#it's like an endless cycle where I start it all over again after I finish it

[l3st1b0urn3s-707]

Rewatching Ouran High School Host Club is my coping machanism

[mechaknight-98]

The Owl and the Bunny Part II FT Chaehyun

Authors note: A special request from @leafostuff. I was tasked with Finishing a piece of his that he couldn’t I hope I did okay as I took some creative liberties

Part I

Trigger Warning: Blood, Self Harm, Attempted autounalivement

Relapsing was undoubtedly the worst, but the situation became even more tangled when an unexpected connection entered the picture again. Sitting solitary in your apartment, another birthday slipped by, and there you were, gazing down upon the bustling Seoul night sky, feeling life's swift passage. You triumphed after the toils of college and relentless job searches—you secured the high rise, garnered accolades, and clinched a new promotion, all on your birthday. Yet, despite these achievements, why does an unsettling hollowness persist? When did this sentiment first take root?

You know when. it was when your favorite Bunny left you...

But before that can be stated there is some background that must be established. Before everything fell apart it was great. it was a humid summer evening you were celebrating your 3rd year of friendship. You were doing well in Top Grades, top in your chosen sport football (US Soccer), and top best friend to one happy bunny. As you sat there and watched her indulge in a mural favorite food. Your heart swelled. You decided to take a chance. You noticed her fidgeting in between bites and said “Hey Bunny I have something I gotta tell you.” Your bunny smiles and turns to you.

“Oh, Ow-lie I have something too.” She says excitedly. Enraptured by her you gesture for her to tell you her news first.

“I’m going to be on a survival show.” She bellows with a proud look. Your eyes go wide, and your heart sinks. You hide your sadness and dissatisfaction with a loving smile and a supportive hug.

“That’s great news bunny. I know you’ve been working so hard to become an idol,” you say calmly.

She hugs you again and you know this is probably one of the last times you’ll see her again. So you lie, and it breaks your heart so that she can pursue her dream.

“Oh that’s great I am so happy for you. I just wanted to tell you that I got accepted into Yale.” Bunny’s eyes go wide with pride but a pit in her heart forms as she knows that this.

That was it. The worst day of your life everything since then has been a slow burn to another downward spiral.

You're being a bit dramatic, don't you think? You know it too. She pursued her dream of shining brighter for everyone around her. She embraced her role in the forest, just like you did. You worried, but at least now you're paid for it—and exceptionally well, I might add. You ventured into business and mathematics, culminating in a successful Risk Aversion Consulting firm. Every big-name company sought your expertise during crises, ensuring almost certain recovery. Yet, why does it all feel so hollow?"You watch over and instead of celebrating after a long day's hard work, you find yourself with a knife around your wrists.

Three weeks ago, you believe you fell back into that dark spiral. Time blurred into a monotonous, endless loop from which you couldn't break free. It's hard to pinpoint exactly, but what triggered this relapse was a seemingly innocuous encounter: witnessing a happy couple during your daily walk to work. Perhaps you've passed them a thousand times before, but what struck you that day was witnessing the man's heartfelt proposal. Instead of joy, it only amplifies the ache in your heart. And so, the vicious cycle begins anew. Alone in your apartment once more, you start over. You reach out to your bunny for the first time in three years, hoping against hope that she could offer some solace, but alas, hope has often been a disappointment for you.

The text travels halfway across the city at the speed of information. A hand reaching out, A Cry for help, a prayer all contained with an invitation from one of Seoul's most sought-after and secretive bachelors. where a different kind of Emptiness gnaws at a soul. Despite being part of one of the most well-liked and appreciated girl groups of the 4th gen and arguably one of the most talented members The Bunny with the charisma of a tiger sat alone in the dorm. despite gaining 6 new sisters Chaehyun had never felt more alone. she longed for simpler times with her Owl, but he's probably long forgotten about her since she went radio silence 2 years ago when Kep1er started. it was especially true since this was her birthday. The Uncertainty of extension weighs heavily on her heart. The comments on her body, the unending Panoptic Gaze held upon her were unrelenting and she often sat in her room for hours holding back tears. She tried to hide it with a facade of Joy and bubbly energy but the mirror was cracking each day as more and more the ever-growing beast took more of her soul. The text reached her at her lowest, 3 past midnight she was crying silently to not wake her members. She read the text and could almost feel the isolation and hurt coming from the small LCD Screen

My Favorite you know how: Hey Bunny,

I hope this message finds you in good spirits. Another birthday has come and gone, and I'm grateful to have made it through. I trust you're indulging in plenty of sweets and enjoying all the pizza your heart desires. I caught wind of your latest comeback, and as expected, it was fantastic. Don't let those negative comments get under your skin too much; you're incredibly brave, far braver than I could ever be. Though, I suppose you've always had a knack for taking risks—a trait I've always admired, albeit from a safe distance.

I find myself extending the same old invitation to hang out once more, but who am I kidding? You've probably changed your number by now, and I'm likely just bothering whoever happens to receive this message.

Apologies for the intrusion,

-Y/N

You are surprised when you get a reply saying "I'll be there in 15." Your eyes widen. is your bunny coming back to you you wonder? is this your chance to finally tell how you feel? A million ideas and thoughts race through your head. it's so overwhelming that you forget about your current situation. You begin to tidy your large apartment picking up the clothes strewn around the room and forget about the increasing blood trail following you as you lose yourself in your tasks. you get so caught up that the blood loss eventually catches up with you and you pass out in the middle of your living room as more blood drips away.

Chaehyun in classic fashion opens the door without knocking when she sees you on the floor and screams.

When you come to you're in a bed that you don't recognize. you look around and see star-white walls with an insistent beeping. You sit up and hear.

"Oh you're finally awake." you turn to the voice and see a doctor. he is an older gentleman who stares at you with a somber look.

"You're lucky your girlfriend found you when she did. Otherwise, I don't think you would have made it." The Doctor Chides. You lean further into your bed after looking down and seeing your bunny who has come to rescue you. tears well up in your eyes, as you try not to cry. A memory flashes in your mind of you not leaving her, and in your selfishness you almost did.

Chaehyun stayed with you well into the morning after your "accident," feeling a deep sense of responsibility for leaving her Ow-lie behind. In her dreams, she wandered through a dark forest, desperately searching for her Owl, only to find scattered feathers. Suddenly, something stirred, and Chaehyun felt a wet sensation land on her. Looking up, she saw you crying atop her, murmuring apologies. Surprised, she gently cradled your face and kissed you, sharing a deep connection that transcended words.

Breaking the kiss, your eyes locked, and you confessed, "I love you, and I will never leave you again, no matter the cost."

Chaehyun smiled at her Ow-lie, responding with an adorable pout, "I'm going to hold you to that."

Years later, following the disbandment of Kep1er and your early "retirement," you and your bunny found yourselves on a beach, savoring the sunset and sipping from coconut straws, living your best lives.

"Hey Bunny, where do you think our next adventure should be?" you asked.

Chaehyun smiled, taking another slice of Hawaiian pizza before responding, "Um, how about... France?"

"I love it," you exclaimed.

"But Ow-lie, you love everything I suggest," Chaehyun teased, pouting playfully.

"Okay, and I love you and your ideas, so why wouldn't I love your suggestions? Besides, as long as I'm with you, any place is paradise," you replied tenderly.

Chaehyun smiled. "Okay, Ow-lie, then France it is. But after that, you get to pick."

[ellieslittlewh0re]

hi shelby! i love everything you write, you’re incredible. could you maybe write something where abby x reader are in a super toxic relationship but reader keeps coming back because the sex is too good? (even though reader swears it’s the last time)

heartbeat - abby anderson x fem! reader

(yes this is named after the childish gambino song lol)

a/n - ahhhh!! my first request! I hope it’s okay :(((

wk - 1.7k

additional tags - toxic relationship, heated argument, strap on usage (reader receiving) , abby calls reader mommy (pls bare w me), doggy style bc I’m a whore, happy ending, dom abby, sub reader, SMUT!!

“So what, you’re seriously going to leave again?” Abby yells, her hands waving in the air before coming down to slam against her thighs.

You roll your eyes, trying to block out the sound of her anger induced voice that you’ve come to know so well.

Three fucking years of this shit, constant fighting and endless cycles. Everything you two did, was passionate, from fucking to screaming matches and everything in between. It definitely wasn’t all Abby’s doing, you had your contribution to this toxic relationship, but the only difference is, you were always the one to leave when shit got bad. You’d tell yourself, this is the last time, that you finally had enough of her overbearing protective behavior, but you always found yourself coming back, practically begging at her feet.

You turn away from your bag that you messily packing, clothes hanging out the sides.

“Fuck you.” You spit, not at all hiding your contempt for your girlfriend in that moment.

She scoffs, roiling her eyes- and wait… was she smiling?

Your anger grew from her lack to ever take you seriously when you threatened that you’d leave, but she knew you better than that, after all.. she knows you best.

“You’re not leaving y/n.” She mocked, a grin still pressed on her face.

You shake your head to yourself, turning back around to finish stuffing clothes into the suitcase when hands on the back of your hips stopped you.

“Don’t be like this, baby… jus’ come to bed and I’ll help you forget that this ever happened.” She breathed into your neck, placing soft kisses to the spot just below your ear that never failed to make you go weak.

“M’ not doing this abs, not again.” You try to focus on the clothes, your hands started to move slower against the textiles.

Her arms slither between yours, moving to hold your back firmly against her tight chest.

“Just give in, you know you want to.” You can practically feel her smirk against your neck, her teeth grazing the delicate skin.

She tightened her grip on you, pulling you closer to her. The strap she wore under her sweatpants bumped against your ass with this movement, almost making you moan.

You turn around, pushing against her chest to create some distance.

“I mean it abs..” you try to sound stern, but it comes off meek and unconvincing.

She doesn’t reply, instead her fingers traced along your sides, dipping down to the hem your tank top, slightly moving it to expose the skin on your hip.

You stopped breathing for a second and are instantly reminded why you always come back. Abby had a power over you, a spell of some sort.

“I know you do babe, lemme say I’m sorry.” Her hands found your face, cupping it harshly and pulling you in for a kiss. It was ravenous, but she kept her composure, you on the other hand? Not so much.

You moaned into her, your hand pulling her closer by her hip, feeling her strap brush against your lower stomach.

“That’s it, baby.. atta girl.” She praised between open mouth kisses, her hand coming down to your throat to squeeze it, not too hard, but just hard enough to where she knew you liked it.

Almost immediately, you forgot why you were so mad in the first place, something to do with her getting mad at you because you came home late? Whatever..

"Fuu- Abby..." you roll your head to the side, giving her full access to your neck, which she went to work on, sucking the skin and pulling at it gently with her teeth, making sure to leave maroon splotches to mark you as hers.

"You still want to leave, huh?" She retorted, placing breathy kisses between each word while her moved down your torso, slipping past the waistband of your shorts and panties.

Your knees also give out when her fingers came in contact with your pussy, gliding her middle finger between you folds, collecting the slick.

"I've barely touched you, and you're already this wet? Fuck.. baby." Her tone indicated a hit of humiliation, her finger entering, curving inside, but not all the way.

She repeated this torture, kissing your neck, holding you in place by your jaw, and her finger only slipping in to the first knuckle. She preferred to get you like, all dumb and jelly in her hands, all the while doing the bare minimum. She wanted to tease you, give you a fraction of what you really wanted, and you'd beg her for more.

"A-abs please.." You use the dinning table behind you as support, practically sitting on it to prevent yourself from falling.

Abby chucked at your pathetic state, feeling pleased by how easy you gave in to her.

"Just say the words mommy, and I'll give it to you how you like it."

You shudder, goosebumps erupting across your skin, and who are you to neglect your needs.

"F-fuckin'- jus' touch me.. please." You barely manage through heavy breaths, and Abby couldn't be more eager to fulfill your needs.

She muttered praises, calling you "good girl" and "m' gonna take care of you" as her big, strong hands turn you around in one swift motion, gripping your hips, pressing the silicone against your ass. She ground it in place, looking down at how eagerly your back arched, pushing your ass against it.

You whine from the lack of fullness in your tummy, and your cunt clenching around nothing.

She took her time riling you up, her hands wonder underneath the thin fabric of your tank top, cupping your tits with her calloused hands, rolling the hardened peak between her fingers.

You begged, your body contorting beneath her. She finally gave in to you, her fingers crudely yanked down your shorts, not even bothering to take them off completely.

She bent you over the table, the back of her hand squeezing the nape of your neck to keep you in place, your face squished against the oak table.

You cry out a yelp of surprise and anticipation, your cunt dripping with instinct.

"You gonna let me take care of you, huh? gonna let me use you, mommy?" She said, sounding eerily calm as her fingers messily spread your slick down your inner thighs and ass.

You couldn't even speak, too lust drunk to form a sentence, instead you just meekly nod your head against the wood.

Abby tugged her sweatpants down to her mid thighs, just enough to free her strap. She picked this one out specifically for you, knowing it was your favorite. It was black, 7.5 inches and girthy. It filled you up just right, not leaving any empty space when it was buried inside you.

She slipped her middle finger inside, her wrist bumping against your ass as she curled it, adding a second finger and scissoring them inside you.

You whine, a pool of spit collecting on the table from your parted lips.

"Just- fuck... jus' fuck me already." You begged, needing her inside you now or you felt like you combust.

"S' gonna hurt, baby... gotta make sure you're ready." as strong as she was, she never wanted to actually harm you.

You object, shaking your head.

"D-don't care.."

Abby, being the obeying girlfriend she is.. she did what she was told, holding the base of the strap and sunk it into you, pausing halfway to let your walls mold and relax around it before furthering it inside, letting it disappear inside your cunt.

You sigh in relief as the discomfort is replaced with ecstasy, feeling her cock bump against your g-spot.

"Mm- fuck.. y-yeah jus' like that abs.." you moan, bitting down on your bottom lip hard enough to taste iron.

The fat on your ass ricocheting against her hips as she thrusted into you, sent Abby into a spiral. She quickened her pace, getting more animalistic with her movements, small moans escaping her own mouth from the harness tightening, bumping into her clit.

She was growing impatient, frustrated even, her hand grabbed your wrist, bringing it behind and securing it on your lower back, while the other fisted your ass, and her hips snapping against you.

You whine and whimper, jaw open and your eyes rolled back into your head. The whole scene was disgusting, your tank top was was in disarray on your body, pushed up to expose your tits that were pressed against the table, your body limp and your mind completely fucking dumb, wrist starting to hurt from her strong grip while your other hand clawed weakly at the grain.

This is what always kept you coming back- the way your girlfriend always knew how you wanted to be treated. Sure, there were times it was sweet, and tender, but she knew when you wanted to be treated like a toy.

"G-gonna cum, m' gonna cum.." you barely make out, no more than a chanted whisper.

M-me to- fuck... jus' hang on for me baby." She moaned, breathing heavily and intensifying her movements as she chased her own building release, pistoning each blow against your cervix.

Your body tenses, stiffening your hips, jaw slack and eyes squeezing shut as you came undone. Abbys eyebrows furrowed upwards, lips parted as she selfishly continued on your aching cunt, muttering "I'm sorrys" and "so close" through thick breaths.

You cry out, your pussy aching, but you took it.

With a few more thrusts, abby moans, high pitched and sounding so sweet as she peaks, slowing her movements before slowly slipping out, a stream of your slick dripping down your thighs as she does so.

You stay bent over the table for a few seconds, catching your breath before finally standing and fixing yourself, pulling up your shorts and straightening your top.

You turn to face your girlfriend, her face sympathetic and adorn with a layer or sweat. Her hands come up to hold your upper arms, rubbing the skin gently before cupping your face. She kisses you, the sweetest you've ever been kissed, full of love and worship.

Maybe you will stay this time.

[lovelynim]

Losing Count

Genshin Impact - Alhaitham x Kaveh

A/N: So... if anyone is wondering where this came from, I found a fanart in Twitter that greatly inspired me. After two polls, here we are

Summary: After having his work out routine disturbed, Alhaitham decides to give Kaveh a challenge

Word count: 1279 words

“83… 84… 85… wow, you are really good at this!”

“You know….” Alhaitham grunted, pushing his body up despite the weight on his back, “you are not… really helping.”

Kaveh grinned at his boyfriend’s complaining, crossing one ankle after the other as he allowed himself to enjoy the ride. “Come on, how do you expect to gain something from your training if you don’t step up the difficulty?”

Alhaitham regretted all his past actions that led him to his current state. “Whatever… just keep… counting…”

He didn’t know why he agreed with all this. Maybe he just wanted to show off or tease Kaveh in some way… still, it was too late to go back on his words now and he didn’t even want to think about how annoying Kaveh would become if he gave up.

“Right right, where was I? Ah, yes, 66… 67-”

“You were… at 86…”

Kaveh chuckled again, feign ignorance as Alhaitham finished another push-up, “sorry, I keep losing count ~”

With the blonde sitting on his back, the scribe felt like his 100 push-ups session was being dragged for hours and hours in an unending cycle. And with Kaveh counting out loud - constantly going to and fro between the numbers - he was starting to believe that he had already beat that mark a long while ago.

“87… 88… 89- Huh? Come on, Haitham, you are so close!” Kaveh cheered, giving the other a couple of taps on his shoulder and thanking the archons the scribe couldn’t look at the grin in his face right now. 

Lying beneath him, Alhaitham was giving it his best efforts to tense the muscles in his arms again, but he was really starting to give it in. 

“Y-you are… too h-heavy…” he groaned, managing to get back up, adding one more to the count. 

“Hah?! Heavy?!” Kaveh gasped, acting as offended as possible, “just admit you are too weak to finish a session, Haitham.”

‘As if you could do half of it’, the other man thought as his boyfriend continued to talk. He just needed to ignore him a little longer and he could finally finish this endless session. “Just… keep counting, K-Kaveh…”

Tsking at his his boyfriend’s comment, the architect rested his hands on Alhaitham’s back to give himself some extra support. “Fine… where was I at? Right, 71… 72…” The smugness on his voice was clear, not even hiding the fact that he was messing up the count on purpose anymore.

The muscles of Alhaitham’s arms were already sore, his legs tired from the constant tension and drops of sweat falling off his forehead. Yet, Kaveh didn’t seem to mind his struggle, even amusing himself with it.

“What? Are you giving up?” Kaveh hummed in mockery, tapping his boyfriend’s shoulder as Alhaitham laid flat on the ground, with his arms sprawled next to his head. The scribe muttered something, but his words didn’t quite make it to Kaveh’s ears. “Hm? ‘You’ what?”

“I said… I’m. Done.” Alhaitham repeated, a little louder this time. Before he could alarm Kaveh any further, the scribe used the last bits of his strength to push his body up and make his partner fall off him.

Letting out an audible grunt as his butt hit the ground, Kaveh barely had time to react as Alhaitham rolled him over and sat on his back. “My turn now,” the scribe huffed with annoyance clear in his voice.

“W-wait, agh… I-I can’t!” Kaveh struggled beneath him, not able to move a single inch despite all his efforts.

“You don’t need to do 100, just 10. Or ‘are you too weak to finish a session’, Kaveh?” Alhaitham chuckled, enjoying the taste of revenge as he wouldn’t even bulge no matter how hard Kaveh tried to get up.

“Y-you are… too heavy, Haitham! Aghh, g-get off me!” 

“Only when you finish your session,” Alhaitham mused, placing his hands on Kaveh’s shoulder, “come on, start it already.”

Kaveh groaned in frustration, able to make far from enough strength to actually do a push-up. Truth to be told, he wasn’t even sure he could do it on his own, and with Alhaitham sitting on his back? He knew he didn’t stand a chance against that task.

“I already told you, I can’t!”

“Hmm,” Alhaitham muttered, looking down at Kaveh as an idea popped up in his head, “I believe you just need the right… incentive.”

Sliding his hands down Kaveh’s back, Alhaitham rested his thumbs over his boyfriend’s wing bones and dug at the blonde’s ribs with the rest of his fingers, making a high-pitched and surprised squeal leave Kaveh’s lips.

“AHALHAHAITAM!! AhahAHA, nohOHOH!!” Shrieking as if it was some kind of murder attempt, Kaveh pressed his elbows down to his sides, trying to protect himself from the merciless assault.

“Come on, do it. I’ll stop if you can finish the session,” Alhaitham muttered in a calm, uninterested tone. His words could barely be heard through the loud laughter as he prodded and poked, tickling Kaveh with ease.

