#he just feels like the sort of person who'd have an idea what to do when comforting someone.

[alchemistc]

You never let me in, Buck sends, two of three sheets fully winded, and when he kicks his leg over the coffee table he nearly knocks over three empties.

They do this thing, right? Buck gets upset and before the tears can fall, because he's cried too many fucking times already, he makes himself angry. Picks at something that has come up every time he's done a post-mortem on the last six months.

And then he sends that shit to Tommy. Because - because who the fuck else is he supposed to talk to about it? The guy who'd sucked him off in the hallway of a nightclub two weeks ago? The woman who'd spent an hour quietly helping Buck understand that yeah, he was very much bi, and yeah, some people did not like that shit? Maddie, or Chim, or Hen or Eddie, who still might interact with him on the job? Bobby? Fuck, not Bobby.

Bobby who'd blinked at Buck and offered platitudes and apologized to Buck like it was somehow his fault Tommy was good people but he was the kind of good people who just walked out on something that could have been something.

I should have pushed more. I know I should have. I just thought since I was trying to share everything, you were too.

My mistake.

Three months and Buck isn't over it. He's far enough into the mourning process that he thinks this one is always gonna sting, and not for the reasons Tommy thinks.

That's not fair. I'm sorry.

The texts get delivered. Tommy reads them. Buck's had read receipts on since the first time Tommy went quiet on a call and Buck freaked out a little - but back then they were still working towards something. Back then, sometimes Tommy would pull out his phone and open the thread just to give Buck sign of life.

He was always doing that. Heading shit off at the pass.

Buck had just never realized he'd be able to do it to hurt him, just as well as take care of him.

Every four weeks like clockwork Buck gets a response. He has no fucking idea why it's four weeks, what the third Thursday of the month has to do with Tommy feeling gracious enough to give Buck some clarity. He'd never known enough about Tommy, is the thing he's coming around to. He'd done everything he could to bring Tommy in, make him a part, and Tommy had let him. Tommy had distracted him with quippy words and a clever tongue and with being so fucking willing to be integrated into Buck's life that Buck just - hadn't noticed.

No one will say it, but he Bucked It Up in the worst kind of way.

He's waited until Third Thursday to send these texts. He actually hasn't sent anything at all, until this moment, and he wonders if Tommy noticed. If he cared. Tommy picks and chooses from Buck's random thoughts, parses out details like he's reading from a manual and Buck is off topic two thirds of the time. Buck doesn't actually know why he's been answering, all this time. He wonders if, in the last four weeks of silence, he thought he was finally done with Buck.

He wonders if it had hurt.

Buck sets his phone down to stand, skating across to the kitchen in his socks for the pizza rolls in the oven.

His diet is shit. His body feels like crap. He's one more drunken nights sleep on the couch away from emptying the rack in his fridge down the drain and giving sobriety a try. The last person he'd slept with had hinted that they'd prefer not to use condoms and Buck had almost let them.

Buck has worth. He knows he does. It's just sometimes when he remembers that every person he's ever loved has either walked out on him or let him walk away when he needed them, he struggles to find that worth.

His life has meaning, and all that jazz.

Buck sort of wonders if Tommy hasn't finally blocked his number, as he tosses a too-hot pizza roll in his mouth and huffs on the lava cheese burning his tongue. After the last message Buck had sent, three weeks ago, he wouldn't exactly be surprised.

(This is basically just an unhinged grief journal with an unreliable second narrator. Do you know what it's like to realize you're still in love with someone who never let you know them?)

There's been no response to that. Fair. Buck hadn't even actually said the words. No, he'd jumped right into the sharing a life part, cart before the horse as always when emotions were high.

The pizza rolls get tipped onto a plate and are immediately swimming in the heavy pour of ranch he'd prepared after he set the oven to preheat.

It cools them off a lot quicker than popping a hole in each seam and waiting.

It's been eight years since Buck has really even thought about that little trick.

When he opens his phone there's no response. No receipt. Just stark words waiting to be acknowledged.

I gave you my family, Tommy. You didn't even introduce me to your team at Harbor.

It's startling to realize after the fact. He doubts Tommy had meant it that way, but he'd basically spent six months being love bombed only to have the rug ripped right out from under his feet.

And yet. Months later and he still wants to know. Know why. Know how he could have done it, with tears in his eyes, with full awareness that it was already gonna hurt. Know Tommy - anything he'd part with, really, that wasn't something every random acquaintance also knew.

Cool, he'd been jealous of what Buck and the 118 had. (Buck had tried to give him that. Or at least he thought he had.)

Great, he didn't talk to his dad and Gerrard was a shitty captain. (Buck had spent an hour once explaining the first time he and his dad had spoken about Daniel without screaming at each other. Tommy had listened to the rants about Gerrard and offered physical comfort and a 'sounds like him' and Buck had just been so relieved to have an ally amongst the 'life is just like this sometimes' crowd that he'd never examined that.)

He was a Kinsey six who'd been engaged to the first woman Buck had ever really loved and they'd never dug deeper than that.

And Buck had apparently interpreted some of the shit he'd said that night wrong, but he still doesn't think it's fucking fair that Tommy can't trust him to know his own fucking mind well enough to know he hates sleeping around and he'd found the sort of connection he was looking for. He'd found it. Even with the lack of reciprocation. Even with the quiet behind Tommy's eyes that he'd never let Buck in on. Even with the -

His phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Can we talk?

Buck kinda hates those words in that order now. They'd been the start of something twice, but they'd always been leading to an end, if Tommy had his way.

Once every four weeks, apparently, Buck sends back and takes a vicious bite.

His phone chimes with an incoming call.

Buck stares at the name he hasn't had the stomach to remove the little heart from. Lets it ring through to voicemail and then shoves three more pizza rolls into his mouth and doesn't care if they burn off his taste buds.

His phone rings again.

"What?"

"I'm outside your building. Didn't want to make any assumptions that I'd be welcome without asking first."

Buck can feel his ribs cracking under the lurch of angry laughter. "What the hell?"

"Well the parking around here is miserable again, so I figure that's a sign."

"Are you driving right now?"

"Hands off. I'm on Bluetooth. So. Should I circle the building a fifth time or call it now and go home?"

Buck gets stuck on fifth time.

There's no way he hadn't been driving since at least before Buck sent that first text.

Buck sighs. There's absolutely no reason to be hopeful about that. For all he knows, Tommy has just decided dousing any residual flames is just another thing he has to do in person.

"My Jeep's in the shop. I'll buzz you into the garage."

Tommy's silent for a long, long moment. The quip comes anyway. "I keep telling you that thing is a money pit."

"I'm not really feeling the flirty banter, right now, Tommy, so maybe just let me know when you're at the gate."

He does. He hangs up the phone twenty seconds later with a plain "See you soon."

Buck doesn't have time to change. Fix his hair. Hide the sheet pan with half a dozen pizza rolls still laying on it, because he'd cooked way too many again.

(He could absolutely do one of these things but if Tommy's gonna throw this at him, he's getting every little slovenly habit Bucks's picked up since he walked out that door.)

The knock comes while Buck's shoving the last two rolls on his plate into his mouth.

He's still chewing with his mouth open to blow out the steam when he swings the door open, and Buck feels the first inklings of pleasure ripple through him at the sight of Tommy.

He looks like shit.

"You look like shit."

Tommy's brow ticks up. He stares pointedly at the glob of not-cheese that's going to absolutely ruin this sweatshirt.

"That tends to happen when you spend an hour in an armchair two sizes too small picking at trauma you've been hiding from your therapist for six years."

Buck opens the door wider. Holy crap. Tommy might legitimately be more fucked up than Buck.

Tommy's smile is strained. "Can I come in?"

Buck holds his gaze. His eyes are a little red. He's got a red spot along the side of his neck, like he's been rubbing at it. Buck only recognizes it as a comforting motion because he's replayed him doing it half a million times right before he ended things.

"Depends. Is this the last time you respond to my mean, rude, asshole texts for an hour after therapy rubs you raw?" Third Thursday Therapy, is apparently what does it. Buck is - god. He just wants -

"God, I hope not," Tommy says, and Buck takes a step to the side to let Tommy in.

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ proglogue

note: can't believe i'm actually writing for ghost, yes he was the reason i got into cod, but i havent thought about him since like january lol. has this trope already been done? yes. am i doing it anyway? also yes.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 2.2k

no use of y/n readers callsign is 'stingray'

summary: if there's one constant in your life, it's that ghost doesn't like you, so when your house burns down and you have no choice but to move in with him, it feels like your life is on a steady downhill spiral.

warnings: slowburn, some angst, your house burns down, ghost is mean, sort of enemies to friends to lovers

ao3

【next】

it's been almost a year since you'd joined the taskforce. nearly twelve months of gruelling hard work, and not for a single second had lieutenant ghost treated you with a shred of familiarity. at first, you thought he'd get over it, that he'd get past his obvious trust issues and warm up to you eventually, but you quickly gave up on that idea.

clearly, you'd been too optimistic.

which was unfortunate, considering how much you'd come to care for the prickly bastard, no matter how dismissive he was of you. it started slow; when you were first recruited, you held a great deal of respect for him because of his reputation, and you'd naively even looked forward to working with him. when you discovered his less than friendly demeanour, to say you were disheartened would be an understatement. he was withdrawn and stoic, never sparing you so much as a passing glance and a barked order,  whether you were in the field or not.

the other sergeants had assured you that he wasn't as cold as he comes across; soap and gaz both told you how he'd acted the same towards them when they first met ��� he was a lone wolf, not used to having to look out for teammates.

the more time you spent on missions with him, the more you saw of the person beneath the hard exterior. you saw how he seemed to know everyone's strengths and weaknesses, things you never would've picked up on. he always made sure the team had eaten, disguised as a gruff order to stay on your game. when he got angry, it would be because someone put themselves in danger, not because they screwed up the mission. you saw someone who'd been through hell and come out the other side swinging.

before, you'd respected ghost as a soldier and your superior, but now, after spending so much time with him, your perspective of him has changed. he intrigued you; he's quiet, introverted but not shy, more observant than you could imagine, and so closely guarded you wondered if he'd ever be able to open up. you'd only heard whispers of the things he'd been through in the past, so despite his obvious animosity towards you, you treated him with the respect you thought he deserved – like a person, and you'd hoped that with time, he could see you as more than just a soldier too. though he still didn't like you, you liked to think that the two of you have come to some sort of understanding.

and that leads you to your problem; you wanted to know him. every tiny crack in his facade made you more and more curious about the man behind the mask – about simon, rather than ghost, but from what you could tell, he didn't hold the same sentiment about you. where he would banter back and forth with the others over comms, he'd fall silent whenever you join in. every minute little mistake was amplified to him, you've lost count of the amount of times he's berated you for things he's excused for others. it made your heart ache that you just couldn't win with him, and you feared you'd never understand why.

but now, as you sit shivering with a shock blanket wrapped around your shoulders, watching the smouldering remains of what was your home in the middle of the night, freezing and exhausted, you'd never felt more hated.

you could hear them, ghost and the captain, talking in hushed voices a little ways down the road from where you sit. they probably think they're being subtle, discussing what to do with you like you're not even there, like every single one of your worldly possessions hadn't just gone up in smoke, but you hear them as if they're standing right in front of you.

"i wouldn't do this if there were any other options, simon."

"there are plenty of other options, just stick 'em in a hotel for god's sake."

"there's no hotels close enough to base – it'll only be temporary, 'till we can find 'em somewhere else."

"fuckin' hell, why cant they go with one of the others?"

"soap and gaz are already flatmates, you live alone and you're the closest to base. this is the only option that makes sense."

"i'm not fuckin' happy about this, price."

their profiles are momentarily illuminated by the blue lights from the fire engine parked nearby, allowing you for a second to see the withering glare ghost is sending your way, and all of a sudden the last couple hours of emotional distress is crashing down on you; his obvious distaste for you combined with the toll of watching your house literally burning down was too much for you all at once. you could feel the tears start to spill over again, but you can’t find the strength to stop them and just bring the shock blanket closer to your face. you’d lost everything, and even now he couldn’t find it in himself to feel an ounce of compassion for you? why can’t he care for you like he does the others? like you do for him?

as your watery gaze drops to the soot and ash covering your pyjamas, a voice sounds from beside you, the opposite direction from price and ghost. you don’t even realise you’re hyperventilating until they lay a hand on your shoulder and rub soothing circles into your back.

“hey– hey, it’s okay,” it’s gaz, you notice in the back of your mind, sitting on the curb next to you. you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the world around you, and gaz brings you closer into his embrace. “you’ll be alright, we’ll get everything sorted, yeah?”

"i– i don't– i can't–" you try to speak, but you can't seem to form a coherent sentence through your sobbing.

"it's alright, just breathe for me." gaz hugs you tighter again, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he consoles you. for a few minutes you stay like that, your breathing eventuslly returning to normal and the tears slowing to a stop.

price and ghost are still arguing, but you can't hear what they're saying anymore; probably for the best, if you had to listen to ghost complain about you for one more second you might really have a breakdown.

soap's voice cuts through the fog in your mind, "managed to find this, thought ya' might want it." you look up to find him crouching in front of you and holding out a slightly singed photo, a weak smile on his face. "frame's broken, but the picture's still mostly fine."

you take it from him, fingers grasping the card gently as you turn it around to look at the picture. it's from a few years ago, you and your friends from your previous unit, smiling into the camera as if you had no worries at all. staring at the ghosts of your friends starts you crying again, clutching the photo to your chest and leaning back into gaz's shoulder. if anything could've survived the blaze, you're grateful it was this. gaz rubs your arm sofly, whispering comforting words to you again.

you hear another set of footsteps approach and look up again to see price now standing in front of you as well. it's not exactly surprising, but ghost is nowhere to be seen.

"ambulance is here," price says, offering you a hand and pulling you to your feet when you take it. "i'll follow behind to the hospital, one of you two take their car to simon's."

you nod and retrieve your car keys from your jacket pocket, thankful you'd had the mind to grab it on your way out in your frantic state.

"I've got a bag in the boot, it's got some clothes in it." you mutter, handing the keys to soap, who smiles and gives you a pat on the shoulder.

