffed up with a badly contained laugh.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Right, you blow us all off to go to go smoke weed with him at the drive through, but he’s just fine.”

Jared, who had been bending over to put his amp against the wall, froze in place.

“No fucking way.” Gareth’s head shot up, his eyes blown wide. But it didn’t sound like he was pissed at Eddie for crossing party lines. Not with the massive, disbelieving grin on his face. “You and Harrington? You fucking took him to a drive through?”

“What movie was it?” Jeff shot out, equally delighted.

“Was it a scary movie?” Gareth said. They both scrambled out from behind the drum set, their task wholly forgotten.

“Guys.” Eddie huffed. “Fine. Yeah, ok, we went to go see a movie - So what?”

“And you just, what!? Forgot to mention it?”

“Sure!” Eddie grimaced. He shrugged defensively. “We just - caught a movie. It’s not a big deal.”

Gareth barked out a laugh. Like that, that right there, is the funniest thing Eddie’s ever said.

“Guys.” Jared looked at Jeff and Gareth pointedly, before glancing at Dustin.

“Sorry it’s just…” Jeff paused with his mouth open, incredulous. “Didn’t know you guys hang out now.” He finished. “Ya know, outside the whole - coparenting.”

“We don’t.” Eddie said, tensely.

Dustin frowned as he watched the guys continue to stow their shit. Gareth and Jeff went back to sorting out the drums. “Not a big - “ Gareth scoffed under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

The rest of the boys were struggling to contain shiteating grins and Eddie was just pretending not to notice.

Dustin had never known these guys to be such… jerks. Why would it be such a big deal if Eddie and Steve were friends?

Could it really be all because they’re just so - different? The idea of hard rocker Eddie kicking back with a jock even once was just patently absurd? Ridiculous enough they jump straight to teasing him for it?

Dustin’s frown deepened. For a bunch of freaks, that all seemed pretty judgmental.

These guys would come around on Steve. Seems like Dustin would just have to make sure of it.

On Thursday Eddie agreed to pick him up from school.

He was late of course, so Will, Mike, Lucas, and Max had all started towards home by then.

When he did roll into the parking lot, it was in a sweeping wave of orchestral heavy metal.

“Pick it up.” He said impatiently, as Dustin opened the door. Eddie evil eyed the school building while he turned down the music. “Don’t like being here any longer than I need to be outside D&D hours.”

Dustin hopped in. He had a VHS copy of Jaws in his hands. He had left it behind at Lucas’ like two weeks ago and promptly forgot about it. A week later Lucas brought it to school and Dustin had only just re-unearthed it from his locker today. It was daunting just thinking of the fees that were sure to be stacking up by now.

His only salvation was Steve. Who’s thankfully working today.

“I need to drop this off at the movie store and before you say no - “

“Sure.” Eddie said, already starting the van.

“I - that was easy.” Dustin sat back and relaxed against the seat.

Eddie kept his eyes on the road and shrugged.

“I was thinking about renting something anyways.”

They drove straight to Family Video. The door dinged as they walked in.

Robin was sitting behind the counter. Still focused on her crossword she said, “Hi, welcome to Family Video, can I help you find - Oh, hey guys.”

“Hi Robin!” Dustin said, walking up to the counter.

Eddie lingered by the displays. He traced a finger over one of the tapes on the shelf. “Harrington, here?” Eddie asked, inspecting the cover.

Robin rolled her eyes but she was smiling. “You just missed him. It was seriously slow today and he won rock/paper/scissors so - he clocked out early for the day.” Eddie hummed and put his hands in his jean pockets.

Dustin handed Robin his VHS tape.

“This is eight days late.” She frowned at the computer.

“So - “ Dustin said, thinking fast to distract her from errant thoughts of late fees. “how’d you like the flowers?”

“Flowers?” Robin scrunched up her nose at him.

“The flowers Steve got you?” Dustin blurted out before he clamped his mouth shut again. She squinted at him. Suspicious.

“What are you on about?”

Shit. Steve hadn’t got those for Robin had he?

“Nevermind.” Mayday-mayday. Pull up!

Hopefully Steve wasn’t too pissed at Dustin for letting that little detail slip. And Dustin could barely feel bad for blowing Steve’s cover because, what the hell Steve?

Robin’s lip twisted. She looked down her nose at him, regarding him uncharitably. He forced a smile as she stared him down for a moment longer. Then her face cleared. Raising her eyebrows innocently she turned back to the monitor.

“So about that fee. That’ll be five fourty-“

“Ok! I - “ Dustin hesitated. Sorry Steve - that was five dollars he really did not have. “I don’t know. I ran into him a few days ago. And he’d just bought a big thing of roses.” Dustin caved, shrugging and holding his palms up defensively.

“Ooooh.” Robin’s eyes crinkled with a warm smile and her gaze slid somewhere behind Dustin shoulder. Then quickly snapped back into place.

“Oh.” Robin said again. She looked baffled, like the implications of that just hit her and clearly didn’t sit with her right.

“Maybe they were for his mom? His parents are in town aren’t they.” Dustin offered.

“You know what? Yeah, that’s probably it.” Robin nodded vigorously. The poor, love struck girl just immediately latching onto the explanation.

“Nah.” Dustin turned around to look at Eddie. He was still feigning intense interest in that copy of An American Werewolf in London. “His mom is allergic to roses.”

“That doesn’t mean he - ” Robin scrambled. “Maybe he just… forgot, or something. I mean, you know Steve. Total ditz.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I mean, yeah.” Robin said cautiously. She seemed confused more than anything.

Eddie said cooly, hands still in his pockets. A perfectly neutral smile on his face. “Steve’s a free agent, right? He’s free to play the field.”

Jeez, did Eddie have to be so blunt? What ever happened to letting a girl down easy?

“Uh…” Robin said, looking between the two of them uncomfortably. Like maybe she didn’t quite know the answer to that anymore but it was also something she really didn’t want to sort out in public.

Dustin honestly felt a little bit bad for her. Sure they both always say they’re not dating, but clearly she seemed none too thrilled at the idea of Steve going around giving another girl flowers.

Dustin had hoped with the way Steve was talking the other day, he had finally got his head out of his ass and was ready to go public and make them official.

“Hey, man, I’ll meet you in the car, yeah?”

“Sure.” Dustin said.

“Eddie - “ Robin said. Eddie looked over his shoulder, lingering half way out the door. Robin glanced at Dustin. “Uh. Bye.” She finished lamely.

He smiled at her. She didn’t smile back.

Robin went back to the computer. She worked in complete silence. Suddenly the thick clack of the keyboard and the low murmur of the movie on the screen in the corner were way louder. Her brow was set like it gets when she’s stuck on a troublesome crossword.

“Sorry.” Dustin said, his face twisting up with guilt.

Robin glanced side long at him.

“I can talk to him you know.” He said.

“Huh?”

“I can talk to Steve. He shouldn’t do that to you.”

“Jesus, for the last time. We - are not - dating.” Robin said through gritted teeth. She made a frustrated noise. “Do you have to be so… ergh, meddlesome.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” He lied, taking a step back.

“You need to stay out of your friends love lives.”

Yeah well, how about Dustin stops meddling when his friends stop being so dumb about everything. Till then they’ll just have Dustin to thank for sorting out their messes.

Tag List : @reading-archieves @homoerotictangerine @bingbongsupremacy @aroseandherthorns-blog1 @wheneverfeasible @travelingtwentysomething @ineffable-monster-romancer @laughingphantoms @gregre369 @rawrx3ky-txt @thespaceantwhowrites @blcksh33p1987

@the-legal-shipper @maverickricky @i-amthepizzaman @pretend-theres-a-name-here @steddiefication @that-one-gay-crow @gleek4twd

@theintrovertedintrovert @tinyplanet95 @queercrisis2003 @awkwardgravity1 @stripey82

@sofadofax @midnightskeeper

@blurryjoji @estrellami-1 @caraspud @little-trash-ghost @finalmoondragon

@samsoble @depressed-freak13

[sunnylucy31]

TheShatteredQueen posted in /r/AmITheAsshole:

AITA for doing whatever I can to save my people from genocide?

So obviously that title needs a bit of clarification. I (21f) am leader of a very small and tight knit minority group that's being persecuted by a very rich and very powerful man (3200m) and his family. For anonymity's sake we'll call him "Thunderbeard." He wants us all exterminated and our souls sent straight to eternal punishment, just because he has beef with our parents, my father (10000m) in particular. My father is also his father, but that doesn't really matter to him so we'll leave that aside.

We don't want anything to do with our parents; they made us solely to use as expendable soldiers, and we want more out of life. I literally diced one of them (7400m) and threw the pieces into super hell so we could avoid that. Unfortunately we only got a couple days of peace before Thunderbeard learned about us and had a bunch of his "employees" start hunting us. This was about five years ago.

I've lost good people. I can't imagine how they must be suffering right now, for no good reason. We'll all join them if we don't do something. I have a long term plan, but to enact it I need to buy us time.

Here's where things get complicated. Thunderbeard and his co-tyrants have kids similar to us, and a lot of them. Some are much younger than us, a few are much older, but they definitely outnumber us by a sizeable margin. Whenever Thunderbeard and Co need a job done, they typically send a few of the kids out to do it, more depending on how big the job is. The only reason they haven't been sent against us yet is because Thunderbeard thinks there's not enough of us to warrant it. My worry is that once he realizes he's wrong, he'll "rally the troops," as it were, and we'll be overwhelmed.

So I looked for ways to mitigate that, and happened on one that's a bit morally contentious. See, their kids are split into two groups (the criteria for which is a bit hard to follow and not really relevant atm) that have fought each other in the past. My thought was, if they fight again, maybe they'll weaken each other enough that we stand a chance against them. We've been laying the groundwork for that for a few years now, and earlier this week we kicked things firmly into motion. Barring any unforeseen mishaps, it could be the saving grace we've been praying for.

Now clearly that's not a good thing to do, I'm fully aware of that. It's already putting strain on my personal relationships. I just learned that I have a half-sister (19f) who I'd love to get to know, but she thinks I'm a "warmonger" and won't hear me out at all. It's all I can do some nights to fall asleep while the guilt eats away me.

But what else should we do? My people are counting on me to save them. We're damned even if we do nothing, so isn't the moral thing to fight however we can, even if it's sneaky and underhanded?

AITA?

StrengthAndEndurance: NTA. It's your job to think about what's best for the people under you, not anyone else. Keep your head high, don't let the guilt get to you.

FerrumMemoria: NTA. The oppressed have never gained anything by playing fair with their oppressors. In any liberation movement, bloodshed is inevitable. The ruler who does not recognize this is not fit to rule. Carry on as you have, and worry not about the judgement of history until you've survived to write it.

StargazerButch7: NTA. I understand feeling guilty, but there's no easy way out of this mess. We all appreciate the hard choices you have to make for our sakes. Keep the faith!

WaterloggedRedhead: NTA! Thunderbeard is the real asshole! Keep up the good work, we're all behind you!

Write an r/AmITheAsshole post told from your OC’s perspective. (Bonus: include replies from your other OCs.)

[sturnina]

Rule number one

Dealer!Chris x Fem!reader

— tags;; drug use, a lot of curse words, no use of y/n, arguments, angst

— wc;; 1.7k

— author‘s note;; my take on dealer!chris since I find it concerning that people think it‘s a good idea for him to be a druggie, hope you enjoy <3

Rule number one is clear. You are aware of it, Chris is aware of it, everyone knows. The dealer does not take their own stuff. Because what happens then? It goes down way too fast. It is too dangerous.

Everyone knows. With an almost infinite supply of more, always more, it is a risk you cannot take.

And yet, you’re here. Standing in front of Chris, with a deep and dark pit in your stomach. Fuck. His eyes are clearly dilated, and his heart is racing—you can feel it through his shirt when you press your hand against his chest. He mutters something incoherent, a smile dripping from his lips.

“What was it?” you mumble, more to yourself. At least you’re alone with him, away from his brothers or customers. “What did you take?” you ask again, louder this time while gripping his chin and forcing him to look at you.

No. Wrong approach. Violence doesn’t help. But fuck, you need to know what it was.

“Was it K? Ketamine? Chris, did you take Ketamine?” you ask, slowly rubbing his shoulders. Oh, please let it be Ketamine.

He laughs and launches forward, embracing you tightly. “Shush Ma, you’re making me all worried,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your head. “It’s alright. It will be alright, trust me.”

The pit in your stomach deepens while the machinery in your mind runs at full speed. Racing heartbeat. Emotional closeness. Dizziness maybe? From the way he is swaying, you can tell he is more than a little lightheaded. **

“What do you feel?” you ask him, pulling away a little to look at him. “How are you feeling? Are you disoriented? Drowsy?”

Chris shakes his head, sighing deeply. “Doesn’t matter,” he mutters, his voice getting a slight slurred edge.

“Do you have a headache? Or an increased appetite?”

“No?” His voice is disinterested—he clearly could not care less. Unfortunately, this is all you care about at the moment. Increased body temperature, sweating, slurred speech…

“Chris, did you take MDMA?”

“Mmh…” he says, pulling you close again and peppering kisses to your head. “No, it was a longer name…”

“Ecstasy, Chris.” A slight undertone of desperation lies in your voice. How does he not remember the simplest things? “MDMA is Ecstasy. Did you take it or not?”

“Why does it matter?” he asks, pulling away to look at you. His movements are unpredictable and confused—clearly, he does not see the way you do right now. Even if just through his energy. “Come on, let’s go back inside and have fun. Dance with me, pretty girl, yeah?”

He grabs your hands, but you refuse. “You can’t go back in there,” you say sternly.

“But the party isn’t over,” he complains. “I still gotta dance… and deal.”

“You can’t. Deal, I mean.” A lump forms in your throat at the confused look he shoots at you through half-lidded eyes.

“What? Sure I can! Look, I still have-” The second he pulls out a small bottle of pills, you snatch it out of his hand. And you were right—it’s X, MDMA, clarity, whatever you want to call it.

“Chris you have to stop dealing.”

“I know you’re always worried about me, Ma,” he says with a sloppy grin. “But you know I have everything under control. No one’s going to get too dangerous.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” you sigh, stepping closer. “Chris, you have to stop dealing. You broke rule number one. You have a practically infinite supply of drugs, and you just started taking them. What do you think is happening now?”