The architect kicked his feet behind his boyfriend, squirming left and right like some kind of worm, but he couldn’t move a single inch with the scribe resting like an imobile boulder on his back. “Y-YOHOHOU! AhahAHAh, h-hohorrible mahAHAn! LEHEHET GO!”

“Keep talking and you’ll have to do 100,” Alhaitham scolded, clearly enjoying the turn of tables. Much to his surprise, Kaveh actually tried to do one push-up despite having his ribs mercilessly tickled by his boyfriend. Of course, he wouldn’t let that go without teasing, “you know, you need to keep your arms away from your torso if you want to do it properly.”

“S-stoHOHOp tahahalking!!” Kaveh whined, letting out another squeal when the Alhaitham used his index finger to poke his underarms. 

“I’m merely giving you some advice,” the scribe continued, letting out a lazy sigh as he continued the tickling, continuing to wiggle his fingers despite Kaveh’s attempts to block him, “you also need to keep your legs straight, otherwise you won’t do it right.”

Kaveh cried out softly through his laughter, resting his face against the floor as he could do nothing but laugh. All the (little) strength he had was leaving his body with each tickle. It almost made him regret messing with his boyfriend earlier, “I cahAHAn’t!! HAHahaitam, pleheHEHEHAhase!”

Despite his begging, Alhaitham didn’t seem like he was going to stop anytime soon. Stopping to move his fingers, but keeping them pressing against Kaveh’s oh-so-sensitive spots, the scribe leaned his face down, muttering a little close to the blonde’s ear. “Not so easy, right?”

“Y-yeheah! I g-gehehet it!!” Kaveh admitted, feeling as his whole body tensed with anticipation by having Alhaitham’s hands ready to strike at any moment, “I-i’m sohohorry, o-ok? Don’t b-be mehean!”

“Mean?” Alhaitham chuckled in a way that made Kaveh shiver. The architect had a bad feeling about this. “I only asked you for a 10 push-ups session, it’s not even the same thing…”

“A-AlhaithAHAHam!” Kaveh squealed as the scribe gave his ribs another squeeze, making his heart beat even faster than before. “N-nohOHo, please!”

“Let’s go for 5 then, is it better, Ka-veh?” Alhaitham mused, digging his finger in again and making another high-pitched and embarrassing noise come out of his partner. Waiting for Kaveh’s answer for his offer, Alhaitham raised his eyebrow as he felt his body moving up, noticing that Kaveh was actually doing it. 

“One…,” Alhaitham said once Kaveh’s arms were totally tense. After lowering his body, Kaveh’s body suddenly dropped back to the ground before he could finish the second push-up.

“ALHAHAITHAM! AHahah, n-nooho!” 

“Ah… sorry, I lost count, Kaveh,” Alhaitham muttered, smiling wickedly, “let’s start again, yes?”

[inbabylontheywept]

The Price

Mithrain’s hands were thick boned and knotted with scars. Unfit tools for anything delicate. Yet they were all he had, so he traded patience for true dexterity. Where humans had skill and elves had grace, dwarves had time.

His fingers carefully tugged the knotted fabrics apart. Blanket by blanket, twist by twist, the bundle came undone until, at last, an infant lay on the war table.

It was human. Unmistakably so – round ears peeked through a halo of blonde hair. It reached forward with tiny hands and wrapped all ten of its fingers around the dwarves' thumb. Both its index fingers still lingered a full inch from meeting. Mithrain looked down at it with true warmth. Then he looked back up at the elves and gave a command.

“Kill it.”

No one at the table moved. The circle of elves looked from the child, to him, then back. To their credit, the tension was more borne of  confusion than moral wavering. They knew they would not do it. They did not know why they were being asked.

Solathan the Elder spoke first.

“No,” he replied.

Mithrain nodded. The refusal was not merely hoped for, it had been expected.

“This is why you will not win.”

The table sat in contemplative silence. Solathan, bravest amongst the elves, most forward, most dwarf, spoke again.

“Because we will not murder infants?”

“Because this infant is the son of Agamedes. He is the last king of the Hinterlands. Humans grow old quickly – in twenty five years he will be a man, and he will start a war just like the one you are fighting today. A war suspiciously similar to the one you fought twenty-five years ago.”

The words were calm, but he watched the generals hands closely. Even a twitch towards a belt knife would be enough to betray temptation. Yet, each hand remained perfectly still.

There was a short pulse of shame in him. Envy. When he’d had this conversation with his own war council all those centuries ago, there had been several who’d considered it. Who had considered the price of such self-degredation.

“You will not win. You could. But you see the cost now, and you know it is too high. You want to honor your treaties, your duties, your integrity, but you know the word for that which lacks soul but keeps contracts. You’ve fought them with me, in the deepest, darkest depths of the stone.” 

Solathan had gone white. He knew. He’d been so focused on winning this war that he’d failed to look ahead to the next. And the next. And the next. The cycle stood out to him, infinite and spiraling. He froze at the thought of walking down into that abyss.

“I could raise it. Him. I could try and break the cycle. I-“

“He will learn from another human. Another infant that grows to manhood. He will learn, and he will burn your house and throne. Do you think I am so wise, as to see the future without having lived the past? Whatever cleverness you will suggest, I have tried. I fought ten generations of warriors on the same field before I realized I had three options. To burn my soul, to trap myself in endless war, or to lose. So I lost.”

His voice cracked on the last three words. The infant had begun to fuss over the cold, and he went to work swaddling it again. He’d made his point - now it was time to take the princling home. But as his hands made their slow work, he gave his final warning. 

“You did not know when you started this. And you would not have listened if I had told you. But you know now. And if I meet you in those darkest depths, I will know what sent you there. The only pity you will find from me after that is a second death."

He finished his work in silence, leaving as he came. The quiet lasted long after. 

[cowboymantis]

I am having so so so many feelings about Infinite Wealth and I've just been spamming my friend with essays about my overanalyzing brain that obsesses over every single detail in media I am obsessed with,, BUT THIS GAME IS JUST SO FULL OF OPPORTUNITIES FOR IT AAAAA!!!

I just wanna note some longer thoughts down, because I need somewhere to collect some of them,,,,

So yeah, uh, obviously:

LIKE A DRAGON INFINITE WEALTH SPOILERS

(any Yakuza game really, but this is the most recent one, so more likely that people haven't played that yet)

Number 1:

So first of all, Kiryu's parts are, because of the bucket list stuff, very focused on the past. He's trying to tie up loose ends, in his own way and how much he is actually able to do with the Daidoji restrictions.

So I think it was really fitting that he was the one fighting Ebina. In a way it felt like him fighting his past and trying to turn it around.

Now what do I mean by that? Let's start from an earlier point.

Basically, the game is a bit like a mirror to Kiwami in some ways.

Lani is like Haruka, hunted down by several groups of people and they even talk about this similarity being Kiryu's leading factor of motivation in helping her. I mean, there's also different mafias and a whole government conspiracy. But I mean, nothing new in a Yakuza game, but just one more thing added on top of it all.

Where it really starts to show and made me think "Ohhh...wait a second" is when Ebina held his speech about his past. Ebina and Ichiban, even though they didn't grow up together like them, are so similar to Kiryu and Nishiki. One being the Yakuza boss Arakawa's "favourite child", who also idolizes him, and the other one grows to hate him.

And I think this is also the moment where Kiryu realizes "Oh no...history is repeating itself again, isn't it..."

So at the end of the fight, when he actually breaks out in tears and begs for no one to die, it feels like all those deaths he couldn't prevent over all those years, good or bad people, just make him completely break down and he just wants this endless cycle to finally end.

Before the game came out, RGG and actors, in some occasions pointed out how this was a happier game. It makes you feel like looking up instead of being sad.

And while I was playing, I often just felt "Bruh, they lied to us. This game is so sad???", but after I then finished the game, I just sat there and felt such a big relief, the ending just was honestly perfect (well, I mean the cliff hanger was awful jddhd). But then later, it also made me think yeah, this is kind of like a positive version of Kiwami, isn't it? It just feels like it's in a way Kiryu's tying up loose ends with Kiwami's happenings. Fighting his past, finally getting over it in a way.

I thought more about this when I listened to Ebinas boss theme again, because one part has those bells(?) And they sound so much like in For Whose Sake. And then I thought back to the ending more and realized that the whole buildup of it was so much like Kiwami too!

In the finale, first you fight [Villain], who is also the main culprit behind a big government conspiracy. He has helpers with him, and attacks with a gun/guns.

At first you only fight the helpers, then him together with those helpers.

The music is intense and dreadful, everything feels really epic.

Then, after that fight, it goes to the REAL final boss fight. Inside a room, high up on the Millennium Tower, you fight him. Both Nishiki and Ebina are so similar already in their own ways. And the fight is more personal, with emotion behind it. Just that it ends with Nishiki killing himself, but Ebina, while he basically begs for Kiryu to kill him, survives.

The music during the fight has it's ups and downs (intensity-wise) and manages to feel both melancholic and relaxing, as much as they hype you up.

So yeah, it's all such a direct mirror up to the point how it ends. And Kiryu was trying his hardest to prevent things from happening again.

There are often similar themes and plots throughout Yakuza, makes sense, such a long running series, but I think in this particular case it's just so very fitting and it's just SO similar and fits the reflection and fix-it theme of Kiryu's part of the story so well. Especially with how Kiryu's tragic story all started with Yakuza 1 (going by release), still haunting him through every game with constant flashbacks, and now it ends with a story so similar.

Or well, let's hope so, I just want Kiryu to finally rest bruh 😭😭

Number 2:

"Rupture". The name of Hanawa's theme in Gaiden.

Just blatantly taking dictionary definitions here, but there are two ways the word "Rupture" works:

1) (especially of a pipe or container, or bodily part such as an organ or membrane) break or burst suddenly.

"If the main artery ruptures, he could die"

2) breach or disturb (a harmonious feeling or situation).

"Once trust and confidence have been ruptured, it can be difficult to regain"

Keeping that in mind, moving on.

Maybe listen to Hanawa's battle theme for this one, to really visualize it.

Now, whenever I put on the good ol' Gaiden All Boss Battle Themes video, whenever Hanawa's theme came on, I thought wow, this song is really completely different, huh.

But the nature of the song felt quite fitting for a character like Hanawa.

It starts of dark, mysterious, there's a sadness to it. Just like Kiryu now, he has been a man who once "died" and has since then been forced to live in the shadows, his every move being controlled by others. He's like a bird trapped inside a cage.

Then, the song picks up, becomes more intense.

Hanawa's internal struggle and his fight with Kiryu.

When you fight him, the whole scene around it honestly, is like the bird trying to escape this cage. And while nothing that happened was really "real", as in, no fatalaties would've happened because it was all a test, it did feel real for Hanawa and Kiryu. Now looking at the second definition for rupture, it's just like here, on a way more emotional level. And all so sudden. And this is the beginning of him being more and more risky when it comes to the Daidoji, and he keeps on helping Kiryu more than he should, its like his rebellion.

In Infinite Wealth, during the raid on the safe house, it was also all so sudden. It all happened so fast.

The music is picking up. It's nearing the end of the song, and everything becomes so loud and overwhelming - Hanawa suddenly gets shot and dies - then immediately after the wild and short final buildup, silence again. It's a slow, quiet somber tune, like at the beginning of the song, but now fading out... And Hanawa is declared dead.

The sudden rupture lead to immediate casualty, physical this time.

I'm sorry, I DON'T KNOW WHY I MAKE MYSELF SO MUCH SADDER OVER THIS SCENE. But come on, it's just... so perfect, right? 😭😭😭😭

I miss Hanawa so much man. I was really pissed that this is the way they let him go, but just now, after listening to his theme again for the first time since I even started Infinite Wealth, it felt like it just all made sense now. It just clicked. His theme is like a visualisation of his whole story throughout the games.

And it's honestly, sadly perfect. The composers for the Yakuza games are honestly such geniuses. Bringing out some of the best songs ever constantly and making them just feel so fitting for everything.

But yeah. Regardless of if this was meant to be interpreted similiary or not, it just kind of adds to it all for me personally. Especially since you could now maybe see his theme in Gaiden as a bit of secret foreshadowing?

I'd like to see it that way. And maybe, seeing a bit more importance in it all is what helps me to cope with his godawful death scene, RGG what were you thinking man 🥲🥲🥲

Number 3:

Eiji.

Oh boy. Uh, I don't really know yet what the general opinion on this pathetic wet cat (affectionate) is, but I really loved this character. In both a "you're such a damn loser" and "my poor little meow meow :(" way :'D

But most importantly, what I wanna focus on to follow the (over)analyzing theme: Eiji is like a mirror of Masato.

Now, Kiryu has his Kiwami mirror in his finale and Ichiban also has one. But I think this one is way more obvious and also very ironic.

Eiji starts off with trying to earn Ichibans trust and well- it immediately works, of course, it's Ichiban! But the tactic he uses for it, faking being disabled and needing a wheelchair. It was the perfect way to make Ichiban pay attention to him first, because it would remind him of Masato. I think Ichiban immediately just started to get attached to Eiji, and now I'm thinking that Eiji was probably a bit conflicted before he turned his back on him. But his deep rooted hatred was too strong for one nice interaction with a Yakuza, something he demonized, to stop him.

I think it was kind of funny how he was basically like "You're so evil, you Yakuza will NEVER be good people!!! See how good I am while I throw down this child tied to a wheelchair, down those stairs while holding a bomb!!! That'll sure show you evil Yakuza!!!"

Ah. He's so stupid 😭

And yet, whatever happened, Ichiban just constantly called him "Ei-chan", like he's still his bestie and everything is fine. Constantly protesting against it, Eiji probably felt more and more conflicted, because Ichiban is just such a big (and naive) sweetheart. (((Side note: What's not to love about him fr 😭😭)))

So by the finale, and after Eiji had time to say how much he HATED the Yakuza and also, y'know. The whole Bleach Japan thing. Kinda like someone else, hm? Someone else Ichiban constantly insisted on treating like a friend.

But Ichiban convinced him to just turn himself him, turn his life around. Just like he eventually managed to convinced Masato through blood and tears.

And the ending scene is literally an exact mirror to Yakuza 7. Ichiban carrying someone away...

Just in Yakuza 7, it is Masato, dying in his arms, and in Infinite Wealth, it is Eiji, and he's trying his hardest so he will get out of this completely unharmed, throwing himself in front of every danger facing them, getting beat up until he passes out by the end.

You could say this too, is like a good version of another game's ending, with a character mirroring a brother-like person to the main character.

Quite ironic how Eiji started off "imitating" Masato, only to end up like him. Just that one died and one lived.

And just like Kiryu did with Ebina, Ichiban tried his hardest to stop history from repeating itself. Stop more people dying again and again.

The logo having an Infinity symbol seems oddly fitting now, you could say each circle of the symbol is Kiryu and Ichiban, and their stories are intervined in certain ways. Just that their stopped the "infinite" circle from repeating once again.

Or...something like that. I'm trying to sound smart at 5 am, I need sleep I think 😭

[whoreforsamwilson]

Friend Of Mine {Long}

Warning: Language

Word count: 1,039

Hurt and anger formed in Sam’s eyes as the words fell from Bucky’s lips. “Sam please you have to understand,” Buck tried to reason stepping closer to Sam, but Sam only stepped further away from him.

Silence filled the room, Bucky searched Sam’s face for answers, or anything for that matter.

“He was my best friend,” Sam mumbles clutching his fist.

Bucky dropped his head, I watched from afar I didn’t want to interfere, at least not yet. “For years I mourned and grieved. And went through endless cycles of guilt.”

“I-“ started Bucky but Sam cut him off.

“And you know, I invited you into my home had you around my family, and expressed to you on multiple occasions how much Riley meant to me.”

Bucky tried apologizing for the umpteenth time since the truth was exposed.

I didn’t even know how to feel about the situation, Riley was my best friend to I was there with Sam on that endless emotional cycle.

I can only imagine the betrayal Sam feels compared to my own.

I loved Rile just as much as Sam does, but I also understand that Bucky wasn’t himself and was being controlled.

He took a deep breath and turned towards Sam again. "I know how important he was to the both of you. And I'm sorry, Sam. For everything." His voice broke on the last word.

Sam stared into the blue pools of Bucky's eyes, tears welling up in his own eyes.

He took a shaky breath as if his emotions were going to overtake him, “I trusted you.”

Sam left the room with nothing else left to say. It was quiet again, Bucky and I standing opposite of each other.

His eyes lingered on mine before he shifted them to the floor.

“If you need anything you know where to find me.” I gave him one last look before turning and following Sam outside.

It’d been over a month since we saw Bucky after what went down. Sam had been keeping himself distracted and distant.

He woke up extra early to leave and came home super late. Sarah would come by to check on him or bring the boys to get him out of his funk, but that never lasted long.

He would lock up in the garage working on something new for his suit or making upgrades on Red Wing, and if not that he was at the boat.

I knew that's where he'd be today, I braced myself and I turned the car off and got out.

I didn't know how any of it was gonna go, he kept everything bottled in and it could go left and fast. He sat on the edge of the dock with his fishing pole.

I could hear him humming along to Trouble Man.

I approached him sitting down next to him, he looked over at me and then turned his attention back to the water.

It was silent between us, and it had been like that for so long around the house I couldn't take it any longer.

"You okay Sam?" I asked.

"I just found out that my friend killed my best friend Y/N. How do you think I feel?" He spat. I took in a sharp breath trying to keep my composure. "Sam, I know you're upset, but we can't blame-"

Sam scoffed and looked at me sideways, "Y/n, don't finish that fucking sentence, Riley was your best friend too and you just gonna brush that shit under the rug again just like everyone else did!" He yelled now standing and walking towards the boat.

I got up and followed him, I didn't want this to turn into an argument, but I'd be damned if I let him talk to me like that.

"Are you serious right now Sam? You don't think I stayed up nights on end dealing with my emotions after caring and catering to you? Yes Rile was my best friend and I loved him just as much as you did, but I also know Bucky wasn't himself either. I'm trying to force you to talk to him, all I'm saying is that this doesn't mean you have to give up on him."

I stopped talking and sighed, Sam turned to me still staring daggers at me. "Why are you defending him so much? Did you know he did this?" Sam threw the questions faster than I could answer them, so I stayed silent.

Taking my silence as a yes Sam asked, "For how long?"

I couldn't lie to him any more than I already had, "From the moment you started working with Steve," I watched as his facial expression changed from anger to disbelief.

"How could you keep something like this away from me for so long Y/N?" asked Sam.

"You said you'd tell me everything when I needed you most," Sam said looking directly at me. His voice filled with hurt and hatred.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you were so excited to work with Steve and I didn't want to ruin that for you, but then once I saw on the news the attack on the bridge that day, I started doing my own digging, and that's when I found out. I wanted to tell you, but then you got into deep with him, and I couldn't bring myself to do it."

"I don't care, what was going on Y/N, you should have told me. You had plenty of time to tell me this Y/N/N."

"I'm sorry Sam," I apologized, I knew he wouldn’t care, but he needed to know that it wasn't the right time.

Sam closed his eyes and sighed deeply before opening them again, his gaze was soft, but held no warmth, "I think we need some time away from each other."

I stood there hurt running through me. I didn't say anything to change his mind, because I knew I couldn't do that.

"See you around," I said turning to walk out of the boat and to the car. I knew I wouldn't see him around anymore.

My heart felt like it was being ripped apart by the hands of the person I considered my friend and lover. I got into the car and drove home numbly, but now I know how he felt.

[celestiaonlyknows]

Kinktober Day 24: Amber- Sex Toys

R18+ Minors Do Not Interact

Read on Ao3. <- Day 23 Day 24 ->

“And what about here,” Amber asks as she takes the electro-crystal powered wand and starts letting it vibrate over your already way too sensitive nipples. Another toy was shoved deep inside of you, pushing you to the limit of your self-restraint as your girlfriend toyed with your body. 

She lets out a lovely and light-hearted laugh as she pulls the wand away from your chest–giving you a peck on the cheek while you writhe under her at her mercy. “I’m going to take that as a good feeling.” 

“Where did you even get these,” you managed to pant out as she leaned over for something else–a fancy new strap-on that she was motioning for you to lift up your hips so she could put it on you. 