"no bother, i'll grab it for ya." he says, and jogs off to where your car was parked, thankfully untouched out of reach of the fire. he returns not a minute layer carrying your duffle of emergency supplies, something you never thought would actually come in handy.

before you know it you're waving gaz and soap goodbye, the paramedics are guiding you to the back of the ambulance, and you're leaving what remains of your old home in the rear-view mirror.

✹✹✹

you hated hospitals. it was a fact, and it had been that way since you were a child, everything about them just made your skin crawl. perhaps you inherited the feeling from your mother; she always managed to bring up her distaste for the place whenever the topic arose. or, maybe you only hated them because they scared you.

either way, the relief you felt as you stepped out of the front door into the car park with price trailing behind you was palpable. he falls into step next to you as the two of you make your way over to where he parked, his keys jingling as he fishes them from his pocket.

"we're puttin' you up with simon for the time being, 'till we can get you somewhere else." his words make you wince; you already knew he was going to say that, but it didn't stop the anxiety from bubbling up in your chest.

"i heard." a beat of silence passes before you continue. "how long will that take?" you ask, climbing into the passenger seat and dropping your bag at your feet as price settles into the driver's side.

"i wouldn't get your hopes up. might be quicker to wait for 'em to rebuild your old place." he flashes you a smile, but you can't find it in yourself to return the gesture.

"right."

neither of you say another word as he starts the engine and pulls out of the car park. you turn to look out the window, watching the world go by, the quiet rambling of the radio serving as white noise in the background. it's the early hours of the morning now, the sun would be up in a few hours and you'd have to go back to work already – price did say you could have the day off, but honestly the last thing you wanted was to sit around all day with nothing to do but overthink.

after nearly ten minutes of trying to ignore it, the worry playing at your mind becomes too much to keep to yourself.

"you know he hates me, right?" you utter, half expecting price to ignore your question all together.

he clicks his tongue. "he doesn't hate you," price replies, and his voice sounds reassuring but it doesn't bring you much comfort.

"okay, well, he doesn't like me either." you turn your head to look at him, raising your brows. rolling to a stop at a red light, he meets your eyes and huffs.

"alright, he can be difficult–"

"really?"

"–but i promise you, he doesn't hate you." he says. you give him a disbelieving look, and he sighs, looking back to the road as the light turns green. "give him a chance, alright?"

"is he gonna give me a chance?" 

"he will." price says firmly, sparing you a look as he drives down the quiet road. "and if he doesn't, you'll knock some sense into him, eh?"

"sure…" you mutter, looking back out the window and falling back into silence. its only a few minutes until he's pulling over to the side of the road, outside the house number you know to be ghost's.

"sting," price calls out, stopping you as you reach for the door handle, "he'll come around, alright?"

"it's been a year, cap. i don't think he will." you reply, and before he can say anything else you open the door and step out into the night air, grabbing your bag from your feet before closing the door again. you give price a half-hearted wave as he pulls away again, before turning around and gazing up at your – temporary – new home.

it was nice, all things considered; a standard terrace on the end of the row, but the size has you wondering if there was even room for you to stay here. though it's not as if you have a choice. all the lights were off, which had you hopeful that you wouldn't run into ghost just yet.

you drag yourself to the front door, your eyes stinging from the effort of keeping them open, and twist the handle as quietly as possible, closing it behind you and cringing at the clunk it makes. thankfully ghost didn't hate you enough to lock you out for the night, something you actually wouldn't put past him considering how he feels about you.

there's a small side table in the entryway that catches your attention. on top of it sits your car keys – you make a mental note to thank soap in the morning – a new key, and a note. you pick up the paper, using the torch from your phone to examine the scratchy handwriting.

living room's yours. lock the door. – s

it's more than you expected from him. you sigh to yourself and pick up the other key, locking the door and shuffling into the small living room. the pull-out bed is made up for you, albeit quite messily, and you waste no time in dropping your stuff and laying your head down on the lumpy pillow.

with any luck, this arrangement wouldn't last long, but in the meantime you got the feeling you were in for a bumpy ride.

[misc-obeyme]

cc. your tags on the boudoir post. MAMMON recieving an album of those photos. i'd love to hear your thoughts on his reaction (and everyone else's, if you're feeling particularly inspired?)

Ah, Daisy, my dear, thank you for asking!

I apologize for this late response, but I knew I was gonna be getting wordy with this one. Because I looove the boudoir photos idea in general and OH MAN just thinking about all their reactions is making me crazy lol. I was going to just do my regular sort of response, but this turned into full on headcanons oops.

So just in case anyone missed it, here is the original post!

My thoughts change a little bit depending on whether MC is present when the characters receive the pictures, so I included both! I only did the bros but I might be willing to do the rest upon request!

the brothers react to MC giving them an album of boudoir photos

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: suggestive but that's about it, nothing explicit

Lucifer

When you're with him, Lucifer is calm and courteous, but with a flare of arrogance. Of course you would give him such a special gift. It's only natural that you would trust such intimacies to him.

He asks you if you're trying to tell him something. Has he perhaps been neglecting you, MC? Did you give him this so that he wouldn't be able to help himself? He's onto you.

No matter your reason, he can't look through too many of the pictures before wanting the real thing that's sitting right next to him. Tell him you still have some of that lingerie in your possession. Especially if you happen to have some in his colors.

If you aren't with him, he's going to be a lot less arrogant in general. He will find you later, make no mistake. But he's honestly so touched by your gift that he spends a lot of time looking through the album, simply admiring you.

Mammon

Mammon is freaking out no matter where you are the time. If you're with him, it's definitely a lot worse. Blushing profusely. Opens the album then slams it shut because he can't handle looking at it for very long.

You can't help but giggle at his reaction and then it's all stop laughin' at him MC!! You'll need to take his hands or maybe kiss his cheek, let him know that you genuinely just wanted to give him a nice gift, you aren't trying to tease him or anything.

Ask him if he likes it. You'll get a serious response. Calms down enough to say 'course he likes it. Likes it so much, he suddenly can't keep his hands off you.

If you aren't with him at the time, he buries it under his pillow or otherwise hides it because this is now one of his treasures and nobody gets to see it but him!

Leviathan

Levi is another one who'd be a blushing mess no matter what, but if you're there at the time, he might retreat to his room and not let you in. He needs that barrier between you because if he sees you right now, his heart will explode.

He'll let you back in eventually, but it might be a minute. He needs to calm down. Are you trying to kill him, MC?! Even when he does let you in, he can't look at you directly. He's probably covering his face with his hands.

Reassure him that you gave these photos to him because you trust him with them. They're personal, intimate, and you want him to be close to you. He's going to calm down the more you talk to him. Pull his hands away from his face and when he sees the sincerity in your eyes, it flips a switch. Might even slip into demon form just to wrap his tail around you possessively.

If you're not with him at the time, he's going to need to take care of that raging boner of his right away. He won't be able to focus on anything else until he does. He's so embarrassed, he has to watch several episodes of Ruri Hana to recalibrate.

Satan

He will try to keep his expression unreadable. He's not having any over the top reactions, but as he flips through the photos, he keeps getting redder and redder. You're sitting right next to him, how can he not react? At some point, he has to close the album because he feels like he's looking at something he shouldn't.

Satan is quiet about how flustered he is, but he's having a hard time looking at you. He tries to say something and incomprehensible lines about how beautiful you are fall from his lips. He sounds like a broken record of spoken word poetry or perhaps a very drunk beat poet.

Recovers himself after a minute. As soon as he's composed, you're in his arms. You knew what this would do to him, didn't you, MC? You'll find yourself pressed up against the nearest wall in moments.

If you're not with him, Satan will tuck your album into a stack of his other books. He thinks it's well hidden there - in plain sight. But he's hyper aware of it. Keeps coming back to look at it. Ends up having to put it on the bottom of a stack behind a different stack to make it more difficult to get to.

Asmodeus

Thrilled. Absolutely thrilled in every way. Oh, wow, MC, you look amazing. He's breathless. He's entranced. He's even blushing because he knows what it means that you've given these to him. He's so in love with you, he can't stand it.

Asks you about everything you may be wearing. Comments on the skill of the photographer. Tells you that next time, you should do one together. He has so many ideas. He wants to do one where all you're wearing is jewelry - bright and sparkling, just like your soul.

Covers you in kisses. He's not shy about how this is making him feel, how much he wants you. He just wants to see your beautiful figure here and now in real life, MC! Won't you let him worship you?

If you're not with him, he will find you immediately so he can say all of the things he needs to say in that moment. You can't leave him alone with all these feelings, both physical and emotional. He brings them all to you without hesitating.

Beelzebub

It might take him a minute to understand exactly what he's looking at, mostly because he's never even heard of this. He doesn't know what a boudoir photo shoot is, so you might have to explain it to him. Once he understands, he starts lightly blushing as he looks through them. His expression is serious because he's beginning to see just how special this is.

Honestly surprised that you would give him something so intimate. He's touched. He's going to hug it to himself and look at you with tears in his eyes because he can't believe how lucky he is.

Give him another couple minutes to look through them and then he's having different feelings. He's not sure if he can hold back, MC. Tell him it's okay, that you don't want him to, and you'll find yourself on your back on his bed in zero seconds flat. You're quickly reminded why he's the Avatar of Gluttony.

If you're not with him at the time, he will figure things out on his own, though he'll have a plethora of questions for you later. He keeps it close to him at all times until you answer them because he knows one thing for sure - he doesn't want anyone else seeing these.

Belphegor

Oh, he sees what you're playing at. Trying to fluster him, are you, MC? Trying to rile him up? Are you sure you can handle him when you do that? He's so wound up by the gift he can't act normal about it. He's actually very touched by it, but he's not sure how to deal with the feelings, so he comes on too strong.

You laugh because to you, this is expected. You understand that this is Belphie's way of dealing with his own shyness. You respond by meeting him with just as much intensity. It's all kisses and touching and fumbling in the dark.

It's only later, when both of you are calm, when you're nestled in his arms, that he admits to you how much it means to him. That he tells you how he'll cherish the album you gave him. That he says he's stunned by how gorgeous you are, even more brilliant that the stars in the sky.

If you aren't with him at the time, you'll be dealing with a petulant but horny demon later on. He's going to be annoyed at you for leaving it for him and then not being there when it inevitably turns him on. Just as possessive as his brothers, he hides it in the attic where no one is likely to find it.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[zykamiliah]

the many ways shen qingqiu loves luo binghe

this was more or less inspired by this post, but because this is gonna be a personal opinion and i don't want to make a thread of it and inadvertently contest with the other two's points, I'm going to make my own post.

so i wanna start saying that "the moment one falls in love" is a trope that's waaaay too overstated. in my opinion. specially because falling in love tends to be something that has to do with romantic love most of the time, and it pretends to establish a sort of timeline, a point of no return, for ships and fictional relationships.

when the stories surrounding the characters are more straightforward, i don't really mind, since it makes sense for there to be an "Oh" moment when the character realizes they are in love. like, we know the moment lbh started to see sqq in a sexual light, and we can roughly add to this that the events of the demon invasion and the nightmare scenario are what sealed the deal for lbh. it helps that he's more honest about his feelings and the sexual awakening had already happened, and we can easily assume that from that point on lbh's feelings have a romantic-sexual side.

it still has other sides... because lbh loves sqq as a shizun, as a parent, and this side of their relationship, the master-disciple and parent-child side, is intrinsic to their dynamic; it's a conflicting element during their prolonged conflict for most of the novel, but at the same time, it's their default when they want to approach each other, it's the "safe zone".

but when it comes to sqq I think it's a much more difficult thing to ask: when does sqq falls in love? when is his Oh moment? Is there one, a conscious realization that he's in love? Can his relationship with lbh be described as "being in love"?

he loved Luo Binghe The Character

—the way a reader loves a favorite character, and fanboyed about him plenty before and after transmigrating. the shadow of what the little sheep he was raising would became was ever-present throughout those first 6 years before their meeting in Jinlan City.

but he loved lbh the character in a fanatical way that wasn't actually real... it was meaningful to him because he liked this fictional character a lot, but it's a safe love from the side of a screen.

he was compelled by lbh the character, by his tragic backstory full of angst, and by the ways lbh the character did things: he "rightfully" took his anger out in the people who'd hurt him and paid back for it tenfold. in a way, sy as a reader was also projecting himself in lbh the character.

in short, he loved the Idea of luo binghe, but not luo binghe as a real person.

he loved Luo Binghe the White Lotus Disciple

—and he loved him like a parent loves a child. yet, as I mentioned, he always kept in mind that this boy would grew up to be a very attractive and sexual man, and thus sqq expected him to have romantic encounters with girls around his age.

i know some people shy away from talking about this because everyone is paranoid about your favorite character being called a pedophile etc etc, but really, sy could be nothing farther from that, and whoever who says that has a very, hmm, wide definition of the word and it's probably just using the buzzword to hate on the character.

the important thing is that, despite sqq being aware that lbh is a potential sexual being and will become very sexually active in the future, he does not in any way sexualize his and lbh's relationship. Like I said, sqq would never abuse his power in that way, and he'd never get it on with someone he sees as a child, his disciple. that lbh is very much viewing their relationship with romantic and sexual lenses is a complete shock for him because of this, along with other reasons and assumptions (that lbh was straight)

the problem here is, precisely, that he treated lbh like a child once, and would go on treating him as a child later, post-holy mausoleum: disregarding lbh's agency, making decisions for him and without asking what lbh wants, since as the parent he obviously Knows Better, and taking responsibility for lbh's "bad behavior". the endless abyss was a decision he made without consulting lbh. he self-detonated because he thought that would be best for everyone, and he intended for his death to (among other things like saving the city and escaping prison) "make up" for his mistakes. in maigu ridge, he almost kills himself again because he thought that would be better for lbh.

he's self-sacrificing, protective, caring, and overall parental/maternal towards lbh, which has it's good and bad sides. for a long time, he loves lbh like a parent loves a child, and though this side of his love for lbh is not lost in the extras, it's lesser in the sense that the power imbalance is nullified, and the parent-child, shizun-disciple side of their relationship turns more into a comforting, safe roleplay that allows them to access intimacy and express their feelings (that infamous "if i was your mother" speech) than the entirety of their relationship.