He frowns, clearly having difficulties concentrating. Fuck, how long does Ecstasy last? You go through your memory, trying to find anything about it. From one up to… was it five? Six hours? Fuck.

“We’re going,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the room you searched for shelter from the party.

The second you step outside, into the main area, the music clogs up your ears. Smoke burns in your lungs, mixed with the smells of alcohol and sweat. You’ve never been a fan of parties like this, but you came with Chris more and more often, wanting to look out for him—even though you wouldn’t be able to do anything in an extreme case.

But today, you’re infinitely grateful for having come with him. Who else would force him to go home and not take another pill? His brothers don’t even know what’s going on behind the scenes, he’s taken care of that.

Back at your car, you force him into the passenger seat. Now looking at him, restlessly playing with the decoration on your glovebox, you’re almost relieved he did it. Just because it means he has to stop dealing. As soon as he’s sober, he’ll realise that too.

After getting into the driver’s seat, you lock the doors and reach out a hand. “Give me your phone.”

“Huh?” he asks, pulling out his iPhone.

“Not that one. The burner one.”

Frowning deeply, he crosses his arms. “No.”

“Yes. Chris, do it.”

“No way. That’s the only contact I have with customers and the supplier,” he protests.

“Exactly. Hand it over, I’m not asking you again.” Your fingers move twice in your direction, a sign everyone knows. Come on, you think, don’t make this more complicated.

“A’ight,” he mutters, pulling it out of his back pocket and going back to fiddling with something he found in your car. You couldn’t care less what it is.

“Good,” you mutter, quickly chucking the phone into the backseat from where you’ll pick it up later. For now, you need to get Chris home.

The drive back is silent, except for when he occasionally starts humming a melody and then abruptly stops, grinding his teeth.

“Don’t do that,” you mutter, watching him out of the corner of your eye.

“Stop telling me what to do,” he replies, staring ahead like a pouty kid. “I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly,” you scoff, a wave of anger bubbling up in your chest.

How could he be so careless? How could he possibly have thought that taking drugs as a goddamn drug dealer is okay? That it works? He knows the dangers of every drug. He’s seen people get completely wasted, slowly destroying their lives and the ones of the people around them.

Why would he do this to you? To his brothers? His friends and family?

Tears are burning in your eyes and you blink rapidly to focus your gaze on the street.

“Ma? ‘re you crying?” Chris asks. His voice is softer but clearly slurred now. The drug seems to be kicking in.

You open your mouth to say something, but not a single sound escapes your lips.

“Why are you crying, love?” he whispers.

“Why would you do that?” you finally ask. “You know drugs. You know what they do. You know they destroy lives. Fuck, Chris, what’s going on? Why did you take it?”

The car is silent, and nervosity settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Chris…?” you ask again. “Why did you take it?”

“I js wanted to try,” he mumbles. It’s clearly not the only answer, but now is not the time to figure out what exactly led him to be so stupid.

After stopping the car in front of your house—you won’t let Nick and Matt see him in this state—, you force Chris outside, into the cool air. He doesn’t react, even as you start shivering. You quickly fetch the burner phone from the backseat and lead Chris inside, pushing him through the front door and to the couch. He seems restless and refuses to sit down, so you let him wander around.

While he’s still in his drug-induced haze, you sit down at the kitchen island and open the flip phone. The first number is his suppliers’, you know that, saved simply as G. It rings only once before he picks it up.

“You run out this quickly?” he asks. No greeting, no nothing.

“No,” you reply. The tension is palpable, even through the phone.

“Who are you?” G asks cautiously.

“You will not supply C anymore,” you say, careful not to use Chris’s name. “Do you understand me?”

“Tell me who you are and I’ll consider,” he repeats.

“That’s none of your business. If you sell to Chris-” Fuck, fuck fuck. “If you sell to him again, I will find out and send the police after you.”

The guy chuckles. “Easy. I’m sure we can talk about this. You his girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, running a hand over your face.

“You worried about him or something?”

“Obviously,” you scoff. “I don’t want him to become an addict. That’s normal, I fear.”

“He wouldn’t. I’ve been supplying to him for a while, he does it for the money, not the drugs,” G says, apparently unimpressed. “Just stay out of his business, yeah? This is no place for little girls.”

“You listen to me, you little fuck,” you hiss, jumping up from the chair. “I know who you are and from where you supply. I know the faces of all the little dealers around here, and they’re all connected to you. I know what parties you go to, and what people you know. I’ve seen you. And I will get you if you deal with my boyfriend again. He took Ecstasy today. And trust me, I know what happens next. I’ve seen it happen. So if one of us ever hears from you again, you will be caught, I promise.”

A stunned silence fills the phone. The only sounds you hear is the clock on the kitchen wall ticking… and heavy breathing behind you.

You whip your head around. Chris stares at you with confused eyes. He reaches out for the phone, but his movements are too uncoordinated, and you dodge his hand.

“Is that G?” he asks, slurring his words more than before. “Why would you- what are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t go down that path,” you say sternly.

Since you have no more to say to G, and you don’t care to hear his answer, you hang up the phone and guide Chris upstairs, leaving the burner phone on the kitchen counter.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“But ‘m not tired,” he protests, still energised from the Ecstasy.

This is going to be a long night.

masterlist

[azaharinflames]

Will you share your theory on what you think is happening behind the scenes of 911?

Hi, Nonnie!

Sure! As long as everyone is aware this is purely speculation, and nothing I say should be taken as proof of anything, I have no problem.

I've gone over a few things in my head, to be honest. I thought that JLH having filming conflicts could've been a major factor, and I still don't exactly disagree with that initial idea, but overall I think it was one of the things that threw TM for a loop.

Now, I've seen a lot of people theorize that perhaps Angela is leaving and that is what is causing so much chaos in BTS, but I am on the fence about this. I do think she might've asked to not have such a big role moving forward, especially if they get a season 9 (which I am also on the fence about ngl), like perhaps retiring, or just having a more laidback position training new recruits. The seeds are planted for that, not so much for her fully leaving. And it would give Angela more free time to dedicate to other projects (which, yes please. I need her in new projects ASAP).

So... (and please don't kill me for this, it's just a theory).

I think it all comes back to Ryan. And that he perhaps is leaving, or actively wants to leave. I will try to explain myself as concise as possible:

A couple of months ago there was already speculation about this. In all of his individual interviews (which were a lot, to be honest), Ryan made a point of talking about his work beyond 911 and talking about what he would like to do after 911.

On top of the individual promo, there was an uncharacteristically high amount of BTS dedicated to him and the godforsaken mustache. To the point where they threw a mustache party. And in the pics of that party, the vibes were that it was a party for Ryan, not in general.

Small thing, but Josh randomly dressing up as Eddie for Halloween. Perhaps unrelated, but I wanted to add it.

The 911 account reposting and celebrating Ryan's 100th ep, when 1. it wasn't his 100th (if we count the eps he was actually in) and 2. it was also JLH's, and yet they didn't say a thing about it. Ryan reposted that as well and the message he reposted it with was more nostalgic than anything else. Very much giving 'it was an honor to work with you, what a journey'.

I could be wrong, but I do think his contract ends this season. So, that just adds to it.

The timeline of the move to Texas. By the reactions alone I was fully expecting Eddie to leave for Texas at the end of 808, and then to be back with Chris (in a lazy way of solving their conflict off-screen) by 809-810. But the way he's currently thinking about it makes it very sus for me. As in, it can be a thing for the end of the season, and an actual goodbye for Eddie.

Of course, nothing of this has to actually happen, and it's quite possible it just exists in my brain. But this makes sense in my funny brain because then it explains why BT had to break up so soon... because they wanted Buck to feel completely isolated.

We know 809-10 will deal with Maddie being kidnapped. That alone will make Buck spiral. But if on top of that his best friend is also leaving... well, being alone just adds to the isolation and the angst. Because if Tommy was still around he'd be able to lean on him, and have him help him through this. But it seems like the writers wanted Buck fully alone for this, because sure, seeing a character never learning and being completely isolated is so much fun.

If this ends with BT getting back together, I honestly don't know. It wouldn't surprise me if Tim doesn't know. But, all in all, I wouldn't be surprised if RG deciding he's done is the thing that kinda created the domino effect.

(Also: I do not believe Oliver was telling Tim to fire Lou and end BT. Sorry. I just don't really see it. Nor do I think there were actual conflicts between actors BTS, as much as everything they're doing right now does feel a bit weird)

Anyway, thanks for letting me rant, Nonnie! My inbox is always open for ranting, venting, or discussing

Take care <3

[foodtruckery]

I've been having crazy Stancest brain rot thinking about an AU where they don't have the portal incident and instead have crazy marathon hate sex instead (Inspired by some amazing art by @CoreArde on Twitter) and I thought it'd be fun to share that with you.

They start off arguing in the lab and then oops they're fucking on the lab floor, and they really should be thinking this through but nope now they're upstairs fucking on the kitchen table and okay maybe now they'll finally talk about it nah, they're fucking in Ford's bed now.

It starts off as rough hate sex getting out years of frustration, but by the time they make it to the kitchen its become insanely desperate and cloying because they missed each other, and their bodies fit so well together, and GOD how could they have not been doing this all time? They're going at it so long that they basically end up passed out in Ford's bed by the end, and Stan's not going to be sitting down for a while after this. He's probably just happy to be sleeping in a bed, but Ford is trying to figure out how he got so far from the initial plan.

Even better if the two of them have been harboring feelings for years and never acted on it, because they get the one-two punch of all the weight of their time apart and processing the fact that OH GOD I JUST FUCKED MY BROTHER (which of course they both wanted to do but still).

I have no idea what would happen after that, but both of them waking up sore, sweat soaked, sticky with cum (some still inside Stan because of course Ford didn't use a condom this wasn't supposed to happen) after having gone at each other like rabbits in heat despite never having expressed their attraction to each other before is a hilarious and hot idea to me. What do you think?

HI THERE ANON. i am so fucking sorry that i left you waiting for so long about this, but i need you to know it's because i was FUCKING OBSESSED with this. like just absolutely beside myself over it, and i refused to respond until i had a chance to sit down and respond PROPERLY.

cause uh YEAH FRIEND i know the exact fucking piece of art (explicit) you're talking about, because it's INCREDIBLE. and in case you didn't know, the artist is over here too and shares some fucking fantastic writing and headcanons also! (seriously, go check out @/cartoonsinthemorning if you haven't. and cart, i hope you don't mind that anon and i both kinda lost our minds about your art over here! i genuinely have no idea what tag etiquette is on this site and didn't wanna bombard you, but you did this. again.)

i'll be honest, anon, this kinda got away from me (fucking shocker) and i am too tired to do any legit editing of it right now, so please forgive any typos or weirdness! i'll try and clean it up before it eventually goes up on ao3. but thank you for such a LOVELY ask because this was so hot, and so inspiring, and i hope i did a little justice to your idea and cart's gorgeous art!

--- Ford isn't entirely sure how it had started. His memory, his perception of time, his ability to follow a linear order of events -- all if it is less than reliable at the moment, so he can't entirely blame himself for losing track of things here and there. But the jump between trying to wrestle his journal out of Stan's hands to trying to wrestle Stan out of his dingey jeans is a jarring transition to lose in the dull static that's been edging around his awareness for weeks now. 

Not jarring enough to stop him, though. 

He thinks, vaguely, while he's blindly tugging at Stan's denim, that there's a concerningly high likelihood that he's hallucinating. His head is swimming in so much caffeine and adrenaline that he doesn't even feel the rough concrete of the lab floor under his knees -- maybe that isn't where he is? Maybe he'd nodded off without realizing. Maybe he's going to come to with another lapful of polaroids and a new humiliating tattoo. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe -- he can reckon with a probability model later. For the first time in what feels like months, the stability of his perceived reality is not actually at the forefront of Ford's mind.

Pressing in on him harder than the doubt, harder than the disassociation from his physical body, and harder than the threat of the creature lingering in the depths of his subconscious is anger. It feels like a beacon in the muddled, fuzzy mess inside his head, something bright and real and his. It's searing through him, slicing away all the frayed edges of his paranoia and doubt like a hot blade through so much butter. 

Ford clings to the sharp edges of that anger and feels more alert than he has in weeks. 

He can't remember how their bickering had taken this particular turn, but if he's liable to lose his eyes and his life in the next few days, Ford will be fucking damned if he squanders the opportunity. He knows he's made a mess of things, that he's made the sorts of mistakes that can't and frankly shouldn't be forgiven. 

But he also knows with blinding, white hot certainty that he's only here, now, because of Stan's mistakes.

Ford may not deserve absolution, but he does deserves this. 

Laughter cuts through the lab, rough and mocking, and Ford's attention finally falls, properly, on Stan. He has a bruise blooming on his cheek and a snide smirk twisting his lips. He's also on his back, his jeans and a threadbare pair of boxers bunched in Ford's fists and pulled so low he can see the tight curls of his pubic hair and the root of his cock. 

"What's wrong, Poindexter?" Stan asks, mocking, and it's only then that Ford realizes he's paused halfway through stripping his twin's lower half. The bite of the cold concrete under his knees still feels far away, but the rough material in his palms, and the heat of Stan's body so close to him are sharp, clear details. "No hands on experience with a dick that ain't your own? Afraid you might actually be bad at somethin' for once?" 

Ford narrows his eyes, feeling the hot point of anger cutting through him, steadying him, and he jerks Stan's clothes hard enough that he gets the material past his knees in one tug. Stan laughs at him again, but it stutters into a little 'oof!' when Ford flips him onto his stomach. 

He doesn't care that Stan's pants are still caught around his calves and his boots. He doesn't care that Stan hisses something that sounds like pain when he's yanked onto his knees and dragged backwards several inches across the concrete. He doesn't even care that, once upon a time, he'd dreamed of this, of crossing this line with the only person he'd ever really loved in any way that mattered, and it's nothing like the softer, sweeter picture he used to imagine. 

Stan's hips are soft, and the skin gives easily under the iron grip Ford has on them, holding him in place as he grinds against his ass. Even through his slacks, the heat of Stan's body is intense, addictive, and he grinds forward again, harder, watching the friction rub a pink  patch against his skin. 

Stan, shameless and selfish as always, pushes eagerly back against him. Ford has barely done anything beyond rocking the outline of his cock against his hole, but he can hear Stan panting against the ground, can see his hands curling into fists. He remembers how many times Stan had called Carla McCorkle "easy" in high school and thinks, now, that the easy one had been his brother. 