“Let’s just say Sucrose and I have an understanding,” Amber laughed awkwardly as she finished attaching the strap to your form. You moan as you watch her spread her legs and lower herself onto the thick toy, enjoying how it fills her. Her cheeks are a pretty pink flush as she adjusts to the size and feeling. 

Suddenly she is leaning over again on the nightstand to pick up a remote and shove it into your hand. You’ve already been briefed on what it does before you two started going at it like rabbits. Without any mercy you flick the lever to its highest setting. In response, Amber lets out a moaning squeal as the toy she had just lowered herself on begins to vibrate hard and quickly. 

“No fair,” she complains before pushing up the lever on her own remote to make the toy inside of you increase. You can only moan and buck up into her. An endless cycle of pleasure already promising to begin at this rate. 

“All’s fair in love and war baby,” You point out to her as she begins rocking her hips and moving on the toy. A pant and cry of pleasure escaped her before she could come up with a reply to you. 

“Still mean,” You chuckle before sitting up to kiss her. She lets you flip her over onto her back. Her wide golden brown eyes open with such an expression you can’t help but want to ruin her. 

You both begin moaning from the toys as you start moving–fucking in and out of her with your strap until you are both completely gone and messes coming undone with the toys. 

You should thank Sucrose later after all. 

[olipeaksforever]

Silver Moon Over Sleeping Steeples

Summary: Dale Cooper has escaped the Black Lodge after embracing his doppelganger, but after BOB starts to possess him and try to turn him into the monster Dale never wanted to be, he must come to terms with his flaws and face his biggest fears to reclaim power over his own body again.

Content warning for: mentions of rape, suicide attempts, self harm, substance abuse and weight loss.

Inspired by: @kasparovv 's phenomenal stories of possession series... go read them NOW!!! also david sylvian's song silver moon over sleeping steeples...

You can leave a nice comment here and in the ao3 upload!!

Dale was never so grateful to be back home. 

After the worst weeks of his life, he was never so grateful to be back in that cavern he considered home. When he first moved there four years ago, it was a safe and sound place for him. 

That stage was always short, the walls quickly echoed his cries and nightly screams, after feeling the same knife stuck his heart over and over again after that night. He remembered the laughter of the person who stabbed him, which now disintegrated and he stopped listening for a long while. 

They had finally finished emptying Dale's last remaining box from his now old office. He had put the books back in his bookshelf, the little brown Tibetan cat figurine on the coffee table in the living room, and an old polaroid photo of him, Albert and Diane in 1982 he put in a frame where a picture of Caroline had once lain. Dale sighed, and walked with Albert towards the door. To say he was tired was an understatement.

A week ago, he'd come out of hell on earth, of red velvet curtains and chevron flooring, and when he did, he'd been dead for ten minutes thanks to a hemorrhage he had on arrival at the hospital. When they were able to revive him, the first thing his eyes caught was his family. And not what was left of it, they were all there.

 His mother, aged but her hazel eyes were as warm as the last time Dale saw her before the colors were drained from them, was horrified to see her youngest son under wires and breathing masks as she came up to him and put her hand on his cheek, while Dale cried silently, not understanding why his mother was there. She had died twenty years ago and now she was alive again. 

The only thing he fully remembered from what his mother said to him was: "I'm just as confused as you are."

She was right. The last thing he remembered of the Black Lodge was when he ran back into his escaped doppelganger in one of those endless hallways. An exchange he'd had with Garland Briggs days ago had motivated him to do what he had to do when he'd gotten into the Black Lodge in the first place.

“Major Briggs, if I may ask a personal question… Do you love yourself?”

“Very much.”

“Then it stands to reason that Leland Palmer didn’t.” What a bold thing for him to say, he thought. Because Dale didn’t want to recognize that he didn’t love himself either, and he failed constantly at it whenever he tried to apply his philosophy on himself.

“One could draw that conclusion. There are powerful forces of evil in the world. It is some men’s fate to confront great darkness. We each choose how to react. If the choice is fear, then we become vulnerable to darkness.”

And so it was that he grabbed his doppelganger tightly by his wrists and looked directly into his empty, pearly white eyes. All that he heard were his own disconsolate cries and screams, crying for help. Then he heard the marks of other realities. He heard Audrey moan and Diane cry, neither particularly in a kind context. 

Dale gasped, never expecting that in other universes, his doppelganger would’ve hurt them that way. He was capable of becoming like the people who had taken advantage of him when he was at his lowest, repeating the cycle of abuse he always wanted to break. He finally understood he too was capable of evil. 

But he stood still and firm, not cowering after such a shocking and dark reveal. His doppelganger furrowed his eyebrows, and his expression fell, turning more blue. Dale there found a young boy, no older than ten, crying on the floor. He bent down and reached out his hand to the boy's shoulder, and it was him. Dale sighed and helped him to sit up, his doppelganger remaining still.

The boy sniffled and cried, wiping the snot and tears that poured from his nose with his wrists, choking on his tears. Dale sat cross legged in front of him and brushed his back. The boy stopped crying for a second and fluttered his eyes open at the touch. He gulped and muttered: “If I hadn’t told her, she would be alive. I deserve to be alone.”

Dale shook his head no softly and pulled him for a hug, holding his head with his hand, closing his eyes. All of his darkest memories from his childhood to the last weeks of his life came back to him. 

The hospital visits that seemed to be endless, the appointments with the dentist that would leave him in more pain than he was before, meeting those hippies, BOB ruining the only safe space he had to cope with his illnesses by abusing him, his mother’s now inexistent death, Marie drowning, his college girlfriends, his first accidental kill at the FBI, the murders in Club Y, Caroline. He had been so alone when those things took place, or under a bad influence, but he wasn’t going to let himself be alone anymore.

“You don’t deserve to be alone, you have me now.” He whispered to the boy, as his doppelganger started to cry. “I love you.”

When Dale opened his eyes again, he was hugging his doppelganger, who was sobbing. Dale finally realized what this meant. Dale sighed and smiled a little, as his doppelganger opened his eyes back up.

 "Even if you can cause our pain in other people?" his doppelganger asked cryptically. 

"I choose not to. I recognize that I can, yet I will refuse to become like the people who have left me broken because I refuse to continue the cycle." Dale answered him, his hands on his doppelganger's shoulders. His doppelganger nodded his head.

"Then you must leave the institution that won't cooperate in protecting victims like us. Like Laura Palmer. The pain can no longer be ignored if you want to be saved." His doppelganger replied calmly, as if he hadn't cried prior to this answer. He was clearly referring to the FBI, and as strange as he sounded to say that, he clearly understood what he was referring to.

"I understand. You don't deserve the pain." Dale whispered, smiling at his doppelganger fondly.

 His doppelganger cried strangely again and smiled. His smile was tenebrous, but Dale remembered getting such a comment about his smile as well. Dale laughed a little, letting out a couple of tears in the process and hugging his doppelganger back tightly. 

Light blue lights flashed in the hallway again, and when the flashing stopped, he broke the hug and found Laura Palmer. The real Laura. They both froze completely at the sight of each other and suddenly, an exit to Glastonbury Grove opened up. Dale held her hand and walked out of the Black Lodge with her, but he had no memory of what happened between the time he left and the time he arrived at the hospital. He didn’t know where she was either. 

He knew we would always be with her, safe in their eternal retirement at the Black Lodge. Despite their outcomes, he had to thank everything to her. He could get out of there and so did she. 

He never thought he’d meet someone like him in his life. It seemed like he and Laura were connected, but he didn’t want to think about that. He just knew he exists thanks to her. He’s glad he got to help her.

He then resigned from the FBI once he was released from the hospital. He gave in his badge, signed all the files he was supposed to sign, his confiscated tapes were returned to him somehow, and he said goodbye to a distraught Diane, an emotional Gordon, and a sad Denise. Obviously he wasn't going to stop seeing any of the three of them, but he would miss their presence in his daily life, and he would miss having the one thing that made him feel alive, like he had a purpose. 

Dale could breathe and he could go back to living with others, but he was dead, he had nothing to do now that he gave up his life. Speaking of others, what was he doing?

"Earth to Coop." Ah yes, Albert had helped him unpack his things and organize them in his miserable apartment. What Albert muttered made him break out of his train of thought.

“Yes Albert.” He replied to him almost automatically, blinking. Albert grumbled and huffed.

"As I was saying, you are clearly not fit to be alone in this poor excuse of a house, and your recent disassociation further justifies my decision to stay here with you." Albert mentioned to him, causing Dale's eyes to widen and he put his hand on Albert's chest.

“Albert-”

“ Don’t 'Albert' me, mister. I’ve had enough of you pushing aside your problems like they’re trash. Do you think I didn’t notice your face when you saw your mother again? The way you reacted when Diane kissed your cheek? How you stood here for ten minutes without saying a thing as I explained my plan to you?” Albert complained, Dale sighing and looking down in response. “I’m staying, like it or not. End of the story.”

Dale inhaled, then exhaled, his expression emotionless and his eyes tired. "Albert, we're two adults in our thirties-"

"Get yourself a better excuse, you've got better ones than those. Your birthday is in weeks, in case you've forgotten. You're still twenty-nine." Albert interrupted him, crossing his arms. Dale only frowned in response, upset. 

"I think I am capable enough to support myself and recover from what happened to me during the months that have passed with my own means and tools without external help." Dale argued with him, insisting on staying on his own. Albert nodded his head, not wanting to leave Dale alone.

"Oh, so you're going to throw the towel? So soon? You're going to give up on your life just like that?" Albert questioned, raising an eyebrow, disappointed in Dale's attitude.

“Quit pretending I had one outside of the bureau, Albert. You’re talking to a ghost.” Dale’s tone lowered, his voice shaking. He looked down and his frown fell into a pout. Albert’s expression saddened too at the cruelty of Dale’s words, as he blinked and sighed. “Let me die.”

“Dale-”

“Albert, leave.” Dale ordered him, tears pooling in his eyes. “Please.” He opened the door, and Albert stood in the doorframe, his eyes getting glossy too. 

“I’m going to help you. I mean it.” Albert muttered, blinking. He looked down and then back up at Dale, leaving. 

Dale waited for Albert to disappear into the hallway, and when he did, he closed the door shut and fell to the floor, crying. He hid his face in his hands as his shirt dampened from tears. He had been so cruel to Albert, especially now that he left, he wanted him as far from him as he could. He didn’t deserve someone like him.

How could anyone love a ghost? None of these things were a part of him anymore. Dale was haunting himself everywhere he looked. The Tibetan rug, the vinyl collection, the images of a boy that he wasn’t anymore hanging on the wall. He didn’t know how to be him again. 

After sorting through the few things he had retrieved from his office and putting them in his apartment, Dale sighed and decided to take a bath. He removed the curtains and used the bathtub instead, he didn't want to think about curtains right now. 

He hated that the smell of medical alcohol had permeated his skin during his last hospital stay, so using one of his special soaps not only removed the scent but also made him feel good. After all, he promised himself that he was going to start loving himself the way he was and take care of himself more often.

After bathing and putting on his pajamas, he felt something unraveling underneath him and he unbuttoned his navy blue shirt open only to find the bandage over his stomach that came undone. He sighed, sniffin, groaning as his body reminded him that his ribs were broken again, the Black Lodge brought him back the pain in his chest and stomach he had forgotten for so long. 

He crawled to the bathroom, and opened the cabinet to pull the first aid kit from it and grab some medical tape to secure the bandage back in place. He pulled the bandage tight around his waist, whimpering as he did so, and with one finger he pressed on the end so that he could put the tape over it. He waited for some minutes to see if it came undone, but it didn’t. Dale sighed and placed the kit inside the cabinet again, wanting to skip dinner and spend the rest of the evening rotting in bed. 

When he finished, the doorbell rang and he found Albert behind the door with a large suitcase and teary, tired eyes, as well as takeout. Dale couldn’t reject Albert’s offer to stay, so he let him in. They didn’t say a word to each other during dinner.

After dinner with Albert, he brushed his teeth and crawled into his bed, which he missed and longed to get back under his flower patterned sheets. As he got in his bed, he found himself staring at his reflection. Dale walked over to his mirror and touched his face with his fingertips. Was he seeing himself? Was it really him? He didn't remember himself that way. Dale left the mirror and then crawled into his bed and tried to sleep. Albert slept on the couch, as he had all the other times he had spent the night at home. 

Dale dreaded the thought of Albert being there when he had a nightmare, of hurting him by accident. With that distance, it saved crying and talking that he didn't want to have at that moment. 

Albert was already doing a lot by staying with him to help with his recovery, the thought of putting him through more frightened him. Or to make it more simple: the thought of Albert leaving him scared him to death.

Closing his eyes, Dale began to float. The sounds of the house faded into the background and his body relaxed completely…

…Below him, there was a nest, composed of small thin branches. 

The nest was soft, but as he ran his hand along the tips of the branches, a splinter of the branch dug into his hand, drawing a line of blood that spilled down his palm. Dale sat, and looked around with narrowed eyes, the sun was beating down hard at this hour. 

In the distance, there was a screech. A screech that claimed Dale, hungry for Dale. The screech came closer, and a huge owl dug its heels into Dale's arms, pinning him to the base of the nest.

Dale gasped in response, trying to free himself from the claws of the bird above him. The hooting began to twist into a wicked laugh. 

The feathers grew longer, and the texture soon resembled human hair. The owl's beak began to turn into a nose and a mouth full of fangs. The plumage fell to reveal a denim ensemble and Dale was more than surprised by BOB's appearance in his dream. 

BOB squeezed Dale's neck tightly, and put his face close to Dale's, smiling. "Did you think you were free of my torture forever?" BOB asked him, a devilish grin plastered on his face.

Dale was trying to escape, but he felt increasingly sluggish and vulnerable, as if he were in slow motion. BOB was shaking him and throwing himself on top of him, channeling his inner animal. 

Dale yelped from the pain, feeling BOB's claws and fangs bite into his skin. BOB continued to grope Dale, feeling his skin bristle.

"You're such a slut. You enjoy this." BOB purred, savoring how Dale was on the verge of tears, denying the affirmation. 

"You're unable to scare me anymore. I've defeated you." Dale spat, dodging the temptation to cry. "I'm reliving my darkest moments. This isn't real." He repeated that as if it were a mantra, causing BOB to burst out laughing, slamming his body even more violently and forcefully against Dale's, making him break down in tears.

"How come I can't hurt you if I still remain in your memories?" BOB asked him, removing a dental turbine from his pocket to bring it close to his face, the hum of the small drill buzzing in Dale's ears. "Maybe I won't bother you in reality anymore, but I will always, always remain here." He pointed to his head, then Dale’s forehead.

Dale moaned in horror, the drill getting closer and closer to his eyes. 

"Now, be quiet. No one has to know about this or I will find out. Open your mouth." Was the last thing BOB whispered, before the drill made contact with Dale's body.

 He woke up with a start the next morning, but no one had to know that he let his guard down in front of BOB. He was sweating from head to toe, and was shaking intensely. He sighed and closed his eyes shut.

He got out of bed to undress himself in front of the mirror, trying to find any traces of BOB, but to no avail.

 He was still in the same old body. Lanky build, milky white skin, barely any hair on his chest but his armpits and legs made up for it, a small scar on his stomach, two pink scars at the end of his pectorals and of course, the scar from the stabbing, close to his heart. Dale forgot what it looked like because he'd always listen-

"Caroline!" More screaming. Vision turning black. Blood poured everywhere he looked. Caroline lying dead in his arms.

Dale closed his eyes shut, pretending he didn't listen to any of that. He sighed and put on his pajamas again, staring at himself again to see any change, expecting someone else to be there. His old self, to say a lot. Nothing stared back at him. 

BOB himself told him to keep quiet or he would do something horrible to him, even worse, somebody Dale loved. Again.

He walked into the hallway and no one was there. There was a small note on the table in Albert's absence, a note with good intentions telling him he would be back in three weeks because he was in Philadelphia solving a case and that asked him to please not burn the house down in an attempt to make breakfast for himself. Dale burst into tears. 

The nightmare felt real, as if he had actually lived it. Memories of his childhood and his visits to the dentist echoed in his head like a cave, much like his home. He still felt the knives in his chest and the dentist's drill.

He tried to make himself breakfast, but he was so disgusted by what he had been through that he threw it all up, and cleaned the bathroom so as not to leave any traces of the vomit. 

He called Diane, trying to find someone to talk to without mentioning what happened, not even implicating what was going on in his head. "Is Diane Evans there?" 

"She isn't, but you can leave a message!" Her bubbly secretary told him. Dale sighed. 

"It's alright. I'll call her later." He hung up and pouted. He didn't have the gut to talk to Albert, and didn't even consider talking to Denise, though she must've been busy.

He tried to sleep his thoughts off, but to no avail. When Albert called him at night to check on him, he put on his strongest face and pretended it had been a great day. It hurt him to lie to Albert, but he didn’t want to put him in danger. Albert raised an eyebrow at the forced smile but brushed it off.

BOB couldn't physically hurt him anymore, but what evidence did he have that proved that? He couldn't tell Albert because if he were to lose Albert by opening his mouth, his life would become meaningless. He couldn't watch someone he loves die. Not again.

He loved Albert and if telling him the truth meant watching him die, he would rather let the pain consume him than lose Albert. He was so terrified of being left alone after it all. Or losing Diane. After all, he heard her voice screaming for help in the Lodge. In another universe, BOB got Diane under the skin of his doppelganger, and did things to her that Dale could never forgive himself for.

 Dale then unplugged his phone. He decided to do something to clear his mind. To live a little. 

He remembered his old drawings from when he was in college. He went to his small studio and opened one of the wooden drawers of an old piece of furniture that used to belong to his grandmother. Small notebooks with velvet covers lay on top of books and drawing materials he hadn't used in years. Let's see if he could be proud of himself again.

 Dale grabbed a notebook and started to doodle, trying to free his mind a little. He started to draw small flowers. Simple to draw yet sweet, the imperfect flower didn't exist. He looked at the bouquets and smiled a little, they looked good. It had been years and they looked more than decent.

 He admired the texture the graphite of the pencil left as he drove it across the page, as the petals evolved into leaves, the leaves turning into zigzags, as he lost control of his hand, he closed his eyes and lost himself.

 He was floating in a black void, in peace. Dale smiled to himself, putting his hands on his chest. Peace at last, he'd thought. That was until a soft body clashed with his, their shoulders rubbing softly. 

He turned around only to meet himself, who was frightened and shaking his shoulders. "Wake up!" He screamed, feeling Dale's bones rattle underneath his grasp.

Dale furrowed his brows and held his own shoulders, staring at himself. "Where am I?" He asked, and then he looked at a young girl with long, raven curls staring back at him. Dale gasped. 

"You've got to wake up! We're trapped!" She screamed, and when Dale blinked again, he was an old man in his sixties.

"How?" Dale asked him.

"You're detached from the world." He told Dale, making Dale shake his head and close his eyes. “You have to come back to yourself.” Now, he was sitting on a couch, with a big screen above him. He was seeing himself drawing, almost robotically and expressionless. 

 Dale observed the situation in horror, knowing he was powerless to stop it. He then saw how he walked to the bathroom mirror and saw his doppelganger staring back at him, smiling, eventually collapsing to the ground, his vision turning black. 

And so it was that under BOB’s management, he began to sleep less, his dark circles under his eyes getting bigger.

 He ate less, BOB made him sick and throw up everything he ate, making him lose weight in an exaggerated way, his fast metabolism didn't help either, his arms became twigs and his skin turned pale in a short amount of time. BOB would let Dale come back to his body only to see a reflection that wasn't his, deformed, sick and twisted and it would drive him to sobbing.  

Sometimes he would be under fat rolls and folds of skin that he never had his angular face replaced with round, puffy cheeks, or he’d see all of his bones trying to break from his skin, his eyes looking like they were about to pop out of his skin. Body horror at its finest. BOB loved showing him reflections of himself that weren’t true so that Dale wouldn’t notice how BOB was changing his body in reality.

His ribs and chest still hurt, and Dale sometimes cried himself to sleep in an effort to rest, when BOB wasn’t looking around. But every time he was caught, he felt those hands on his body again and again.

Back in his dreams, Dale was now in a van with an intense smell of incense, curtains of multicolored beads fell over his eyes. Once he pulled back those curtains, BOB appeared as a hippie, smelling a daisy that then rotted in his hand. 