and the thing is, he always loved and will always love lbh as a parent loves a child. and i think people uncomfortable with this fact have to get around to accepting that lol

he is subconsciously attracted to luo binghe (bingmei) the Man

we all know this part. sqq's descriptions of lbh's beauty are numerous and far too difficult to quote them all, but one that really stands out to me, because it proves the point, is this one:

[Shen Qingqiu] asked, “The important person you’re talking about, was it…a good-looking young man?” When he thought about it, he decided against suppressing his conscience and clarified. “Not just good-looking, he’s very good-looking, especially good-looking. Fair skin, pretty face, tall. He doesn’t smile often, but when he does, it’s exceptionally dark.” chapter 9: borderlands

if he was unaffected by lbh's attractiveness, he wouldn't need to "suppress his conscience" about it. also this description is just... describing lbh's smile from his own pov? a personal feeling? to a stranger? he has it bad.

he's repressing his own feelings, so it's difficult to point to a specific moment as the moment he realizes he's attracted to lbh... because he never has a conscious realization, and he's in constant denial about it. all the way through to the last bingqiu extra, the wedding extra, he'll continue using the same narrative: the Protagonist is Beautiful and Irresistible, so what can sqq do but surrender to him? It's inevitable, really. (hahahaha he can't help but love and be attracted to lbh. it says more about him that he could ever verbalize)

so yeah, sqq really has the hots for lbh the man. but he'll NEVER admit it, he'll never had an Oh moment. Not even when he unconsciously called lbh "husband".

i want to make a clarification: for a character like sqq, who care about his pride and dignity way too much and has internalized homophobia and sexism to the detriment of his own peace of mind and fulfillment, admitting that he enjoys sex is way too shameful. he's never doing it. he mentions being "drunk with lust" in the showdown extra; in the deep dream extra he gets enthusiastic and proactive, initiating sex with lbh himself very smoothly; in the RoC,SoBQ extra he initially asks to do it doggy style and then changes his tune and wants to see lbh's face, DESPITE being embarrassed about it, and his desire is described as wanting the spot inside him to be rammed. all of this are subtle hints of how he really feels about sex, despite his inner struggles with his pride as a man.

another clarification: the way smut is written in western space is not the same as the way is written in chinese novels. for example, some chinese slang put the the top as the one "attacking", as if sex is a sort of fight. there's always this implication that the shou surrenders to the gong. there's a clear distinction of who tops and who bottoms and the roles of husband and wife made by this distinction; pleasure is described differently: phrases like "scalp going numb", "getting goosebumps" are not particular to svsss alone; the way the bodies engaged in the sex act are described, etc. (it IS a different language with a different culture) so it's normal that most of us come out of the extras thinking the smut is not enjoyable for readers or the characters themselves. what is the difference between the mdzs extras and the svsss extras? that wwx, being characterized as a "shameless" person, is very vocal about how he feels during sex. he has no shame around sex, unlike sqq, who is in the opposite side of the shame spectrum.

sqq is still struggling with that part of himself, and personally I think it's very understandable that even until the end of volume 4 he still has a difficult time with it; it's not easy shedding the believes one grows up with.

which bring me to,

he loves luo binghe the Man, "romantically"

—and it's a love that conflates his parental love, his attraction, too, but that starts to develop mostly post-holy mausoleum: it's when the hand-holding starts, somehow, though it develops fulling throughout the extras, when they finally become romantic partners and explore sex together. mxtx traces an arc that starts with the showdown extra, goes through the deep dream extra that has sqq telling lbh that "Tonight I feel like... I live you a great deal" and ends in the wedding extra with sqq calling lbh "husband" unprompted; despite previously agonizing about his loss of face and dignity and the humiliation of it, his actions speak louder than his words and inner thoughts. because of this, functionally, sqq can be read as a tsundere.

but aside from the sex, sqq enjoys domesticity and spending time with lbh; he likes teasing him, conversing with him and going out with him to see the world. post-main novel they're equals in their relationship and treat each other with respect and consideration, even if their shizun-disciple roleplay prevails. by romance definitions, I believe they mostly fit them, even if their relationship is unconventional.

as for when sqq fell in love with lbh? i still don't have a clear answer. he's always loved him; this love evolves through time, bringing him and lbh closer together. personally, i don't think it's not important. sqq loves lbh, and that's what matters.

[themeraldee]

How do you think Homie would react if he found out that reader had mind/emotion manipulation abilities? Would fear her? Would kill her out of betrayal? Or would he simply not care and just be happy that he is happy with her?

He'd feel intensely betrayed at first.

He's not likely to kill his loved one out of pure rage. I tend to think he's more calculated than that, besides the obvious that he doesn't want to lose the one person that loves him.

However why would you be hiding things from him?? Not only does he find out that you're a supe but does this get him to question the validity of your feelings? Or even his feelings?? Do you even love him? Are you a spy of some sort? He goes on a major spiral just rethinking everything. In a way I equate this to the way he got to rethink his and Madelyn's relationship towards the end of it, seeing a whole different side to it.

But I'm not saying that it'd meet the same end.

All in all I feel like he's a ride or die where no matter what he will overcome it because it's a billion times better than having to lose his love. So did you lie to him? Yes. Is he gonna now pout about it for the next month forcing you to make it up to him? Yes. Is he gonna be a petty bitch, and anytime you're having an argument or a disagreement he throws in a 'oh you lying about that too?' or similar? Yes. yes. yes.

Also after his ego gets soothed and he feels reassured of your love for the thousandth time I feel like there would be great opportunity for him to benefit from your powers. Like he's overwhelmed, angry, frustrated. And let's say it takes one touch for you to use your power and soothe him, calm him down, make him feel loved, taken care of and understood. You can still talk about whatever made him angry but it's easier and he gets to feel better. I feel like for that alone he might appreciate your power.

Actually I just had another thought and I cba to rework the above so I'm adding it underneath:

He lost, in a way, all respect for Madelyn when she admitted that she's afraid of him and has been lying to him this entire time right? What if the reader essentially confesses saying,

"I didn't want you to know because I didn't want you to be afraid of me."

He scoffs defensively, "afraid of what?" Even offended by the insinuation that he could be afraid of anything, let alone someone like you.

"I didn't want you to feel like you're being manipulated, being told what to do and how to feel. Again. I would never want to do that to you."

And I love the idea of the tables being turned where he's the one who'd be in "Madelyn's" shoes. Because his whole life has been so curated and manicured to perfection where if he does anything out of the ordinary it's wrong - no room for discussion. You acknowledging that and saying this is why you withheld sharing your power with him would just mean so much to him. For once someone's taking his thoughts and feelings into accounts?? Not what they want him to feel? Earth-shattering revelation! Boo is off to buy an engagement ring right away lol

[comically-callous]

JESUS!!!! Y'all ask, I deliver I guess 😟

Rainy walks Home

Hobie brown x reader! Read part 1 here!

Warnings: Mild swearing, mentions of a breakup, reader gets robbed at gunpoint 💀

A/n: PART THREE HAS BEEN MADE. Didn't anticipate you guys wanting this so bad lol. But, I'm not complaining. Requests are open!

In hindsight, agreeing to close up alone was probably a bad idea.

You locked the doors to the Domino's that you worked at behind you, pulling at the door handle to make sure it was shut tight. Suddenly, literally out of nowhere, it began raining.

You sighed, cursing under your breath as you pulled your hood over your head.

It had been a little over 3 weeks since your ex broke up with you and things were going... Fine. You weren't super torn up over the breakup, but you definitely weren't happy either.

The rain began to pour down, only getting worse with every step that you took. Normally, you wouldn't take shortcuts. There wasn't really a reason to since the walk from work to your apartment wasn't that long. But, today was an acception. It was dark, and cold, and pouring down rain.

So, you turned down an alleyway.

You walked through the narrow space, listening to the sound of your sneakers as they hit the wet pavement. But, something made you stop.

You strained your ears listening for something. You didn't quite know what.

Nothing.

You continued walking, only taking a few steps before stopping again.

You heard it this time.

Someone else's footsteps.

You turned around to face whoever was behind you, but before you could fully face them, you were grabbed.

Instinctively, you screamed and began to thrash around in the person's grasp, but they were bigger than you.

"Empty your pockets." The deep voice of a man said into your ear. You tried kicking at the man and he didn't even react. "EMPTY YOUR FUCKING POCKETS." He screamed. You reached into your pockets and threw your belongings on to the ground. Your keys and your earbuds.

The man briefly looked at the items before throwing you to the ground. Before you could even think to get up and run, he was holding a gun, pouting it at you.

You screamed and shrunk into yourself, holding your hands over your face.

"Give me your bag."

You didn't need to be told twice. You were shrugging away your bag, ready to hand over whatever this dude asked for when you heard a sort of "thwip!" sound.

You lifted your head and all you saw was a flash of red and blue full force swinging into the man who was robbing you.

You watched in awe as THE actual fucking Spiderman beat down the man who'd tried to rob you. In a manner of seconds, Spiderman had knocked the man out and tied him up in webs.

You were in shock and couldn't do anything but stare with your jaw agape. Spiderman turned to you and crouched down to your level.

"Y'alright, mate?" He asked.

You blinked. "Fucking no!"

"Yeah, fair enough." He shrugged. "Let's get you up then." He held his hand out to you and, after a short pause, you took it. He pulled you up from the ground with what seemed to be zero effort and dusted off your shoulders.

"Cops will probably show up to take care of this one sooner or later." He crossed his arms and inspected you for a moment.

You became aware of the fact that you hadn't thanked him yet. "Thank you." You said, finally calmed down from the whole ordeal.

"Nah, don't mention it." He brushed you off. "Just doing what's right."

You silently picked your things up from the ground, trying to ignore the thief that was knocked out a few feet away from you.

"Want me to walk you home?" He asked.

You paused, letting his words sink in for a moment. Spiderman was offering to walk you home.

...

Why?

"You probably have better things to do." You said, shaking your head.

"Not really. People are less likely to go around committing crime when it's pouring down rain." He shrugged his shoulders. "Besides, I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I didn't put the offer out there."

You thought over it for a moment. You would undoubtedly feel safer if Spiderman was walking you home.

"Okay." You agreed.

You were walking down the streets with Spiderman. You were with Spiderman. Walking to your apartment. Cool. Yup. This was fine. Totally normal situation.

"Sucks that this all happened in the rain, huh?"

You broke out of your own thoughts and managed a chuckle. "Yeah, I guess."

"I would offer you an umbrella, but," He motioned down to himself. "Spiderman doesn't carry around umbrellas."

"It's okay." You went quiet again, getting lost in your thoughts. He seemed to notice the trance-like state you were in and tilted his head.

"What's on your mind?" He asked.

You took a moment before answering. For some reason, you sort of wanted to be honest with him, really tell him what was on your mind. Maybe because you knew you'd probably never talk to him again; and you knew Spiderman wasn't gonna go swinging around, telling everyone your business. So, you spoke.

"I got broken up with a couple weeks ago."

"You're still hung up about it?!" He asked. The way he said it was strange. It was like he was expecting you to be over your break up, despite the fact that the two of you had never spoken before, so he shouldn't have any reason to expect better from you.

"I mean, I'm sort of over it. But..." You sighed. "When it first happened I was upset, obviously. He broke up with me over text while I was at work and I went on break to cry in the parking lot." He nodded along. "And then this... Guy showed up." This was the main thing that had been on your mind. "And I didn't know him, but he like... Comforted me. Just sort of made me feel better about the whole thing. He was super cool, and genuine, and like, really hot; and I regret not asking for his number or anything."

There it was. You had just spilled your guts to fucking Spiderman. God, you needed to go back to therapy.

You waited for him to say something in reply, and for a moment he was silent.

"Well, uh..." He trailed off. Oh god, you'd overstepped. He probably thinks you're weird. "That's what you were thinking about?" He asked.

"Yeah. It's weird, I know."

"Nah, nah. I'm sure he's been thinking about you too."

"Definitely not." You chuckled.

"You never know." He said. "You seem cool, so..."

You stopped walking, finally arriving to your apartment building. You decided to be a little more weird by asking for advice.

"So, what should I do? Like, should I look for him somewhere? Should I just move on like a normal person?"

He paused. "When's your next shift?" He asked.

"Wednesday." You answered.

"I'd say just... Go into work. Y'know, like any other day. He might show up."

You chuckled. "That's wishful thinking."

"Not from me, it's not. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Cause I've got Spidey senses." He said. The eyes on his mask narrowed and you could tell that underneath, he was smiling.

You shook your head, smiling as well. "Guess it'd be dumb to not take Spiderman's advice."

"Exactly. So, you'll do what I said?"

"Yeah." You shrugged. "I guess I will."

"Great." He began to walk backwards away from you, not yet breaking eye contact. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

You furrowed your brows in slight confusion. "I mean, probably not."

"Y'never know." Webs shot out from his wrist and he swung away without another word.

You walked into your apartment building, and somehow you were glad you'd taken that shortcut.

[flightyalrighty]

I think you saying that you mainly ship sonadow just made my day along with the fact you go "hell yeah" about it 😭😭

I have some questions

1) Why do you like the ship? I like it because of the whole opposites attract thing

2) I like to think of Sonic and Shadow having that sort of "rivals to lovers" trope and opposite attract as said before, which idk if it applies to you because everyone ships things differently so

If you were to do any comic media about them, how would you do it?

3) Do you think about doing more art about them in the future?

(◍•ᴗ•◍)

I'm sorry for the questions about the ship I just like that fact that my one of my favorite sonic comic artists ships my personal favorite ship, along with surgamy lmao

Since I can't do images anonymously, here's a bug playing saxophone

🎶🎷🐛

I'd say it's less that they're opposites for me and more like they're two sides of the same coin. Also I guess because I grew up with Archie Sonic and there's a lot there. Like, it's a WHOLE different dynamic than game!Sonadow (like for instance they were way more like allies than rivals in that comic) and that's what stuck with me -- But I like that they can rely on each other in a way that feels different than friendship. And they can travel together and stuff. Sonic has been all over the world and Shadow might still be trying to discover this planet Maria loved so much. He can be shown the beauty and joy of life on Earth Mobius Unnamed Planet. Does that make any sense at all? I'm sleepy. Also! I like the idea of Shadow just like. Trying to integrate himself within Sonic's friends and family (Tails). He's the only one who'd have this problem btw. Everyone else is chill (except Knuckles maybe).