"You gonna keep humpin' me, or are you gonna fuck me?" Stan demands, rocking as firmly back as he can with the bruising grip Ford has on him. 

"What makes you think you deserve that?" Ford bites out. It would serve Stan right, he thinks, if he got himself off exactly like this, no different than grinding against a particularly firm couch pillow. Just a conveniently warm object for Ford to release some tension with. 

Stan looks back over his shoulder and flashes teeth at him. It isn't a smile. "Oh, I get it. Cold feet? Well, we can just chalk it up to one more thing ya promised and then backed out of as soon as you actually had to make a choice. Good to know some things never change, Stanford."

He's being goaded, and Ford knows that. But the anger boils in his chest, and he thinks, why should he care about what Stan does or doesn't deserve from him? This is about what Ford deserves.

And what Ford deserves is to have his dick so far up Stan's ass he'll be able to feel it in the back of his throat. 

"Do you ever shut up?" he snaps while he releases one of Stan's hips to yank his slacks open. The bruise of his fingerprints already forming against Stan's skin thrills him, almost to distraction, if it weren't for Stan laughing again. 

"'Course not," he says, shifting his center of balance to dig into the pocket of his dirty red coat. The little packet he tosses over his shoulder bounces off his own ass to land by Ford's knee, the word LUBE printed in large, bold letters across the front. He should be surprised to see it, and part of him is. The word "easy" comes to mind again. 

Ford rips the packet open with his teeth. 

"F-Fuck!" Stan curses, turning his forehead against the ground when Ford presses his slick cock into him a moment later without warning. 

Ford grabs him roughly by the waist when he twitches forward and yanks Stan back until his ass hits the open fly of his slacks. He makes a choked sound at that and turns his face into the crook of his own arm when Ford pulls back and rocks hard back into him. 

"What's wrong, Stanley?" he parrots. He pistons his hips at a punishing pace, watching his cock pumping in and out of the greedy, grasping ring of Stan's hole. "Nothing to say?" 

Stan makes a noise that's too muffled by the sleeve of his coat to understand, so Ford reaches down to take a fistful of his stupid mullet instead. The hitching gasp that escapes his twin when his head is forcefully jerked up makes him groan. "What was that? Come on, Stanley, use your words." 

"F-Fuck off," Stan says, his voice strained, almost whining. 

"I see you haven't gotten anymore eloquent since you left," Ford scoffs around the breathlessness in his own voice, feeling the anger and pleasure coiling harder in his gut. "What was it you said? Good to know some things never change." 

When he pulls Stan's hair again, just because he can, Stan moans. And when he shifts his hips, driving in just as hard at the new angle, Stan shouts. With his own knees bracketed on either side of his, Ford can feel the way his thighs tremble when he clenches around his cock, and he can feel the sweat beading up under his palm where he's digging darker bruises into Stan's side. 

Ford feels like he's on the edge of delirium again, consumed by every sound Stan makes, every twitch of his hips, every ounce of his heat. He thinks, a bit wildly, that Stan may have been made for this, made to take his cock, for how well he does. 

It isn't until Stan jerks under him, going hot and tight around his cock and making a strangled noise in the back of his throat, that Ford realizes he may have said part of that out loud. That Stan came over it. 

He groans low in his throat and thrusts half a dozen more times into Stan's clenching hole before he comes as well. 

It's quiet for a few minutes other than their ragged panting, but it's Stan who eventually reaches back and swats at Ford's hand until he lets go of his hair. He takes the hint and pulls out, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as his come trickles down Stan's thighs. It strikes him suddenly that he wants to follow the wet trail back up with his tongue. It's enough to make his cock give a feeble, appreciative twitch. 

He isn't sure if he's just terribly distracted or if he loses time again, because when Ford next lifts his head, Stan is on his feet, pants pulled up around his waist but still open, and he has his journal in hand. This might be more jarring than the last transition he'd lost. 

"What are you doing?" he demands, shoving himself back onto his own feet. He doesn't bother to tuck his cock back in, and he spots the moment Stan's eyes flick down. It's brief, but he'd seen it. 

"What does it fucking look like I'm doing? I'm taking your stupid diary and disappearing like you begged me to," Stan says. His voice is still a little raw, and Ford has a moment to realize how much he likes that, before the words catch up. 

He scoffs. "Oh! So now you want to actually help?! Is it always this easy to fuck the sense into you?" 

Stan's expression does a few things Ford doesn't understand before his brows ultimately slam down and he turns his back, storming towards the door with Ford's journal still in hand, and Ford himself hot on his heels. "You're fucking unbelievable, Stanford, you know that?!" 

"Me?! You're the one who came all over my lab floor and then decided he was ready to be reasonable!" 

Stan jams his thumb against the call button for the elevator several times in quick succession, despite the car already being on their floor and the gate sliding open. "Most people would just say thank you when someone agreed to help them out, but not you! What does Stanford Pines have to be grateful for? We're all just fucking lucky to get a task from ya, huh?" 

Ford crowds into the elevator with him before Stan can try to pull the gate or call the doors shut behind him. He punches the button to take them up himself, before making a grab for the journal, snarling when Stan leans back and holds it up above his head. 

"You're the one who threatened to destroy my work twenty minutes ago, Stanley! Why would I trust you with it now? Hell, I can't figure out why I trusted you enough to bring you here in the first place!" 

"Oh really? You can't?" Stan sneers, leaning in close. And when Ford takes a step back, Stan follows, backing him into a corner of the car. "I don't think you fuckin' trusted me to do shit, Stanford. I think you were all outta options cause nobody else could stand to put up with you anymore." 

Stan doesn't so much as hit a nerve as he takes a sledgehammer to it, and as soon as the elevator dings, Ford shoves him as hard as he can out into the study. Stan yelps when he stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and it's only knocking into a cluttered desk that keeps him from falling on his ass. 

Ford doesn't give him any time to right himself, storming in after him and grabbing him by the front of his jacket. Stan flinches, like he'ex expecting a punch, but Ford yanks him in and crushes his mouth against his instead. 

There's a dull thump that Ford only realizes was the journal being dropped when he feels both of Stan's hands on his shoulders. They curl briefly, grasping at him, and Ford feels his mouth starting to go soft and slack. But as soon as he presses in, runs his tongue along that loosening seam, he's suddenly being shoved backwards. 

If he weren't so damn confused, Ford would probably appreciate the picture Stan makes, lips slick and pants open, leaning back against one of Ford's desks. 

"What are you doing?!" Stan demands, like he's the one who doesn't know what day it is, and keeps losing track of events. 

"I would think even you could figure that out after what happened downstairs, Stanley."

Stan flushes, visible even in the low light of the study, though Ford isn't sure if it's embarrassment or anger. The scowl on his face doesn't help clear things up, either, though the fact that he isn't actually looking at Ford is...telling.  

"That ain't happening again," Stan states, and there isn't anything convincing about the way he says it at all. But when Ford steps forward, Stan sidesteps him and the desk. He makes a wrong turn in the dark, in a house he isn't familiar with, and flinches when Ford flips on the light in the kitchen he's walked into.

"I don't know how you expect to leave and hide my journal after leaving it in the study," he points out, frowning at the back of Stan's head. 

He isn't surprised when Stan whirls on him. He is, however, stunned still when he realizes Stan's eyes are wet. 

"What the fuck do you want from me, Stanford?!" Stan shouts, his voice cracking over his name, and it makes something feel like it's cracking inside his chest. 

Ford has to wet his lips when he finds them and his throat dry. "...I told you what I wanted," he says.

"Yeah, you did! And when I finally agreed to do it, you threw a fucking fit about it! And now you're pissy because I'm not?! What do you want?" 

The anger sparks sharply inside him again, and Ford grasps at it like a lifeline, willing to bloody his hands for that bite of stability. 

"You tried to burn it! My life's work! And you only decided you would help me after we--"

Stan cuts him off, looking towards the cabinets while he raises his voice and waves his hands. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry about the fucking lighter, all right?!"

Ford frowns. He takes a step forward and, still without looking at him, Stan takes a step back. It's the elevator all over again, but this time Ford is pressing in, backing Stan into the cabinets. He grabs the counter on either side of his hips when he tries to side step him again. 

"Stanley, look at me," he demands, frowning harder when Stan sets his jaw and stars determinedly at his shoulder. "Stanley--"

"What do you want, Ford? Just...just fucking tell me and I'll leave, all right?" Stan says, his voice tired and soft as he reaches up to rub a hand over his own face.

He wants a lot, honestly. And hasn't that always been the problem? He's always wanted -- to be normal, to be respected, to be the best, to be special. 

To be wanted. 

To be enough.

To fix things. 

"You," he realizes, watching Stan jerk his head up. His lashes are still wet, and Ford can't stop himself from reaching up and pressing his palm to Stan's cheek, skimming his thumb gently under one of his eyes. 

When he leans in to kiss him again, Stan makes a small, wounded little noise under his mouth, but he parts his lips for Ford's tongue this time. Stan's lips are chapped and he tastes vaguely of stale cigarettes, but Ford is still struck by how soft and sweet he is. 

More than anything else that had happened that evening, this is the moment that Ford knows he should suspect most of all. The way Stan relaxes between him and the counter, the almost tentative way he lifts his tongue to meet his, the careful fingertips touching the edge of Ford's coat and brushing against his loose tie. It's tender in a way Ford didn't think either of them were capable of, and it should be setting off warning bells and red flags in every part of his mind. 

It isn't. 

Ford is more certain of  the reality of this single moment, the gentle slip of Stan's lips against his own, than he's been of anything in a long time. 

And then Stan sighs between them and murmurs, warm and hopeful, "Ford," against his lips, and he's done for. 

It doesn't matter that they just fucked, that Ford's come is probably still drying between Stan's thighs -- he can't keep his hands off of him. Ford is suddenly frantic and desperate in a way that he hadn't been downstairs. He needs to relearn the new, wider shape of Stan's shoulders and pecs. He needs to feel out every new scar and take stock of all the old ones he remembers Stan collecting for him as kids. He needs to be surrounded by him again, soaking in the warmth of him. 

Ford doesn't deserve absolution, but he thinks he may be able to find something close to it in the low, shaky way Stan moans his name. 

And there's familiarity in the way Stan grabs at him in turn, tugging at his jacket and tie and surging into another, harder kiss. Ford thinks he may not be the only one looking for expiation. 

Then Stan drops to his knees between him and the cabinet, and Ford stops thinking so much. His cock is still out, and Stan wastes no time in getting his fist around the shaft and his lips around the head. He suckles and swirls his tongue, and Ford shoves the beanie off of his head to get his hands in his hair. 

"Stanley," he gasps, stroking his fingers along his scalp and fisting the strands between them. 

Stan moans around him and shuffles closer, sliding the seal of his lips further down the length of Ford's cock. All he can do is groan and try to keep from rocking his hips as more of him is greeted by the warmth of his mouth and the wickedness of his tongue. 

He keeps waiting for Stan to reach his limit, to back off and give himself room to breathe. He doesn't. He keeps leaning in, keeps taking him, and then Ford feels his cockhead slip into Stan's throat, sees his lashes are wet again, and he has to put one hand on the counter to keep himself steady. "Fuck, Stanley, you're so good at this."

Stan makes a horribly sweet sound around the girth of Ford's cock and reaches up to hold his hips as he swallows, and Ford is suddenly afraid he's going to embarass himself.  His hips twitch despite his best efforts to keep them still, but Stan simply relaxes his jaw and his throat and tugs a little to encourage him to do it again. He does, of course, how could he not? 

Despite the heat clawing its way through him and the pleasure mounting dangerously high, Ford almost feels outside of himself again. The picture Stan makes, with his eyes damp and heavy lidded, his lips wet and stretched around Ford's cock, his hair fisted in Ford's fingers and his own clinging to Ford's hips -- it's lewd, debauched, and so horribly sweet that it makes Ford's chest hurt. 

Stan gasps raggedly when Ford pulls him off. "I was go-gonna...I mean you can--"

Ford kneels down to kiss him, tasting stale cigarettes and himself, cock throbbing over the rough state of Stan's voice. "Not done yet," he manages, before tugging Stan onto his feet. 

They lose clothes and time on the journey upstairs, tripping over the steps and Ford's discarded pants, and stumbling into his wreck of a room. If Stan notices the state of things, he doesn't comment, mouth latched onto Ford's shoulder and hands all over his back and hips. 

The back of Ford's legs hit the bed and he sits hard on the mattress. Stan doesn't hesitate to crawl up into his lap. He'd lost his boots in the kitchen and his jeans and boxers somewhere on the way to the stairs, giving him ample opportunity to rub his bare cock against Ford's. 

Cursing, Ford rolls his hips and only belatedly remembers to reach up and tug the hideous red coat off of Stan's shoulders. 

"Oh, fuck, hold on. I think I have another one," Stan says, panting softly as he digs into the pockets of his coat. Ford takes the opportunity to run his hands across Stan's thighs and ass, squeezing whatever skin he can until Stan makes a triumphant sound and pulls another little packet of lube free. 

Only then does he let Ford toss his jacket aside and tug him further up the bed with him. He doesn't protest when Ford takes the packet from him, lowering his head to work open mouth kisses up Ford's throat instead, and he rolls his hips distractingly while Ford fights to get the damnable thing open. He ignores the snickering against his skin in the process. 

It stops anyway, hitching into something warm and startled when Ford sinks two slick fingers into him. 

"Oh, fuck," Stan breaths, reaching up to grab Ford by the shoulder, holding himself steady. "Y-You know you don't have to do that, right? Pretty loosened up already."

He is, to be fair. His hole is still soft and loose and fucked open. But Ford enjoys petting his fingers against the tender muscle and stroking them inside anyway. He likes watching Stan bite his lip and push himself back onto his hand. When he slides a third in after the first two, Stan's thighs tremble on either side of his own, and he makes a low, throaty sound. 

When Ford curls his fingers just right, Stan yells and grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt, and it makes warm satisfaction curl in his middle. So he does it a few more times, alternating between spreading his fingers and rubbing the tips against Stan's prostate until he's squirming in his lap. 

"I-I'm gonna come if you don't knock that sh-shit off," he gasps, slumping a bit when Ford chuckles and slides his fingers out. 

"I think I'd like that," Ford says, squeezing his slick fingers against Stan's thigh. 