"I see you really took my warning to heart." BOB said seductively, approaching Dale. He sniffed his arms and then brushed his hair, which was getting longer and longer. He held his arm, licking his skin. "You look beautiful now."

Dale pushed him away, annoyed by BOB's comment. "I don't even know why I'm letting some distant memory tell me what to do and treat me like his puppet."

"Oh, you know perfectly well." BOB licked Dale's hand, receiving a grimace of disgust from him. "You really doubt my inability to hurt you physically in the real world, and you know that if I could, and if you'd tell this to your dearest Albert... I'd kill him! I can’t get little Laura Palmer in my hands either, but don’t think my treatment is exclusive to you. You failed."

"You can't hurt me anymore. The evidence for that exists. You're just a nightmare trying to kill me. I won't let that happen!" Dale yelled at him, walking away and standing behind a large magenta lava lamp. "You can't hurt Albert!"

"But I'm not hurting him. You are . You're a terrible person! You're lying to him about this. Keep it up, and not only will Albert leave you, but you'll die, and you'll be just like me!" BOB shrieked, pulling his face close to Dale's and kissing him intensely, leaving teeth marks on his lower lip.

Dale pushed him again, but BOB squeezed him tightly in his arms to keep him from escaping, then hit him and kissed him again. 

"Now, Dale... Don't forget to do your homework. Or else I'll fail you." BOB joked, as his laughter melted around the flames eating at the hippie van, the incense fading from the atmosphere. "I want to see you again."

Somehow, when Albert came back, BOB left. The first thing Albert said to Dale was: "Coop, I’ve noticed lately that you've decided to speak the language of silence and haven't addressed a single word to me since I came back here. Fuck , since I left. Your parents are worried, Diane has been hysterical… What the hell happened?"

Dale sniffled, and nodded in response, looking at the floor. Albert brushed back his growing mop of hair and grimaced, which quickly disappeared when he saw the weariness in Dale's eyes.

"Is it the medicine? Have you been having nightmares and not telling me?" Albert would ask, holding his slender hands in his. "You haven't been eating either. You're a bundie."

"Albert, maybe you shouldn't blame the medicine and my dreams for my condition." Dale whispered, avoiding looking at Albert. "Blame me for not taking the medicine."

"Why the hell don't you take it?" Albert asked him, annoyed. Dale shrugged and shook his head.

“I forget. I haven’t been myself lately and I’d like to apologize for it. The events of the last month have taken a toll on my mental health and I’m still trying to process it. Do I have to explain it to you any further?” Dale asked him, followed by a sniffle. He was half lying, and hoped Albert didn't catch it.

“Hey. Look at me, Coop.” Albert ordered him, putting his hand on his cheek, Dale’s hazel eyes meeting Albert’s almond eyes. “I'm not doing this because it's my job, I'm doing this because like it or not, you matter to me. You aren’t talking for some reason, but you trust me well enough to tell me what’s going on inside that mind of yours. You’re drowning and I’m here to pull you out of the water, because you don’t deserve to go through this and your recovery is fundamental to me.” And Albert was right, like always. 

He feels like he's drowning, falling deeper and deeper into the darkness, hoping to see the light above him waiting to reach him and wrap him in a warm embrace. The light is there for him though, and in the form of a cynical agent by his side, helping him to heal to enjoy the life he always wanted to have.

Dale smiled a little, feeling tears gathering in his eyes. "Thank you, Albert." Oh, Albert. Always so kind and thoughtful despite his vocabulary. Dale didn't know how to repay him after all he's doing for him.

"Don't mention it." Albert hugged him, and Dale's smile grew even bigger, feeling safe in Albert's arms, away from any pain and any torture from BOB.

BOB would, when he could, make an odd gesture with Dale's body that was enough evidence for Albert to hold Dale's hand for a while, mistaking the possession for a panic attack or distract him with some of his vinyl records playing in the background. Dale sometimes spent more time trapped in his mind than in the real world with Albert, between versions of himself, the past and future in one single place.

Over the next few days, Dale started taking his medicine, and he didn't have as many nightmares as before, and he was eating again without feeling nauseous. 

Unfortunately, his cheeks and stomach were still swollen from constant vomiting. It was very noticeable in contrast to how thin and small his body had become. 

Sometimes, but not often, he would fall asleep on the couch watching some rerun of a romantic movie, and Albert would stroke his head or wish him sweet dreams, something he enjoyed and looked forward to doing the same to Albert when he had the chance (and something he didn't know if Albert noticed he remembers it). How he loved to be touched this way.

BOB stopped showing up for a while when one day, Dale decided to do something to deal with his identity crisis. He tried drawing again, but this time he drew Albert, and he was in total control of his body. He smiled when he could see the finished product without interruption. And so it went on.

The nightmares unfortunately persisted, attempting to frighten Dale with BOB tearing his face from his body, putting it on and killing people. These violent images were followed by BOB swearing to Dale that he would turn into him. Dale found that his days however, kept flowing the right way even after having these nightmares. At no time did he ever feel trapped in his mind again.

Sometimes he was even able to be in total control of his body when he was alone, as he learned how to fix holes in T-shirts he used to love and how to make omelets with cheese. He slowly felt like he was human again and the feeling was amazing. 

He rediscovered traits of himself that he had forgotten he loved, and discovered new ones. Since when did the tips of his ears turn red when he smiled? The tip of his nose always twitched slightly when he talked? Did his hair look that good without gel? 

He was back to experimenting like he did as a teenager, and had never felt so comfortable in black latex harnesses strapped to his chest or ever thought eyeliner looked so good on his eyes. He was reaching levels of joy and peace with himself he'd never thought he'd reach. Dale was becoming more and more in awe of himself, as if he was rediscovering himself all over again.

Part of what made him slowly find himself, or be himself again, was all thanks to Albert. And Dale started to notice things about Albert that maybe he hadn't paid much attention to before, like how long his lashes were, or the dimples in his cheeks. Maybe he was falling for Albert again. Maybe he was the one. And he's lucky Albert wasn't home when he would lie on the couch and day dream about the two of them together, blushing and smiling to himself.

He was becoming a whole new different man, different from the FBI Agent people either wanted to marry or to kill, he was finally becoming himself. 

One night, after Albert came home from work a wreck and they had shared a mood-enhancing dinner, they decided to indulge themselves and had bits from a can of beer sitting in the fridge. They were now in the living room, both on the verge of falling asleep, with Dale sitting cross-legged on the sofa and Albert curled up in a ball on the couch in front of Dale. Dale smiled a little as he saw Albert's figure on the couch.

"Don't laugh, Coop." Albert grumbled, rubbing his eyes and frowning as he got to look at him. "I'm more than aware that my back will be like an accordion if I spend the night here on this couch."

“Right.” Dale chuckled, rubbing his own eyes too.

“If it were for you, you’d sleep here and in the morning, your first words would be something along the lines of: ‘Albert it appears that my back aches after I stole a goose’s golden egg.’ Am I wrong?” Albert imitated Dale, making him giggle at how accurate yet inaccurate his imitation of him was. “I don’t know, I didn’t study acting at Oxford. I’m made of wood.”

“I can see.” Dale added, making Albert chuckle and roll his eyes. 

"I'm so glad we're on the same page. Can you put on some music?" Albert suggested. Dale got up and walked over to the library where they had vinyls, singles, cassettes and cds of various genres carefully organized by alphabetic order and pulled out a David Sylvian vinyl.

Albert frowned, as he looked at the vinyl. "You really want us to sleep, don't you?" Albert grumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

Dale blinked and smiled a little. "I've been wanting to listen to my favorite song with you again. It's been years and…" Dale stopped in his tracks and looked down at the floor, blinking. "May I ask if we could lay down on the floor and let us be consumed by the beautiful mystery that is this vinyl as we enjoy what is left of the night?" 

 Albert sighed, and grabbed the second record inside the ambient pop and put it in the vinyl player. He couldn't say no knowing what it meant for Dale, especially the last time they heard it together. He remembers Dale crying over a love that never was in Albert's arms, as his sobbing subsided and he fell asleep, forever grateful Albert had been there.

 He arranged the pick so it was in the middle of the vinyl and they lay on the floor, a melancholy but beautiful melody making the living room disappear, letting the stars and moonlight envelop the room, the dark blue shadows painting their skins and Dale could see the moon in Albert's eyes. It was silver and it shone against Dale’s face. A beautiful sight to see.

Dale sighed and smiled from ear to ear, looking up at Albert. Albert turned his head to look at Dale and swore he saw a million little stars in his eyes. Albert laughed at the idiocy of seeing a galaxy in Dale's eyes, but at that moment, it was the closest he would ever get to space and wanted to enjoy it.

"What?" Dale asked him, furrowing his eyebrows but not diminishing his smile.

“Are we in space?”

“And you’re complaining?” Dale asked him playfully. “Albert, I’m surprised.”

Albert chuckled, and shook his head softly. “Damn this music.” He sighed, staring at all the little planets above him. "You're right, it's been too long." 

Dale nodded, intertwining his fingers with Albert's, as his fingertips had brushed his. Dale blinked and sighed, the music taking them deeper into the galaxy. They were now two stars in clouds of different shades of blue, floating in the dark sky, alone. 

Dale wouldn't have wanted it any other way. It's everything he ever wanted.

"Dale?"

"Yes, Albert?"

"I know." Albert whispered with a tiny smile, gazing at Dale. Dale's heart stopped as he looked at Albert with wide, worried eyes. 

Dale gulped and blinked, the clouds disappearing around them. "I was looking forward to the perfect moment to open up to you." Dale mumbled, looking down.

There was a short silence, and Albert was being wrapped in a white, almost angelic aura. "You wanted to be anywhere else?" And Dale knew he had finally made it.

Dale's eyes were shining bright out of pure emotion, and sighed, smiling widely as he shifted to hug Albert, being consumed by the light and then falling into the darkness. He was floating in peace at last. 

Everything seemed to change for the better until one day, after taking a bath, Dale looked at his reflection in the mirror and cried out in horror at the sight of his face. His hair was now down to his shoulders, he couldn't remember the last time he had shaved and he hadn't trimmed his nails either. Why didn’t he notice this before?

And that's when he realized that BOB was right. He had become BOB, physically speaking. 

Dale felt shivers down his spine, and decided to crawl back into his bed. A haircut and a shave would fix this.

It was painful to walk back from the bathroom to his room. His screams pleading for help could be heard down the hallways, and Dale closed his eyes, thinking he would stop hearing them. 

He covered himself with his sheets and blankets, and closed his eyes, trying to count sheep. 

Dale then woke up in a house, and Caroline was standing in front of him, worried, in a hurry. She was walking in and out of the living room, with a black coat in her hands. Dale saw a picture of him and Caroline, smiling. A photo that didn't exist, it looked like a collage of older photos of the two of them, since he never had the chance to take a photo with her.

Caroline sighed, and crossed her arms, standing in front of Dale. "Are you even listening to me?" She asked, impatient.

Dale frowned. "What do you mean by it, Caroline?" He asked. "I may have missed-" 

She huffed and rolled her eyes, throwing her arms to the sides. "You always miss everything. You miss something that you never and will never have." She told him in a tone completely different from the one Caroline used to speak in.

Dale then saw a baby in his arms, who giggled and smiled at him. "What's this?" Caroline only groaned in response and stomped.

"Jesus, Dale! Always forgetting things! She's going to starve if you don't feed her!" Caroline complained, making Dale stand up and take a few steps back, shaking his head no. 

"I can't feed her Caroline, you know that." Dale replied to her, staring at the squealing baby once again. "Perhaps if-" 

"You're incredible! Always making excuses for the things you've hidden!" Caroline yelled, snatching the baby from Dale's arms, as she started to cry. Dale shook his head, shedding a few tears. Whatever reality or jail he was stuck in, he wasn't sure if he could stand it any longer.

"Caroline, please." Dale pleaded, his wife huffing and trying to calm down their child. He saw a collection of records sitting by a table on the left of the couch, and picked a random one, hidden between vinyls, speaking to Caroline. "I apologize for my lack of understanding in this situation, I'm just at a loss of words of what to do. I shouldn't be here." 

Caroline rolled her eyes once more, watching how Dale put the record on. "You're a faulty man, Dale Cooper. Look at how evil consumed you." Her words were like acid, biting at his skin, his bones and joints disintegrating by it. It wasn’t Caroline, yet the way this new reality worded her to make her sound angry made Dale wish he hadn’t met her in the first place, again.

The music started to play. Dale turned around to look at the spinning record. A familiar melody. A composition that sounded like hope. Angels floating. Tears filling the room. A bond and connection that transcended universes. He remembered standing by Laura’s side, with a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Her guardian angel.

He turned around only to find himself, with bones poking out of his skin and long black hair, naked on the floor, curled up. Caroline and his inexistent daughter were nowhere to be seen. He had to come back. He shook his shoulder and before he turned his head to look at him, he felt a chill going down his spine and opened his eyes. 

When he woke up, a blue light filled the room and he felt himself lose all the security he thought he had under the covers. BOB pulled the sheets and bedspread off Dale's bed, and kissed him, biting his neck and then holding his face with his hand.

BOB smiled, showing his fangs stained with Dale's blood and pressing hard against his legs. "I told you you'd be like me." He purred, pawing Dale by his stomach and legs as he moaned. "Still think you're the victim?"

Dale closed his eyes from the pain, moaning and groaning, and shook his head softly. "No." He whispered.

BOB laughed, and pulled Dale's t-shirt off his body, and began kissing his scarred chest, making him squirm from the pain and humiliation. 

"Don't cry yet, my little monster boy. This isn't over yet." BOB whispered, then to hold Dale's face.

"I'm not crying." Dale answered him, extremely vulnerable. 

"Not yet." BOB clarified, tracing circles with his fingers on Dale's back. 

"I didn't tell anyone about us." Dale said between small moans of pain, his eyes glistening with tears.

"Excellent. You're making great progress." BOB brushed the lanugo growing on Dale's body, then kissed him back only to break their kiss. "I regret to inform you that this is the last time we will see each other." 

And when he finished speaking, Dale jumped on BOB, and began to choke him, his tears falling on BOB's face. 

"Go away! I won't let you hurt me ever again!" Dale screamed, as BOB laughed disconsolately. 

"You deserve the pain! You wouldn't be here if you hadn't hurt others! If you hadn't hurt Albert!" BOB shrieked.

"That's a lie!" He yelled back.

"You're a terrible, selfish brat, Dale Cooper. You're always too late." BOB purred.

“No-”

“You were born too late, she was already dead when she wished for your help. You were already dead when you wished for a true friend. Can’t you see it?”

“I understand! Leave us alone!” Dale pleaded, as BOB shoved his fingers inside of Dale, making him tremble and scream. “Please!”

“When I kill you, I’ll get Laura Palmer next. You can’t save her anymore.” BOB whispered to him, making his hand out of Dale and kissing him, as Dale succumbed to the pain and cried, thinking it was going to make it stop.

"Please leave me alone." Dale pleaded, his voice no higher than a whisper, choking on his tears. "Please. I'm a good man." 

"That should be engraved on your gravestone." BOB whispered in his ear, biting his earlobe. Dale grimaced, making BOB press him harder against the wooden floor and kiss him, sealing his mark. When he broke the kiss, BOB smiled. "You've been nothing but a perfect host these past few weeks. A real pain in the ass too, you couldn't let me have any fun. Luckily, all that didn't happen to your friends: it happened to you." 

Dale cried, before BOB could kiss him again and couldn't hold his eyelids anymore. His body went limp afterwards, floating in the darkness once more. He heard BOB before he woke up. He had whispered: "Who will you see in the mirror, but not yourself?"

BOB shoved Dale back to the bed by pushing him from his chest and then removed a knife, causing Dale to freeze in horror, staring at Windom Earle's reflection in the metal of the knife. 

"I won't say goodbye without killing you first, my dear Dale. Say hello to Caroline for me." BOB said to Dale in Windom's voice, and began stabbing him in the chest, hearing Caroline scream in the background, and then his own screams.

"Caroline!"

Dale woke up with a jolt, and he was sick of it all. He was sick of the dreams, sick of the raping, how BOB made his traumas and experiences worse by showing up in his memories. 

But it was too late to tell Albert about it. The damage had been done. 

Now Dale had become his abuser, and he had to die. He didn't want to be like BOB, that was one of his worst nightmares. He turned back towards the bathroom, echoes of past nightmares echoing in the hallways, and looked in the mirror. 

He saw only BOB's reflection, and Dale began to cry softly. 

He was horrified at his new appearance, he was a monster now. A monster who didn't deserve to be loved. Someone who'd let his guard down and failed. Again.

And when he thought things couldn’t get worse, the phone rang. He picked up the call and heard a familiar voice. "Dale, do you need me to help you?" It was his mother, and his eyes immediately watered when he heard her voice. 

Dale shook his head, clearing his throat. "Mother."

"I've dreamed the same thing you have. You haven't been free of him at all." She reminded him. "You have distracted him, but he saw you yesterday when you were with Albert." Dale's heart sank at the last part.

"Mother, don't do this. Please." Dale pleaded, his voice thin but growing louder with frustration. "I've already lost you once to that monster. I don't want to go through that again."

"Then for how long will you let him hurt you? Until your mind is scattered somewhere in a dark corner of the universe?" She asked him, her voice sad but serious.

"I don't know how!" Dale cried, wiping his eyes. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I thought I had fixed it all in the last months… But I haven't got a clue on how to get rid of him for eternity." 

The line went dangerously silent and Dale's eyes rolled back. He saw himself through a big screen, and saw how he hung up the phone, then unplugged it. He walked to the mirror and saw how BOB was using his face to smile at him. 

"Time's running out, little boy." BOB whispered with Dale's face. Dale blinked and he was back in his body.

He went back to his room and started dialing Diane's phone. He had to say goodbye to her and everyone he loved, they didn't deserve someone like him.

"Hello?" Diane's secretary asked Dale.

"Hi. This is Dale Cooper. I wanted to know if Diane Evans is around." 

"She's busy, but you can leave a message." The secretary carelessly told him. She must've had a new secretary.

Dale sniffled, and nodded. "I'd appreciate it very much if you'd turn a deaf ear. It's personal and I'd be humiliated if anyone else knew about it." 

"...As you say." She replied to Dale in a disinterested manner, as Dale cleared his throat.

Dale inhaled deeply, then exhaled and sighed. "Diane, you are surely busy solving some extremely interesting cases, and that makes me very proud of you. You deserve to rise higher and higher in that position because you are a phenomenal woman and I admire you so much, Diane." Dale began, letting a couple of tears fall. "You're funny, you're strong, you're brave... Sometimes I'm sorry you had to go through such things in your life like sexism in the workplace before you got where you are today, and I wish I could have done more to lift your spirits when you felt blue about it. You are very beautiful and sweet and I have questioned myself in several instances what I have done to deserve someone like you. You have been one of three of my closest friends, the ones who really saw me for who I really was and who have shown me that I am not the monster I think I am. You have helped so much and I will never, ever forget what you have done for me. Having someone listen to my rambling, ranting… Having someone who'll listen to what I feel and I have to say…" Dale stopped to sniff, and then cleared his throat. His voice breaking. "Is something that I've been granted very little in my short life. I shouldn’t have used you as a therapist as much as I did instead of being honest with my therapist. I’m sorry. Don't blame yourself for this, because I promise you that you have done nothing wrong. I want you to grow up, show everyone who's the boss, and always make yourself an excellent cup of coffee like I would have liked to have had. I love you, Diane. Goodbye." 

Dale heard snoring on the other line, and cleared his throat loudly, waking the secretary. 

"Would you like to leave that message?" She asked him, alert. 

"Please. Tell her to listen to it right away as soon as she gets back." Dale asked the secretary. Once she saved the message, he cut the call short and went into the living room to tear a sheet of paper from his notepad.

He grabbed a pen, and began to write a letter to Albert, all the while crying inconsolably. Tears blurred his handwriting, ink spilling over the sides of the letters. 

When he finished the letter, Dale read it. It read as follows: 

Dear Albert: 

The last few years have been some of the most beautiful in my life.

 Meeting you was an honor, and sometimes you think you are a hard person to love because of your attitude. You are surprised that I still put up with you despite your cynical and bitter personality. I have never seen you like that and I wouldn't expect you to be anything less than what you are.

You are an admirable man, I could never do what you do without throwing up or fainting first. 