I was privately writing a fanfic that i shared with my friends that was like, "Aaahhh it's (I think it was 6 total?) years into the future, but ONE year into the future Sonic and Shadow had a jewish wedding bc i hc Shadow as jewish (bc i hc the robotnik family as jewish) and Eggman has been straight up sent to prison by G.U.N. and things are great for a while and there's peace but THEN with Eggman out of the way, G.U.N. does a full-scale invasion on the whole world to "bring order" to a world they find irredeemably chaotic USING Eggman who is now forced to work under them to make weapons of war. Shadow immediately leaves G.U.N. out of disgust and as a cruel "punishment" for this, Sonic gets captured by G.U.N. and turned into their own living weapon. For five years Shadow and Tails, who now consider each other their only family (I won't get into what happened with Amy, Knuckles, Rouge and Omega rn) are trying to survive under this horrible regime and rebelling where they can BUT Shadow is completely heartbroken and sabotages bigger and more dangerous G.U.N. operations in order to lure Sonic out and accepting less help from allies as the years continue on and he's still unable to find and save blue hedgehog husband. He returns to Tails with more and more injuries that Tails has to fix up and there's a lot of yelling. So I guess I like angsty sonadow? But I don't know if I'd turn that fanfic into a comic. But if I made a sonadow comic, that would be the one.

Someone would need to chop off my hands to stop me from making more sonadow art (eventually)

[dudadragneel]

Hello, guys! It's me!

Sorry for going MIA again, there's just a lot going on 😅

But hey, another fic for you!

This one was a request from @fairyniceyeah !

I'm sorry this took AGES to be ready and posted....(Insert here Sponge Bob square pants "2000 years later")

also I'm sorry if this request took a certain turn...

STP - Standard Temperature and Pressure

BEHIND THE BEAT

Before becoming an idol, Minho was a professional dancer and a backup dancer for BTS, so dancing was a serious topic for him.

He'd always participate in the creation process of their choreographies and it always had to be perfect. Of course they had fun, but when it was time to get serious, they got really serious.

Whenever they had to spend so much time inside that practice room, dancing for hours on end, they remembered their trainee days.

And those days weren't one bit easy.

They had a choreographer but the one who'd mostly work on the choreographies, work with the boys and guide them through it, was Minho.

And when he entered dance practice mode, he could be as scary as pre-debut Chan. So much so that even Chan would get a little scared sometimes.

It was honestly impressive how attentive to details and mistakes Minho was.

They always wondered "how can a single pair of eyes keep track of movements from seven different people?"

Well, that's just how good of a dancer he was.

It was a tiring job and stressful as well, after all he had to be able to deal with seven different dancing styles and personalities.

Felix and Hyunjin were part of Danceracha so he didn't really worry about those two and they did their best to help Minho to the best of their habilities.

But at the end of the day, if anything went wrong or if things weren't going as smooth as everyone wished, he'd take all the blame to himself.

He had pride on what he did.

If the members weren't getting the moves right, wasn't him a bad teacher?

That's exactly how his mind worked, despite everyone trying to tell him he was doing a perfect job.

This time they were preparing for a really big comeback that would be followed by a tour, which meant: no time to rest, no openings for mistakes.

The boys gathered at JYPE's famous cafeteria to have lunch and discuss some of the things they had to work on.

Chan was explaining how they'd record the tracks, how much time he'd need to work with the members on their parts etc.

On the other side, Minho was also doing the same, planning out how many hours they'd have to practice in a day and such.

They knew it all too well how hectic it got when a comeback was around the corner, and yet, they couldn't keep themselves from already feeling utterly tired. Even if they hadn't done much yet.

Sometimes they'd wonder how in heavens they decided on that career and how it would be to just live a normal life.

But those thoughts would always be replaced with some sort of relief, after all they'd also wonder how it would've been if they never met each other. And that thought alone would make any of them tear up. That was just how much they meant to each other.

After they were done with their lunch, they rested for a little while and went straight to dance practice.

Minho's mind was swimming with ideas for the choreographies and he needed to practice them, he needed to see how the movements inside his mind would be shown in real life.

So the dance practices would usually went like this:

Minho would make the boys stretch long enough so they didn't have any cramps or injured themselves.

And then he'd stand in front of the mirror practicing the moves alone for a moment and sharpening them before gathering the others to teach them.

While he did that, the practice room was utter chaos, the boys were running around or lying down or laughing, just simply being themselves.

And while Minho sometimes wanted to punch them, he'd be lying if he said he didn't like that chaos.

- Ok guys! Come on!

After a while, Minho entered his dance practice mode and gathered everyone to start teaching the dance moves.

Most of the time, the group wouldn't make many mistakes, specially Danceracha and more specifically Minho.

Well, sometimes Felix would get some moves wrong or just not do them as sharp as the others but it was due to his back problem. Everyone always reassured him it wasn't his fault but still he was harsh on himself.

And if Felix punished himself like that, Minho did that to himself a 100 times worse. After all, he was a dancer who became an idol, he was a professional dancer before all this, so in his mind, he couldn't make any mistakes.

Yet, while working on the dances for the impending comeback and tour, the universe just seemed to have some sort of conspiracy against him.

Every so often, he'd miss a step, dance off beat, or even forget a little part of the choreography which was really unusual for him.

The boys were already getting worried, they weren't used to seeing him that much out of control of his own movements.

And he was starting to get stressed, really stressed.

Whereas Chan's anger would make him raise his voice a bit and use a harsher tone, Minho's was a more silent one.

Sometimes he wouldn't even mutter a single word.

There would be just this aura surrounding him and whenever one of the boys would dare approach him, he'd just look them dead in the eye.

Like a tiger looking at its prey.

And that was warning enough for the others to back off. In these type of situations, Chan was the only one who could break through Minho's walls and attempt to understand his feelings and calm him down.

The dance practice continued for another hour and so did Minho's mistakes.

"Fuck!"

"Why is nothing going right today?"

He thought to himself.

Not once, not even once he managed to dance the entire routine without making a few, as he'd say, dumb mistakes.

Their choreographer didn't know what was going on. Hell, not even himself was understanding what was happening to him.

Minho was getting progressively stressed and angry. He was acting the same way he acted when he was mad at his stage outfits.

Chan and the boys knew exactly where this was going.

The choreographer called for a quick break so that everyone could catch their breath and Chan took this opportunity to try and talk to Minho, and hopefully understand what was going on.

Minho sat down on the couch, throwing his beanie and cursing.

Oh, he was beyond angry. He was fuming.

Chan sat beside him in silence. Analyzing the situation, the leader understood that trying to get him to say something might worsen the situation.

If Minho needed to say something, he would, if not, Chan wouldn't push him into doing so.

- Damn it! Sorry, hyung.

He immediately apologized for cursing in front of his leader.

And Chan saw that as an opportunity to speak to him, careful not to get him more stressed.

- Is everything okay?

Chan asked with such a gentle tone that Minho almost broke down in sobs.

- Yeah, I'm fine.

He answered, a bit colder than he wanted, but he wasnt in control of his body, let alone his mind.

- Okay.

For a moment Minho thought he hurt Chan's feelings since the leader gave a short answer. He'd even risk saying it was just as cold as his.

But maybe it was just his mind, getting annoyed by the littlest thing.

The fact is, deep down inside, he wished Chan would've insist on asking because part of him wanted to tell someone how he was feeling, if he managed to understand what exactly was it.

The other part, the proud one, didn't want to admit that he wasn't okay. It seemed like this part wanted to show the others and himself, that he could handle things on his own, just like Chan.

And he did manage to deal with things on his own a lot of times but he had already asked for help on a few occasions.

Why didn't he want to seek help now?

He didn't know.

His thoughts were starting to eat him from the inside.

And then, the break was over.

In STP, Minho would be happy to resume dancing. But this time, he was stuck between wanting to dance and make up for his mistakes or not dance at all afraid of keep on making mistakes.

Honestly? It had been some time since the last time his mind took over like this.

And he wasn't liking it, not one bit.

To add to his stress and frustration, his whole body was starting to ache and a weird feeling had settled in his stomach a while ago. But he was so frustrated that he didn't even notice.

Great. Now he had to dance afraid of making more mistakes and conscious of the annoying feeling in his stomach.

And just like the beginning of practice, the mistakes just kept coming.

He was so out of tune with his own dancing that he wasn't even able to analyze the other members.

How could he, when he himself wasn't getting the steps right?

He'd just be a hypocrite.

The members however, were getting really worried seeing Minho like that.

Each time they made a mistake, they looked at Minho, waiting for a correction or something but nothing.

And now Minho was feeling even worse than before.

He felt like his body was about to crumble, his vision was kinda blurry and his mind, oh his mind. It was corrupting him from the inside.

At the same time he couldn't exactly see the members properly, it seemed like he could sense everything inside the room.

And he felt like everyone's gaze were locked on him, piercing through his body, as if criticizing him from head to toe.

Members, choreographers, staff, everyone.

And in fact, they were, but not the way he imagined.

They were looking at him concerned, trying to understand what was happening to him.

Practice went on and so did the mistakes. At some point the choreographer questioned him what was happening but he couldn't really answer so he just muttered an excuse.

Although they had a good relationship with their staff, Chan would get angry at them if he thought they were pushing the members into talking or admitting something or just making them uncomfortable.

And Chan felt something building inside him.

The choreographer didn't use a harsh tone nor was he reprimanding Minho, but Chan since sensing something was wrong with his dongsaeng, he became overprotective.

Changbin noticed Chan starting to get restless and discreetly talked to him, whispering so no one would hear him.

- Hyung.

The younger rapper said, touching Chan's shoulder and bringing him back to reality.

- I know what you're thinking. We noticed Minho-hyung is acting strange. But the choreographer is talking to him normally. Please don't get worked up.

- I know, I know.

Chan sighed and then took deep breaths to calm himself down before he talked back to the choreographer, who was not at fault, and created a bad situation.

And quiet honestly, he also wasn't at fault. He was just caring and protecting Minho, after all he was his dongsaeng and he was supposed to be a leader.

When the choreographer seemed satisfied with Minho's explanation, if there really was one, he resumed practice one more time.

By now it was agonizing to keep dancing. Not only was he not getting the steps right at all, he was also slowing down the others, making practice last way longer.

Minho was feeling so utterly frustrated at himself that the last thin line of focus he had, was completely cut off.

His movements became sluggish, he felt his body tingling and his vision was getting more blurry than before.

He just wanted that practice to end. No, the whole day. And start anew the next day.

It was hurting the boys, specially Chan, to see Minho like that. Because he couldn't get through to him earlier and he knew his dongsaeng didn't like to admit to feeling unwell. But this was getting out of hand.

It felt like Minho had been replaced by someone else.

He kept on dancing, like he was on autopilot, still trying to get the steps right.

Then the choreographer called another break.

And that was when everything crumbled.

The others sat down on the ground, some lay down, feeling tired from the last 3 hours of dancing.

Chan, though, kept his gaze focused on Minho.

The younger man stumbled to the side of the room, bracing himself against the wall.

He would dare say he felt like he was about to die.

When the adrenaline started to subside, he became hyper aware of everything he was feeling, both physically and mentally.

He was overcome with guilt of not getting things right and making the others put on an extra amount of unnecessary effort.

His mind was not giving him one moment of peace and neither was his body.

He couldn't breathe properly, he tried to but it felt like there was no oxygen going inside his lungs, as if his chest was being squeezed. His back was heaving up and down, getting faster each passing second.

His whole body felt like jelly and about to shut down, he felt like all his muscles were close to relaxing all at once.

The rapid breathing made him feel incredibly dizzy, his vision was blurring even more than before and he felt unsteady on his feet, thank god for that wall.

And to top it off, his stomach was rebelling against him. Every single emotion he was feeling, was being reflected in his stomach.

It churned and his lunch was sloshing around like a washing machine, he could already taste the bile in his mouth.

He kept his back turned to the others, desperately trying to get a hold of his own body. But it wasn't working.

His breathing was not going back to normal and it made him feel like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

The nausea was overwhelming him and he tried to fight it back, swallowing convulsively and clenching his fists for dear life. He didn't dare move a muscle and he was actually surprised how he hadn't collapsed yet.

Seeing how his state deteriorated quickly when they took this las break, the members were extremely concerned about him. But at the same time they didn't know if trying to get close to him would be a wise idea.

Almost all of them looked at Chan, desperate for a signal from the leader but before he could raise a hand and nod them a "no", one of them was already missing: Hyunjin.

He and Minho bickered all the time but they loved each other and Hyunjin was just as worried as the others.

He got closer to Minho and placed a hand on his sweaty back making him flinch a little and quickly looking up at him and then dropping his head again, already running out of strength to hold his body.

The younger dancer felt his hyung's back heave up and down quickly and how his hands were clenched in such tight fists, he was worried Lee Know was gonna hurt himself.

Minho tried to focus on Hyunjin's hand on his back for dear life, everything was too overwhelming and he felt like he could faint at any minute. Hyunjin's presence was the only thing that was barely keeping him grounded.

- Hyung?

Hyunjin called out, tilting his head a bit so he could see Minho's face, getting no response.

But the older dancer was in such a state that he wasn't even listening Hyunjin's voice, actually, he wasn't even sure he processed it was Hyunjin who was by his side.

He was basically hyperventilating now and his lunch was threatening to make an appearance really soon.

Minho kept his head low, eyes focused on the ground, fists and jaw clenched, swallowing down the rising nausea. And in the midst of it, trying to get his breathing under control.

But it was no use, it was a battle he wasn't gonna win even if he tried.

Hyunjin moved his hand to his hyung's shoulder, squeezing it and trying to bring him back to earth. And he then positioned himself in front of Minho, lowering himself a bit so he could try to meet his gaze.

But that was the wrong move.

The moment Hyunjin appeared in front of Minho was also the moment he lost his battle against his stomach.

He felt liquid rushing up his chest and hitting the back of his throat faster than he could react.