He snorts and straightens back up, finding the discarded lube packet to squirt the remainder onto Ford's cock. "Yeah, I bet you fucking would," Stan agrees, but there's no malice in his voice, just warm amusement. 

His fist is warm and wonderful when it curls around Ford's cock, spreading lube, and then Ford is being held steady, Stan adjusts himself on his scuffed knees, and there's nothing else to do but hold on as Stan lowers himself into his lap. 

It feels as good as it had earlier to be inside of him, and Ford squeezes the thigh under his hand tightly, fighting against the need to buck his hips. Stan is panting softly, his head tilted back and a pretty, pink color is crawling up from under his t-shirt to flood his neck and face. 

Ford groans and leans forward, finding a nipple through his thin shirt to get his teeth and tongue against.

"F-Ford!" Stan gasps, fumbling the hand not clawing at his shoulder up into his hair, and Ford sucks hard on the firm nub,  rubbing spit-soaked cotton against it with his tongue until Stan rocks in his lap. 

Fuck, he likes that, the way his name sounds in Stan's voice, especially warm and rough after fucking his throat earlier. 

He squeezes Stan's thigh and his hip, giving him a little tug, and that's all the encouragement Stan needs before he's bouncing on his cock. Ford has that thought again -- that Stan was meant to be filled by him, that they're a perfectly matched set. But it isn't just feeling good and hot while Stan fucks himself in his lap. It's feeling like he's been missing something and he finally has it, like he's finally complete again. 

He's missed this, Ford realizes. 

Not the fucking his brother part. He'd fantasized about that for years but it still feels like a dream that it's happening, like something that's too good to be true. 

But being able to put his arms around him? To be this close to him again? 

Ford rocks his hips up, hard, and Stan says his name. He wraps his fingers around Stan's cock, and he gasps his name. He bites the same swollen, pink nipple through his shirt, and Stan shouts his name. 

He snaps his hips up to meet him a few more times and rubs the sensitive glans under the head of Stan's cock, and then there are teeth digging into his other shoulder and his fist and stomach are being striped in Stan's come while he shudders and jerks overtop of him. 

Stan goes easily when Ford rolls them over and pins one of his wrists to the bed. And despite the way he squirms and how his spent cock twitches and leaks, blatantly overstimulated, he hooks his ankles behind Ford's back and urges him on. 

"C-C'mon, give it to me. Fuck, just like that, Sixer!" 

The nickname hits him with all the subtlety of a truck and all the heat of a volcanic eruption. 

He doesn't even remember coming so much as he remembers every synapses in his brain trying to fire at once. Coming back down to reality is a little clearer, with his head spinning and pulse racing as he flops onto his back, but it still takes several long minutes before he feels fully cognizant again. 

Something makes the bed shift, and he looks over to see that Stan has rolled onto his stomach. Ford wonders if he looks half as fucked out as Stan does, with bruises blossoming across his body, his shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, and come staining his ass and thighs. Ford realizes Stan still has his socks on, and he can't figure out why that makes something twinge, hot but exhausted and halfhearted, in his gut. 

"Gonna...gonna get up in a minute," Stan says, his voice slurring and his eyes already closed. Ford watches him rub his cheek against one of Ford's pillows, and the soft sound of snoring follows soon after. 

The reality of the situation starts to settle in shortly after that, and Ford stares wide eyed up at the ceiling as if he'll find some sort of answers there. Unsurprisingly, there are no secrets etched overhead for how to reckon with the fact that he had just fucked his brother, twice, while the fate of the world was still very much hanging in the balance between his fraying sanity and Bill's looming threat. 

".....Fuck," Ford murmurs.

When the adrenaline finishes seeping out of his system, Ford expects to crash. The exhaustion certainly climbs back into his bones, but he's surprised to find himself still clear headed. Focused. 

The sound of Stan sleeping soundly beside him is as soothing as it is mocking, but he doesn't want to separate himself from it even though he knows he needs to get up. There's soft, gray light starting to creep in through the windows, and distant birdsong calling for the start of the day. He needs to readjust, to come up with a new plan, find some way to explain to Stan what's going on so they can buy themselves a little more time. 

Against all odds and his better judgment, there's a tiny, optimistic voice in the back of his head reminding him that there's strength in numbers. He isn't surprised that it sounds like Stan.

[thetadispatcher]

Dan didn't seem to care much that he was being attacked, he just looked more annoyed it was happening in the living room. "If he can't be trusted, I shudder to think what that implies about you." Dan said in a calm tone, he had a feeling the android was just being dramatic about the situation.

Another odd looking android came hurrying into the room. Strasky frowned slightly at his wildly different appearance to all that he'd seen so far. He was unnaturally pale with yellow eyes and dark slicked back hair, his black and yellow uniform identified him as a JB300. The android accidentally bumped into the pile of toys Vincent had made that were resting against the side of the couch in his rush. "Oops, sorry, Vincent." He quickly apologized, as Vincent made an upset sound at his work being kicked all over the floor.

"I heard fighting, I was coming to make sure no one is damaged." The JB300 explained as he moved aside to let Vincent start picking up the mess. Dan shifted his attention to the new android, shaking his head. "Everyone is okay, Brent. But your concern is appreciated." He replied, he knew Brent was just doing his job as fighting usually resulted in someone needing repairs done and he didn't want to risk waiting in case it was something serious.

Strasky looked Dan over curiously, his design must not have been changed much as nothing about his outward appearance hinted at just how strong and durable he'd been modified to be. "Maybe because of people hurting androids." He shrugged, he felt it was a possible reason as Dan seemed very important to his counterpart, so he probably modified him so he wouldn't have to worry anytime Dan left if he'd returned.

Dan set the android Bishop down, motioning for him to help Vincent pick up the mess Brent had made. "If there are any issues, I assure you I'll make sure he regrets it." He explained, knowing the other was aware of just how capable he truly was.

Dan turned his attention to the human still in his grasp. "And I doubt you really want to find out just what I can do." He warned before he set the man down and went back to his idle stance of folding his hands in front of him. "If you wish, you may follow Brent back to the basement to discuss things with Peter." Dan fully intended to follow just to keep an eye on things, but he knew Brent could handle it from there.

"Let go this instant!" Bishop protested, swinging at Dan.

"He can't be trusted." the android protested. Clearly, being in that position didn't stop them from trying to kick each other.

"Or a nanny. Just a bit more aggro." Rook said, letting out a disappointed huff when the Bishops were separated, "I wanted to see who'd win!"

"The PL600 was designed as a domestic assistant and household worker." Willow quoted, "This one has undergone extensive customization for some reason. I recommend you bring this question up to your counterpart."

Rook decided to take it upon herself to make it worse and walked up to Dan. She gave Bishop a look that suggested she was considering to repay him with the same courtesy he had reserved her. "I don't know what your friend here is like usually, but my Bishop will try to fight you and he loves fighting inside. You might be better off tying him up to a tree or something."

"Shut up." Bishop hissed.

"It's just a thought!"

[sepublic]

I also want to add to the Blight family dynamic with how Edric is apparently the least-favorite? In addition to him being the screw-up of the family, as seen with his storyline in Reaching Out. There's Dana half-joking that he's Odalia's least favorite child. Which suggests that Odalia doesn't entire see the twins as a unit, or does so in-part to find something to do with Edric.

I know Odalia brings up the twins as being perfect to Amity, but that's the thing; We only see her bring up the twins as a way to belittle Amity. But given Amity's first two appearances are about her being pitted against a peer by an adult she yearns for the approval of, I wouldn't be surprised if the twins had to hear the reverse, and neither party has it so good after all. It's all just a way to get them to compete so they do better.

This is personal HC/interpretation fueled by authorial headcanon, but between Amity as the Abomination engineer and covenscout that Odalia failed to be, possibly her way of ingratiating Blight Industries with the Emperor's Coven before it happened on its own... And Emira as the designated caretaker, the eldest matriarch who knows how to grab attention as an illusionist;

It feels as if Edric occupies this weird space where he's not really either parent and doesn't fill in a role Odalia can predict so she's like hmm. What to do with you! And she settles for continuing to lump him in with Emira because she loves the Twins aesthetic but otherwise can't be bothered to acknowledge both as individuals, plus Ed can back up Emira's showman purpose. So it's Edric just being dragged around by Emira, yet ironically Emira also feels like it's the other way around with herself and her siblings due to her parentified role. It's very much both when you're stuck together.

Edric does develop a thing for Potions but that's mixed magic, but on the other hand Odalia would totally make exceptions to expand into a new market, and the Potions industry could easily be a kindred spirit to her anyhow. Maybe he partly got into Potions as a way to earn his own function within the family; Dana once considered a storyline where Edric vied for Odalia’s approval against a fake Abomination child she preferred to rely on to win a competition over her own son! So the effort for her attention is characterization Dana might have in mind. But then Edric liked Potions for its own sake (as I HC with Emira initially doing Healing because of her parentified role), plus Beastkeeping is very much for himself.

And I've noticed that out of the three Blight kids, Edric is the only one not to interact with their father in the epilogue; He's next to him at Luz's Quincenera but he's also next to Emira. There's Doylist factors like paying off Eda and Edric's dynamic by having him at the university, and not having the space to have Edric reunite with Alador during that whole sequence. Because him and Amity both work away from him, yet Amity at least gets to hug her dad!

But I like to think it implies that Edric hasn't forgiven their father, which could play into what I've said before! Edric being aware he doesn't fit into their mom's plans as the unfavorite. Maybe there's some freedom in this; But it also makes him resent his mom for neglect specifically, and by extension his dad for being the master of neglect because at least Odalia pays attention to her daughters. And that considered storyline of the fake Abomination child… Alador would’ve had to create it for Odalia, right? His own dad supported this ‘replacement’.

So while Edric's willing to accept Alador's change of heart and not speak on behalf of how his sisters feel, he's not comfortable enough to hang out together as father and son. Edric can handle being in the same space with Alador when there's a bunch of other people as a buffer, when they're both focused on someone else anyhow. But as a pair it's like... Eugh. It might be sad, but never say never; And more importantly it’s rep for abuse victims who don’t want to forgive, even if their abuser IS doing and meaning better. Victims are entitled to that!

I also have to think back to this Grom art Dana posted when the episode came out, under the HC that the twins got stood up because like. Edric is doing some comforting of his own. And this was likely drawn shortly before the episode itself came out; So when Dana and the writers would’ve been writing S2A, which leaned more into Emira having the Eldest Daughter role. And the implication she has to look after her own twin of the same age.

Retcons and changes are always a thing but I could see a story; Edric trying to take care of his sister himself, both out of genuine concern but also as a way to make himself as not just the useless child nobody knows what to do with. To give himself a real agency and purpose. And this works just fine with Emira! Better that than to be the one doing the emotional labor all of the time. Offering his jacket isn’t much, but it’s something Edric can do to have some control in his life, and it’s solidarity with his twin, an acknowledgement that he sees her parentified status and is trying to help with that.

[maracujatangerine]

91. A conversation

CW: institutional slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation, box boy universe

“Cory… I think we need to talk.” Lydia’s tone was cautious. Carefully gentle. “What do you think?”

Coriander had been sitting slumped against the wall on his green pillow in the kitchen. When Lydia spoke, he instantly straightened up.

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia. T-this pet needs to talk. It has been thinking.”

“Okay.”

Lydia sat down in her usual chair, facing him. For quite some time now, she had been more relaxed around Coriander. She had felt able to trust their report and that also he would be less vigilant in interpreting any gesture of hers as a sign of displeasure or censure. Now, however, she once again felt herself hyper aware of her own body language. Do not cross your arms, she reminded herself. Shoulders turned towards him, heart open, posture welcoming. She smiled, and nodded.

“I’m listening. We can talk about whatever you want.”

“T-this pet has been thinking about what.. what has happened to it. About why it is here.”

Coriander rose to his feet, perfectly graceful as usual.

“Miss Lydia, This pet did volunteer, it did. It knows it did.” He pulled a shaking hand through his blonde hair. “T-there w-was a signature, on a paper, and… and…” He shook his head. “T-this pet cannot remember. But.” He looked down at Lydia, grey eyes suddenly fierce. “B-but this pet knows that it wouldn’t have volunteered if it knew. If it knew what it was going to be like. Nobody would volunteer for that.”

He started to pace the kitchen, back and forth, his shaking hands drawn tightly into fists.

“The cold, the beatings, the starvation, the experiments, the violence, the abuse, the contempt, the neglect.” His whole body shaking, he stared unseeing out the window. “The way you are never good enough.”

Lydia could feel her whole chest ache in phantom pain as her heart hurt for him. She wanted to reach out to Cory, but she was also afraid to disturb whatever path he was on. This was probably the first time ever he named the things he’d been going through.

When he just stayed silent, breathing hard, staring out the window, she eventually said, as gently as she could.

“Cory. This is terrible, and I am so sorry that it happened to you. I’m really glad that you can start to talk about it, though. I’m here, and I’m listening to everything you want to talk about.” She paused, and when he showed no sign of even having heard her, she added. “I just want to remind you that this is never going to happen to you ever again. You are safe here.”

He whirled on her, then.

“B-but, Miss Lydia. If nobody w-wanted to buy it, this would not have happened to this pet.” He paused and swallowed. “This would not have happened to me!”

Looking down, he continued. “You have been kind to this pet, that is true. But there is a paper in the drawer there…” He pointed, his whole arm an accusing arc. “That says that you own it. Whatever you want to do to this body…” He hesitated and plunged on. “…to this soul, it is your right to do it.”

Coriander shook his head slowly, grey eyes boring into hers. Very slowly and steadily he said. “Miss Lydia, i-if it wasn’t for you - a-and many more people like you - t-this pet wouldn’t be here.”

He hung his head, then. Exhaustion and a spasm of pain flickering over his face for just an instant. Gritting his teeth, he met her eyes again.

“Miss Lydia, t-this pet needs some time alone. May it be excused to go for a walk?”

Lydia nodded quickly, biting her lip.

“Of course, Cory, whatever you need.”

The blonde young man inclined his head respectfully, but the fire in his grey eyes did not die down.

“Thank you, Mistress.”

Lydia held it together while Coriander went out into the hallway, put on his shoes and coat, and walked out the door.

It was only after she heard the sound of the latch clicking closed that she leant down on the smooth, wooden surface of the kitchen table, hid her face in the crook of her arm, and cried.

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[autumnhobbit]

Genuinely think half the problem here is a lot of parents are not in a place themselves where they can teach their kids how to recognize when something is good, and how to handle the intricacies of emotions, attraction, and decency while navigating social relationships with other people.

