#like its half my fault for feeling stressed out even after work but like

[quetiapinnapark]

im so stressed about working in corporate hell i feel like these fuckers should start paying for my therapy at this point

[gogomatthew]

You’re mine

KINKTOBER DAY 2: Mutual masturbation

PAIRING: SPENCER REID X READER

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST HERE🎃💗

warnings: stalking • mutual masturbation • semi public sex • humiliation • phone sex • paranoia? • mentions of violence • let me know if I missed any •

A/N: sorry about the KTOBER delay.. this ones a little dark but ill make up with a sweet one next week! reminder english isnt my first language but feel to correct any grammar mistakes

summary: Spencer fears he is being stalked after receiving gifts from a secret admirer only to fall for her • MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI 18+

“Hey whats wrong?” Morgan stops Spencer as he rushes into the BAU frantic with an orange envelope at hand “Gather everyone in the conference room please” he gets out of morgans grip and makes his way there. “Whats this about?” Hotch walks in confused on the whole situation, raising a questioning eyebrow at Spencer “Ive been on edge the past month and yesterday I received this..” he hands the envelope to Hotch. Inside theres a handwritten letter with the words “I know you were thinking about me” and multiple photographs of Spencer jacking off in his room.

Truthfully he didn’t want to show anyone but this was getting out of hand. In the photograph his room was illuminated by warm toned lamp, his mouth hung open and anyone with half a brain could assume he was letting out sounds of pleasure, his head was thrown back and his eyes were shut tightly, while his hand wrapped around his leaking dick as he lazily sat on his desk chair with his trousers hanging around his ankles. Hotch’s eyes go wide for a second as he quickly puts the pictures away only making his subordinates blush grow a burning pink. The team share a few glances and connect the dots in an instant. “Morgan you have experience in obsession crimes.. what do you think this is?” Hotch asks after analyzing the letter he spoke up “Are these the only “gifts” you’ve gotten? any other notes we should know about?” morgan glances up at him making sure to put emphasis on the word “gifts”

“I-I mean theres always a lingering feeling im being watched and I got a bouquet of flowers last monday along with a letter every other day from a “secret admirer” but I didn’t think much of it.. I just assumed some neighborhood boy was playing a prank on me..” he says running his fingers through his silky brunette hair, clearly stressed out “looks like you’ve got a groupie” spencer looks back down to morgan “HUH?” morgan hands the letter back to spencer “The writing is clearly written by a female, its dainty and not aggressive.. almost as if to show her love and devotion to you instead of threatening you. That isnt to say she wont get violent later on.. it may trigger her to see you with another woman around her age maybe something set her off and decided to finally make her move.” hotch lets out a breath “Morgan, Reid, you stay here and find a motive, Prentiss and I will go to the scene and try to get more geographical information on how they even managed to take these photos.. wheels up in 30” and with that everyone’s getting to work.

They made a geographic profile, retraced steps, came up with a profile and even a plan on how to catch the unsub. “We think our unsub is a female in her mid 20s, if you were to cross her path shed blend right in, shes not very confident or careful but she is smart, if you bumped into her she’d apologize even if it wasnt her fault, she has an obsessive personality though she probably doesn’t even realize it odds are if she were to go through a psychotic break she would only go after Spencer or people close to him so we don’t have to worry about civilian safety” after notifying the local PD they develop a plan.. Emily was going to pretend to be Spencers girlfriend, holding hands on the subway, walking him home, spending time in his apartment ect, to get a rise out of the unsub, it was a long shot that youd even buy it if youve been stalking spencer but it was worth a try “you sure you got this?” she looks up at Hotch as he adjust her mic pack and silently nods as Spencer copies her movement.