The world needs more people like you. Your heart is pure and kind, and you really follow your ideals. You say things like they are, without watering them down or cherry picking information, you go straight to the point. 

Regret is a word I'd use to describe the way I behaved towards you when you attempted to show me the dark surface of Twin Peaks. Now I understand what you meant by it. I wished I had seen the truth earlier. Or way before Twin Peaks. Words that I've said, letters I've written, things I've done. Too many regrets. You deserved a better friend.

Good is not a word anyone should use to describe me. If anything, it suits you more.

There's something I don't know if you knew, Albert. But your name has the most beautiful meaning in the world. I was reading about it the other day and forgot to tell you. 

Albert means "bright," and Rosenfield means "field of roses." Your name means "bright field of roses," Albert. Isn't that beautiful?

 Roses are a symbol of love, and I don't think there has ever been a human being as loving and as committed to spreading love around the world as you, Albert. Or a name more fitting for you.

I love you, Albert. I don't think I can find all the right words to express myself the way I want to express myself about you, but every time I see you, I feel safe and loved. I look the way I look and do the things I do to avoid a terrible fate for you. The possibility of you dying in BOB's arms.

I protected you by doing this. I did what I couldn't do for Caroline. Though I must admit that I let my guard down by letting BOB do terrible things to me in my nightmares. They felt too real, Albert. Pawing, biting, licking, torturing, no traces were found every time I woke up but his presence had been there.

 They weren't those types of nightmares where you can easily figure out that they're not real. He picked my darkest moments and inserted himself in them. Including that night in Pittsburgh. He replaced doctors, hippies, even Windom Earle, and inserted himself in them.

 A disturbing sight to many, but for me, it seemed like watching a gateway to hell opening upon my eyes.

 My mother already died twenty years ago trying to protect me as a helpless, sickly ten year old who was just learning how the world worked, and I didn't want you to pay that price. And now, because of me, she’s back. But the print her death left in my mind can’t be erased like her death was from this world. 

Evil never dies. I couldn't let BOB hurt you, or Diane. Not even my friends back there in Twin Peaks.

 Thank you for everything you have done for me, from the day we met until last night. I want you to stay true to your word and keep loving people, doing everything you do for love. It was my choice, and never blame yourself for it, please. You did nothing wrong, you just tried to help. You tried to help a shell of a broken man.

I love you, Agent Rosenfield.

Farewell, 

Coop. x

It took Dale hours to write that letter, and when he finished it, he sighed and went outside to buy a rose for Albert.

When he returned, it was already evening, the sky was dark and the moon was up, and he was deeply grateful that no one made any comment on his appearance. He left a white rose on the table next to the letter, and headed for the bathroom.

Shouting in the hallways told him not to, not to do what he was about to do, that he didn't deserve that, but he heard again that animalistic laughter that was so characteristic of BOB as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

Dale opened the bathroom mirror compartment, finding a bag of razor blades. He removed one from the bag and closed the mirror, only to find BOB standing behind him, smiling.

"It's already done. You're too late." BOB growled with a devilish smile. Dale whimpered, staring at BOB’s reflection in the blade.

"Dale?" Albert asked him from the hallway, making Dale shiver. Dale jumped and started to cry and scream loudly, dropping the blade. He attempted to close the bathroom door. He choked on his tears, BOB pressing his thumbs against his neck, a sight invisible to Albert, who was trying to hold Dale’s shoulder. 

Dale's eyes turned pitch black, and when he managed to open the door of the bathroom, before losing his humanity to BOB, he mumbled his last words to Albert: "Please forgive me."

The bathroom turned into his cage, his body now locked inside it. Dale stopped crying and his face turned into stone, walking over to the bathtub and turning on the water. Albert's loud thuds and warnings didn't stop him. Dale put on the plug and when the bathtub was almost filled, Dale submerged himself in it, letting the water clog his nostrils, falling into the dark…

…and into the old hallway of his house. Dale heard choked crying from his bedroom. He opened the door to find a little girl crying. Vaporub sat on her nightstand, and her starry comforter was drenched in sweat. Dale walked over to her and brushed her feverish forehead, and was met with a pair of scared, hazel eyes.

Dale turned his head to the window, unable to face her. But the sight on the window wasn't a better choice. He was seeing BOB drown him in his own bathroom, while Albert attempted to get through the door, his muffled screaming coming from behind the door.

Dale heard loud banging coming from the door, and the girl began to cry, almost choked cries. He remembered this. The first time BOB had tried to possess him. Dale sighed and had no choice but to look her in the eyes. The girl sniffled, rubbing her eyes.

"I'm so scared." She sobbed, covering her face with her small hands. Dale nodded his head and put his hand on her knee.

"Afraid of what?" 

"Of becoming like him." She answered him, swallowing hard. Dale turned his head and watched as her body lay deep in her tub, completely motionless. “I don’t want him here. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Dale didn't know how to answer her. The banging was getting louder and louder behind the door. BOB began to laugh, as the room began to engulf in flames, causing the girl to shriek and Dale to become alarmed that BOB was about to burst through the door to his room. In the real world, Albert was trying to unlock the door with keys and cards of any kind, silently crying.

"Dale, open the door!" Albert shouted, trying to unlock the door with a crowbar, but to no avail. He couldn't pull the door down with his own weight either. He was running out of time.

They were both running out of time. Dale realized that he only learned to love part of himself, that he had not yet faced his worst fears, nor accepted his shortcomings. His eyes filled with tears as he watched the girl cry. He hugged her tightly and put his chin on the top of her head. 

"I'm so sorry." Dale murmured. "You deserved so much better."

“I just want to feel better.” The girl croaked, coughing. Dale remembers how worried he would get when he got sick, how close to death he felt every time he was bedridden. Dale then remembered the vaporub on the nightstand, and carefully removed her shirt, as he rubbed the green gel over her chest. The girl inhaled, and exhaled, as her breathing evened. 

“Thank you.” She squeaked, as Dale nodded, the heat of the fire catching up to him, the sensation of BOB’s nails clawing on the doorframe. Dale gulped and shed a few tears, he was staring at his own past, and he was letting himself lose against BOB.

“You’re welcome.” Dale muttered, blinking a tear. The little girl frowned and sniffled.

“Why are you sad?” She asked him, wiping her cheeks. Dale coughed and cried, as he covered his face with his hands, the fire starting to burn the bed. 

“You’re me. A-and I can’t come into terms with my mistakes, I can’t come into- I lost against him.” Dale stuttered, failing to tell her what was happening around them. “I ignored what was actually killing me on the inside and I let him hurt me.”

The girl gasped at the revelation, her eyes growing wide at the adult in front of her. She put her hand on Dale’s cheeks and whispered: “I’m going to get better?”

He felt his heart shatter at that question alone, and he hugged the girl tightly, his tears falling on her head, sobbing loudly. The fire began to burn the sheets, and Dale began to lose oxygen, coughing more and more sharply. The water filling his lungs, Albert still failing to open the door, still not giving up.

But Dale remembered her question. Am I going to get better? He was right. He did get better. Dale was able to get BOB away from him for a while, he refused to become BOB. Dale refused to become a BOB puppet on multiple occasions, beyond that in the last few hours, he failed pathetically. Dale had to face his fears and accept the fact that he too can do evil and that he’s imperfect. He had been imperfect, but with that question alone, he realized his imperfection and lack of acceptance of the fact that BOB was still after him and took him to the solution that might save him. 

He accepted that all his decisions and mistakes took him here, and decided to take the responsibility for it. He could finally save himself. He would never be like BOB, and so he smiled at the girl and nodded his head, brushing back her black bangs. "It's going to be alright. I'm here to take care of you."

BOB started screaming, as the fire was put out by water. Dale furrowed his eyebrows and looked toward the window, his body underwater coughing and trying to get back to the surface. He was regaining his autonomy. 

The girl sniffed and hugged him tightly. Dale pulled her inside his bed and held her hand, brushing gently. He got up and saw how BOB’s burned fingers were scratching the door. Dale grabbed the door handle and closed the door harshly, listening to BOB’s fingers crack, as he managed to close the door, not a soul in sight. He wasn’t going to let him hurt her. He walked over to the bed again, and saw the girl lying on the bed, almost falling asleep. 

Dale smiled and kissed her forehead, as he crawled over to the bed and hugged her. “Goodnight. I love you.” He whispered to himself.

Dale started coughing, trying to get out the water that had clogged his throat. His body was all pink from the heat of the water and his damp hair covered his view. Dale climbed out of the tub and coughed the water out in large quantities, feeling BOB's hands on his neck. 

"You're not getting out of this alive!" BOB shrieked. Dale couldn't distinguish between his tears and the drops of water falling on his forehead, he then made Dale grab the razor blade he had left earlier. "This is it." BOB whispered, as Dale watched the razor between his thumb and forefinger.

 BOB giggled, rubbing his hands together as Dale sniffled, putting the tip of the razor into his wrist, he traced it gently, letting out a cry of pain at the sight of the little red line. Dale screamed, dropping the razor to the floor, feeling the demon trying to take control over his body. He clawed at his face to get him off of him, drawing angry red spots on his face, but BOB pulled him down to the floor to then punch him hard in his face, painting part of his lower face red. 

"Albert, help!" Cooper cried out disconsolately, feeling Albert unlock the doorknob as fast as he could. Dale was back in his old room. BOB was approaching the cabinet and removing the mouthwash. He looked at BOB's reflection in the bathroom mirror from his window, watching as BOB opened the mouthwash and drank it.

 "You have become what you swore to destroy." BOB growled. Dale heard the door creak from behind him and saw that it was slightly opened. He turned his head to look at the sleeping girl and stood up. He finally had enough.

He went through the door and grabbed BOB’s jean collar, piercing his soul with his eyes. "I did, and I'll make sure whatever I broke is repaired with everything I learned, acknowledging its flaws. I’ll never be you." And Dale punched BOB, proving to him that he changed and fought with his own set of rules against his game. "You'll never have me."

Dale started choking on the liquid, and then felt two fingers go down his throat harshly. He vomited all the blue liquid into the toilet, and when he could breathe again, Albert was on top of him, holding his naked body next to the toilet. His face was exhausted and stained with tears. Dale sighed and blinked, then shrieked from the horror and humiliation that Albert found him hurting. 

"Wait." Albert opened the bathroom cabinet and quickly removed some disinfectant, cotton and a bandage for Dale's wrist.

Albert sat with Dale on the floor, and looked him in the eye, trying to help him. Dale, looking for support, looked him in the eyes in response.

"Show me your cut already." Albert ordered him, as Dale removed his hand over his cut. Albert sighed and put pressure on it, making Dale moan.

"Sorry-" 

"Save it, Coop. There will be time for that. Now I want you to calm down and listen to me. It's a thin cut and not deep at all, you should be thankful I'm not taking you to the hospital." Albert interrupted him, removing his hand to then disinfect the infamous red line. Dale cried silently as Albert cleaned his wound.

"My god. First of all, drowning, then an attempt at self mutilation followed by choking on mouthwash. You're lucky I found you before you took this to the extreme." Albert grumbled. And he was right again. Then he put a clean white bandage which he tied tightly around Dale's wrist. 

Dale could tell Albert was definitely upset because he had been lying to him, and because he definitely heard what he had told Diane earlier today.

When he finished, Dale fled to his bed, followed by Albert, who sat across from him. Dale didn't dare look Albert in the eye. 

"What the fuck happened, Coop?" Albert asked him, annoyed. "I read your ballad and smelled the rose. You know Diane made me listen to that voice mail too? You know how tired I am of your attempts of being a hero with your white knighting?" 

Dale nodded his head, pouting. 

"Why, Coop? Why the hell are you doing this?" Albert asked again, feeling tears making his eyes glisten at the sight of Dale's suicide attempt.

Dale tried to say something, but just burst into tears, dropping an absurd amount of tears per second. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, as he softly rocked himself back and forth. Albert had never seen him see Dale cry so hard before. Not even when Caroline died.

"It wasn't a decision I should have made, but I had to make it." Dale blubbered, as he hid his face from Albert. "I let him hurt me, Albert. To protect you."

"I know." And ever if after reading the letter he knew, Albert still couldn't believe it.

"Albert. The reason I am now a hideous monster is because of BOB." Cooper stopped him, staring at him in the eye. "He'd rape me in my dreams when he had the chance, and forced me to remain silent or else he was going to hurt you. Evil can never really leave, Albert. I can never be too sure about it." Dale sniffled, then looked away. "My mother died after I told her BOB tried to get through the door in my dream. She died protecting me, Albert. I can't risk losing you. I'm tired of seeing my loved ones die. These dreams were too real a-and I wasn't going to take the risk to tell this to you, because this already happened to me when I was a child." 

Albert furrowed his brows, as Dale clinged tighter onto his shoulders.

"I love you, Albert. You make my days brighter when you're around, you're like a warm hug to the soul after what seemed to be a long and eternal winter. I value everything you've done for me and I still fail to comprehend why you're still trying to help after everything, you're too good to me. I'll never be the man you deserve in your life." Dale sobbed. "And if I lost you… I… I didn't know what I was going to do. I wrote the letter taking in consideration the possibility of a scenario where it was too late for the both of us."

Albert blinked, shedding a few tears, and pulled him tightly into a hug, feeling Dale tighten his grip on his suit jacket. "It hurts me too to see you this way, you know? I’m not taking this lightly either, Coop."

"The vomiting and my absurd weight loss were courtesy of my nightmares and BOB inhabiting my body. I felt disgusted when I ate. Every time I looked at myself in the mirror, a different person was looking back at me. That's in the past now obviously, but the nightmares turned me into BOB. He turned me into my worst nightmare, his best prized thing." Dale looked down in shame. "I look like a beast." 

Albert brushed Dale's long hair, and his eyes then went to Dale's face. "Coop, this can be fixed. You're not that fucking succubus, and you never will be." Albert reminded him, breaking the embrace and placing his hand on his cheek.

"How can you love a monster, Albert?" Dale asked Albert, whimpering. 

"I don't want you to ever say that ever again, OK?" Albert barely raised his voice, then gently hugged Dale again, holding his head. "You're not a monster. Do you think I believed you wanted to dream with him, that you were looking for it?" 

"But look at me!" Dale broke the hug and threw his arms to his sides. "BOB made me become this, and I hurt you by lying to you! And that’s why I wanted to end my life…”

Albert sighed, and brushed Dale's hand with his thumb, getting Dale to look him in the eye. Albert blinked, letting a few tears fall. 

He was going to bring Dale out of the darkness, and was going to help him feel better. He knew how much of an effect Dale's mother's death had on him. How BOB would hunt him down and do terrible things to him, ever since he tried to get through the door in his dreams. He believed him, and he wasn't going to pretend that it wasn't real because it was real for Dale, and he was close to death again. 

"I hope you won't make an attempt in justifying me, Albert. I was wrong and I take responsibility for my actions. I recognize it was wrong that I lied to you. You don't deserve that." Dale muttered, hiding behind his hair. "Albert, you shouldn't feel guilty about abandoning me. I know you understand that you should have ignored me and stayed anyway, but if that had been the case, BOB-" Dale started to say, painfully trying to sit on the bed.

"Dale, no. Stop it." Albert stopped him. "You're not doing anything by playing as a white knight, you just end up killing yourself more and more, damn it. Are you even listening to what you’re saying?"

“No. I- No…”

"I wasn't going to abandon you anyway, Dale." Albert whispered, crying quietly. "With that being said, there's nothing more horrible than watching you suffer alone. You were scared. You don't deserve that either." 

"Solitude is the answer, Albert. I can't hurt the ones I love anymore. And it's selfish of me to let you stay here, with me. But I love you. But this is so wrong." Cooper weeped, then sniffled, looking Albert in the eye. "I feel so lonely. And it hurts to be, but I suppose I'm destined to be alone. I'm just bad news. I understand whatever decision you may take."

"You're never going to be alone, damn it, Dale. I'm here." Albert confessed, crying. "You're not alone, you have me, Diane, Denise. You're quite the literal definition of a flutter bum, and I swear, you're not a monster, Dale."

"Albert-"

"No, you let me finish." Albert interrupted, his two hands firmly resting on Dale's shoulders. "I admire you, and I care too much about your well-being to leave you here in this pigsty of suffering, your deepest terrors eating at you everytime you're at your lowest. Your feelings matter to me. You matter to me. You are my friend, and you always make an admirable effort to understand me, when many have simply ignored me or cast me aside because of my cynicism. So, with more reason I should be here when you're at your lowest. And quite frankly, Diane has been telling me for years to cut the crap and tell you that I loved you." 

Dale shook his head softly, his mouth turning into a sad grimace, looking down at the guilt and the truth of Albert's words. Dale sighed and sniffled, letting tears fall from his eyes, his face being covered by the long locks of his hair. Albert wrapped his arms around him, letting him cry. Dale just sunk his face in Albert’s shirt, thinking it would erase all the pain. 

"Sorry Albert. You don't deserve this." Dale blubbered, in an attempt to modulate his feelings with honesty. "I just don't feel like a human being anymore. I lost all my humanity, and in every corner of this house, there's something that belongs to a dead man. There's nothing that I consider mine. Almost as if I’m not here at all."

“But you are.” Albert whispered, making Dale raise his head at him. “And there’s no way in hell you are going anywhere next.”

Dale shook his head no, gulping. “But I’m not here for myself, I’m still running away. Albert, I’m a trainwreck of a man and I don’t know if someone like me will ever have the chance to live among people ever again.” Dale mumbled, parting from the hug. 

There was a long silence, with Albert staring at Dale, waiting for an answer, and Dale looking down, expecting Albert to say the truth again. Albert reached out for his hand, and squeezed it softly. “Coop, you are . You wouldn’t be here talking to me if you hadn’t woken up. You wouldn’t allow BOB to fuck with you anymore. You survived. I don’t know what the hell you did to get away from him, but you’re a survivor. You’re here for you.” Albert reminded him, and Dale swore there was a soft, blue light emanating from behind Albert. He swore he blinked and there were angels, flying above him.

He blinked, and he was sitting in the White Lodge, with blue curtains falling over him and blowing softly, as an angel that looked like Albert flew above him. Laura was there for him, hugging him. He remembers her angel too back there in the Black Lodge, and finally realized. She was safe. And so was Dale. 

And that’s when Dale realized why BOB would vanish every time Albert was around. Albert was good. Albert was from the White Lodge. He was his angel. Laura was his guardian angel just like Dale was hers.

“We’re alright.” Laura whispered, her voice soft and gentle, her eyes glossy. “We’ll be together in every universe.”

Dale smiled, for the first time in a long time, and cried tears of joy, closing his eyes then again to absorb the situation, and he felt his body relax once more, realizing that he was here. He was here for himself at last, coming back home to himself after decades. He reached the White Lodge, somehow. He was going to be alright. 

In reality, Dale had fallen asleep in Albert's arms, feeling his thumb stroke his back. Albert just tucked him in bed again and stayed with him until he also fell asleep. Dale didn't stir nor scream once in his sleep. BOB never reappeared in Dale's dreams since that night.

From that night on, everything got better. Eventually, Dale's cheeks and stomach stopped being swollen, but he was still too small for his height. Albert's cousin had become his new psychologist, and he began to make positive progress. 

"Albert, due to the circumstances I am in and after much consideration, I have decided that moving out of this pathetic little apartment would be beneficial to my health." Dale told him a few days later, concentrating on making a pancake without Albert's help.

Albert was on the couch, reading the paper, when he raised his head and then walked over to Dale, putting his hand on his hip. "About time."

And now Dale had to say the complicated part of this whole affair. "While you've been working, I've been thinking about moving somewhere up north, not close to Twin Peaks. I've thought about going back to my home state in Pennsylvania, but there's nothing left for me there anymore. Not even with my now reunited family." Albert nodded his head at that. Dale inhaled deeply and then exhaled, blinking.

"Philly's nice." Albert added, though he considered that Cooper staying out of Philadelphia would be a better option. 

Dale's old green house had resurfaced, and there was nothing more horrifying than a ghost showing you photos from the universe that had slid through whatever crack Cooper saved Laura might've created. Graduation photos of Dale smiling with his mother and his diploma in one hand, for example. Albert couldn't sleep that night after he saw them. They weren't meant to be real.

"It is, but I can't go home anymore. It brings back bad memories." Dale sighed, flipping the pancake carefully, hearing the mix sizzle on the pan. "And I like it here in the northwest. I like peaceful, little towns with forests and lakes."