When I was growing up, the way adults talked about relationships, both amidst themselves and directly to me, gave me the idea that marriage just sort of happened, like it was something you tripped into without conscious choice and were now stuck with. This led to a conclusion by me that any male I met could possibly be my future husband, which colored every interaction with stress and awkwardness and fear and kept me from actually being normal around other kids, because I had artificially inserted this importance into interactions that should have just been. Well. Interactions.

Looking back on it now, I can see that every single crush I had had absolutely nothing to do with looking at another person objectively, judging their character and decency, or even seeing if I liked them; if they made me feel safe, or engaged, or reinvigorated. I only had crushes on boys who I found cute or attractive. None of those necessary thoughts ever went into it, and none of the boys even liked or noticed me. Maybe one or two of them were actually people I liked and talked to. Hindsight also helps me see that when a guy was interested in me or had a crush on me, I was oblivious to it and was incredibly uncomfortable, because we were all kids and didn’t know how to talk or act and it just came off like them showing off around me or trying to talk to me when I didn’t know them, which led to avoidance on my part.

My husband was the first guy I ever met whom I actually liked and was interested in, and he was the first one who actually seemed openly interested in me. When I daydreamed about marriage as a kid, the only thing I thought about was a boy liking me. I never thought about what I would like about him, just about being appreciated and valued myself. Selfish, right? But I was emotionally neglected and it came out as desperately longing to be important to someone. And then when I found it, I realized it naturally came with a reciprocal effect on me. I do find my husband fascinating and comforting and I enjoy his company, I want to do things with him, experience new things with him, build a life with him. That couldn’t have happened if I dismissed him right away because I wanted to avoid the awkwardness of getting to know him.

I am aware we got incredibly lucky with each other, and I’m grateful for it. But what we have also took work that we both consciously chose to do. We had the guidelines of knowing that premarital sex wasn’t an option for us, and that certainly helped. But it’s tragic to think how many people could build happiness with someone if they could just let go of their fantasies and expectations long enough to see what’s really there and what could be if there’s mutual effort. But how could they? No one taught them, because no one knew how themselves. So many families of origin weren’t formed by conscious choice but by natural consequences of behavior, even if your parents are decently healthy and love you, they might well have no clue how to navigate relationships with others.

trads who use the term "courtship" are an immediate red flag to me

[max-the-many]

Hey! Big fan of your work! Could you do something with Cody Christian? I'm a huge fan of yoru work and your body. I'm a french hairy guy in his late 20s and not confident in his body, life, career and forever single. That would means the world if you could help me. Thanks!

When this guy reached out for me I sure was intrigued. I gotta admit, I didn't have Cody on my radar, but with this, I was on.

It didn't take long to hunt him down. Not Cody, but that french guy. I didn't just want to serve. So several days later, he had a knock on his door.

When he opened, a big, serious looking guy filled the door, sporting a devious smile. And before our french friend could even react, the big, muscular guy charged forward, reaching out with some kind of clunky ring in his hand.

That was, when our french friend fell into darkness...

What happened? Did he knock him out? Did he faint? Did he... die?

It was impossible to grasp a sense of time, floating in darkness, alone with his thoughts, his fears, his wishes, peaceful, yet worrying...

But after what could have been hours, days, or just minutes, he felt a pull, a push, a tremble, an energy reaching out into the darkness.

And he felt something, a body, his body, his head, becoming aware again, getting back some sense of self, a tickle in his fingers, his legs, bit by bit, until he felt the floor below his weight, pushing himself to sit up, slowly opening his eyes, lifting his hand to rub his heavy forehead.

What... what just happened. More and more he came to his senses, seeing his legs underneath, emerging out of a blur before he lifted his head to a voice. To... his voice...?

"Slow, champ, take your time"

Infront of him, his own face emerged, his body, giving him a hand with a friendly smile.

Still hazy, he got up on his feet. This must have been a dream...

Step by step he let that guy, that... whatever... lead him... until he got hold of cupboard, lifting his head to see... himself...

Whomever requested this, thanks a lot, this was fun! Feel free to reach out and tell me, what you think.

[1mlei]

Demon Twin Au Thoughts

I've been thinking a lot about Demon Twin AUs lately.

I've read nearly all of the ones on ao3 (Please do send recs my way <3), and I adore the different interpretations of this concept. I will always love the version of this where Danny and Damian are reunited after Danny ends up in Gotham, or Damian in Amity.

I love this classic take on the AU, but I've been thinking about fun ways to spice it up. My favorite idea so far is the idea that the twins reunite after Damian temporarily dies.

Imagine Danny just minding his business in the Zone and he randomly sees his twin, who is supposed to be alive. Damian would be happy to be reunited, he's been under the assumption that Danny was dead since they were kids so he's just glad to see his twin again. Meanwhile Danny is freaking out because he literally faked his death and ran away so Damian could live, what the fuck is this?

You could add a touch of Sam and Tucker being confused on the side. I always imagine that Danny never told them about where he came from or his brother. (What can I say? I love the drama that secrets bring.) You could either have Damian look like his civilian self as a ghost, and have Sam and Tucker be confused af about this random ghost that looks just like Danny. They might think it's a weird duplicate or something, but then why is Danny so freaked out? You could also have Damian be in his Robin costume, I imagine Sam and Tucker would be shocked to randomly see the ghost of Robin in the Zone, but it's far from the weirdest thing they've seen in there. Again, Danny has never been a huge fan of other heroes or vigilantes, so why is he so freaked out about this one being dead? Of course, though Danny has stayed away from Gotham for various reasons he is aware that his twin brother has become Robin after moving in with their father, so he knows that this new ghost can only be one person.

Now moving away from the idea of the twins just randomly running into each other :)

You could try turning it into a twin telepathy type thing, where Danny senses Damian dying, or at least that something happens to him and goes to investigate.

Or, something that I feel is quite in character for Damian, he might hunt down Danny himself the moment he realizes where he is.

You could turn this in different directions again depending on whether Damian is in civilian clothes or his Robin costume. Either way, I imagine him questioning some other random ghost (maybe one of Danny's rouges for fun?) and regardless of how he's dressed they'll point him towards Danny.

"Oh you're looking for your brother? Idk man, go ask Phantom or something."

OR

"Your brother? You look fucking identical to Phantom so you might wanna start there."

Either way Damian tracks down Phantom and concludes that yes, that is his brother. Dramatic reunion ensues.

Last little thought I had on this, Damian doesn't think Danny is a ghost, he assumes he moved on, or maybe he somehow knows he faked his death and thinks he's alive? Regardless, Damian is a man on a mission the moment he arrives in the Zone, he refuses to stay in this pathetic realm and decides that whether he's dead or alive he will make his way back to Earth. Best way to get there? Damian goes to talk to the king of course, to negotiate (or fight if necessary) about going back to Earth. If not that, he just happens to hear about a certain half-human, half-ghost hybrid and tracks him down for help. A hybrid sounds like someone who would know how to go back and forth between the realms after all.

---

All this to say, I want more of the Demon Twins reuniting in the Ghost Zone. If anyone has recommendations or ends up writing a story of this please do send a link my way, it would be most appreciated <3

+ Bonus points will be added if there is a scene where Damian is resurrected and Danny decided to tag along. Cue confused batfam freaking out because oh god there's two of them now how did that happen.

[yougavememyopia]

Desperate, pathetic yandere that would do anything for your attention. No matter how humiliating.

He'd make sure to "accidentally" fall down in front of you so you help him up. You have to! It's what any person would do.

He'd put on an extra dramatic act for you. Pretending he injured his ankle really badly. Crying his heart out. He'd make you feel like a hero that saved the day.

You become his friend after helping him heal, spending the entire day with him. Of course, he'd do something for you to make up for occupying your time. Buy you dinner at a fancy restaurant. It's not excessive at all. It was the closest place and he was very picky with his food.

After a while, he only becomes more annoying with his tactics. He's more confident now. Not afraid to get caught lying.

"Ow, a paper cut. It hurts so bad... Can you kiss it better?"

"My shoulders feel so tense... Can you message them for me? Please?"

"I think my hair is all tangled. Can you run your hands through them? It'll soothe the pain..."

He'll start saying how he's never had his first kiss before, and you're his friend. You can teach him, right?

You reject him. You think he's dumb, clumsy, and lacks severe social awareness.

"Just one kiss! Please. Please. Please. Please. Pretty please. Pretty pleaseeee~"

"No. I already told you that kisses need to have intentions."

"And the intention is that.. I learn."

"That's not what I meant-"

"Nooo! Come on.."

He opens his mouth to probably whine more. And you've had enough.

You push your fingers in his mouth. You don't really know how it happened. The feeling of his warm mouth against your skin felt good, but you didn't lose composure. You were annoyed.

"Shut. Up. Shut up. For fuck's sake, it's been half an hour!"

He whimpers against your fingers. The feeling of your fingers in his mouth made him feel euphoric. Just as you were about to pull them out, he began to suck. His eyes were half-lidden as they looked into yours. It was as if he was begging for more.

"What the hell are you doing?" You tried to yank back your hand, but he grabbed your wrist. A pained moan escaped him. As if pulling out your fingers will physically hurt him.

"Nnmh.." He sucked greedily at your skin, licking in between your fingers. It was getting a bit hot.

"Ugh, you're disgusting! What's gotten into you?" You forcibly take your fingers out, yanking your wrist out of his grasp.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just.. I just- Um.."

What was he supposed to say? He couldn't think of anything. All he could do was lower himself down on his knees, look up at you, and beg for forgiveness.

[ancha-aus]

Gifted Drabble - NewAgeAU - The Eclipse

I am back again and I got a big boy drabble for you today @spotaus

After the amazing drabble they did about Nightmare losing the magic. I decided it was about time I tried my hands at the event that brought forth the magic!

Also we are back to Ccino POV. I don't know what it is about him in this series I just love him dearly and adore his POV. Once we move more into the story I will probably do other people's POVs haha.

Warnings! We are in for a rough time because Ccino never has it easy and that is like 90% my fault. There is past abuse, past starvation, victim blaming (kinda), there is gaslighting, there is manipulation. Implied future abuse.

There is a lot and I need you to be aware of this.

Also... It... may be a bit long? As in 10K words long. So... just so you know it is long. With that out of the way! Lets Go!

*--------------------------------------*

Ccino isn’t sure what to feel. He knows he should be proud and feel excited. Today was the twin’s birthdays. They were finally turning thirteen. Something everyone in the kingdom has been excited for for the last few years as this day grow closer.

Ccino sighs as he feels his body shake. Even as he makes sure that Nightmare’s outfit is spotless. It is a beautiful light yellow. It will fit in perfectly amongst the golden and yellow decorations but Ccino can only assume it is on purpose. To show Nightmare’s rank and position as prince as Dream ascends. To see they belong together and are connected by their bond as twins.

Nightmare frows as he tugs on his shelves. Ccino gently takes his hand and removes it from the soft fabric “Hey. It is okay my prince.” He puts the sleeves back in place and is happy to note there are no ruffles.

Nightmare frowns as he turns his skull away. Ccino frowns as he makes sure the outfit is perfect.

Nightmare mutters “Still think they are stupid for making you wear pink…”

Ccino blinks and looks down at his undershirt. It is a very soft light pink and there are yellow accents. He smiles as he twists his skull a bit to enable himself to look better at Nightmare “Really? Why is that my prince?”

Nightmare shrugs and mutters “Pink doesn’t suit you… beige is better.”

Ccino smiles “I do love the neutral and nature colours… But your brother was allowed to pick everything for his big day.” And it was only fitting that the new king’s gift was exactly as he wanted-

Ccino shakes his skull. He needs to stop thinking about it like that. He isn’t the one who matters here.

Nightmare is anxious. Nightmare’s twin is about to be crowned and become king. Complete this mysterious ritual. Ccino had to be there for him. Nightmare had found information and mentions about this great sacrifice and pain. Something that Dream had to do or experience to ascend to godhood.

Nightmare had come to him near tears. Terrified his brother would be hurt by this ritual that was going to happen no matter what. Nightmare had said he had tried to warn Dream but Dream just told him he was nervous and that everything would be okay. That Dream would become a god like their mother and Dream would rule their kingdom.

Nightmare had spoken about how he had gone to his mother with his worries but Nim just dismissed him. That Nim had just told him he was seeing things wrong again and that he was letting silly ideas get the better of him again.

Ccino isn’t surprised she was like that. Nim is just like that. A terrible and horrible-

Ccino stops himself. He can never be sure what she knows and what she doesn’t.

Instead, even back when Nightmare came to him, he concentrated on helping Nightmare. Helping him calm down before looking at what he had found.

Ccino wasn’t even sure what it was but he knew… he knew that Nightmare was correct. This magic, this ritual it is dangerous.

But there is nothing Ccino could do to help him. Ccino doesn’t know magic. He can’t even do magic. He knows nothing about magic or what it all means. He was only able to hold Nightmare close until he fell asleep for the night. Ccino letting him sleep in his room with him to help him feel safe.

Ccino doesn’t know magic…

But Ccino remembers… He thinks he remembers at least… He believes that his mother used to sing… That she could do magical things with music. Ccino thinks their little house used to be filled with music.

His father had these... magical kisses? Ccino thinks so at least… That his father could give kisses when you were hurt or sad and everything felt better… Something about his magic only working because of Ccino and his mom…

Ccino thinks so at least…

He can’t really remember what his father looked like…

He just knows he is supposed to look like his mom… but he isn’t sure as he can’t remember her well either… It has been so long

Nightmare shifts before him and Ccino pulls himself out of his mindless thinking. Ccino turns Nightmare around and hums “The yellow looks nice on you…”

Nightmare pulls on his shirt anxiously “You think so? I think it looks weird… yellow fits Dream. Not me.”

Ccino smiles as he knows how to handle this easily “Really? I think it looks nice.” he gently takes Nightmare’s hands as Ccino ignores the scars on those small bones from his practise cuts “Yellow compliments purple after all. Makes your eye lights stand out more.”

Nightmare looks deeply embarrassed but has a shy smile “Really?”

Ccino smiles “Have I ever lied to you?”

Nightmare shakes his skull and looks a bit more relaxed as he looks back into the mirror. Ccino looks him over and smiles. Nightmare, and Dream, has grown into a fine young teen.