And then he bent down a little further retching a thick stream of vomit that hit the ground with a sickening sound and unfortunately, got on Hyunjin's shoes.

The younger one was shocked at first but quickly recollected himself while the others rushed to them.

Hyunjin stepped back a bit, trying to stay away from the upcoming mess but kept a firm hand on his hyung's back.

Minho vomited another wave that left him breathless and dizzy.

He was about to lose all strength in his body when Chan and Changbin got by his side and grabbed him.

- Don't worry, Minho-ah, we've got you.

Chan reassured as both him and Changbin gently lowered him down.

- Can someone grab a towel? And some water?

Chan asked and then immediately turned his attention to Minho who was still breathing erratically and gagging unproductively.

- It's okay, it's okay. You're gonna be okay.

The leader cooed, rubbing his dongsaeng's back up and down while also brushing the hair out of his face, only to reveal trails of tears on his cheeks.

Chan's heart sunk to the ground when he saw that, because it only meant that Minho was dealing with something that was bothering him so much to the point of crying.

And Minho crying was a rare sight.

Chan also knew that he never liked to show his weakness to the others, not even tears, so he didn't say anything.

One of the boys came back with a towel and put it in front of Minho to cover the mess on the floor and prevent it from getting bigger.

He kept on gagging unproductively and it was clear that it was hurting him.

-Hey, it's okay.

Chan then noticed that Minho was holding it in, he knew that throwing up in front of everyone, members and choreographer and, well, on Hyunjin's shoes had left him mortified.

Even if the mess had already been done, he'd rather hold everything in than continue to display how out of control he was.

And Chan knew that.

- Kids, Hyung-nim.

Chan said with a authoritative tone, though very gentle at that.

And the others didn't need any other word to understand what he meant and quickly left the room. Too many people and too much attention would only worsen Minho's condition.

- There we go, Minho-ah. It's just you and me here.

Minho was still fighting against the nausea, even though it was just the two of them inside the room.

Wasn't he being humiliated enough?

He grabbed the fabric of his pants, gripping it with all his force, trying to contain the nausea by swallowing convulsively and taking deep breaths.

- It's okay, Minho-ah. No one is watching you, I'm the only one here, okay? Throw up if you need to, don't hold it in, it'll only make you feel worse.

Chan reassured, running his hand up and down Minho's back, his touch so gentle it was making him start crying again, though silently.

He slowly allowed himself to start relaxing and by doing that, his stomach immediately responded by contracting.

Minho lurched forward, more vomit escaping his lips and soiling the towel the boys had placed on the ground.

- That's it. You're doing good, just let it all out.

Chan said with a gentle voice while rubbing his dongsaeng's back up and down and then in circles, feeling how it heaved up and down with each retch.

Another wave came out, even stronger, coming out of his nose as well and hurting his throat in the process.

And feeling the texture of the food in his mouth as well as the tiny pieces in his nose didn't help, it only triggered another wave.

- Hyung....

Minho said with a weak and shaky voice after the bout was over.

- I know, I know. You'll be okay.

The smell of sick seemed to have impregnated in his nose after coming out of it.

He tried blowing it to see if he could get rid of what seemed to be rice and that caused a round of unproductive retches.

Eventually another wave of putrid vomit made its way out and this one left his body shaking from the effort.

And to add to his misery, he managed to choke on a piece of undigested food and started coughing.

- Don't worry, hyung will help you, okay?

Minho didn't even have strength to answer his leader, he just wanted that to be over with.

Chan changed his approach and started to rub Minho's chest, trying to provide comfort and help dislodge what got stuck in his throat.

The dancer kept coughing and gagging, but nothing was coming up and he knew there was more that needed to get out.

He clutched his stomach because it was hurting so much and it wasn't giving him a break.

- Minho-ah, do you think you still have to puke?

Minho nodded weakly.

- Okay, I'll try something but it might be uncomfortable, okay?

Chan moved his hand from Minho's chest to his abdomen, more precisely to the middle and started to massage it, applying a bit of pressure every time.

It seemed to be working because Minho was gagging again and soon it brought up another bout of sick that mixed with the rest in the already soiled towel.

And Chan returned his attention to rubbing his dongsaeng's back, trying to make the ordeal less excruciating.

Minho still puked a few times and it felt like his stomach was determined to turn itself out. Even in his dazed state he was wondering how there was still things in him for him to vomit.

And Chan was getting worried that Minho's stomach was trying to get rid of all the food he ate in the past few weeks.

After about 45 minutes since everything started, Minho was just dry heaving and still gagging a bit. It really looked like his stomach wanted to get rid of itself.

- That's it. You did great.

Chan murmured to him still rubbing his back in soothing circles and his chest as well.

Minho didn't know why but that felt heavenly and comforting, and if he was being really honest to himself, he didn't want Chan to stop it.

- Let's get you away from this mess, okay?

The leader carefully helped Minho to another area in the practice room and sat beside him.

- Hey, can I go and dispose of that towel? Or can I ask someone to come get it?

Minho nodded a weak no.

He didn't want to be alone and he definitely didn't want to be seen.

- That's okay. We'll deal with that later. I'm right here, okay? I'm not going anywhere. Do you wanna try some water?

- mhmm

That was the first sound of his voice Chan heard after that long ordeal.

- Here, rinse out your mouth.

Chan said helping Minho take a sip to just wash his mouth and get rid of the awful taste in his mouth.

- Hey, do you think you can drink a little bit? Just small sips.

Minho hesitated at first but then nodded but he was too out of it and feeling too weak to hold the bottle.

So Chan gently brought it to his lips, tilting it slightly helping him take small sips. And the cold water helped soothe his throat a little bit, even though his stomach wasn't exactly happy about it.

Chan then grabbed a bucket and set it beside Minho so he could rinse his mouth and well, be there just in case.

None of them wanted that room to get any dirtier and they were feeling pretty bad for the staff who'd clean it after.

Chan gently brushed Minho's hair behind his ear to reveal the trails of tears one more time. He also noticed that his face was flushed, most likely due to the embarrassment and his eyes and nose were red from the crying.

He tenderly wiped away a tear that was running down Minho's cheek with his thumb.

- Hey, Minho-ah....do you want to tell me what happened?

He asked with the most gentle tone known to mankind and that broke Minho once more. He started sobbing but he still didn't want to lift his head.

- It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it now. We'll stay here as long as you want, I won't go anywhere.

Chan said reassuring Minho and putting a hand on his shoulder giving it a squeeze, as if proving his words.

He continued to rub Minho's back in soothing circles as the younger boy continued to cry and for some reason the tears just wouldn't stop falling.

Eventually he started to calm down and the sobs stopped, the only sound was now his sniffing.

Apart from that, the room was completely quiet and like Chan said, he was not gonna pressure Minho into talking, so he stayed silent.

- 'm sorry...

The silence was broken by Minho's weak voice, barely a whisper.

He had his head between his knees, looking at the ground with tears still dropping and creating a small puddle.

- Why are you apologizing, hm?

Chan asked softly, stroking his dongsaeng's hair and patiently waiting for his response.

- Because I messed up....and made you guys practice more than needed....

- There's nothing to apologize for, Minho-ah...

- I couldn't get anything right...no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't concentrate and-

He stopped to catch his breath as he felt his chest tightening, a sign that he was on the verge of a panic attack.

- Hey, hey, take it easy. Breathe. You don't need to rush, okay?

Chan reassured as he grabbed Minho's hand and he instinctively squeezed his in return, trying to ground himself.

- Take deep breaths, slowly.

Minho followed Chan's instructions and started to calm down and continued talking.

- Nothing was working and I couldn't even pay attention to you guys and we're so close to the comeback and the tour, this is not supposed to happen....

- Minho-ah, you don't need to put so much pressure on yourself. And this is coming from a person that does exactly the opposite so I don't think I have much say on the matter hahaha.

Chan joked, earning a weak laugh from the dancer.

- But seriously, don't be so hard on yourself. We all have our "off" days, it's completely normal.

- I know, hyung....but-

He was cut off by a sob and then his mind took control again. It flooded with thoughts of not being able to get the steps right even if he tried his best, missing steps during the actual performance, not being able to pour out his 110% on stage.

It was mortifying.

And before he could even notice, he was already having a panic attack. He was hyperventilating, he couldn't stop crying and those thoughts refused to go away.

- They won't stop coming! Hyung, make it stop...

Minho pleaded between sobs and gasps of air.

- Hey, hey, Minho-ah. I need you to breathe.

Chan said placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to bring him back to reality.

- I- I can't--

- Yes, you can. Come on.

Chan was respecting Minho's space to the best of his habilities, but the situation was now escalating and he had to intervene.

He gently lifted Minho's head and turned it towards him, so his dongsaeng was now facing him.

And it took every ounce of strength in his body to keep his composure seeing him like that.

- Look at me. You're gonna breathe with me, okay?

Minho nodded weakly, although unsure if he'd actually be able to.

Chan guided the dancer's hand towards his chest so he could feel his breathing pattern, while holding his other hand.

- You can feel my breathing. It's slow and steady, right? I want you to try and do the same. I know you can do it.

Lee Know tried to but it was just so hard, it felt he was underwater, trying desperately to take in any air but failing. And his mind just kept on repeating the same thoughts over and over again, like a broken record.

He squeezed Chan's hand until his knuckles turned white, his nails almost digging into his hyung's hand, trying to push those thoughts away.

- Keep trying. You can squeeze my hand as hard as you need. But I need you to keep trying, keep on focusing on my breathing.

It took some time, but eventually Minho started to regain control over his breathing. He focused on Chan's breathing as the leader instructed and slowly evened his.

His grip on Chan's hand started to loosen up.

- There we go. Feeling a bit more calm now?

Chan asked wiping away the tears from Minho's eyes and cheeks but never letting go of his hand on his chest.

- Yes...

Minho answered weakly, clearly exhausted and embarrassed about everything that happened.

- Do you think you can talk to me about those thoughts?

- I think so....

Although getting a positive answer it was followed by a silent pause, yet Chan didn't insist.

- I just kept thinking that I needed to do well, that I needed to get everything right and help everyone with their dance. And that we have an upcoming comeback and tour and the choreographies need to be completed by then....and nothing seemed to be working....it was like my body was being controlled by those thoughts and I couldn't shut them up. I didn't want to be a burden and I felt like everyone was judging me for making so many mistakes.

It shattered Chan's heart to hear those words coming from Minho.

- No one was judging you, Minho-ah. No one will ever judge you. We knew something was wrong, that's why we were looking at you, we were worried.

Chan reassured him, running a thumb on his cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

- I'm sorry...

Minho said with a trembling voice looking down but Chan wasn't having it. He gently lifted his face again.

- Don't apologize. Don't you ever apologize for feeling weak, for feeling stressed, for being human. You hear me?

The younger boy just nodded, not really having any words to say.

He felt exhausted.

- Come here.

Chan said gently pulling Minho closer to him and embracing him in a back hug.

Minho allowed himself to be completely embraced by Chan, resting his head on his hyung's arm and the older kept his breathing steady so Minho could match it.

And they stayed like that, for minutes, in complete silence, the room quiet apart from their breathing.

He was so exhausted from everything that happened that in a few minutes he fell asleep on Chan's embrace, the same safe and warm back hug he secretly loved.

[merakiui]

thinking about androids again, but rather than the plot seen in android jade,,,, consider android floyd who is being developed by tech genius idia shroud with input and funding from business magnate azul ashengrotto.

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, vaguely implied non-con/dub-con, android floyd)

He's designed to be a companion for those who are lonely and in need of the company (whether physically or socially). You're just a tired, overworked university student, so it's mind-boggling to you when there's a sleek limousine parked just beyond campus property. Security guards are insisting you come with them because there's someone who'd like to meet you.

In the limo, you find yourself sitting across from Azul Ashengrotto himself. He doesn't bother with flowery introductions, instead cutting to the heart of the matter. You've been randomly selected to help with a very important phase of his and Idia's project. The general idea is to test how well the android interacts with a normal, ordinary person in a monitored setting.

You're very confused. You never signed up for any lottery, and you certainly aren't affiliated with anything of that sort. You're just trying to get through your degree, survive two part-times, and hopefully make enough to keep afloat for another month. Azul tells you this isn't an issue; you'll be generously compensated for your time and efforts. It's only three months; you'll be permitted to live your life as you normally would, only now you'll be accompanied by a highly intelligent android.

Despite hearing all of this, you hesitate when he reveals the lengthy contract. As you flip through it, analyzing each clause and category, Azul says something that piques your interest. "We don't expect you to house an android in your little apartment. Goodness, that's simply ludicrous. We'll provide your housing for these next three months. After all, we must be able to monitor your progress."

"Housing? What do you mean?"

He smiles at you. Backdropped by leather interior, the lights casting odd shadows on his face, he looks near-sinister. But he leans forward to press a ballpoint pen into your hands and the illusion vanishes. "I think you'll find it quite to your liking. If you've finished your classes for the day, why not visit the property with me? Then you may decide whether you wish to participate."

You're not worried about that part. What worries you the most, however, is the fact that he's right. You are finished with classes for the day and you have nothing planned. You took today off from work. Your schedule is perfectly free.

But of course the Azul Ashengrotto wouldn't know that, would he?

The house is a smart home, equipped with every necessity and appliance. Everything's controlled by a remote here. It's not very far from your university either, built on a hill that overlooks houses below. It feels a little isolating and smells very new and clean. Like that fabled new car smell, only it's a house. But everything is so unique to you. Its minimalistic design is oddly cozy, and you can't help but feel enchanted the deeper you venture through the two-story home. It's all so unreal!

Azul gives you the rundown, explains how the remote and each button works. You can lock doors, open and close windows, mess with the thermostat, turn the home security on and off, and even start the oven. You hold the power to this home in the palm of your hands. It's immensely fascinating.

By the end of the tour, you're shaking his hand and signing his contract, agreeing to three months of study. Not only are you provided this nice home, you'll also be paid per week. And the pay is far more than you were making with your two jobs.