"Not stepping a foot in one anymore." Albert mumbled, sipping on his coffee.

There was a silence, as Albert poured coffee into his mug, and Dale gulped, ready to share his proposal to Albert. "When I get the chance to move out, I'm going to be very lonely and I'm afraid I'm going to need a roommate." Dale cringed afterwards by listening to his own awkward words. He tried to fix it, by saying: "I don't want to be alone."

Albert nodded his head until his eyes suddenly grew wide as he realized what he was implying. Dale blinked, thinking it made him uncomfortable. "I'd really like to move in with you there, Albert. I-I know you’re not into that small town business, much less after, you know but- All I desire is to be with you." Dale stammered, turning off the fire of the stove and putting the last pancake on the plate.

Albert thought, and yes, he was tired of his apartment too. Besides, he wanted to be with Dale. He loved him very much, and he was still his friend. He could trust that Dale could now be alone with his own appliances, but if BOB still wanted his friend, he couldn't be alone. Albert was going to move mountains and earth for Dale. He loved Dale.

"What follows is to make an in-depth investigation of where we want to live. No loud cities for you, no small town big secrets crap for me." And so Dale's smile widened and he hugged Albert tightly, happy that Albert had accepted his proposal. Dale was on cloud nine.

Some time after that, they decided to settle in a house in Crescent City, a small town in Northern California filled with greenery, where Redwood Forest was located. It didn't take long with the move. After an entire day of organizing Dale's astrology books and Albert's comic books, Dale's dream pop cassettes and Albert's jazz singles; from Dale's blankets of every variety to Albert's t-shirts, starting with Albert's French cookbook and ending with Dale's telescope standing near the shared bedroom window, they collapsed on the orange couch, one on top of the other in a way that their bodies were unwilling to cooperate in getting up.

After they were settled, with Albert coming back home from work every night thanks to the bureau, Dale started to look for people like him dressed with his newfound confidence, but not exposing much of himself either so as to not attract strangers. Among zines that were sold down the street and small interactions at the supermarket, Dale met new people who he sensed were a good influence to him, and people who he felt good with. From Charlotte the transsexual woman who was once a biker in the sixties that would shop for groceries at the same time as him, to John the preschool teacher who had complimented the drawing he had done on a practice afternoon in the local park.

He began to feel better about what had happened to him while doing little drawings and poems, something that made him feel better, rejoicing in his progress and ability of healing. He also wanted to help others, boys and girls who were in the same situation as him. Not out of guilt, but to ensure they’d least have someone to rely on or talk to when they felt alone or helpless. And so he decided that he’d start to help other victims like him, like Laura, who he still didn’t forget about and wouldn’t anytime soon. He’d do it when he was in a better physical condition.

Unfortunately, The week after they moved in, Albert got assigned a case where he had to be outside of California for a month. Luckily, Diane had offered herself to look after Dale, who was still pretty rough after what happened. 

When Diane arrived at the new house, first her eyes quickly glanced around in surprise. Unlike Dale's old house, it didn't look dark and grim. It had warm colors and muted earth tones that were somehow convincing enough for Albert, who hated colors like that. It was cozy and comforting, and everywhere you looked, it looked like it was Dale and Albert’s house. From the tibetan rug to the french cuisine book Diane had bought Albert for Christmas in 1985.

 Then, she hugged Dale tightly and slapped him. "I don’t give a shit if I shouldn't have done that or not, but damn it Dale you sure have a hard head!" Diane whined, as Dale rubbed his cheek. 

"I had it coming sooner or later, Diane. You didn't deserve that. However, it's worth noting that my emotional state now-"

Diane sighed, brushing back Dale's hair which was even longer than before and was close to reaching his elbows. Then she looked at his face and that measly excuse for a mustache drawn on his face with five facial hairs.

"Jesus, Coop. You have that awful mustache and Albert didn't say anything?" Dale blushed in embarrassment.

"I know, even Albert hates it. Surprisingly, he did nothing to stop it. However, for the time being I wouldn't go near any object that would allow me to shave it off." Dale clarified, and Diane dragged him into the bathroom. 

Then she brought a chair from the study and sat him down, to put a towel around his shoulders. She grabbed a pair of scissors and a razor, and looked at Dale in the mirror. "Be honest, Coop, you wanted to do this with me." Diane came clean with him, causing Dale to grin from ear to ear and look down in embarrassment, his cheeks flushed red. "Good. As it should've been." 

Diane cut Dale's hair, leaving it the way it looked before he went to Twin Peaks. Next, Dale shaved the hair growing above his lips and around his cheeks and chin with Diane's assistance.

He trimmed his nails without much difficulty, and when night fell, he looked in the mirror and smiled, hugging Diane. Diane returned the hug, and what was left of that evening consisted of watching movies playing on TV and Diane gossiping with Dale about her work. When Diane left, the phone started ringing. Dale crawled into his bed, and answered the call. "Special- Dale Cooper." 

"At least you're my Special Agent. Former Special Agent, but you're mine anyway." 

Dale grinned from ear to ear, blushing pink. "Albert!" 

"I decided that calling at the same time every night would do you good, because I was still planning to call you anyway to make sure you're not doing anything out of the ordinary. I'm calling from a grubby hotel in the middle of antsville USA. To say I'm frosted about it is an understatement." Albert mentioned, followed by a huff.

"Anything else?" Cooper asked him with a smile, fiddling with the phone cord.

"Hell, I can't keep anything from you! I wanted to annoy Diane too but it seems that she ran away." Albert confessed, making Dale laugh.

"Sorry Albert, but sometimes it's so easy to read your mind." Cooper sighed. "Other than your complaints about the hotel, how are you?" 

Albert sighed. "I miss you. Nothing out of the ordinary, obviously. I'm starting to worry too much, but luckily it doesn't last more than two minutes." 

Cooper's smile faded. "Oh, Albert. Please don't do that. I have enough of that happening to me." Cooper mused. 

"I'm not doing it on purpose. I'm not going to be like you, Dale. I don't want you to worry about that." Albert told him, then cleared his throat. “But these last months have been a hell for me too.”

“I know, Albert. And I’m sorry.” Dale apologized. “We made it without any major issues, I'd like to think. If there's something that's making you uncomfortable please don't hesitate to mention it to me." 

"I could say the same. I hope that when I come back you don't have those four-"

"They were five hairs." Cooper corrected him with a smile.

"Were? Diane didn't keep that mustache not even to piss me off?" Albert asked him.

"No, she hated it too, believe it or not. But I shaved it with her watching me, so my poor excuse of a mustache is part of the past." 

Albert raised his eyebrows. "I have to go Coop, sorry to cut you off. The sheriff here at Horse Shit USA is going to have an interview with me tomorrow morning, and I have to be prepared. Lucky me." 

Dale nodded. "Okay. I love you, Albert. Goodnight." 

"Godnight to you too, Dale. I love you too." Albert wished him, hanging up the phone. Dale glanced at his phone for a little before turning off the light and falling asleep.

In the next few days, Dale has never felt so much love and joy for himself. He had gained the weight he had lost and he considered he looked even better than he did before. 

 Of course, sometimes he didn't feel as bright as he did before, but he was finally achieving what he deserved for so long: inner peace with himself and his life. He started to pick up on old hobbies of his, including performing small magic tricks, and the joy was infinite. He’d write love letters to himself when he didn’t feel well, but never signed them with his name. He even tried to meditate and never had a single vision or visit from BOB.

Albert kept calling every night, keeping his promise. When he didn't, Dale wouldn't worry much because he knew Albert didn't have to do that every night either. 

When Albert came back from the case, he heard not a single noise from his boyfriend. He smelled something from the kitchen. Food. French cuisine. Nothing was burning. Not a sound of Dale around the house. 

When he walked into the kitchen, he saw Dale, cooking, nothing burning. A strange sight to see. Dale turned around and yelped, startled by Albert. He had his hand on his heart, and was panting. 

"Jesus, Albert! You scared me." Dale let out a sigh.

Albert scanned him from head to toe. He looked very similar to the man he knew before he went to Twin Peaks, but he looked more like… Dale. Not Special Agent Dale Cooper. Just Dale. And he loved that. 

Albert smiled and hugged him tightly, as Dale returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Albert.

"I missed you too." Dale whispered, as he brushed Albert's short hair. He broke the hug and smiled shyly, looking down. "I made noodles with parisienne sauce. Just how you like them."

Albert's eyes were blown away. "Wait really? Diane wasn't kidding when she said you started to-"

Dale giggled and looked down, then looked up at Albert again. "And Diane wasn't kidding when she said you were attracted to it." 

Albert blushed red and huffed. "Of course she did. I'll help you fix the table. Stop standing there smiling like a goof, Dale." 

After they set the table, they had dinner, which consisted of Albert ranting about his latest case followed by bits of compliments of Dale's cooking, and then Dale telling Albert how he'd spent the days while he was away.

"Anything else aside from painting your sorrows into canvases?" Albert asked him, rolling some noodles into his fork.

"Connecting and socializing with other people like me. Helping them out, doing what I couldn't do for the ones that aren't here anymore. I finally realized I can't change the past." Dale admitted, drinking out of his glass of wine. 

“Took you long enough.” Albert told him, earning a nod from Dale. They must've brushed their hands once or twice while at it, and lost count of all the times they had gazed lovingly at each other. 

After they had done the dishes together and Dale had gone to brush his teeth, Albert petted a cat, who was half asleep on the end of Dale's bed. When Dale came back, he smiled and brushed her back, making her yawn and jumping out of bed. 

"So it's safe to say that's your emotional support animal?" Albert asked him, taking off his watch and suit jacket. 

Dale shrugged. "More or less. I wanted to have a pet for so long. Nellie is just perfect. I must mention to you that she needs guidance, she's blind in her right eye, I'll tell you later what to do to make things easier for her." Cooper pointed to his right eye. "Now that I am not even the slightest bit overworked as I had been when I worked at the Bureau, I can look after a small individual now." 

Albert raised his eyebrows and sat by Dale's side. "This is not how I expected your proposal of having a child to be like." 

Dale laughed, shaking his head. "Oh no, Albert. I could never be a father. Look at mine."

"Don't think too much about it, me neither. My father was in and out of my house all the time." Albert confessed, as they sat silently, glancing at each other's eyes; both losing themselves in their irises, seeking for warmth, for love.

"Albert I would very much like to kiss you again, if you give me the permission to do so." Dale broke eye contact, as Albert rolled his eyes and huffed, breaking into a smile.

"Then do it." He told him, removing his suit jacket. Dale only smiled and leaned over Albert's face to connect his lips with his, fingers finding Albert's navy tie and undoing it.

Albert closed his eyes, as he pushed Dale to the back of the bed, their bodies starting to intertwine and touch.

Now with most of his body exposed, Albert undid the orange shirt Dale had on, then the white t-shirt he wore underneath, finally getting to his exposed torso, kissing every nook and cranny when he had the chance to do so, making Cooper moan in pleasure, kissing Albert's neck.

"Fuck, Coop. Has anyone ever told you how fucking beautiful you are?" Albert whispered, as he felt his pants slide down his legs. Eventually, he made Cooper's pants disappear somewhere underneath the bed.

"Yes. In more than one instance." He mumbled, being interrupted by Albert's kisses. "Please, go on." 

Dale moaned, closing his eyes, gripping on the bed sheets. Albert leaned over to kiss his lips, brushing his cheekbones with his thumb. "I've dreamt of this." Albert whispered, biting Dale's neck, making him yelp. "More than once." 

Dale nodded, smiling, feeling Albert inside of him, almost as if they were one. Dale couldn't believe it for one moment. It was too perfect. 

Albert then started to kiss his chest softly, but heard Dale squirm and freeze, stopping what he was doing. Albert looked at his naked boyfriend underneath him, and brushed his cheek. "Do you want me to stop?" Albert asked him. Dale stared at him and sighed. 

"Not really. I'd rather have you doing it more gently, if that isn't a problem." He replied to him, as Albert laid by his side and started to brush Dale's chest, glancing at him lovingly. 

"Is there anything you don't want to do?"

"Oral. Penetration. Just not now. Maybe in another instance." Dale clarified to him, petting Albert's head.

"So nothing too wild? Want to keep this pretty vanilla?"

Dale smiled brightly, dazed from earlier. "That's not even wild for my standards. With that being said, I do love kissing. I like it when you kiss me, Albert." 

Albert leaned over him, planting kisses across his face and jaw, hearing him giggle underneath. Dale followed by kissing Albert too, wrapping his arms around him, holding him. 

Albert thinks Dale's beautiful, he deserves to have this after the last months which have consisted of nothing but a reenactment of his traumas. He deserves to be happy and it relaxes him that Dale seems to have finally achieved it.

Dale also believes that Albert is beautiful, he's moved by the fact his feelings are returned and that despite everything, despite being a man that doesn't seem real to many, he is loved and felt that way. He can't believe he got where he had wanted to be for so long.

Dale stops, feeling Albert lay over his arm and fixing his position so that Dale can remove it. Dale snuggled in his chest and blinked. "I love you so much." He whispered, feeling the warmth of Albert's body.

"Idem. I missed listening to your rants about Tibetan food in this shitty case I was in." Albert replies, stroking Dale's hair.

Dale smiles and laughs softly, drowsy and still in shock about what he did earlier. He puts his hand close to Albert's cheek and brushes it, making Albert blink. 

"Have I told you how beautiful you look under the moon, Albert?" He then sighed, kissing Albert's cheek.

"Your medication must be kicking in because that's not the truth. Keep dreaming, Coop." Albert comments, holding Dale's hand. "Should we get you a new mirror?"

Dale shakes his head no and kisses Albert again, short but sweet. "No, Albert. I mean it. You're beautiful."

Albert blinks again, in disbelief, and smiles as he presses a kiss on Dale's cheek. Dale smiles and kisses Albert once more, and then his nose softly rubs Albert's neck. Albert wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him close, putting his chin over Dale's head.

"Missing you was an understatement." Albert whispered, hearing Dale hum.

"I know." Dale blinked a few times, snuggling closer into Albert's touch. "I can't believe it, Albert."

Albert's fingers started to softly brush Dale's hair. "Can't believe what?" Dale raised his head to look at Albert and smile softly.

"That I'm finally living the life that I've been seeking to have for so long. That I get to have you." Dale whispered, a huge smile forming on his face, his eyes shining like a thousand little stars.

Albert didn't have the words for once in his life, so he just kept stroking his hair, letting him look at Albert warmly. How he missed that smile of Dale's. How he loved to see that he had finally found peace after so long. Dale then sighed and snuggled again in Albert's chest, Albert sinking his head into his pillow.

Dale found him staring at him for too long now, and giggled, followed by a short yawn. "What?" 

Albert shook his head softly, Dale falling asleep in his chest. Dale knew exactly what Albert was feeling. "It's just the way I smile…" Dale whispered, succumbing to a peaceful sleep, a big smile on his face. Albert wouldn’t want anything else in the world.

[darkstalker1247]

Hydraulics AU: Part 9

This was strange. 

Steve’s mind was racing, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Here was this giant creature who’d been feral even minutes before and was suddenly tame, curled up in the corner, away from him, as well as another person talking to him. What was this place? He’d just seen another world that looked like it was made of paper mache, and he looked and felt like a zombie. Even this strange new person he was talking to looked somewhat human, despite the whole being made of ink thing. He seemed like he knew what he was doing, however, so Steve rationalized to trust him for now. After all, he’d gotten him out of what he now described to be a literal hell hole. 

“I know you probably have a lot of questions,” Sammy breathed. “Lucky for us, the gentleman who runs this place stocked up plenty of ink and paper, so ask away.” He set a piece of paper on the floor in front of Steve; their only way of communicating. Steve pondered over what he should ask first. After a moment, he scrawled one particular question he settled on:

What happened to you?

Sammy went quiet after reading it. He rubbed his fingers together; Steve figured he’d struck a nerve. After a long silence, Sammy spoke up. “I wasn’t exactly forced into this, not at first.”

“It started off normal. I was antisocial as per usual, kicking everyone out of my department as soon as I could, just trying to get some peace and quiet. Those songs of mine never wrote themselves, after all. They started giving me a new type of ink to write with, and after the Machine was put in, we’d get trapped in the department sometimes. The ink would overflow and block the exit. Our boss’ answer was more distractions for me, which only made my work harder and my mind spiral more often than usual. It’s always been a problem, but it got just that much worse after… after the Ink Demon was made.” He paused for a moment, glancing at Bendy itself, who was seemingly alert, watchful. Then he continued. “I started hearing voices. They told me to do things I’m not proud of, like drinking that.” He paused again, this time pointing at the little inkwell sitting next to the paper in front of him. “It only made things worse. Not only did the voices come and go, I swore I started seeing things. Normal things for people around the studio, but I was seeing them in my sleep. I used to joke about how Bendy and his little cartoon friends would drive me insane…” 

The Demon snapped its head in their direction, recognizing its name. The two ignored it. “It got to the point where I was convinced that the Ink Demon was some kind of god, and that I needed to appease it in some way. When the Cycle ended up starting, I decided to try some kind of sacrifice. I basically screamed at the ceiling until I’d finally caught its attention, but when I tried to get it to accept a few people I’d stumbled upon as an offering, it just pushed me into the ink.” He moved his mask out of the way of his face and pressed his hand to his forehead. “It was a mistake. I knew it was a mistake. Susie warned me about getting too deep into my work…” 

Sammy had stopped, rubbing his head and trying to calm himself. He seemed finished with his story. Steve was very confused. Sammy’d mentioned some names that Steve recognized without knowing how or why. The Machine, the Cycle, even the name Susie was very familiar. He had a picture of the Machine in his mind; it was complex on the inside but had a simple purpose, to create an endless supply of ink. Strange. 

He couldn’t think of anything to say next, so he simply wrote underneath the question: I’m sorry. Sammy stared at this expression of sympathy for a minute before sighing. “Thank you,” he near-whispered, “Do you have any other questions? Anything at all?” 

Steve felt the need to write down something else, to clear this strange air of grief and regret. He scrawled down another query as fast as he could without misspelling anything. His black hands, still a horrifying surprise to look at, were shakier than usual. He managed to write out:

What happened to the Ink Demon? 

The two looked over at the Demon itself, who was fiddling with its fingers, clearly very bored. “Bendy,” Sammy called out, “He’s asking about you.” It snapped to attention and stood on its back legs, slowly thudding over to where they were talking. Steve noticed it left behind a giant puddle of ink where it had been sitting. It dragged its huge claws along the floor as it walked, and its heart beat slowly from wherever it was. It flopped down on the ground again behind Sammy, like a dog switching spots to be in the sun. It looked intently at Steve, but he wasn’t sure why. “That’s both an easier and a harder question,” Sammy said in a calmer, more purposeful tone. “The owner of the animation studio that the… place spawned from wanted to do something basically impossible. He wanted to make living cartoon characters. I’m not sure if he was actually the starry-eyed idiot he always pretended to be or if he was a money hungry monster, but he wanted living attractions. We don’t really mention him too often.” He glanced back at the Ink Demon behind him, indicating why. “Anyway, he wanted to make living cartoons. He experimented on that Ink Machine with some guy named Thomas Connor, and eventually they came up with something. The owner’s first experiment was his main character, Bendy.” He pointed behind him. “As you can see, it didn’t go so well.” 

Oh, that actually makes sense, Steve thought to himself. Money-obsessed business owner plays God and gets kicked in the ass for it. 

“After Bendy came out deformed, J- I mean, the owner locked it in some secluded location, away from us. It drove it mad, and uh… this is what we have now.” He seemed to stumble over his words. The Ink Demon grumbled. It sounded almost like it was in physical pain. It has emotions, then, Steve pondered again. Sammy sighed. “I know, buddy, I know… it’s over now. He can’t hurt you.” It whined and settled down, burying its head in its giant hands. 

Sammy looked back over at Steve. “Anything else?” 

Steve decided to write down one last question.

What was your boss’ name?

Sammy didn’t say anything. He motioned for Steve to hand him the pen he was using, and then wrote down something. His handwriting was really neat, all things considered. 

Joey Drew. 

Steve nodded in regards to Sammy. That’s all, he was trying to say, and thank you. 

___

it's been a bit hasn't it

ngl I'm really proud of the characterization in this one

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[cq-studios]

Since you said it was cool to ask about other WIPs, I'm SUPER curious about The End of Normal now, since the concept/potential dynamic between Brain and Eraqus seems really interesting.