Ccino can’t help but be proud of both the twins. Ccino has always been closer to Nightmare as Dream had many others who seemed to want to answer his every request. Which meant that Ccino just focused on Nightmare when he could. Make sure the younger twin didn’t feel left behind.

Ccino is proud to say that he managed it. Nightmare is happy and never mentioned feeling alone. He mentioned missing his twin when he went to his classes but aside from that Nightmare was happy and healthy. Dream was too.

The twins adore each other and are the closest friends. Both are happy and healthy.

All in all. Ccino thinks he has been doing a great job with helping and raising them.

Ccino hums as he moves to Nightmare’s front and starts putting up the little golden and sun jewellery. Careful all in the right spots. Decorating his thin neck and the fragile wrists.

Last Ccino picks up the small silver crown and places it on Nightmare’s skull “Almost done my prince.”

Nightmare stares at him “We are alone.” And he waits.

Ccino blinks and smiles softly “My prince-” Nightmare frowns more. Ccino sighs but can’t stop smiling “Nightmare. You know I have to address you properly.” He can’t stop himself as he rubs the smaller skull and Nightmare leans into it happily “I am just a servant. People can’t see me disrespecting you like that.”

Nightmare frowns again “I don’t care.” And he glares more “and you are not just a servant. You are you.”

Ccino smiles and nuzzles him softly “I know you don’t care Nightmare. And I would like to not care either. But… it isn’t right or how it works…” he gives him a sad smile.

Nightmare frowns and mutters “Maybe… When Dream is king he can change that?” he looks a bit more hopeful.

Anxiety returns to his soul. Ccino doesn’t want to be important and known… He forces it back down as he gives a gentle smile “As king he won’t get the chance to do such things until much later Nightmare. He can’t risk being seen as weak or someone who is easy to disrespect. Once things calm down we can maybe ask him. Okay?” much later.

Nightmare frowns and mutters “Who would disrespect him? He would be a king and a god!” and he looks at Ccino.

Ccino feels bad. Seeing as he doesn’t respect Nim at all. And Nim is like that. Ccino instead gives him a tiny grin “Some people will just be like that. Even if they don’t have a good reason. And no matter how much you want them to you can’t change their minds.” He rubs his cheek “Which means you can only focus on what matters to you and the country.”

Nightmare frowns before nodding “I can do that for him. Help him.” He rubs his arm and whispers “Do… do you think the… the bad thing will happen?”

Ccino frowns “I am not sure Nightmare. I am so sorry…” he can’t help him when it matters… Ccino wasn’t even sure why he thought he could help either of them in a way that matters.

Nightmare leans into his touch and mutters “At least you believe me.”

Ccino feels a bit better as he speaks softly “And I always will. Even if no one else believes you. I will. I will be there for you. I swear.” It is an easy promise to make to him.

Nightmare actually smiles this time.

Ccino relaxes as he slowly gets the paint and make up out “Ready for the last finishing touches?”

Nightmare nods and takes a seat. Ccino gets the paint and gets to work. Ccino had to do these very early on for both the twins. Dream would want to get up and move around while Nightmare would patiently wait for Ccino to finish and for the make up to dry. Ccino never minded it of course. It was fun! It reminded him of finger painting and practising make up with his mom. It are dear memories.

Ccino starts with a bit of paint by Nightmare’s cheeks and his chin. To make sure the edges look softer and a bit rounder. Next he adds a very small line of golden yellow around the very edge of his sockets. Ccino hadn’t been lying after all, yellow did help make purple stand out more and with this is made the purple pop. Ccino then took the silver and with the utmost care he painted the phases of the moon from one temple to the other across the forehead. Making sure the full moon was at the very center. Ccino didn’t even need to redo it today.

Ccino smiles as he takes a step back “All ready.” He washes the paint and make up from his phalanges.

Nightmare hops off his chair and looks into the mirror “Will you have to also do Dream’s paints?”

Ccino shakes his skull “Not today. I believe the king is helping your twin prepare.” He finishes cleaning himself up and puts everything back to its spot.

Nightmare nods as he looks into the mirror anxiously “It is okay… it is fine… Dream will be fine…” he tugs on his shirt again.

Ccino joins his side and frees the shirt from the tight hold. After it he tugs it all back in place before stepping back “There. You are ready my prince.” And he gives a small bow “Very soon. Crown prince.”

Nightmare rubs his arm. Luckily the material the shirt is made of doesn’t crumble easily and it remains looking nice and puffy. Ccino needs to make sure Nightmare looks fine and no one can say anything rude to Nightmare about it.

Ccino joins his side and smiles “Hey… Nighty?” Nightmare immediately looks at him. Ccino keeps smiling. Praying it helps relax him “You are going to do amazing. You will look stunning together with your twin and you two have bright futures ahead of you.”

Nightmare gives a very slow nod before he mutters “Will you be nearby? I know it is private and only for the inner circle until the real crowning but… Will you please be near?”

Ccino smiles “Yeah. I will be close by.” For completely different reasons…

Nightmare relaxes and smiles brightly “Thank you… I need you there to feel brave.”

Ccino feels like his soul is gripped as he gives him a gentle hug. Making sure not to mess up Nightmare’s outfit or make up “You don’t need me for that Nightmare. You are the bravest monster I know. But I will be there okay? You will see me right there okay? And if you start feeling scared or unsure you can look at me and know that there will always be people who believe in you and are there for you. Okay?” He rubs the cheek.

Nightmare pushes his face more into it and lets out a soft purr “Thank you.”

Ccino smiles “I am happy to be there for you. Both of you.” He hears footsteps in the distance and quickly takes his hand back as he steps back. Nightmare looks confused for a moment before the door behind him opens.

Ccino bows to the captain entering “Captain.”

The captain, a bird monster by the name of Falks, dismisses him but that is alright. Ccino doesn’t mind at all. He knows that most of the higher ups kind of know the deal that is about to happen.

Captain Falks bows to Nightmare “Hello my prince. I am here to lead you to the king and the future king.”

Nightmare nods before looking back at Ccino “See you soon Ccino.” And he follows the captain out.

Ccino makes sure to remain in his spot until the door closes. When it closes he feels all the tension return as the need to hide in one of the tunnels returns. He doesn’t want to go there.

He doesn’t want to be at the ritual.

Because… That will be the moment that he…

That his…

He is right now the king’s after all. Nim just only had use for him as babysitter and servant. Ccino knows… he knows what the little apple patterns on his clothes mean after all.

Ccino feels his breath quicken as he grabs a hold on the vanity and gasps as his breath gets shorter and shorter. He stares at himself for a moment before looking away. He can’t stand the sight of himself. Seeing himself hurts… Seeing himself brings back memories he can’t quite remember and pain and fear from long ago. He can’t deal with that. He can’t.

Ccino gasps as he takes a seat on the ground and curls up more. This is it… today… he will be… he won’t…

He… he is never going to see Nightmare ever again? Is he?

He doesn’t know what the ritual does. Not exactly.

But Nim had pulled him aside and given him an idea. How it changes the person. How it increases their power and that with it came the knowledge that they were more important than any mortals. That their power and their ability to hold and manage that power is the proof.

That once Dream gets the power he will finally get the power he deserves. He will have the power and knowledge that will make him the god among people.

That Ccino will be there for him in any way he wishes. For anything he wants.

Any. Thing.

Ccino feels gross just thinking about it.

Footsteps in the hallway and Ccino has to pull himself together. He forces himself back to his feet even if his whole body shakes. Even if he can’t stand the sight of everything around him.

He just manages to pull his face into a more neutral look and slow his panicked breathing when the door opens. Some guards stand ready and mutter about bringing Ccino to the room to prepare him for the ritual.

Ccino follows the guards. His soul pulsing fast enough that Ccino is starting to feal dizzy. He keeps his breaths short as he follows the familiar path.

They end by the healing bay and he is left by the door. The door opens and two medics are there already. They rush Ccino in and comment about him being later than expected. Ccino apologises as he stands in the room.

He hears the two healers talk as he stares ahead of himself. Trying so hard not to hear. He doesn’t want to hear it.

Ccino stares ahead of himself. The other wall has shelves which hold a lot of different items and potions. Ccino knows that some of those are against exhaustion and to give more energy. There are health boosters and even a few that will just knock you out. All different colours.

The scents are making his already dizzy skull spin and pound. He may be starting to get migraine.

The doctor snaps “Ccino!”

Ccino blinks and turns slightly “Yes sir?”

The doctor, Nigel, looks annoyed while the other healer, Mar, giggles “Don’t be mad at him. Can you blame him? He will be the future King’s first mate.” They sigh wishfully “I am so jealous… I wish I could be the one who helped Dream like that.”

They disgust Ccino. Ccino doesn’t care that technically Dream is about to magically become an adult. He is a child! One who barely started puberty! How could they think about him like that? Like they are just waiting for him to grow up so they can… so they can think and do those things to him?!

Doctor Nigel sighs annoyed as he stares at Ccino “When did you last eat and what?”

Ccino needs to think. He hadn’t eaten that morning… He hasn’t had dinners in ages much like lunches. His last breakfast was… “Day before yesterday.” If he is correct.

The doctor looks annoyed “Seriously? You pigging out again? You know that you need to look your best.” He sighs as he shakes his head.

Ccino just looks down. He just had been so hungry. He had felt so empty and tired. He had thought… Maybe a little wouldn’t be bad? Just to get a bit of energy.

Nigel looks at him expecting “What did you eat?”

Ccino looks to the side. Feeling guilty “Had some toast… and some yogurt and milk.” It had been so good. He had felt full after it and sighed happily.

The doctor huffs “Pigging. Out.”

The other giggles “Oh let him pig out. Maybe then King Dream will see that he is not that much anyway. Let someone who is actually pretty get a chance to please our new lord.” They sigh wishfully again.

Nigel shoots his colleague a look “Stop it. You can try to get in his harem once he is established.” He turns back to side as he grabs a step stool “The first mate always dies quickly anyone. They are there for the king to test their power and magic after all. Rather painful from what I understand.” He points towards the step stool “Undress and on the step stool.”

Ccino feels sick and feels his soul pulse anxiously but his body does as ordered. He feels beyond exposed as he stands there. Staring downwards as the two doctors circle him and comment on things. He can hardly hear it. His skull hurts.

Doctor Nigel hums “Luckily none of the lashes gave permanent marks after all. It would be unsightly for our future king to see marks of disobedience.” He makes a note as he moves on and checks his ribs and spine. Touching it and Ccino tries to ignore how invasive it feels. “Age?”

Ccino needs a moment to think “Twenty.”

He hums and makes a note “That should fertile then. Good. Summon your ecto.”

Ccino really doesn’t want to. His soul is filled with anxiety but he tries.

Nothing happens.

The doctor looks annoyed “I said. Summon the ecto.”

Ccino doesn’t look up “I can’t… I don’t have enough energy or magic.” Maybe he can’t summon it at all anymore. Maybe it is broken? Would that mean he doesn’t have to worry about this whole thing anymore? If he is unable to summon the parts needed… If he is too broken to serve his purpose…

The doctor grumbles as he walks to the cabinet and searches through the bottles before pulling one out “Here. Drink it.”

Ccino looks at the bright orange liquid and feels sick just looking at it. It smells gross. It looks disgusting. It is much too solid to be a normal drink.

Mar laughs as they smirk at him “What is wrong? Suddenly not a glutton anymore?”

Ccino doesn’t want to… But he remembers the pain of the lashes. The way each one burned. They way they would wait between the hits. Until his back was fully healed before giving the next one. Healing it magically, fast and aggressive which left his back tender and hurting of pains that weren’t there anymore. Then the next lash would hit.

He still feels the pain sometimes. Which is dumb. Ccino knows he isn’t hurt anymore. It got healed years ago and it doesn’t hurt. There is nothing there that could hurt. Everyone told him as much. To stop acting as if he is hurt when he was fine.

Ccino downs the potion as ordered. It is gross and sticks to his throat and it feels unpleasant. The unknown and different magic in the potion makes him sick but he stands there.

Nigel nods “Now. That should give you enough magic and mana to at least last through the night for our new King. Now summon so I can inspect your ecto.”

Ccino feels sick but does as ordered. He focusses on his soul. Even if the pulsing of it is uneven and anxious it is better than to think about the hands touching his ecto. Hands he doesn’t want to touch him anywhere.

He stares ahead. Staring at the different coloured bottles. Two are purple. One is blue. There is a green one on the side. Most of them don’t have a colour and three are yellow. All on different shelves. None of them have labels.

Doctor Nigel steps back as he takes notes “Seems fine and stable enough. A bit too round but that is too be expected from your gluttonous nature.” The doctor makes notes.

The other giggles “Best hope the king likes them heavier.” And Mar giggle again.

Ccino hates it here.

The doctor shoots his colleague a look “Behave. It will not look good for you if the first mate doesn’t like your behaviour.” And he shoots Ccino a look “You can get dressed again. Others will come pick you up soon to get ready.” And he turns to his desk. The other doctor huffs and shoots Ccino a jealous look.

Ccino would willingly and gladly trade places. Do it. Take his place. He doesn’t want to be some offering to placate a newly ascended god. Ccino knows what everyone implies he will do to do that. He feels sick.

Either way he gets dressed in the much too soft cotton with the almost silky feel to it. It is soft as he tugs on it. His soul feels like it has permanently moved to his throat. He still feels dizzy, the other magic in his body makes him feel sick.

Everything about this makes him ill. He wants to hide. Just not go. Fuck it. Stay in the hidden tunnels and just keep hiding there until they give up on searching for him. No one ever found him in those tunnels anyway.

The image of Nightmare looking hopefully into the crowd when he feels nervous. Ccino not being there.

He can’t… He can’t break his promise to Nightmare.

The door opens and a few maids walk in. They all seem excited and happily tug Ccino with them. They talk about how lucky he is and how he doesn’t need to worry! That people will make sure he looks pretty and then the new King will not be able to keep his hands to himself!

Ccino just smiles and nods. Not sure if he can keep himself from throwing up if he starts talking.

They get to the large dressing room. Normally used for making and fabricating outfits for the royals and nobles. Ccino feels his anxiety returns as the maids leave him with the seamstress Sasha. Sasha looks beyond excited as she looks at different outfits.

She hums happily “I am so excited! It is the greatest honour to have been allowed to make your outfit. I made a few options and the current king and future king already expressed their preference!” she smiles brightly as she holds up different outfits “I have a few that were approved upon and I made sure they will fit the decorations!”