The android has a long, tongue-tying serial number, so to make things easier he's named Floyd. They even gave him a surname in preparation for the twin android who is being designed to complement and mirror him. He certainly looks human when you meet him, but there's this uncanny nature to his presence that slightly unnerves you. He's too perfect. Skin too smooth. Eyes too bright. Hair too soft. He towers over you, having to bend down to walk through the doorframe, and every movement he makes is very mechanical and stiff.

Still, you smile at him and offer your hand. "Hi there. I'm (Name). Your...housemate, I guess."

He nods, peering down at your hand before lifting his own. "Floyd Leech. At your service."

You were expecting to feel coldness, so you startle when his hand fits into yours and it's warm. It feels so very real. So deceptively lifelike. You wonder if he can regulate his own internal temperatures. Just how advanced is he?

"Right... Um, I look forward to getting to know you!"

He nods again, releasing your hand after a perfectly timed handshake.

Azul had given you a special number should you need to reach him or Idia. All you needed to do was phone it if at any point you were to feel confused or unsafe. "But I don't think you'll utilize it," he told you when you stood in the lab, watching Idia Shroud flit around to do final maintenance checks to ensure Floyd was ready for his first trial run. His eyes were open the entire time, two mismatched lights centered on you. His stare was listless, but somehow you felt as if he was looking through to your very soul. "He's very safe. In fact, he's programmed to assess and react appropriately to dangers of all kinds. You'll be safe with him around."

And safe you are.

You've always been alone, so it's nice to have a roommate, even if he only speaks when spoken to. It's awkward for all of one week until you ease into his pattern. From various vantage points throughout the house, Idia and Azul watch through hidden cameras. You cook your meals for yourself and Floyd watches, assisting when you order him to. You leave for class and Floyd waits by the door for you to return, standing stock-still for hours.

You lounge in the sitting room and put on all kinds of films. Action. Comedy. Horror. Floyd's eyes never leave the screen. But sometimes he watches you more than he watches the movie, noting all of your reactions. He doesn't understand why you get so emotional over sappy romances. So you explain it simply: "It evokes emotions. We all have emotions, and these movies make us feel them. Happy. Sad. Angry. Upset. Things like that."

But Floyd doesn't feel. Even so, he listens and he nods along, filing your answers away for later dissection. It's interesting.

By the end of the first month, Floyd's adopted new habits. Ever since you told him he's free to do as he pleases, he's taken to cooking your meals for you, doing your laundry, preparing your bag for the day. He's surprisingly good at it. He does chores when you leave for classes or work. And for the first time in a while you're excited to return home, knowing he's there waiting.

Floyd adds new words and phrases to his ever-expanding vocabulary. You watch a lot of TV together and he starts to use some of what he hears in his own speech. He picks up informal language quickly, and it isn't long until he's using words like sup or dunno instead of the rigid how are you? and I am unsure he was previously programmed with.

The first sign of unrest comes when you realize Floyd's also connected to the smart home. At first you didn't think it was a bad thing. After all, with him controlling it you won't have to worry about getting up to grab the remote if you've already sat down. Floyd can do that for you. But then the remote goes missing, later turning up shattered. You ask Floyd what happened and he looks at you and says, "Why use this piece of junk when you've got me?"

"Still... What if you're not able to help? What if you're in sleep mode and I need to open a window or something?" you argue, cradling the splinters of remote like they're an injured baby bird.

"That won't happen," he replies smoothly, issuing you a soothing smile. "I'm always gonna be here for ya. Count on it."

And you do because, by the time the three months are nearing their end and Floyd's developed into quite the companion, more and more human than he's ever seemed, you find yourself stuck.

No, not stuck. That's not quite right. You're more so trapped.

Floyd locks the doors, shutters the windows, turns off the lights. You're cowering in the closet, the only place that feels just a little safe in this moment. You can't reach Azul or Idia either. He's shut the power off, the internet connection, everything. The smart home on the hilltop feels like a tiny island now, and Floyd's the shark always circling it, waiting for you to dip your feet into the depths.

"C'mon, Shrimpy," he calls out, and it's a nickname you were once so fond of because he thought of it himself. "I already told ya I ain't gonna hurt ya. So just come out and talk to me."

You have no idea where you went wrong. Was it too many horror films? Was it the fact that you started to rely so heavily on him for companionship, ignoring your human friends in favor of staying in with Floyd? Or was it because he was blocking their numbers that you never received any messages and automatically assumed they were cutting contact? He said he'd always be here for you, so why to this degree?

The closet doors are thrown open. Floyd drags you, kicking and screaming, out by the ankles. Every camera has gone dark on Azul and Idia's end. All but one. The one in the bedroom. Floyd stares directly at it when he lifts you up and lays you on the bed, gentle and sugary-sweet.

He smiles and waves before that screen blanks out, leaving you truly trapped with him.

And because it's all experimental, morbid curiosity trumping ethical morals, no one comes to rescue you.

Three months is more of an indefinite forever in this lonesome smart home.

[the-sand-guardian]

Like Fate, Like Death, Like Love (or, Evbo revives Seawatt)

"I suppose I had this coming, didn't I?" Seawatt slumped back against the wall that the Parkour Villain has sculpted. He didn't have much time left and he knew it. He could feel the jester's eyes boring into him as a sharp stabbing pain hit his gut. He pulled his hands from his bleeding stomach and looked up at the former champion. "And for what it's worth, I was telling the truth when I said I enjoyed working with you..."

Evbo's face shifted slightly. His usual look of mild contempt had washed away slightly into one of shock. His mouth fell open slightly and it seemed as though his eyes were glossy too. Seawatt smiled sadly at him before coughing up a bit of blood and finally falling still. Evbo stood frozen in place, staring at the body until it poofed into dust.

He was pulled from his shock by the villain once again. He was sprinting away from him now, and he knew that he had to be stopped.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Seawatt's pain faded away quickly, but the feeling of falling never ceased. It was those dreams where you fall asleep too quickly and your brain thinks that you're dying. Unlike those dreams, he never hit the ground. There was no wind rushing around him. His hair didn't whip around his face. He was just falling through and into nothingness.

All he had left was memories. They played over and over again in his head. Losing his parents. Having to betray Evbo. Seeing his face fall when he realized just what he'd been played into. Instead if that sharp wit and feeling of power he'd initially had, he knew that if he still had his chest it would ache for Evbo. Certainly he'd met a similar fate right now. Hopefully he didn't feel as guilty for his actions.

That was all Seawatt had left to feel. Guilt. Would his parents really have wanted him to destroy everything? How terrible must Evbo have felt when he'd had that awful realization? Had his heart sank to his stomach? Had he felt sick? Had he wanted to scream and throw things and just curl up and die?

He probably had, too. Seawatt knew the way his own stomach had shifted in disgust with himself. Why? Why had he done this to someone so eager to help him? Someone who hated him and STILL chose to be kind? Maybe he deserved this, he thought. It was probably some sort of karma.

And now there was no way to make things right. He wasn't going to get the chance to apologize to him. Evbo and everyone else in Parkour Civilization were going to die and he was fine floating in the void knowing it was all his fault. He could spend eternity with that guilt. It was really the least he could do for him.

But wouldn't it be so nice to apologize, too?

<><><><><><><><><><>

Evbo's feet hit the last block and he turned to face the villain, knowing he'd won. The Villain crumpled into himself and swore as he collapsed much in the way Seawatt had. He had to turn away as he folded into a puddle of his own blood before falling off the block and into the void. Hopefully he'd end up stuck somewhere forever.

Evbo wasn't sure what would come after death, but now with his shiny netherite boots, he wondered if that was something he'd have control over. Maybe he'd even be able to bring back all those noobs who'd died right off the bat, or his neighbor, or...

Of course, he had no idea how to bring someone back from the dead. Hell, he had a lot of work to do before he could even think of it. Fixing everything the Villain had destroyed, freeing the people stuck in Parkour Prison, and rebuilding the levels. Maybe the fighter level would be able to come back eventually.

The possibilities were endless, and he got to work right away. He personally crowned EMF as his successor, since he'd helped him so much. Evbo started to teach him how the command blocks worked, and slowly things began to sprout back up. Things were healing, and people were ranking up. Things were finally going back to the way he thought they should be.

On the seventh day, Evbo rested. The world didn't need saving anymore, and he could relax. He leaned back against the quartz of the Parkour Temple are stared up at the sky. He still wasn't used to just how beautiful everything was up here. Water fell from it sometimes, and at night there were little sparkling specks that dotted all over it. He's dreamt about the sky a lot as a noob, and here he was in full control of it. As he sat in his spot, he let out a small sigh and waved his hand in front of him. He'd been in control of so much, but he still hadn't made things right.

A gust of purple blew from his fingertips like he'd blown sand from his palm. The swirls gathered together, and after a moment, a figure formed. It was trembling, and a sob pushed itself from it's throat, but it was alive. And it was Seawatt. He curled in on himself a little before he froze in place. He put a hand against the quartz. He could feel.

Tears flowed freely down his face as he smacked a palm against the quartz. He was alive again! He had a chance! But...how? "Careful, you might hurt yourself" Evbo's familiar voice chuckled as he shook his head.

Seawatt tried to pull himself back together. "You- Why did you bring me back? I betrayed you, I hurt you?"

Evbo shrugged. "You think about me a lot. It's kinda...sweet, actually" He smiled over at him. "And, for what it's worth, I accept your apology"

<><><><><><><><><><>

Thank you so much for reading! I had a lot of fun writing this and would love to hear any requests, thoughts, etc!! I do a lot of other writing too, so if you like this please consider checking out this and my other stuff on Ao3 under WowzaItsEef! This is my first work for ParkCiv considering I only watched it yesterday, but as you can tell I've been consumed by Seavbo brainrot.

Likes, replys, and reblogs are all appreciated, have a great day!!

[lixzey]

Letters.

tw: mentions of self harm and self hate

The Ninth Letter. 

It was a long shot, but Timothée knew he had to. He had to find her. It surprised him, just how much he cared for this girl. He didn't know her, but he was desperate to find her—to understand her. Timothée felt a sense of loyalty to her, vowing to finish her letters one by one—and not skipping to the end. Sure, he could save a lot of time if he'd just go on and skip to the last letter. But that felt like betraying Y/N—as if it was skipping to know the person who'd poured her heart out in the last eight letters. 

Timothée sighed, before closing his laptop and putting it away. He was in a meeting with the private investigator he had just hired two days ago. The trail was undoubtedly cold—because the only clue they had was the stamps on Y/N's letters. Still, the young actor wasn't going to give up that easily. He picked up the next letter and ripped it open. It was dated July 27th, 2023. 

Dear Timothée, 

Don't kill the butterfly,

That's what I heard the girl whispering beside me while I waited outside of my therapist's office. It was a year ago, when I started with Julie. I'd been staring at her, not realizing she was muttering something onto her shaking hands. A whisper, so quiet that I would've missed it if I hadn't been looking at her like an animal at a zoo. She was repeating it again and again, “Don't kill the butterfly.” like some sort of mantra. 

At first, it seemed strange. Because she had a butterfly drawn in black ink on the back of her hand—it wasn't a tattoo—it was smudged, clearly drawn on with a pen. It wasn't until I asked her and realized what the butterfly was. 

It's called The Butterfly Effect, and it's to help people who self harm—people like me. The idea is that every time a person wants to cut, they would draw a butterfly on their wrist and name it after a loved one. You have to let the butterfly fade, and if you cut, the butterfly dies. 

I felt terrible. I've been killing the butterfly, over and over again. 

The next session I had, I asked Julie about the girl—her name was Jane—and when I realized what had happened to her…..Let's just say, I haven't seen anyone so brave. 

I feel like a mistake. A waste of space. If I was brave enough, I'd already done it, but I hadn't. Who knows? Maybe someday, I can and I'll be free from all the bullshit of my life. Or, I'm just taking my time. 

Why am I even still writing to you? I feel like an idiot, wasting my money to get stamps, to send these fucking letters you won't ever read. But what if you are? Maybe you're reading my letters, reading how my life is hell. 

Anyways, I stapled a photo of myself at the end of this letter. I know, I know, I'm an ugly piece of shit. Not like the girls in Hollywood—not like fucking Kylie Jenner. How do I even compete with her? Next to her, I look like a potato with eyes. 

Maybe, just maybe…..

But I don't want to get my hopes up. 

I don't know what to believe in, honestly.

All my love, 

Y/N. 

Timothée stared at the photo, a beautiful girl was staring back at him—she had mesmerizing (y/e/c) eyes and long beautiful (y/h/c) hair. She was smiling. As if she wasn't the girl who wrote the letters he had read. He quickly snapped the photo and sent it to the private investigator. 

Timothée didn't know why she called herself ugly. Does she even look at herself in the mirror? She was beautiful, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

“Stay with me, Y/N. I'm going to find you, even if it's the last thing I do.”

@lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad

[swans-chirping-in-the-distance]

YOU have a very interesting take on sokeefe. you don't just love every part of it- please elaborate, your tags on anti sokeefe posts are FASCINATING

THIS TOOK FOREVED IM SORRY ILYSM FOR THIS AHDJDLFKWNKDJF

I think one majorly important thing about sokeefe is that precious bond they have with each other. In fact, that's what makes me love the ship so much. It's truly stunning to see such a natural love built on years of trust and support. They clearly display so many different ways of loving, whether it be emotional, physical, mental, or verbal. The way that Shannon captured them is something I'm not sure I've seen anyone else do the same way.

Sophie ignores her feelings for Keefe for the majority of the series and writes it off due to insecurity. And Keefe knew that. Yet, instead of just telling her how she felt, he decided to let her decide how to act. To not rush her or pressure her. To let her make her own decision. He held himself back and let her be with his best friend without telling her, which many adults couldn't bring themselves to do. But he did it for HER. Because he loved her, whether he said it or not. How terrifying must it have been for Keefe to be so vulnerable as to fall for someone when that had made him hurt so much in the past? How terrifying must it have been for SOPHIE, who'd not let herself realize she fell until she was far too gone to come back from this unscathed?

The two are often very physical with each other, from the constant support of holding one another's hand to the gripping hugs late at night when their sobs are louder than their family's disappointment. Not only do they show how they feel about each other with touch, but also with general body language. The comfort of Keefe turning her head gently to look at him. The way they relax around each other, their facial expressions and their hands involuntarily grabbing the other's without a moment's notice. The display of casualty hidden within the deep depths of their relationship. They even manage to think about each other with the same sort of intensity, the determination to keep the other alive and the sheer desperation not to lose the other. They're reliant on each other's safety, not because their lives would be in danger without them, but because a huge part of their happiness would.