(For this)

Heehehehheeheheh, yesssss, join me in the pit Cori lol

For the ones who haven’t seen my other post. This fic is a part of Nameless AU, which is an AU where Eraqus’ parents die and Brain has to take care of him (which is most definitely an oversimplification of it but that’s the gist).

So The End of Normal is the first chapter. Its where Eraqus finds out his parents died (which is the scene I’m gonna put in this post because I haven’t switched the other parts out of Brain’s perspective yet)

But if you want some Brain and Eraqus dynamic I can explain what it’s like at this point in time for you.

So this was touched on in the Dead Daughter Monologue, but Brain was an absent father in this AU. He sent his daughter (and wife) away because he couldn’t handle being responsible for kids after loosing all the Dandelions in UX (he didn’t completely abandon the two tho, he would pay for things and they were still held in high standing since the Blueblood status and stuff, he just never properly bonded with his kid). It’s because of this that a) Eraqus doesn’t necessarily hold him in high standings and b) Brain and Eraqus would never have never really talked before Eraqus ended up in his custody.

So they’re really awkward, avoidant, and kinda prickly towards eachother at first. Brain is trying his best but never really worked through anything (he doesn’t talk about it. Talk about your trauma Brain. Share with the class. It’ll make you feel better in the long run, I promise), and Eraqus is grieving and around someone who he doesn’t think cares (he’s still trying to keep up that cheery demeanour tho but sometimes it cracks).

And if I’m honest I haven’t actually written them interacting much yet, at least not bonding. Like the ideas are in my notes and I’m like ‘mmmm, yes,’ but I haven’t written them out yet… maybe I should do that next (or I should actually finish a chapter… or both lol)

Anyways here’s a snippet of the chapter

(As with all of these, it’s subject to change)

“And if you take into consideration the…”

Eraqus’ eyes were glued to the clock as time passed. And time passed so slowly. Sure, Master Odin was teaching, but if he wanted Eraqus to pay attention he shouldn’t be so monotone and easy to tune out. Especially since it was the last class of the day. Was there anyone here who wasn’t wishing for it to be over already?

“You know, staring at the clock doesn’t make time pass faster,” Bragi, who was sitting next to him, leaned in to whisper directly into his ear. His body shuttered as a chill went down his spine.

With a groan, he peeled his gaze away from the clock, “let me believe it for a second”.

“I did. It’s been several seconds,” His friend said, flashing him an smirk, “If I let you believe it any longer your eyes woul-”

“Shhhhhhh!” Urd spun her head around and held the two of them in a firm glare, “unlike you two, some of us actually care about our education”.

“Hey, it’s not my fault. Bragi’s the one who started the conversation,”

“Ouch, betrayal,” Widened eyes filled with mock hurt landed on Eraqus for a moment. Then, lifting up his hands in surrender, Bragi chuckled, “Alright, alright, my bad”.

“You guys are unbearable,” The grey haired girl said, with a shake of her head and a roll of her eyes. It was delivered like an insult, but the amused smile on her face before she turned away told Eraqus not to take it as one.

It didn’t take long for Eraqus to find himself once again fixated on the clock. The second hand spun in an endless cycle, and he counted each full rotation.

Only 60 minutes left.

Only 59 minutes left.

Only- Bark!

His head snapped in the direction of the door. There stood a small white dog-like spirit with a star on its head and a letter tied to its neck. Eraqus tilted his head. They only used spirits to deliver announcements when they were private…

Or when it had something to do with him.

He watched attentively as Master Odin untied the string holding the letter around the spirit’s neck. The usual question ran through his head. Am I getting picked up early? Could I please be getting picked up early?

The Master unfurled the paper then stood silent for what felt like an eternity as he read it. Come on please. “Eraqus,” Yes! “they want you at the office”. Wait. The office?

Slowly, Eraqus got up out of his chair. If he was dismissed they would’ve said as much, and he could just walk home. But the office? Why would they want him there?

As he was making his way out the door, he could hear Vor, behind him, going, “Oooh, you’re in trouble”.

She meant it as a joke, he knew that, but it certainly made him wonder.

I didn’t do anything wrong did I? He went over the whole day in his head. He didn’t think he did anything wrong.

The spirit led him past several full classrooms. Other students’ eyes burned holes into him as he walked by each open door.

Rumours were going to start spreading like wildfire, he could feel it. Did you hear? The Blueblood got sent to the office. I heard he did this. I heard he did that. That was the price of being the grandson of the great Master Brain, he supposed.

Not like he’d asked for it.

“Hey! Eraqus!” He turned his head to see Bragi running up behind him. His friend caught up but had to pause for a moment, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. With a laugh, Eraqus shot him a look. The redhead tilted his head up, matching that look with one of his own.

“So, the office. You know what’s up with that?” he asked between heavy breaths.

Eraqus shook his head, “No clue”.

“Figured as much,” Bragi shrugged, straightening himself out and starting to make his way forward. “Couldn’t think of anything you’d done worthy of an office visit”.

“Me neither,” he kept pace with his friend. His tone must’ve given his worry away because Bragi kept shooting him concerned looks as they moved. Eraqus decided that it was best to change the subject, “So, how’d you get out of class?”

“Asked to go to the bathroom,” Bragi lit up slightly, eyes glittering with mischief, “if he confronts me about being gone for 30 minutes I’ll politely inform him that he ‘was lucky he didn’t eat the cafeteria food yesterday’”.

A snort escaped Eraqus, “That’s genius”.

“Right? And it works every time,”

The two laughed their way through the rest of the halls and eventually made it to the office.

Eraqus was glad Bragi met up with him. Skipping class to hang out with a friend would make a nicer sounding rumour then ‘he got sent to the office’. He’d have to do some explaining to his parents but other than that, no real damage control would be needed.

Plus, having company certainty helped ease his tensing nerves.

What didn’t help though, was that now that they were outside the office, Bragi stood next to him completely silent.

There was a moment of hesitation before Eraqus broke away from his friend. He flashed Bragi a quick smile. The redhead returned the grin and gave him a, “Good luck”, right before he followed the dog-like creature the rest of the way into the office.

“You sent for-” He watched as the spirit hopped up onto the desk, giving the secretary’s face a lick. And that face looked as though it’d seen a ghost. “…me?”

A woman he didn’t recognize stood next to the secretary’s desk. She held her hands clasped in front of her. Her face was stiff, serious.

A pit formed in his stomach.

“Eraqus,” The woman began, her posture softening slightly.

The secretary pulled the dog-like creature closer to her chest, interrupting the stranger before she could begin to elaborate, “we just heard word from the team your parents were working with on today’s mission. They’ve-” her voice broke, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

He could feel water pooling in his as well. There weren’t many things she could mean. Not with that reaction.

“There was a battle and they-they didn’t make it. I’m so sorry”.

[ciaossu-imagines]

Surprise Box for Luna

Luna gave a deep sigh as she waited for the elevator to finish bringing her up to the penthouse. It had been a week, to say the least. While law was her passion and something she enjoyed, it was a lot of work, there were challenges aplenty, and long hours were more common than she’d thought. The week had been a stressful one, made even worse by the fact that those long hours meant that she’d had little time for Jumin. Luna knew that Jumin understood, more than anyone…after all, he’d been called a workaholic on more than one occasion, and he was intimately familiar with long hours himself. But still…it made her feel bad, not having been around for him much and she was really looking forward to just spending the weekend with him, though she doubted she’d be great company, exhausted as she was.

The elevator doors dinged, sliding aside and she made her way inside the penthouse as quickly as she could, with the little energy she could.

“Luella??”

She’d barely entered when Jumin called out to her. She smiled. He was the only one who called her that. He would have called her Luna like the others, if she’d insisted, and she knew that. Jumin was nothing but respectful that way. But he’d told her many times just how much he loved her name, how he enjoyed the way it felt on his tongue…he said it repeatedly, drawing out the syllables slightly, almost savoring them and how could she want him to call her anything else when it sounded so good spilling from his lips?

“Yeah! It’s just me,” she called back, going to start walking to where the sound of his voice was coming from, both Elizabeth and her own calico running to greet her with their little meow’s. She paused in her walking, bending down to scratch both cats behind their ears, smiling at them. Cats really were a blessing, she mused, and she was really glad that Elizabeth and her own baby had gotten along so well in the short time it had been since she’d moved in with Jumin.

“Wait by the door please,” his voice came again, his tone no-nonsense. Luna’s brow furrowed, confusion written all over her pretty face, but she did as she was told, backstepping her way to the door. Jumin didn’t often tend to give her orders in that tone, not unless there was a valid reason for it. She couldn’t help but wonder, though, what her silly, sweet boyfriend had up his sleeve this time though.

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours and after what seemed an endless wait, Jumin came up the hallway towards the front door, smiling at her. It might have been her imagination, but he looked very self-satisfied.

“What’s going on, Jumin?” she asked, cocking her head slightly to study him, one delicate finger pushing the rose gold frames of her glasses up further on her nose.

“I’m glad you asked, Luella,” he said, smiling wider now. “I fully plan on showing you, but I do have to ask you for a favour before I do.”

“A favour?”

“Yes. Could you please close your eyes?”

“Close…my eyes?” Luna repeated warily. Jumin caught onto her tone quickly.

“Please. Just trust me,” he said. And she did. Luna knew Jumin, knew he would never hurt her, and of course, she could no longer refuse. She shut her eyes tight, squinching them up and making Jumin softly chuckle.

A moment later, she felt his large, warm hands on her shoulders, gently steering her forward, his voice soft in her ear, his breath warm on her skin as he gave her additional directions. It wasn’t a long walk before he stopped her, his hands remaining on her shoulders as he moved her a step back.

“You may open your eyes now,” Jumin said.

Luella opened them. And then closed them. And opened them. The cycle repeated itself a few more times as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing, a wide grin spreading across her face without her even realizing it. She knew the room she was looking at, one of the spare bedrooms that was hardly ever used, except for before when Jihyun would spend the evening. But now it looked completely different, and she had to wonder just when and how Jumin had managed to pull this off so quickly and without her having any idea.

The room was filled, almost wall to wall, with the fanciest, most decadent blanket fort she’d ever seen. Squishmallows, ones she knew were not in her collection, gathered alongside plushies that she also knew were new, including a My Melody one she remembered admiring in a window the other day when her and Jumin were out shopping. There were books piled, a tablet set to the side, lots of plush pillows, and even water dishes set right outside the boundary of the blanket fort for Elizabeth and her baby. Knowing Jumin the way she did, it was likely there were some cat treats hidden in there and she spied, on her side, the pretty pink handheld gaming console he’d gifted her a little while back. Mellow music was playing softly, just stuff to chill out to and that always made her feel good. If she wasn’t mistaken, the song currently playing was one that she really liked by Cheeze.

As she looked around, Luna could feel the weight of Jumin’s gaze on her, studying her for her reaction and she turned to face him.

“I hear commoners call it a ‘blanket fort’,” Jumin said. “I’ve been told they’re very relaxing and fun to ‘hang out’ in with your friends and loved ones. And where you’ve been working so hard this last week, I really did want to make sure that you were given the chance to properly relax. I also bought us some new pajamas, which you’ll find on the bed, and some slippers, just to make sure the relaxation is complete,” he said, fumbling on some new words for him as he tried to explain. She could tell by the smile on his face that he was very proud of his surprise and, honestly, that he was probably just as excited as she was to try it out.

“It looks so comfortable! I can’t wait to curl up in there with you!” she told him, her tone sincere, her smile matching his.

“I’m glad. Then let’s go get on our new pajamas,” Jumin said, reaching out a hand to take hers as he led her to the bedroom.

[sukajunin]

Amor fati

I’ve always told myself that everything happens for a reason whenever I needed major consolation. Without truly knowing what that meant, it was somewhat reassuring to me that even the terrible things that happened to me had a genuine purpose. It became almost a stock-standard response to every misfortune I’ve ever encountered. The phrase itself is meant to be said for moments of comfort. But is it enough to brush off everything negative with this one-size-fits-all sort of comeback? I must’ve used it too many times that its meaning has gotten lost, like when you say one word over and over again that it starts to sound funny and you start to question whether it’s actually a real word or not. Now it’s a cliched phrase that no longer provides the same solace it used to.

Despite being overused, everything does happen for a reason. And it’s true: we may not know what that reason is yet. It might come to us in the next minute, the next hour, or years down the line. To me, this saying had always implied that some greater thing has control over our outcomes, our decisions, and everything else in between. That whatever bad thing that just happened to you was all part of a bigger plan.

I used to hear this a lot, too: Do your best and let God do the rest. It was also another phrase that was thrown around when I thought I was going to fail an exam or when I thought I wasn’t going to do so well at my violin recital. It wasn’t enough to be told to just do your best, because it’ll be even better when God has got your back, too. Maybe it was just another combination of comforting words, to let me know that my best was good enough and that a greater being will make sure I see positive results. This higher, omnipresent being, will move the earth to ensure that everything will be okay.

But my secular self refuses to believe that a big man in the sky has a say in how my life will turn out. After all, it was me making the decisions down here on humble earth… 

My partner and I had been struggling for a while with getting a permanent residency in Australia. Ever since we finished up our student visas, it’s been an endless cycle of temporary visa applications. From terrible timing to not finding the right work, getting any sort of temporary visa was a real struggle. Dinner table discussions often included which visa to apply for next in order to stay here longer. But only just recently, did I realise that maybe our efforts of trying to get a PR was the ultimate roadblock that I didn’t know I needed.

Perhaps these plans never came to fruition because they’re not for me… yet. The one thing I love the most about my partner and I - and also my main source of crippling anxiety - is our ability to be… flexible, for lack of a better word. This time last year, we didn’t know where we would be, what our year was going to look like. And surprise, surprise, we still don’t know now. Not knowing where we are going to be in a year from now frightens me a little bit. But it is simultaneously one of the most exciting things ever. I look to my two older sisters as an example, who are both very much settled. Sydney is their definite home. This is their lives and it isn’t a bad thing, but I think, subconsciously, I haven’t thought about settling down in that sense and neither has my partner. 

I want to believe that in some sort of twist of events, that all the decisions I’ve made - big and small - had caused a butterfly to flap its wings and led the stars to align or something for the universe to come up with this path for me. In the end, stories are stories and we love telling ourselves stories to make the unreasonable feel reasonable. But this narrative seemed far more interesting to me than a mastermind somewhere in the clouds was puppeteering my fate. In some way, I still had some control in my outcomes and that, yes - everything does happen for a reason because I subconsciously do things to lead me to this particular way.

Amor fati - a succinct Latin phrase, which means “to love one’s fate”, is probably one that I should tell myself instead when things are tough. And I think I had been headbutting my fate for too long because I had synonymously thought of it as giving up. Sometimes I do think that I’m not trying hard enough to get a PR. Maybe that’s true - there are ways to get it but the way to do it isn’t for me. I could also keep living on temporary visas but the thought of living that precariously haunts me.

On another level, my anxiety and spiraling thoughts stem from a lot of uncertainty. Of course everyone’s future is uncertain - we can die tomorrow and worrying about our pension plan should be the least of our problems - but being unsure of where you are going to be physically, geographically is scary. The thought of having to pack up your whole life that you had built to potentially relocate is incredible, yet stressful. It doesn’t help that being in my 20’s I see friends in very different stages of life. Some are married with kids, some are homeowners. Fuck, some have died. And you can’t help but to compare your very much unsolved life to ones that are seemingly very… solved. 

As cliched as it sounds, your 20’s are absolutely a pigsty in terms of figuring yourself out. There were nights where I could feel my cheeks hot from the anger; my pillowcases soaked from tears. There’s a lot of mistakes being made and that’s okay, and I can’t believe I’m only just figuring that out.  

It’s possible that I’ll never figure it out, so I’ll end this essay as banal as my former mantras - with a quote. Perhaps the answer can be found in the words of Austrian poet, Rainer Rilke: “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given to you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”

[journalofimprobablethings]

Thanks to this post for giving me enough oomph to finish a little TAZ ficlet that has been sitting in my Google drive forever.

Please enjoy some post-S&S Lucretia & Barry angst

--

The hours following the final battle with the Hunger are a blur, a whirlwind of explanations and celebrations, of joy and relief and disbelief that this is real, that it's really over. There is little time to process or think; by the time they've all found each other again, the Starblaster crew barely have enough energy to make their way back up to the Bureau before collapsing in exhaustion.

Lucretia wakes with a fizzing warmth in her chest as she realizes that her family are all here, that they are together at last, that they've won. The Bureau is still a shambles, the world not much better. There is so much work to be done. But that morning, she finds herself drifting through the Bureau, not quite sure what to do next.

She passes Bureau members beginning to pick their way through the debris, and all of them greet her with smiles or nods and respectful "Madame Director"s, but there's something—different about the way they look at her. An uncertainty. 

It's not hard to know the cause. They all know her story, now.

They know what she's done, the good and the bad.

It's no wonder they look at her like they're no longer quite sure what to make of her anymore.

Lucretia doesn't try to engage with any of the people she passes, just makes her way along, unsure of where she's going until she's suddenly arrived at the kitchen in the residential wing.

It's a habit she's never quite managed to break, coming down here to make herself a cup of tea when she can't sleep. But after accidentally running into Taako on one of her late-night wanders, she's always been careful to check for activity before going in, just in case.

She pauses at the door now, listening. All seems quiet. And she really could use a cup of tea.

She pushes through the door—and then stops immediately in the doorway when she sees a familiar silhouette seated at the kitchen table.

“Oh, Barry. I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”

He looks up at her, an unreadable look on his face.

“Just me.”

“Where’s Lup?”

“She’s with Taako. They said they’d be ba--” his air exhales all at once on the word, and he closes his eyes. “They won’t be gone long.”

“I see.”

There's a pause. Barry doesn't seem to want to look at her. He's sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, as though he might have had his head in his hands a moment ago.

He looks so tired.

“Barry, are you all right?”

He looks, for a moment, like he doesn’t know how to respond.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “I’m good. We won, right?”

“Yes. We did.”

Another silence. The air is charged with all the things they aren't saying.

I'm sorry.

I'm so glad you're alive.

I've missed you so much.

Finally Lucretia takes a step forward.

“Barry, I--”

“Lucretia.” Barry has his eyes closed again, a small furrow appearing between his brows. “No offense, but I don’t--I can’t do this, right now.”

It shouldn't hurt as much as it does. She should have been expecting it, after everything she's done. 

But Barry's words hit Lucretia like a slap to the face.

“Oh. Of course.”

Of course Barry doesn't want to talk to her.

She's the reason he's been alone for the last ten years. The reason he's been stuck in an endless cycle of dying and reviving, remembering and forgetting. She's kept him at arm's length with wards and falsehoods, because she knew he would stop her from what she thought she needed to do.

Of course he can't just go back to how things were before.

She's lucky he hasn't threatened to kill her, like Taako.

(But Barry was never that way—impulsive the way Taako is. He looks too tired to be angry, and in some ways that's almost worse than Taako's fury.)

She should never have come. Knowing that they would all be down here, knowing that she was likely to run into one of them, knowing what they all must think of her—

Lucretia starts to make her retreat back through the door, but then she stops.

Who knows when she and Barry will ever be alone together again?

Who knows if she'll ever get another chance to say any of the things she'd like to tell him?

She looks down at the kitchen floor at Barry's feet. There's a burn scar there from where someone dropped a hot pan, sometime in the past.

“Can I say one thing? And then I’ll leave you--”

Leave you alone? Her brain says. Leave you alone like I did all those years, leave you alone and friendless, leave you alone and make you the villain of my story, leave you alone just like I was alone.

“--and then I’ll go,”  she finishes.

He shrugs. “Okay.”

Lucretia swallows around the sudden tightness in her throat. When she speaks, she's proud that she manages to get the words out without a single wobble. 

“I love you, Barry. I just--I wanted you to know that.”

She doesn't wait for his response, or even try to look up and see his expression, instantly turning to leave, but then—

“Hey, Luce?"

She stops at his voice, a hope bubbling irrationally in her chest. When she finally manages to look at Barry, he looks almost as lost as she feels. Like her words have unmoored him.

He's still not looking directly at her, instead focused on the wall behind her.

“I--just give it time. Okay?”

Lucretia nods.