Ccino nods as he lets her talk. Everywhere there are flags and banners with little suns on them. The symbol of Dream. A small sun for the golden prince. Dream had been so excited when they picked his symbol when the twins turned ten. Nightmare had been excited about his own symbol in the form of the moon.

Ccino watches as the seamstress pulls out this beautiful dress. Lower back and cuts by the lower part and legs to enable easy movement.

Sasha smiles as she holds it up “I know I know. A dress is the go to but I wanted to try just in case! Please put it on.”

Ccino takes the clothing item and gets dressed. Feeling numb to the exposed feeling by now. He waits on the verdict.

She beams “Oh you are so pretty!” she looks excited as she rushes to the other outfits she laid out “But I think the dress isn’t your fit after all. Don’t get me wrong you look gorgeous but it just doesn’t seem right! It doesn’t show off your best sides well as it is designed to look good on people with more curves.”

Ccino is never sure what people want from him. Some say he is too fat and a glutton. Others say he doesn’t have enough curves. He really tried to do as ordered and only eat and drink what he is supposed to. He doesn’t understand why his body isn’t like they want by now. He swears he tried.

He is so tired.

Sasha brings out this pants and shirt set which feels a bit more comfortable. Ccino doesn’t like how open the back is as it gives him bad memories. The only times his back was uncovered was when they… they…

The shirt itself is very tight around his neck. And shows off most of his spine. The pants themselves hang low on his hip bones. Barely staying up as it is while the pants legs are long and cover him to the ankles.

The seamstress hums as she looks considered “This shows off your skeleton nature much better than the dress did! Your spine is so clean and pretty! I am sure the king would love to be able to see it easily! I will have to make a note of that for any future outfits!” she makes a note as she grabs the next outfit.

The shirt has shoulder pads this time and covers his spine a lot better. The sides are mostly open but it isn’t as short as the other one and it only shows a bit of his lower spine.

Instead of pants this outfit has more of a skirt to it. It still hangs low on his hips but there is a very short tight pants under the skirt to keep it in place. The sides of his legs are almost completely uncovered aside from the tight pants but the skirt part gives him at least the illusion of modesty.

Sasha hums as she looks between the outfits “I think that one is best.” She smiles a t him “Feeling pretty and ready to rock the new king’s world?” she is trying to hype him up.

Ccino gives a small smile and speaks softly “Mostly nervous.” Which is the most truthful and honest thing he can safely say.

She gasps “What? You don’t need to be nervous! He is going to be so happy to see you! You are so pretty he is going to be blown away!”

Ccino doesn’t feel pretty. He just feels sick and uncomfortable. It is so close now. Before he could mostly ignore it but now it is really going to happen. He is going to be promoted from babysitter to sex slave. And there is not a single thing he can do about it. Yet Ccino is the idiot and weird one for not being excited.

He wants to cry.

He takes his seat as the seamstress talks about his make up and what she picked out. It is mostly just some touch up. She mentions that putting much more on would just make him look fake and make him lose his natural beauty.

She disappears to the corner where she opens a locked box. There are golden chains in there. Well, not actually chains but necklaces and bracelets apparently, they may as well be chains though. Ccino watches as the other puts them on him. By his arms. His ribs. One as a choker. She coos and praises how pretty he looks. Ccino doesn’t feel like he is all there anymore.

Heavy steps and moments later the door opens.

The seamstress bows deeply and Ccino looks down as well. Making a bow as far as he can without disrupting any of the work done on him.

A moment of silence before a pleased hum “Good. You got cleaned up and made yourself look presentable. Come. We are about to start.”

As they walk Nim reminds him once more of what his role will be and what he will do. Ccino echoes the instructions back to her when prompted.

He is lead into the throne room and there is a silence. Ccino feels his arm start to shake as he makes his way towards his spot. Ccino tries not to panic.

This is it. There is no turning back now.

Ccino just stands in his spot. Near enough to step forwards when it is his time. Ccino tries not to think about what will happen to him after today. What his life will be after this. Ccino glances around.

There aren’t as many people as he would expect. The only people are the king’s advisors. The captain of the guard and a few extra guards. And Ccino of course.

None of the maids or servants are actually here with them.

Ccino glances around and sees people all getting ready. A priest as well. To perform the crowning of Dream as Nim will be unavailable.

Ccino… Ccino doesn’t like this ritual or what he knows about it.

From what he understand… the king will give up her magic. Make it form something for Dream to take and consume. Consuming the magic will give him powers and magic and the ability to ascend. Then. Once it is time. Something of great emotional importance is supposed to happen. That the magic will guide Dream to do what is needed for him to finish ascending.

Once ascended. Dream will be first crowned to the small select group here and then to the kingdom as a whole.

Ccino is supposed to step forwards when Dream finishes his ritual but before he is crowned. Ccino will join his side and remain there through everything.

Ccino still doesn’t understand how it will affect Dream. All the king ever told him was that Dream would within seconds grow from teen to an adult and all the feelings, knowledge and emotions that came with it would happen all at once. That it would make Dream ready to rule. The ritual would give him the understanding for what happened and how so he can perform it himself when the time is right.

Ccino thinks it isn’t right.

But maybe that is just him. He doesn’t like the magic in this place. His memories still see magic as the voice of his mother singing and some stuff moving on their own to help her with chores. Of his father holding him close and giving a kiss to his little bruises and them feeling better. They told him magic was about joy and love.

Here… they always spoke about rituals and blood and sacrifices. Ccino had seen them sacrifice animals before.

He doesn’t like it.

He hates it.

Ccino had had to clean up cuts on Nightmare’s hands from past rituals. All in preparation. Nightmare had been near tears as it hurt. Ccino remembers telling him that it can’t be actually that good of magic if it hurts him.

Ccino isn’t sure if he was even helping at this point…

Not that it matters… He probably won’t see Nightmare much after this… As he will just… be wherever and whatever Dream wants him to be and do and-

No. Stop. Don’t think about it.

Ccino tries to distract himself.

The hall is decorated with large banners. All with pictures and images of the sun and light. Gold in colour and making the room seem lighter.

Ccino suddenly understands his outfit colour choice. It seems to mirror the colours of a sunrise.

Nim steps out of the side door and walks towards her throne, her mask on her face. She stands before it as the hall is immediately quiet. Moments later Dream and Nightmare walk out together and stand on both of her sides, both wearing their own masks.

Nightmare looks anxious and Ccino manages to catch his eye through the tiny openings of the owl mask. Nightmare seems to relax a little.

That is good.

That is much better.

The King speaks up and her voice sounds out “We are here today. For the next step in our glorious kingdom. As I will ascend to take my rightful place among the stars. As my son will take his own rightful place. A god on this world. Like myself.”

Excitement rises in the room as Nim raises her arms and hands to her chest. And It lights up.

It is scorching hot. It is burning.

The light is bright as Nim holds out the light. It slowly condenses into a single form. A glowing apple. She turns slowly. Her body already starting to fall apart as she starts to dust. Her hand holds out the glowing apple to Dream.

Dream wiggles slightly in place before raising his mask to the top of his face to reveal the big smile before looking serious again as he steps forwards. He holds out his arms and hands.

Nim stands still for a moment before she places the apple in his hands but keeps holding on.

Dream looks determined and nods “Thank you. Mother. May you rise to be above the other gods.”

Nim nods and lets go of the apple. As soon as the contact is gone. She is gone. She falls apart and her mask falls on top of the pile of dust.

The apple is a perfect golden colour. It isn’t shining anymore but it reflects the light beautifully.

Dream steps forwards and smiles “Hello everyone. For this glorious day. As the old king and my mother takes her rightful place among the stars and gods. As I stand before you to claim my own place in the growing history of our family. To make them proud and do as they hava done before me.”

Ccino notices Nightmare looks nervous as he shoots him looks. Ccino gives him a tiny smile and Nightmare seems to relax before he gains a look of focus in those eye lights.

Dream smiles as he raises his arms up high.

Which is when Nightmare rushes him and tackles his brothers. The two twins struggle for a moment before Nightmare manages to grab the apple and take a few steps away.

Dream stares from his spot on the ground in shock “Nightmare?!”

Nightmare doesn’t say anything. He is shaking lightly before Nightmare finds his eye sight again. Nightmare raises his own owl mask to the top of his skull, he takes a deep breath and bites into the apple.

Something in his body changes. Ccino can see an almost hazed look on Nightmare’s face as he bites. And bites. And bites. Eating the apple even if he seems to almost choke on the mouthfuls.

And then the apple is gone. Core and all.

Nightmare stands there for a moment before starting to lean to one side before leaning towards the other. His body shaking. He starts to shake more and more as Nightmare rolls up as he hugs his own form. Then Nightmare starts screaming and sobbing as he falls to his knees.

Ccino feels his own body shake. Ccino feels himself take a step closer.

He is hurt… He needs to…

A guard stops him.

Ccino can’t look away from Nightmare. Nightmare is just shaking and sobbing as he stays on his knees.

A cracking of bones. The ripping of clothing. And large limbs burst out of Nightmare’s back. Ccino sees them move and wriggling around dripping of Nightmare’s blood. But Ccino watches as the red colour darkens little by little until it is a solid black instead. It continues to drip on the ground as Nightmare shudders.

Then he stops. Everything stops. The screaming, the shaking, the sobbing.

Silence.

Nightmare slowly rises to his feet. The goop moving and dripping slowly off his form to drip on the ground. Nightmare looks around the room. His clothes ripped in many places as parts of it remain on the ground covered with that same sticky black goop that used to be red and liquid and his blood.

“How could you!?”

Nightmare blinks and turns to stare at Dream. Dream glares at him as he shakes with pure rage.

Dream screams “How could you?!”

Nightmare however doesn’t react. He just keeps staring at his brother. Ccino… Ccino doesn’t like the look on his face. It is the same look as with the apple… Ccino also doesn’t like the look on Dream’s face. The open rage and anger.

Dream knows magic. Nightmare does not.

Ccino doesn’t think and rushes away from his spot. The guard who had a hold on him before had let go in shock. Ccino side steps any hands as he rushes to the raised platform and thrones. He rushes up the stairs and gets between the twins. Holding hands up to both of them as he gives them both a strict look “No fighting.” He would have wanted his voice to be louder. But he can’t. Even now he can’t shout at either of them. He never could.

Dream looks away with angry tears in his eyes. Nightmare freezes as he stares at him. Ccino looks back at him.

His face isn’t the same anymore. The sockets are all wrong and the eye lights aren’t right either. Nightmare is much taller and doesn’t look in anyway like he did. The magic that he emits is even different.

But… the angle of those shoulders… Nightmare is scared and confused.

Ccino needs to get them somewhere else. He needs to get them out of view of others. They need to calm down and they need to figure out what is next. Was… Was Nightmare instructed by Nim to eat the apple after all? But… that doesn’t make sense?

No. Focus. No use trying to figure stuff out when it isn’t the priority. Get the twins to the back. Get them situated.

Ccino takes a deep breath before turning towards the waiting crowd with a smile on his face. He makes sure to tugs his hands behind the small of his back as he speaks with his cheerful people pleasing voice “We will be in the back to clean up before we continue. Please excuse our new king and the crown prince for just a moment.” And he bows deeply before shooting Dream a look and motioning towards the back.

Dream still looks angry but does as told as he moves towards the back. Ccino rises and gives a deep bow to Nightmare “My lord?” Nightmare is king now… right? so he should do this?

Nightmare looks bothered. It isn’t the same face he pulls but it is the same reaction as before. At least that look from the apple is gone. He just looks confused and overwhelmed. Nightmare moves towards the back without a single glance into anyone’s direction. Ccino uses the general confusion to rush into the room after them.

Okay. Okay.

What now?

The room is quiet as Dream continues to glare at Nightmare. Nightmare frowns at him as he raises a hand “Dream… I…” he shakes his skull as that glint in his eye lights returns before he manages to shake it.

Dream glares as he shakes “How could you! I trusted you! Everyone always said you just wanted the throne! I defended you! Said you would never betray me! Yet you do?!” angry tears appear in his sockets as he glares.

Nightmare shakes his skull again. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to. I…” He frowns. So confused.

The door slams open and Ccino notices Nightmare flinch at the sound before Ccino is grabbed and turned around. Captain Falks is there glaring “What the fuck did you do?!”

Ccino blinks as two more guards join them. Ccino looks back at Nightmare and Dream “I… I got them out of sight? Stopped them from fighting.”

Falks groans “Yes! That is the problem! You stopped the ritual!”

Ccino feels any insecurity and nerves leave him as it replaces him with rage “Of course I did?! In case you didn’t notice! It went terrible! Of course I got them out of sight and calm before they could hurt each other!”

Captain Falks glares “The leftover prince was never supposed to take the apple! This is a disaster! He was supposed to just be there for the future King of Light Dream!” Falks glares at the twins before glaring at Ccino again “This is a mess and you made it worse.”

Ccino flinches as he looks to the side “What is done is done… We need to be quick…” he glances back and can’t help but notice that Nightmare is very much barely dressed at this point as he ripped out of his clothing and Dream is overdressed with the too large clothing. Swimming in the bright orange cape and the softer coloured dress pants and shirt. Ccino nods to himself “We will need to get them both ready quickly. A new outfit for King Nightmare is a must. He can’t be crowned when he is barely dressed. Dream will need cloths that are form fitted for him now instead of how he could have been.” His mind is racing as he looks over to the two guards behind Falks.

It are cadet Rogers and Cadet Miles. Okay. Ccino has seen them before and they are both ambitious but are loyal to the crown. Ccino looks at Miles “Miss Miles. Can you get back to the hall and keep the people calm? We may need more refreshments for them.” Miles gives a nod and Ccino focuses on Rogers “Cadet Rogers. We need to make sure we aren’t bothered. Can you make sure to stand guard?” Cadet Rogers nods with a salute and moves to the door together with cadet Miles. Ccino looks at Falks “Captain. We need the priest to remain here and remain ready to crown Nightmare and vow him in. While I get the prince and king ready you need to go to the priest and give him a small update that Nightmare will be sworn in instead-”

Falks glares “Who do you think you are to order me and my guards around?”

Ccino freezes before giving him a look “We need to act quickly and adapt to the change.”

Falks huffs as he looks disgusted  “I will not serve a fake king.”