The two often joke around with each other, but they know when to stop. They know when it's time to get serious, to remind the other of how high they think of them and how much they care for them. How they'll always be at each other's side. Their words say "I love you" for them. And while they're in terribly traumatic situations and had such different backgrounds, they're the only ones who understand each other. They're absolute foils who were born to be enemies and fell for each other anyway. Their relationship is a beautiful one, but it's also one that's extremely fragile.

Sokeefe's relationship could go wrong in many ways. There are multiple paths towards a toxic relationship that would be really easy for their canon characters to fall into. For example, while for now they help each other stay brave and empathetic, their vulnerability towards each other makes them more prone to toxicity. They're both known for being reckless. How easy would it be to accidentally get the other to do something terrible? Would killing a random Neverseen member be self-defense? Would that really help anyone in the long run? They're traumatized kids forced to lead, like a malfunctioning toy released before it was fixed. They have no idea what they're doing if you really think about it. Who are they to advise the other?

Another issue I've noticed is one that's super minimal now but could become a huge issue. Sophie, being a relatable teen girl, likes apologies for things that hurt her, even if she knows it's technically not the other person's fault. She's not going around asking for apologies that aren't warranted, but she's accepting them. And that usually doesn't matter much, but it does with someone like KEEFE. Keefe, who blames himself for things that aren't his fault because it's all he knows. He feels so guilty for his and his family's existence that he takes it out on himself. And that could turn into a problem. Because a boy who apologizes for everything he didn't do doesn't fit well with a girl who accepts them. Sophie would never want Keefe to blame himself for things more, but she could inadvertently cause it with ease.

On top of all of that, they often struggle with looking at each other realistically and being truly reliable about the other. Keefe doesn't think Sophie's perfect; don't get me wrong. Part of the appeal of Keefe is that he sees her flaws and still loves her through them. But he also doesn't do much to help her fix said flaws. Perhaps it's out of his own insecurity in thinking he has no place to judge others because he believes he's worse, but my point stands nonetheless. And Sophie often forgives too easily, which lowers her own standards while also making sure Keefe can't grow from his mistakes because no one's acknowledging them. They seem to move too fast at times, and slowing down could really help. Get therapy and learn to bite the bad habits in the ass, in a way.

Another interesting aspect of their relationship are the parallels of their own to others. A loyal girl desperate to believe the man she loves is good, even when he keeps doing wrong? A girl who doesn't realize there's a difference between good and right until it's far too late? I think we all saw the ruedacted/ Lodestar sokeefe parallels. And if you took any koralie interaction and changed the names out? Sokeefe moment. It's just so easy for them to end tragically, but they're so desperate for it to work out. They're walking on the most delicate of ice for a chance that they can meet in the middle. They're running across a tightrope, hoping they don't fall to the ground. They're pulling at the web in hopes that they don't get stuck in its fabric, but they ALWAYS do. Sokeefe is a beautiful relationship built on trust and love, but trust and love don't always mean something is good for you. Their entire existence is truly a bittersweet delicacy only to be enjoyed by the most careful of takers.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 31: Fitz's Showtime

Masterlist

June 1905

TW: mind control, captivity, hypnotic induction

Fitz wasn't one for making plans, normally trusting in his ability to wing his way through any situation life threw at him. That approach had worked well enough until it had ended up with him imprisoned in a vampires' auction house.

Over the past few days, he'd already suffered what was practically a fate worse than death: being left with nothing to do but stew in his own mind. His treacherous brain had helpfully supplied an exhaustive list of every mistake he'd made along the way to end up here, and all of the ways he could have avoided this fate now that it was too late.

But with his cell neighbors unresponsive -- and he didn't want to think too hard about how that might have come about -- there wasn't anything at all to occupy him apart from meals and sleep. The meals were surprisingly generous and varied, and Fitz supposed that if they really were vampires, they must be fattening him up the way you would a prized pig. Sleep was less generous, as the pitch blackness, complete silence, stiff cot, and vampire guards all conspired to make him uneasy.

So he had plenty of time to think of how he would approach it when Lily came for his mind. Now, he'd ended up in a plush, too-comfortable chair, facing down the vampire who'd captured him.

He wasn't even tied down. He'd been nothing but ingratiating towards the vampires the whole time he'd been here. Lily had made it beyond obvious that he wasn't going to escape through strength or speed, and on his first night, he personally witnessed an angry, cursing, struggling man being dragged away and coming back a hollow shell.

No, that sort of struggle was pointless. He could instead bide his time. Be friendly and charming. Hope that someone would let their guard down or give him a special privilege. He'd have an easier time of it and more opportunities to free himself. At least, that was the theory.

Of course, all of that was for naught if he were actually put deep under whatever mesmeric spell they were using to keep the other captives still and silent.

He knew very well now that Lily was capable of it. He also knew that simply resisting would not do -- little chance they would give up and let him go instead of trying over and over again until he was broken. No, the only thing to do would be to play along, pretend to be under her spell, and hope he could keep the spell from touching him in truth. The longest of long shots, but he didn't have a better idea.

"So I hear you've been on your best behavior," said Lily with a smug smile. "Joking around with the blood grader and everything."

Fitz lounged in the chair as though his existence weren't on the line. "I wouldn't dream of being rude to a man who calls my blood special grade A fancy."

"And here I worried you might be trouble. But it seems you do know your place, better than you think," said Lily. "That's why I have a proposition for you."

"If it's another five dollar bet, I'm going to have to respectfully pass on that."

"Oh, no, nothing like that," she said, amused. "As I told you before, I'd like to sell you to a friend with deep pockets and a soft heart. I think he will appreciate you. The less you resist the conditioning, the more I can allow you to keep that wit of yours. That works out for both of us, doesn't it?"

"Oh, yes, just peachy," he said. She couldn't possibly think he was daft enough to trust her a second time, not when she held all the cards.

"I know you don't believe me, but it's actually a great deal for you. You'd live in a mansion and have an easy life, all in exchange for just a bit of blood." Her words were honeyed, and Fitz could practically feel them worming their way into his mind. "You won't have to be Fitzwilliam de Hastings, disgraceful and useless third son of the de Hastings shipping conglomerate. You won't have to be Phantom Fitz, scraping and clawing for fame with your little magic tricks. You can just be Fitz. Loved. Wanted. Cherished."

If only any of that were true. If only it weren't just a trick to soften his mind and get him to accept a vampiric master, one who would "love" and "cherish" him the same way he might "cherish" a fine bottle of wine.

"As intriguing as all of that is, and as flattered as I am by those lovely descriptions of me, I'm going to have to decline your offer," he said with a tight smile.

Her own smile turned predatory. "You haven't really given me a chance to persuade you."

"I think I've heard --"

"Have you, though? Or have you been half paying attention while focused all on yourself?" she said, leaning in closer. "Here I am, my entire focus centered on you, and you aren't repaying the favor. Why don't you focus, Fitz? Why don't you relax?"

There was no doubt she was exerting her power this time. Fitz could feel the magnetic pull of it. This was it, this was showtime -- the moment he had to somehow convince her that he was being enthralled, without actually falling. He couldn't make it seem too sudden or she wouldn't buy it. What should he do? Should he be visibly affected by what she just did? But he'd hesitated and --

"You think too much," she said. "I'm going to need to stop that first. Slow and soothe your mind, make it so hard to think that you just give in and listen. Look where all your thinking and scheming has gotten you. Won't it feel so much nicer not to do that?"

He nodded, with a bit of hesitation, widening his eyes, playacting that her mesmerism was taking him down once more. Lily was good at luring a mark, but so was he. 

"Yes, isn't that easy?" she said, amused. "Just let my words soothe you so you can listen. It'll feel so good when those racing thoughts slow down. We both know it's inevitable, so why keep searching for an escape that won't come? Why not take the easy and pleasant path?"

"Because, as I told you before, I don't care to be a vampire's convenient lunch box," he said, making sure to slow his voice and lace it with doubt. The more she thought he was falling, the more careless she would be.

"It's so cute to watch your thoughts turn in your head. I can practically see them, dear. I can see that machinery working those threads of thought, weaving them together into plans and fears and witty little comments. I can see all the weaknesses in those gears, all the places where they can easily be slowed. Can you see it?"

"Hm?" he said, caught off guard, not sure how he should respond to that one. Did she suspect what he was up to? Of course she might, she might've mesmerized hundreds of people for all he knew, and he surely wasn't the first to think of pretending.

But that didn't mean she was always successful. Of course she claimed that she was. That was an important part of the confidence game; he would've done the same in her shoes. But for all he knew, her actual success rate was poor. Surely he wouldn't be the first to fool her. After all...

After all, he was...

Fitz blinked, trying to remember the end to that thought.

"...you don't even need to listen as your mind slowly drains of its cares and worries... so relaxed... so comfortable..."

He shook himself in mild alarm. She'd been talking this whole time and he'd zoned out thinking and hadn't kept up his act. He arranged his face into what he hoped was a convincingly dazed expression.

"How are you feeling, Fitz?" she asked.

"...Good," he said, an answer that seemed safe, as he wasn't quite sure how she expected him to feel. 

"Good," she repeated. "Isn't this nice? Having someone's full attention on you without having to fight to earn it? Isn't it nice to be so wanted?"

His brow furrowed. "Well..."

"That's how it's going to be from now on. No more fight for attention, no more fight for approval, no more fight for survival. You'll have your needs taken care of and overflowing praise to boot. Just like you crave, deep down."

Oh, she was good. Good enough to make his chest ache with the thought of what she was offering. If only...

"You're going to be the best thrall, Fitz. I've never seen anyone as delectable, handsome, and charming, with such an intoxicating scent. You'll have your vampire eating out of the palm of your hand -- literally, perhaps."

Fitz blinked slowly, wondering how he should react to keep up the game, trying to ignore the warm sensations he got from the praise, no matter how manipulative and insincere "Do you think that cheap flattery will work on --"

"Look at me," she said, hooking a finger under his chin and gazing straight into his eyes. "You can see it, can't you? A future of being cherished and loved?"

"I --"

"Imagine a vampire who wants you, one who wants so badly to drink deep of your blood that he practically worships the ground you walk on. He'll want you always by his side, his beloved prize, protected and treasured."

It wasn't hard to imagine. It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about things like this on lonely, difficult nights. Something beyond sex and courtship. Intimacy. Comfort.

The kind of things that he hardly dared to think about for long, lest he feel their absence too keenly. The kind of things that were meant for those who had grown up wanted, who knew how to trust and let themselves fall in love. These delights weren't meant for the kind of person who wore a mask wherever he went and conned everyone he met.

"Just relax." She ran her fingers through his hair. "No more pain, no more struggle. No more struggle, now. No more struggle."

If any of this were true, it really wouldn't be so bad.

"No more struggle, no more fighting, no more resisting."

"I'm..." he mumbled. "I'm not..." He had to pretend that he was falling. He let his eyes blink so slowly.

"Oh, my dear, my Fitz, I know you aren't. You're doing such a good job right now."

His eyelids fluttered. "I am?"

"Yes, yes you are. You're doing such a good job. I told you, you're a natural. You're perfect."

He couldn't help but smile. That was good. She believed it was working.

"That's a good boy now. All you really want is approval, isn't it? For someone to see you and decide they're exactly what they need."

"Yeah..."

"You're going to have that, and all the praise and approval you could ever want," she said. "I promise."

He couldn't trust her, he remembered. This was all fake, just like every other time he'd been promised something. But he had to pretend that he believed. He was good at pretending. 

"That's right, you're good at pretending. You're doing such a good job pretending to go under for me, Fitz."

Fitz felt the relief wash over him. Thank goodness for that. He'd been so nervous about this the past few nights, trying to convince himself that he'd be just fine outsmarting a vampire and saving himself. 

Wait --

"It's okay!" Lily laughed. "It's okay, really. I know what you're up to. I expected that from you, of course. And I know what you fear. You fear being made mindless and docile like most of your cell-mates."

Fitz crushed down his panic. His plan wasn't working, his mind already felt hazy and sluggish from Lily's mesmerism, and now his worst nightmare might be about to come true. He'd spent so long escaping from a family where every little word and move was regimented, scrutinized, criticized, judged and punished. At least in those days he could escape into his head. Now, he'd be brought back to that place, with no recourse.

"...Yes, obviously, I fear that," he said, hating how vulnerable he sounded but not knowing what else to say. "Who wouldn't?"

"Who wouldn't?" she echoed. "But it doesn't matter, ultimately, because I've already given you a powerful hypnotic trigger the first time I had you in my thrall, and told you to forget it."

Adrenaline surged through him. "No, there's no way you --"

"Showtime, Fitz."

He only had one more brief moment to panic before his mind shut down entirely.

---

"...two, one, and wake. Come back to the land of the living now, Fitz."

He opened his eyes, feeling like he'd just awoken from a really refreshing nap. It took him a second to realize where he was and what had just happened to him, and all relaxation was immediately wiped out by his fear. Miss Lily had given him a hypnotic trigger, she must have erased his mind, he'd be nothing more than --

Except... he clearly wasn't.

"Confused?"

"You..." He wasn't really sure how to approach this. "You didn't wipe my mind, sir."

"Did you want me to?" she asked with a grin.

"No! Absolutely not, sir," he said. "But you had me -- you knocked me out --" He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to make sense the overwhelming swirl of thoughts in his mind. Grateful that he still had an overwhelming swirl of thoughts in his mind. "What did you do, sir?"

"I made you obedient to vampires. I removed your ability to escape. And I made you crave our feedings. Nothing more, nothing less."

Fitz stared. It couldn't be that simple. Not that he was thrilled about the changes, but he had expected much more and much worse. 

But he didn't feel different. He was still capable of thought. He was still nervous. He could still remember who he was.

"If that's all you were going to do, sir... why did you bother with all of your setup? Why not just mesmerize me the moment I walked in?"

"Because mesmerism is a performance, dear Fitz. I thought that you of all humans would understand that," she said. 