And then she turns and leaves as quickly as she can, before he can see her face crumple, before she falls apart in front of him.

She has no right to burden him with her grief, her guilt.

She had thought this part was over, missing her family while they are right in front of her. But Barry is there, right there, all of him, no memories missing, and he is still so far away.

There is a difference, it turns out, between knowing intellectually that her family might hate her for what she has done, that she might lose them as soon as she got them back, and the reality of it. She thought she was prepared, but nothing could prepare her for the anger in Taako’s eyes, for the distance in Barry’s. 

She has spent a decade longing for this moment, the moment when she no longer had to be alone.

But somehow, right now, she feels more alone than ever.

[amor-immortalem]

An Alternate Path

Genre: Angst

A/N: Originally this was supposed to be a two-part mini fic but people asked about a part three. I wasn’t sure where else to exactly go from there since the end of the second part felt so final for me. But then, inspired by a comment on the 2nd part, I began to think about how it would have gone if Arella hadn’t been revived with Mammon’s blood. Think of this as the bad end to the AU. This is the final part.

obviously spoilers for the lesson 16 incident and for lesson 50 (i think… correct me if Im wrong)

Replaced part 1

The Good/True End

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He sits in his room starting at the dried blood on his hands, heart aching from the loss of his mate. It had only been mere hours since Barbatos had taken her body to prepare for funeral rites but to the Avatar of Greed, it had felt like centuries. Why? He’s asked himself this question over and over. Why didn’t you check on her sooner? Why didn’t you call or text? Why didn’t you notice? Why didn’t you feel something was wrong through your pact?

As much as he wants to, Mammon has no more tears left to cry. His human is gone, never to return and it was the fault of him and his brother. He should have been there sooner. Should have reminded her how much he cared. Should have done a lot of things. He had every opportunity to, but he squandered all of it.

He rakes his hands through his hair as they whys replay in his head. The demon doesn’t have an answer for them- none that would satisfy them, at least. He lets out a yell as grief turns to rage and nothing of value is spared from his violence. Items and trinkets knock from their shelves, furniture overturned, by time the second-born was done, his room looked like a war zone.

It’s only then that Mammon collapses to his knees and lets out a broken wail as he can hear the restless cawing of his crows outside.

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Levi is alone in his room, having shut himself away hours ago. Laying in his bathtub bed, the Avatar of Envy loses himself to his thoughts and the view of the water above him. He can’t help but think about what would have happened if he had put his foot down when Asmo approached him to recruit him in helping his little matchmaking plan for Melissa and Satan.

And then his thoughts focus in on the other human. If she had never come, if they had never welcomed her into their lives through the exchange programme... Arella would still be alive. She’d still be sitting here, playing video games and helping him decide which anime he should choose to watch when there was a conflict of time slots. They’d still be talking about their Husbandos and Waifus just as they always had. But she’s not here. She never will be anymore. All because he didn’t have the spine to act like the older brother and tell Asmo no. Because he allowed his younger brother to monopolize his time.

His best friend is gone and he was part of the problem that led up to that. Levi has never felt so much self-hatred before and, just like with Lilith, he doesn’t know how to come to terms with the loss of another person so dear to him. For now, he’ll just lay here and waste away like the filthy, yucky otaku he is, wishing there was a way he could go back and undo it all or hoping that this was all just some horrible nightmare that his brain has conjured up.

“She’ll be back in the morning... right? She’s just sleeping over at the castle, right?!”

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Beel just eats. He eats and eats and eats to make the pain go away but just like his endless hunger, the pain never stops. He feels so empty inside that the only other option is to gorge himself until he physically can’t hold it anymore and vomits before he goes back for more until the cycle repeats and he runs out of food. The loss of their favorite human is killing him now- the grief of it squeezing his heart like an anaconda.

If he would have just gone to invite her to that new café she had wanted to visit with him only an hour sooner, this could have been stopped. But he didn’t. He didn’t and that’s what cuts deepest. He should have noticed when she stopped coming to dinner, or skipping breakfast, or not joining the student council for lunch day after day. He should have realized something was wrong then. But he chose to ignore it, thinking it was just one of those ‘moods’ Arella had told him about human women experiencing at certain times of the month. He thought he was helping by giving her space these last few weeks but Beel knows now that he was dead wrong.

Who would be his food buddy now? Who would let him drag them all over town in order to try out restaurant after restaurant, café and café? Sure, he had Belphie to take with him but his younger twin never really showed the same excitement when it came to trying out all the different food and drink options on the menu. The demon doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tear drops hit his hands. She only needed one of them to take a moment to see her and none of them could be bothered do just that.

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Belphegor only wants to sleep. He wants to sleep and never wake up again. In his dreams is where Arella is, happy, smiling, laughing. That laugh will haunt his waking moments forever as he realizes that for the second time, the Avatar of Sloth has caused her death. Belphie was only one of two brothers who rejected Asmo when they asked him to help with that damn plan of his. It had been too long since he and Arella had napped together after school or plotted something with Satan as part of the Anti-Lucifer league. How he missed those days.

He can feel the tears pool in his eyes as he curls up into a ball on the bed in the attic. He wonders if he had just stayed up here forever instead of trying to trick Arella into setting him free, would this hole in his chest disappear? As he buries his face into the body pillow Arella had gifted him for his birthday this year, he cries himself to sleep- indulges himself in all the good memories they had made together after she had forgiven him for everything he had done to her.

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Asmodeus is lost. They stare and stare at their skincare products trying to will themself to start their nightly skincare routine. How could they have been so foolish? The passage of time is so different to humans than it is to demons. They had only meant to take a month to match Satan and Melissa up so how had it turned to eleven already?! The Avatar of Lust wants to scream. Both at themself and no one at all. Hot tears still sting their eyes as they shapeshift. They change and they change and they change forms- any number of features forming and then shifting away as they try to find a look that they won’t recognize themself in but it doesn’t work. Asmo’s not able to look themself in the mirror for the rest of the night as they just crash down on their bed. They want to mark up their beautiful body into some hideous to match the feelings crushing their heart. Asmo wants to do something- anything- to themself to experience even a fraction of the pain Arella must have felt but all the demon feels now is just hollowness.

Their phone is vibrating on the bed next to them- a call from Solomon. No doubt he could feel Asmo’s distress through the pact they share but the Avatar of Lust is too tired from hours of ugly crying and most certainly not in the mood to speak to anyone- pact master or otherwise. The phone goes unanswered.

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Satan has his head buried in the books. He’s been at this for hours- there must be a way to bring her back to them! Melissa is with him, bringing whatever books he asks for in his search as she too is eager to bring the lost human back to this plane of existence. There was so much they wanted to do with her. From watching cheesy mystery dramas together to forming a small book club consisting of just the three of them, none of that would come to pass now.

As book after book turns up dead ends, the demon just buries his head in his hands. It feels pointless now. Who was he to play God with life and death? The thought of never seeing his friend alive once more is enough to break the Avatar of Wrath as his shoulders shake with violent sobs. He wants to go on a rampage- destroy the whole city but what would that fix? It certainly wouldn’t bring her back.

As the demon continues to cry, Melissa only wraps her arms around him and he returns the gesture. She runs her fingers through his blonde hair in an effort to calm him and it seems to work, if only for a little while. She pulls a chair up to sit next to him as she holds his hand in hers.

“Tell me about your favorite memories with her,” They girl begins, “We can’t undo what was done, but we can keep her memory alive by sharing the good times.”

And so, they talk late into the night, Satan smiling at all the memories of Arella that he holds close to his heart.

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“Hi this is Arella! I’m sorry I can’t get to the phone right now but leave a message after the beep.... Beeeeeeeeeep”

The sound of his brother’s laughter followed by Mammon calling Arella a dork in the background can be heard at the end of the greeting on her D.D.D.’s voicemail. The Avatar of Pride can only smile with tear-stained cheeks. He was beyond intoxicated, having just finished his fourth bottle of demonus for the night. He can feel the anguish his brothers have been going through all night and it only makes his sorrow deeper.

When Arella first arrived, all Lucifer cared about was keeping her alive long enough to make it through the year. She was unimportant to him outside of the viability of the exchange programme. Back then, he would have laughed at himself for the state he was in currently. She was just a human. Why did it matter if she lived or died if it didn’t affect the exchange programme?

But she wasn’t just a human. She was their human. She was special to him. And now she was gone. There was no second chance. There would be no merging of timelines to keep her alive. Fate was cruel, but sometimes Diavolo could be crueler.

Lucifer knew his longtime friend had a reason for this. He was teaching the brothers a lesson with her death. As much as it hurt now to lose another part of this family, things would get easier as the years went on regardless of how horribly they all would miss her. This was a lesson he and his brothers would not soon forget.

Cracking open his fifth bottle of demonus, the first-born scrolls through devilgram, saving pictures on her profile to be used in the memorial service. One of Arella with each of his brothers and himself and multiple pictures she’d taken with all eight of them from their adventures throughout the years that they’d all been together.

He lets his mind wander back over the last eleven months. All the red flags he had missed with his rose-colored glasses. They all made sense to him now. All the time she spent isolating herself from them, skipping meals, leaving either incredibly early for school or incredibly late for school. She was trying to get them to notice her over Melissa. He regrets their last interaction from a few months back. The way there had clearly been something wrong, yet he chose to lecture her about attending RAD on time as to not disgrace Diavolo. How he wishes he could take it back.

As the only brother save for Belphegor not conscripted to help Asmo in his ridiculous plan, Lucifer should have been the first to reach out to her. He may have been buried under paperwork, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t just sit and talk while he worked. He regrets not calling or checking up on her.

A video plays on her devilgram. It was from one of the nights they had spent up in the human world last summer.

“Awww, come one, Lucifer. It won’t be that bad. We’ll have those flowers from the fairy rings and make it back in one piece. I promise to keep Mammon under control so we won’t cause any trouble.”

The Avatar of Pride clicks out of the app as he feels more tears gather in his eyes. He can’t do this right now. Not tonight.

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Her service was beautiful- Or at least that’s what Lucifer tells Mammon as he and the rest of their brothers return home. Mammon wanted to go, he really did, but with it only being a few days removed from her death, the second-born couldn’t bring himself to go. It wasn’t because he didn’t love her or didn’t want to celebrate his mate’s life but it was still far too painful for him.

Part of him was still in denial over it too. Somehow, he’d managed to convince himself that she wasn’t gone. She was just stuck up in the human world and had forgotten her D.D.D here so he couldn’t call her. The logical side of him knew it wasn’t the case and every time he was reminded of it, it threw the Avatar of Greed into a deeper pit of despair. He’d spent some nights since she’d passed alone, crying himself to sleep begging for his human to come back to him others he would just lie awake, tracing over where her mark from their pact had been etched into his chest, set right over his heart.

Suddenly years have gone by now. His brothers have made peace with her passing but Mammon cannot. Visiting her grave never helps to ease the pain either, but still he goes. If Arella’s spirit still lingers, no doubt she would be upset if he didn’t go. It would only serve to prove her dying thoughts true when they couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“Hey, Treasure... Miss me?” There’s no one here but Mammon and a tombstone. “I miss you... everyday... So much changes every year... Both Asmo, Levi, ‘n Satan got kids now... little girls for them and Levi has a boy...” He pauses to take a shuddering breath as the cold wind blows. “Can ya believe it? The first kids born ta this family and their both girls and then we got a boy... sweet little things too- alla ‘em.  I wish ya coulda been there ta meet them... Actually, looking at my brothers with their kids, it makes me wonder what ours woulda been like, ya know? And I wish none of this woulda happened... you deserved so much better than me ‘n I knew that. We all knew that. But ya chose me anyway and look where it got ya... Six feet under... If I could go back and do it all over again I would. I woulda told ya what was goin’ on. I woulda spent more time with ya. I woulda... woulda proposed... made sure you knew how much I loved ya everyday... I know ya probably can’t hear me, but I’m so sorry... for everything! I love you so much that I can’t move on and I won’t. If I die single then that’s fine by me.”

As he cries, thinking he’s alone, Arella watches from her seat on her tombstone. None of the brothers knew it but she’d been watching all this time. It wasn’t until she passed that she realized how deep their feelings ran and part of her wishes she would have waited just a bit longer before leaving for the human world that night.

She tries her best to let them know she’s there- that she loves them and is watching over them with Lilith, but she’s not strong enough to do more than move small objects around. She hopes that they’d notice but they never do.

As she hops off of her tombstone, Arella crouches down next to her mate. The best she can do for him is conjure a warm breeze as her spirit leans over to press a kiss that he’ll never feel to his cheek. Upon the breeze, he can hear a soft whisper of a reply.

“I love you too.”

And it's that reply that reassures him she’s there and she always will be. He hopes maybe in another life they’ll meet again and get to have the happy ending they never got to have in this one.

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taglist: @gayassfuckinghomosexual @joyvlee

find more on my masterlist

[im-the-king-of-the-ocean]

The Future That Belongs To Us

Hey, I actually got another fic done for jmart week! huzzah! (ngl wasn’t sure if that would happen, but I’m super glad I did.)

Anyways, this is for Day 7′s prompt, Growing Old Together

(tho it only sorta kinda fits it?  It’s more about considering the possibility that Jon and Martin will get to grow old together than narrating them actually doing so.  tbf when I started it I had a different, more ‘Forehead Kisses, direction in mind, but the fic was like ‘I’m going to go this way instead’ and I indulged it.)

@jonmartinweek

.

Martin doesn’t like hospitals.  He doesn’t like being in them.  He doesn’t like the smells, the noise.  He especially doesn’t like how his heart plummets every time he hears some alert go off or a doctor with a clear destination in mind hurries past him.  He reminds himself over and over again that Jon is fine.  He’s stable.  Heck, he’s breathing this time around.  There’s absolutely no reason for the doctors to be rushing to his bedside.  Certainly not because the five minutes Martin left him alone to go get something to eat from the canteen were the exact five minutes something happened—Jon’s heart stops and he’s dying or some would-be murderer finally made it past their security detail (or was allowed past, Martin still doesn’t quite trust the gruff men in uniforms despite their reassurances) and finished the job Martin himself started when he…

Martin buys a plastic-wrapped sandwich and a bottle of water without much fanfare.  He keeps his head down and hopes no one notices or recognizes him.  Not that many would.  Though a photo of Jon’s face (usually his employee ID photo from the Institute, which frustrates Martin to no end.  Even with it all being over, Jonah Magnus still looms over them.) has been printed alongside news articles or write-ups debating his character, making him irrevocably recognizable to the public, Martin, Basira, Melanie, and Georgie managed to avoid the same level of scrutiny.  They’re not as interesting to the media news cycle as the Bringer of the Apocalypse himself apparently.  For the most part.  Usually.

Martin very much wishes it all would stop, and go away already.  They changed the world back.  That’s what matters.  Not these endless inquiries into who Jon is.  He doesn’t need them.  Not now.  Not when he’s trying to heal from…

“Mr. Blackwood!  Mr. Blackwood!”

Martin cringes.  He stops in his tracks.  The lift doors are a meter ahead of him.  He was so close.  There’s always one, though.  One persistent reporter who just won’t bugger off.  He sighs, rolls his shoulders, closes the remaining distance, and presses the button for the lift anyway.

The reporter, one Martin doesn’t recognize (and he knows quite a few by now, almost every freaking time he leaves the hospital…), doesn’t take the obvious hint.  He, huffing and puffing catches up with Martin, and scrambles to removed a notepad and pen from his pocket.

“Mr. Blackwood, care to comment on—?”

The lift, which Martin will forever be grateful for arrives.  In a well-practiced maneuver Martin steps into it, blocks the reporter from following, and hits the door close button.  Only after the lift, with only him in it, starts to move, does Martin let himself sag against its back wall.

The ride up to the floor where Jon’s room is is short.  Too short.  Martin tenses and mentally prepares himself right before the doors open.  There won’t be any reporters up here.  Though one may be able to slip in downstairs, where the hospital is still just a hospital, it’s far less likely here, in the wing they sectioned off to house the Archivist himself.

On the one hand, Martin is a bit relieved for the privacy granted by the government’s insistence of dedicating an entire area in the hospital to house Jon while he recuperates from being severed from the Eye.  On the other, Martin’s ongoing anxiety that this is the day they’ll determine Jon Well Enough to ship off to some prison somewhere Martin can’t reach him surely isn’t good for his own health.

Not that there’s been any official decision there that Martin knows of.  According to Basira, enough people in governmental positions were Avatars during the Eyepocalypse themselves, a call for criminalizing the role likely won’t happen.  Probably.

Or, they could ship Jon off to one of the countries demanding to try him in their own courts.  The last time Martin allowed himself a few minutes of watching a news broadcast, the Americans were still doggedly demanding as much.

The long and short of it is, there are a lot of thoughts that aren’t good for Martin’s health and all of them tend to clamor for his attention the second after the lift stops and before the door opens.  The second that, once the doors do, the fear that Jon won’t be somewhere on their other side spikes to its zenith.

Arnie, the bored attendant assigned to checking everyone’s IDs once they step off the lift on this floor, grunts his usual greeting when he sees Martin.  Martin allows himself to finally exhale.  If Jon were no longer there, Arnie would be informing him as much.

He walks down the hallway, pointedly not looking at any of the officials who cut off their conversations when he passes.  Martin wants to yell at them, demand they tell him why they’re there.  They don’t need to be.  Jon isn’t going to-to do anything!  He can’t!  Not anymore!  And Martin and the others made sure the story that got out was that final decision to save their world over all the others was a unanimous one.

No one knows, has any reason to think, Jon would have done anything differently.

Martin pauses just outside Jon’s room.  Jon wouldn’t have told them the truth himself.  Of course he wouldn’t.  Even he’s not that self-destructive.

The first thing Martin sees inside Jon’s hospital room are the nurses.  The first thing he does is look for knives or guns in their hands.  Takes a would-be murderer to know one, his voice mocks him from inside his head.

But no, one nurse is supporting Jon sit upright while the other gently wraps fresh bandages around his torso.  Martin stands in the doorway and watches a long minute, but no hidden, sharp objects are slipped out of pockets to do harm.  He approaches the bedside.

“Hey,” Martin’s hears the quiver in his own voice.  He starts to reach out a tentative hand, but hesitates.  He still loves Jon.  Even after everything, he’s fairly certain he’s not capable of not loving Jon.  The problem is Jon loving him back.

Because, ultimately, Martin is the one who got want he wanted.  Their world was saved.  The Entities were sent away, dooming all the others.  Jon lost.

Jon’s hand, the one without an IV attached to its arm, wraps itself around Martin’s and gently squeezes.  Martin looks up, and, for the first time without also facing off the intensity of a supernatural force, meets Jon’s unwavering gaze.  It’s warm and brown and loving, and it occurs to Martin that he’s not sure he’s ever really seen Jon without the shadow of the Eye cast over him.  That that’s something he can do now.

“I…”  The words don’t come.  The idea of Jon sending him away, never wanting to see him again, comes back.  It’s so much worse because there is a Jon without the Eye now and, though Martin would do anything for his happiness, he may not want anything to do with Martin.  Because the one time it really, truly mattered, Martin didn’t agree with him.  He betrayed him.  And, even if there is a Jon who gets to live to tomorrow, that Jon certainly doesn’t need Martin there with him and…

Jon’s hand pulls at Martin, and he lets it guide him to sitting on the edge of Jon’s bed.

“I still love you,” Jon whispers.  “I want…” he pauses, looks away.  “I don’t know how to…” He pulls his hands away, curling them into his blanket.  “It’s okay if you leave.  I can—I’ll be fine.  I…”

“Do want to grow old with me?”  The question blurts itself out of Martin before he can stop it.  It’s not what he wanted to say, what he was slowly putting words together to say, but it’s the underlying inquiry beneath all of it.

Now that we have the future, do you want me in yours?

Jon blinks owlishly at him.  His brows furrow together.  “Of course I do, Martin, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to me.  You’re free.  You don’t have to…”

“I want to.”  Martin pauses.  “That is, if you’ll have me.”  I almost killed you, after all.  It would be perfectly reasonable if you never wanted to see me again.

There’s a long pause where Jon doesn’t say anything, but a contemplative look overtakes his face.  “I think,” he finally admits, “we’re talking in circles.” Martin considers the concept.  “…yeah, you might be right there.”  He chuckles.  “I suppose we could figure it out as we go?”

“Together?”

Always.  “Together.”