A moment of silence and shock goes through Ccino. He also feels… rejected? Dejected? It doesn’t make sense. Ccino instead focusses on the moment “How is he a fake king?”

Falks huffs “You are an idiot. He was never meant to be king. He was there to make sure that Dream would rise to his rightful place. Not be a useless and jealous brat and take it for himself! He didn’t even finish the ritual!”

Ccino glares “He did.”

Falks smirks “Oh believe me. He did not.”

Ccino glares as he starts to recount what he knows “He ate the apple. Legends speak that anyone unworthy of absorbing the magic would perish. Nightmare survived and was able to gain the power it gave. Meaning the magic decided him worthy.” Falks blinks but Ccino continues “Nightmare is a son of the old king Nim just like Dream. Are you really disrespecting the royal bloodline?” Falks looks a lot more worried. Ccino goes for the finishing blow “Not to forget. The ritual spoke of a large betrayal. I do believe. That eating the apple and betraying his twin would count as such.”

Ccino may not agree with any of these thought and believes followed by these people. But he knows how to speak their language and play their game. “That means. That our new king is Nightmare. Who completed the ritual.”

Falks suddenly looks a lot more unsure before he hisses to Ccino “You best remember your place slave. And if I had it my way I would show it to your personally. Your pretty face can’t save you from all the consequences.”

Ccino doesn’t feel fear. He just feels rage. “Oh I remember my place just fine. My duty, as ordered by the old king, is to be by the new king’s side and help him in any way I can. I am doing exactly as I was instructed. I think it is time you remember your own oaths and vows Captain. As you are supposed to protect, guard and serve the ruling king yourself.”

Falks glares harshly at him “When this is over. I will take great pleasure in punishing you and your bratty mouth. Seems like the last twenty I gave you did not make much of an impression. Maybe with fifty lashes you will learn your place.”

Ccino raises a brow “Ask our king when it is calm. We both have our duties. Yours should be to make sure everything in the hall is still fine so we can move on to the coronation.” Ccino glares at him “The priest needs to be informed as I prepare our king.”

There is a silence in the room. The two cadets stare at Ccino and their captain but Ccino doesn’t care. He knows he will be in trouble for this. A lot of trouble and he does not enjoy knowing he will be punished later for ignoring the hierarchy and rules.

But Nightmare needs him now. Even if Nightmare doesn’t seem the same. It is still Nighty. Ccino used to tug him into bed with a  bedtime story. Ccino used to cut both Nightmare’s and Dream’s food into tiny pieces to make eating easier for them.

Ccino is not going to fail them now because some stupid birdbrain decided he wanted to try a powerplay when there is a crisis.

Falks breaks their eye contact first. He huffs as he walks to the door and hisses “Do what he says. We need to serve our king.” And he leaves the room. The two cadets follow.

Ccino glances back at the twins and is happy to note both seem too distracted to have noticed the captain trying his silly powerplay. The twins are just staring at each other and seemingly lost in their own world.

Ccino nods as he rushes to the wall. He finds the servants pathway and sneaks a look inside. Okay! Perfect! A sewing kit! He grabs it and takes it back inside before ringing the bell and leaving a message that he needs cloths in the colours of deep purple, dark blue, cyan or black stat. He goes back inside and looks around.

Now. What can he use to fix this mess? He searches the room and pulls out any tools he can find. Ccino knows that his fellow servants and maids all stash items all around the castle. To use when in need without having to travel far.

He manages to pull one of the large sun banners down and starts sewing it into a more casual tunic dress fit before managing to find a brown belt  to help give it shape. He goes to Dream’s side and checks the cape and clothes he is wearing. Okay he can let Dream still wear the large cape as it will go well.

Ccino pushes the clothes into his arms “Here. I am sorry it is rushed work. This will fit better.”

Dream stares before glaring as his sockets fill with tears “No! This… this isn’t supposed to be like this!” Dream glares at Nightmare “How could you?!”

Oh no not again.

Nightmare looks at Dream and that slight edge is back again “I just… I needed… I just wanted…” Each time Nightmare tries to speak he seems to stop as soon as he hears his own voice. Shock obvious on his face.

Dream glares “I can’t believe you would betray me! I trusted you! I thought we were a team!”

Nightmare looks so sad “We are…”

Dream shakes his skull.

Which is when Sera walks in. Great. This day just went from bad to horrible. And that is impressive as Ccino had believed he would become a sex slave.

Sera glares at him “Why are you making orders and what is going on?!”

Ccino just takes the fabric she brought and gets to work sewing quickly. He can’t make it complex or too detailed but anything fitting will be better than Nightmare being crowned while naked “Prince Nightmare ate the apple. I am preparing him for his coronation as quickly as I can.”

Sera looks shocked before frowning “You should not be this involved! Step aside as I will do so instead.”

Ccino shoots her a look “And what role gives you this right?”

Sera glares “I am the head of the servants! Including you!”

Ccino can’t help but smile brightly as he answers “Actually. As you very often told me. I am not a part of the servants. I am one of the king’s loyals.” He smiles brightly as he enjoys the shock on her face “And as you often told me. I don’t belong in your group.”

She sputters and glares “You have some nerve! You are nothing but a toy! Something to throw aside when the king is done with you!”

Ccino nods “Of course. But that is the king’s decision.” He makes sure to smile pleasantly “And you wouldn’t go against the king’s will… would you?”

Sera is seething but nods “I wouldn’t.”

Ccino nods “Good. Now. The guests will be forced to wait a little longer. I am sure they would appreciate some extra refreshments and food.” This time he downright smirks as he shoots her a look “After all. Your performance will reflect on all of us.”

Sera is furious. Ccino knows why of course. She must not enjoy Ccino echoing her own words back at her.

Sera nods before leaving the room.

Ccino checks his hands and is happy to note he got the basics done. This will sadly have to do. He walks over to Nightmare “My lord? May I help you?”

Nightmare blinks slowly at him before nodding “Yes.” He remains still as Ccino puts the newly made shirt over his head and carefully moves the slits he made in place. The tendrils move easily through it and seem to brush against his side and Ccino shudders. The goop is cool and sticks slightly. Still. He moves  with purpose as he gets Nightmare into his new shirt. It is a bit too tight for the other and Nightmare frowns as he looks down at it. Ccino starts messing with the seams as he tries to gain a bit more room for Nightmare to move around in.

Ccino eventually needs to abandon that as he has to focus on the other parts. The cloak he made is easy in design and has a hood attached for Nightmare to use if needed. He quickly stitches in the familiar pattern of the moon phases at the button and around the neck before putting it over his shoulders.

Shit. The normal strings would just not be impressive enough.

Come on think. Think. Think.

Ccino sees a glimmer of gold and looks down. His jewellery!

Ccino quickly undoes the chain around his neck and clips each end on the cape. It works and gives it a nice shine. Mmh.

Ccino is quick to remove all his bracelets and other gold items as he moves around Nightmare. Putting some on the tendrils, which seem to really like wrapping around his arm or leaning against him. Ccino gives them gentle pats each time he needs to move or he removes them.

At the end his own clothes are much darker thanks to all the goop but Nightmare looks at least a little bit like a king. Ccino hopes that the distance from the others will be large enough that it isn’t obvious that this is a very bad patch job but he did what he could.

Ccino nods as he grabs a spare outfit for himself and quickly changes. No longer the very clear offering but at this point Ccino thinks the best thing to do is to get the whole day over with before trying to pull everything back together.

Ccino nods to the twins as he speaks “Okay! That is all I can do. If we take much longer they will become impatient and we don’t need them to be mad.” It is scary how easy it is for him to fall back into this role. How natural it always felt to speak to them as babysitter, caretaker and, he only dares to think it, older brother. Even with Nightmare now being a deity it still feels natural. It feels easy.

“We will go out to the throne room and the guards will open the doors. More people will watch as the priest crowns Nightmare. After that they will party but it is fine if you two retire for the night at that point.”

Dream glares “Nightmare shouldn’t be crowned! I should be!”

Ccino flinches as he looks between the twins. Making sure to keep his voice calm as he speaks “I know Dream. But I don’t think anyone will accept that. Not while the ritual and powers accepted Nightmare…” because that is what happened. Even if people seem to refuse to see it. According to all the rules known of the ritual. Nightmare completed each step. He has a new form and new power. He was accepted and ascended. Both to king and to be a god.

Ccino doesn’t know if there are private rules he doesn’t know but he wouldn’t even know who would know. So this is the situation they have at the moment.

Dream shakes his skull and slaps Ccino’s hand away. Yeah he figured. Ccino doesn’t take it personally. “It is wrong!” Dream glares at Nightmare.

Nightmare still has this glint in his sockets but each time he stares for too long at Dream, Ccino can see that Nightmare also focusses on him and the glint disappears.

Ccino focusses on Dream as he tries to calm the other down “I know you are angry Dream. But please. We don’t have time to discuss this and-”

Dream shakes his skull “I don’t care!” he glares at Nightmare “How could you!”

Nightmare’s tendrils slowly rise “I don’t…”

Dream doesn’t listen and his hand finds an old bust and he swings it right against Nightmare’s skull. A loud crack of stone and bones as the bust falls to pieces.

Silence before shock overtakes any emotion Ccino feels. Ccino rushes over as Nightmare slowly rises to his full height. His new tendrils sharpening and rising themselves.

Ccino gets to them and stands between them again “No! Both of you stop that. Dream! You know better than attacking your brother.” He shoots Dream a look.

Dream shakes as tears run down his angry face “He stole my future!”

Ccino shoots him a disapproving look “And you just hit him with a stone bust.” He sighs as turns towards the door to see it slightly open. Of course this guy is listening in. Whatever! Ccino speaks loudly “Cadet Rogers. Bring Dream to his room and stand guard. Make sure no one can bother the prince as the prince remains inside the room.”

Dream sputters “You can’t! You can’t do that!”

Ccino gives him a disapproving look “You are hurting. I know that. But you hurting is not an excuse to hurt others. You know your brother better than anyone and you should know that he would never hurt you unless he had a very good reason for it or had to. Instead of trying to communicate you attacked him. For this reason it is best to separate you two while we move on with the coronation.”

Dream shakes in rage as he looks down “I was supposed to be king.”

Ccino doesn’t feel good about this. But too much is counting on this. They can work on mending their relationship when Nightmare has the crown and people remain loyal. Than they can talk and relax. Cadet Rogers takes the prince away to his room and Ccino turns to Nightmare.

He only now realises that he had his back to Nightmare the whole time. That he had his back to someone who had his tendrils sharpened moments ago. But Nightmare looks calm and… he is leaning against the hand Ccino had held out to signal Nightmare to stay back. Ccino hadn’t even noticed as he tried to manage Dream.

Ccino checks his outfit once more before checking the skull. He can’t see anything. The goop is all liquid and hiding everything and Ccino isn’t sure if he can wipe it away safely “Nightmare? Does it hurt?” They are alone now. Ccino is too distraught to bother with titles unless he has to. Which he will have to in a few minutes.

Nightmare keeps staring at his hand “He… attacked me…”

Ccino frowns and nods “I know…  I am sorry…” he should have expected something like this. He should have made sure they were both safe. He just… he hadn’t thought… He should have considered this a possibility as Dream had been hurt by this.

Nightmare shakes slightly.

Ccino feels so bad for this “Nightmare. I know this is a lot but we can’t wait. People are waiting and have high expectations. You need to be crowned. Do you understand?”

Nightmare is quiet for a moment before nodding.

Ccino sighs “Good… good.” He makes sure to stand tall “Let’s get to work.” And he leads Nightmare out.

-----

Ccino is exhausted. The whole day had been exhausting and Ccino isn’t even sure if he can still recall everything that happened. Ccino just…

He just wants to sleep.

He rolls up in his bed. Now dressed in PJs as he tugs his blanket around. It is much too late for him. But he will need to be up early tomorrow to help Night- their king get ready for his first official day as king. Not to forget he needs to visit prince Dream and make sure he is okay.

Ccino is so tired and-

A knock on his door.

Ccino frowns. That is unusual. He walks towards his door and glances through the keyhole. He stares in shock before opening the door wide and bowing “My king. What do I own you this visit?”

His king stands there. A frown on his face “My… My mother’s room feels… wrong… I can’t sleep there. Dream hates me and does not wish to share his room. I wanted to sleep with you.” He still struggles with his sentences.

Ccino feels his soul freeze for a moment with the last part but he can see Nightmare means it literally. He doesn’t want to be alone.

Ccino isn’t sure why he can still read Nightmare just like he used to. You would think that Ccino lost that skill when Nightmare gained a new body. But even if the body is different. Even with his face being different. Ccino can still read him like he always does.

Ccino nods “Of course. Please come in.” he holds the door open and Nightmare walks in. He stands in the middle of the room seemingly lost.

Right. He doesn’t have any clothes in his new size. Ccino adds that to the mental to do list for tomorrow as well. Making sure their king has clothes that actually fit him. For now Ccino opens his drawer and searches it. He has a few oversized dress shirts and hopes it is big enough. He hands one over to Nightmare.

Nightmare looks at it before undressing and dressing in the clothing item. Ccino grabbed a spare pillow from the cabinet in the hall before throwing that on his bed as well.

It takes a moment but then they are both in Ccino’s bed. Nightmare gives a full body shudder and tugs his face and skull right by Ccino’s neck and shoulder.

Ccino has the strongest sense of déjà vu. Of when Nightmare was much smaller and he had night terrors. How Nightmare would use the servants tunnels to get to his room and climb into his bed at night. How they would make little blanket forts on days when everyone told Nightmare he wasn’t good enough. How Nightmare would climb into his bed when he was sad.

Nightmare… Nightmare may not look or feel or sound like the Nightmare Ccino knows. But it is still Nightmare. It is still his little Nighty.

Ccino hugs the large being closer “Sshh… it is okay… I am here.”

Nightmare shakes and shudders “Please… Please stay… I am so scared…”

Ccino tightens his hold on the other and holds him close “I am here Nighty. I swear on my soul.”

That seems to do it as Nightmare just holds unto him tightly. Tight enough that Ccino can feel his nails grip into his back. Ccino can feel those new tendrils circle him and hold him closely. Ccino just keeps holding unto Nightmare, keeps him in an embrace.

Eventually Nightmare falls asleep. Ccino can’t even find it in himself to care about the rumours this will cause. About the rumours that will follow after Nightmare leaves Ccino’s room.

Ccino doesn’t care. He will help and assist Nightmare. Everything will be alright.