Fitz could feel his eyebrow twitch.

"There's magic involved, of course, or it wouldn't take so strongly, but magic alone doesn't make me so effective at molding perfect thralls. Cold reading, misdirection, distraction -- all of these are critical to what I do. I needed your original plan to fail before I truly conditioned you, and I needed to plant the seeds that a vampire might cherish and accept you. The results speak for themselves, don't you think?"

"I'm not even sure I can tell what the results are, sir."

"Precisely."

Fitz scowled. Was he really that obedient now? Did she actually make him "crave their feedings"? So he would just accept some bloodsucker gently tilting his head to expose his vulnerable neck... a wicked grin as sharp fangs grew closer... his mind growing hazy with pleasure...

"Oh, goddamn it, sir."

Miss Lily laughed. "Now do you see?"

It was a relief, in a way, that he could feel the results of the thrall now. That meant he could get a bead on what she'd done to him. "Yes, I'm afraid I do, sir -- hold on, you also made me call you 'sir', didn't you?"

"Any vampire. Yes. But you're allowed to say it as sarcastically as you want."

"Thank you for that most gracious allowance, sir."

"Oh, you're very welcome."

Part 30.5 >> Masterlist >> Part 32

Extras: Emily's Crayons Fitz in the Snow

Fitz's Volunteer Part One

Thank you for reading about Fitz.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity

[lavendermin]

what is up, it's your boy, 🔥 anon (please let me be 🔥 anon), come to climb through your window with a stack of notes instead of limiting myself to method acting a little bitch at the foot of your front door

so crazy self-indulgent idea I just had BUT hear me out. hear me out on dreameater!reader AU

say they're originally some sort of metaphysical species like the heliobi, but somehow sustained an injury and decided to seek treatment at the luofu as a last resort. it ends with an experimental solution with someone who'd gotten info about the experiments of the sanctus medicus (like how in the quest, dan shu wanted to get immortal bodies from phantylia so bad but they'd exhausted all other means of artificially producing them—and then some clown disposed of the records badly like an IDIOT)

and it kind of works ∘ ∘ ∘ ( °ヮ° ) !! reader's form is tied to and sustained by the new body like an extremely codependent version of heliobi-possesed ingenium, but it requires the consumption of 'dreams' to support itself. mara is an overload of memories that morphs the mortal form when it hits a max output, so what if some other form of memories, aka dreams and the emotions that they come with can be changed into a source capable of sustaining a mortal form? dreameating is definitely not a form of vampirism haha what? this was totallt not inspired by your previous posts about vampire jing yuan no siree i have no idea what you're talking abou

but anyway. they meet after a battle of some sort where jing yuan gets bonked so fucking hard he gets coma-ed. maybe a side of possible mara onset because if I was a disciple of sanctus medicus you can bet everything in your blog that mara would be the first thing I'd turn to to fuck people over

maybe this is my fate as a self insert. half aha half yaoshi follower of a SM member that is an unwitting plot device and a but who the fuck cares that's not the point rn

sure would be crazy if there was someone around with the ability to seep into people's dreams huh

sure would be crazy if they decided to just ,,, slip into the general's mind to try and see what's going on there, after overhearing the healers working on him whispering among themselves that they don't know what's wrong with him, don't know how to fix it at all

,,, they'll just figure out a way to anonymously tip the healers off, if they figure anything out from their little venture into his head ! pardon the intrusion, dear patient °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞° ,,,

- bonus points if the fact jing yuan is an arbiter-general just floats in a detached bubble, somewhere in reader's mind, because their job is to be a healer !! to live up to the person who'd saved them in their time of need's ideals !!!! who has time to worry about getting caught as being a weird ahh amalgation if they can save someone's life amiright !

I didn’t think about the dream sequence in detail, but what I do know is that jing yuan's subconscious (possibly the actual consciousness too?) would briefly interact with dreamwalking!reader. the natural instinct to having something poke about in your mind in a vulnerable state is to crush it like a cockroach, no shit, but what do you do when it really doesn’t seem to have any malicious intent, and somehow seems to be ,,, helping?

(but their brand of dreamwalking isn't meant for harmless brushes—its meant to devour, to rip sustenance from a mind no matter how guarded it is, to patch the endless yawning abyss that hungers for dreams to keep reader's body from failing on them. reader hasn't been gorging themselves or taking as little as possible because they understand that some things are unavoidable, that they can't keep themself or their patients alive if they're teetering on the edge of frailty all the time. some things have to be done, and they refuse to feel any guilt over it.)

but yeah !! me when I fuck up and accidentally fall into someone's dream, and have to play along with the disjointed imaginary going ons to drag said someone out of it without destabilising everything enough to immediately flashbang them with mara.

me when they wake up but still remember bits and pieces of what had happened in their dream because they're a fucking ARBITER-GENERAL with all the mental fortitude and skill required of one, especially bc they've lasted numerous centuries in that position

me when I suspiciously fall ill right after the patient in a coma wakes up ("guys it's just a cold trust *doubles over like they just got kicked in the crotch when their fellow healer unexpectedly opens a window and now there are spikes of pure light stabbing into their brain oh god oh fuck*")

that's all I have so far, unfortunately ,,, ╮(￣▽￣"")╭ thanks for reading all the way to this point if you did, though !! I'm considering making a new account to moot you, one for hsr content because I like my fandoms separated :D

more notes:

- reader probably has a history of being good with mind related ailments despite always having denied credit, half the healers they're friends with consider them a lucky charm for these matters, the other half think that reader is definitely doing SOMETHING but hey, people get fixed all the same so who gaf. them being a pretty decent coworker who's a hardcore grinder on the job and dedicated to the point that overwork ceases to exist half the time (dreameating has its perks) probably leads them to not mentioning it to anyone else, in case it causes reader trouble.

but who's to say that a certain general won't happen to catch wind about his mystery saviour?

- reader has been on the luofu for quite a while too, their legal documents file them as being a xianzhou native—which would be backed up by the biological makeup of their false body on a surface level ( •̀ᴗ•́ )و ̑̑

​

Let 🔥 anon cook!!!! This was such a treat to read during brunch bc there’s so much you can explore with the dreameater concept plus a highly perceptive and seasoned arbiter-general.

What would the feeling of having your dreams eaten feel like afterward for the victim? Sort of like with a vampire bite that could leave a physical wound, dull or searing ache, effects of blood loss etc etc.

Could a dream being eaten, since it’s not a simple and easy procedure, cause some sort of ache or short term problem for the person? Maybe it’s leaves a short period of a few days where the person feels like they’ve forgotten something that they’re sure they should have remembered. Like phantom limb but for a dream perhaps. Like a dull headache that isn’t severe but annoyingly present for a few days as the mind tries to cope with the loss of something that was supposed to be processed. Maybe these kind of issues can only be seen in Jing Yuan due to his mental fortitude and strength or bc he was still under whereas your usual patients undergo a different process to prevent these. Dire times and desperate measures to ensure the general is saved.

And the dream walking would be interesting too! How would the reader handle it? Is there a game plan? If most dreams will have strangers we may have seen in our peripheral during the day, will you try to play it smart and blend in as a filler person in the dream? Trying to blend in?

Perhaps your targeted dream eating of sequences in his mind that may be contributing to mara even has repercussions for you afterwards. Maybe like how you mentioned you get ill afterwards like when eating something of poor quality (due to mara effects). A necessary sacrifice that you aren’t quite sure why you felt inclined to do. Perhaps it brings your body vessel at risk since it is one of xianzhou natives’ qualities. Would it be susceptible to being mara-struck?

I can yap on and on

Anon if you ever write this pls pls pls tag me or send it to me bc I would looove to read your explorations on this. It’s delicious for a plot!!!!! Mwah mwah 💗

[rosorbus]

my thoughts on evangelion 3.0+1.0

(as someone who only recently finished it)

as much as i loved shin eva, something about it didn't sit right with me. i've been doing a lot of reflection lately, and i think i've sort of unpacked it?

theres a lot of incoherent rambling here i think but i don't care, i'm not editing shit

spoilers for the rebuilds, don't read if you haven't seen them.

to start, i think it was a- no, not excellent, uh ... it was a satisfactory conclusion to most? i liked it, cried my eyes out obviously.

shinji's character got a great conclusion. i don't think that's a hot take by any means. seeing him actually talking to his father, having a real conversation with gendou, and in turn making that character, who'd probably felt like a walking plot device beforehand, human? that's powerful shit.

↓ please excuse my pathetic whining below

but... oh, mari. she was definitely a fun character, if not a little shallow and fanservicey. her presence never really bothered me though, not until shinji ended up with ...her??

that final scene genuinely shocked me. i guess i sort of get the idea?? like, his only other romantic options were the following:

A: Rei Ayanami

a clone of his dead mother that barely understands the concept of being human, and whose care for him clearly, at least to me, stems from her practically being his family.

B: Asuka Langley Shikinami

an angry redheaded girl who, unlike her version in the original series, is also a clone. this one's backstory is much more shrouded in mystery, but regardless, she's violent asf with shinji, tried to force feed him, etc. as far as we know, she no longer has feelings for him after the 14-year timeskip and is implied to be in a relationship with kensuke.

C: Kaworu Nagisa

(we'll get to him in a minute)

A and B... not great options. A is a weird dynamic, and they give off a sibling vibe to me anyway. B is jusy plain fucked. i've never thought asuka and shinji's relationship was remotely healthy, not with soryuu OR shikinami.

but did the writing team just forget about C? i understand it was established towards the end that kaworu didn't truly understand shinji's happiness, but ...that doesn't fit with the relationship i saw, at least.

to me, yeah, he fucked up a couple times. his existence ended up causing more pain to shinji but this was through no fault of his own.

"all he wanted was for shinji to live and be happy."

kaworu realizing that maybe it was not just a selfless act, that maybe it was also for himself, and acknowledging that, is absolutely character development. in exchange for becoming human, he acknowledged his own flaws.

and that is beautiful to me.

so why am i weirded out by shinji ending up with mari, you ask?

it's because she does not have depth as a character.

she feels so utterly flat to me, and that is not a dig at her, i'm not a mari hater by any means, but OH MY GOD. how do you just end like that? with this one person who doesn't feel like a real person?

and it's not like i'm mad about it because she's new, hell no. it's because she has no flaws. she feels like this perfect shell of a character to me. and maybe that's the point? i have no idea. i have no idea what was going through anno's head when he was cooking up this film.

again, to clarify, i still LOVED the movie. but mari becoming important is weird. kaworu was right there and they just kinda ??? tossed him aside ???

to me at least, it should've been him, or shinji's love life should've been left up to interpretation. mari didn't earn that ending.

(this is the only real criticism i have about the movie btw it was fine)

[yuseirra]

I've been thinking over this god thing over and there's another idea I have related to it!

Earlier I've said that ame-no-uzume(god of the arts) and her husband sarutahiko(the great bright god) may be related to Ai and Hikaru.

Their story might also have been inspired from Izanagi and Izanami and they're very famous, so I believe I wouldn't have to explain a whole lot, (and I bet there are people who know it in more depth) but.. Izanagi and Izanami (the creator gods of Japanese Mythology) have Amaterasu(the sun god), Tsukuyomi(the moon god) and Susanoo(the god of the sea and storms) as their children. Ruby has something to do with Amaterasu and we have a girl who goes by Tsukuyomi as a character, Aqua, with the full name being "Aquamarine" has a name that has to do with the sea.

The reason I've brought this up is because of the lore between Izanagi and Izanami. Izanami dies, and Izanagi tries to bring her back to life but fails. It rings a bell, right?

Yes, this story of theirs also aligns with the things that have been mentioned in Mephisto and Fatal. Those songs revolve around a person who desperately wants to meet their love again (who's likely passed away) but cannot.

I've been wondering just why the ED's title was named Mephisto. Mephisto is the name of the devil, right? When you have a wish and the devil in the same picture, it means there's some kind of pact.

If the person singing in the song's been kamiki (which I've been pretty much stressing over and over through multiple posts now) it'd mean he's had gone through something like that too, to revive the one he loves.

This could be why there is a "stage" that's mentioned in BOTH of the songs, he's in a deal that he can't back out from.

この舞台で足掻くことをやめない

I will not stop to struggle on this stage(Fatal)

だけどステージが逃がさない いついつまでも憧れ　焦がれているよ

But the stage won’t let go I'll keep yearning and longing forever(Mephisto)

At this point, I'm so sure kamiki HAS done something to bring Ai back. He's made some sort of sacrifice for Ai it seems, he's probably made wishes regarding it, that come with a price but he didn't really care about his life in the first place after she's gone so he was willing to risk it. The efforts were probably in vain, though. But it could be really close to being granted if something's "filled in"

あなたがいないと生きていけない 何もかも捧げてしまってもいい あなたの愛がまだ足らない 欠けたものは何で埋めたらいい？

Without you, I cannot live anymore I would sacrifice anything for you I can’t get enough of your love What should I use to fill in what’s missing?(Fatal)

compared to Mephisto, Fatal seems more.. eager? energetic? but in an insane way. The speaker is actively doing something to fulfill their end goal. That's why I feel kamiki's missions are probably close to finish- he's all right with dying after having completed it

but in ch 154 he's heard that Ai wants to "help him" along with her children. and that she loved him dearly. This is going to leave him so devastated and conflicted lol because he's probably way past hope at this point. He can't be saved. He can't fulfill what Ai wants, that's going to make him very miserable. That's my guess. It's like everything he's doing had him stray even further off from what Ai wants.

Or it could be that he can't give up on Ai EVEN MORE now since he KNOWS that she loves him back too. Who'd give up on someone like that? She was like the only person who understood him and loved him. I can totally see why he couldn't let her go after all these years (may it be twisted. there is still some ambiguity in his words and we can be backstabbed) she was the one for him and he was to her, too, at least that's how he's felt when they were together. So he'd do ANYTHING for her. That lines up very well with those lyrics too.

So yeah. If my speculations are right Kamiki's so doomed... and doomed because of all the things he did that he thought was for Ai. Aligns with the respective mythologies too~.. I'd be surprised if these have NOTHING to do with the plot that's going to be revealed in the future because it just WORKS. It starts making so much sense to me.