That afternoon he and Emily walk out of the subway station hand in hand making their way to his apartment, god Spencer wasn’t lying.. Emily could feel eyes on her but couldn’t pin point where they came from but they managed to make goosebumps arise from her. That night there was no love letter at his door. This was either the start of a psychotic break or you backing down. Morgan was stationed at the location they assumed the photographs were taken, assuming you’d come back. Emily spent the night at spencers place and left during the early hours of the morning to make it all the more convincing. After she left Spencer did his morning routine like usual, a shower, setting the coffee pot, changing, grabbing his satchel and heading out but he was stopped by a piece of paper that was stuck between the front door and the frame, falling onto the ground. The note was different, it seemed messy and rushed. It read “Im still here” a shiver ran down his spine. His gut told him to just get on the subway and go to work and develop his highly intelligent team but his brain told him to take matters into his own hands. He stormed out of his building and made his way onto the sidewalk hoping to be able catch you before you got too far. He had the profile now all he needed to do was find you and he knew just how to do that. He stormed into the subway station proceeding to walk a little faster than usual. He felt eyes on him and immediately he turned around and met your eyes by sheer luck. He kept his eyes on you and you stayed frozen in place looking away from his gaze but not moving an inch.. could it be you? He knew morgan always trusted his gut and maybe it was time he did the same. As he started approaching you your eyes went wide and you sped walked away. You fit the profile, the only thing they didn’t mention was how attractive you were. He caught up to you quickly having the advantage of long legs “hey” he puts a hand on your shoulder giving you goosebumps “im meeting my girlfriend for coffee but I dont know which track to take.. do you think you could help me?” he give you a nice smile that you return but he notices your demeanor going cold at the word girlfriend.

“yeah totally! where are you meeting?” your fists are clenched at your sides, this was almost too easy “Virginia coffee house” he says simply “you’re gonna want to take the 53, it should get here in about 10 minutes.. that’s actually where im heading too” he smiles a little wider “I don’t suppose you mind waiting with me then?” you nod “not at all!…” you fidget with your fingers “actually im gonna go to the restroom” you turn to rush off with him hot on your heels, he wont forgive himself if he lets you get away.. he has to trust his gut when it’s screaming right at him he needs to know more. He follows you into the bathroom at the station which is thankfully empty and locks the door behind him “Spencer what are you doing?” you say and quickly realize your mistake as his expression falters “I never said my name was spencer..” your eyes widen as you start to back up into the sink “sorry I- my brains all scattered” you try to play it off with a laugh but hes not laughing. He starts to get closer and closer to you as you continue to step back “heres what I think and feel free to correct me if im wrong, but just know ill know if you’re lying, I study human behavior for living but of course you already knew that” your backed up completely into the sink and have nowhere to run as he continues to get closer until he finally towers over you face inches apart “I think you’re my little groupie.. I think you watched me get off and took pictures to touch yourself too.. I think you leave love letters at my door.. I think you’re jealous of my fake girlfriend and I think..” he whisper the next words right into your ear “you’re desperate for me” he hates to admit it but some animalistic part of him just wants to take you right there in the bathroom and make you scream his name to humiliate you just as you did to him. You’d proudfully admit that his accusations made your panties soaking wet, having to squeeze your thighs together for any friction.

Just then a loud knock at the door interrupts you both breaking away “whys the door locked?” you hear through the door “you’re right” you say before speeding off and disappearing into the crowd as soon as the lady at the door gets it open. Spencer rushes out ignoring the strange looks he gets but ultimately looses you. He lets out an exasperated sigh and with that hes on his way to work.

Coming back to an empty apartment was never fun but he couldn’t shake his head off with what happened just a few hours prior in that bathroom. He starts palming himself through his trousers and groans wishing it was you. He unbuttons his jeans and pull out his dick, stroking it as it fill the room with the wet sounds of his precum smearing all over his shaft “fuck” he sits at his desk and there he sees you. You’re on the balcony of the building across the street. The complex next to the one morgan was previously situated at the day prior. Camara leaning next to you, phone in one hand as your other hand starts to glide down your abdomen between your thighs successfully getting a whimper out of Spencer.. hes never been this exposed. He hears his phone ring and you mouth at him to answer it and he obeys. You let out breathy whines as you start to circle your clit matching the pace of the hand wrapped around his dick. His eyes are open staring straight at you, he dosent want to miss a single second of this. His own morality not even bothering him anymore, not when he feels this good and has this view. “Fuck” He stands up from his seat and walk closer to the window, he starts to glide his hand faster even teasing himself by running his finger through his slit “mmm” he knows you can hear him but he cant hold back his sounds god hes never felt this good under his own touch, he thinks it’s pathetic he has to imagine its your even though you’re only a few feet away. “faster” he demands. His ty is loosened but his shirt is still on and how you wish you could just see all of him, you insert 2 fingers into yourself struggling because theyre not long enough to give you as much pleasure as you need, you lean over the edge and hold on to the railing of the balcony giving spencer a better peek at your tits “you’re fucking c- crazy” he says with heavy pants inbetween every word “me? im not the one stroking my dick to my “stalker” god you hated that word but you heard him refer to you as that before, he lets out a deep growl “yeah well im not the stalker” the call is filled with whines and moans from both ends, you start nearing your climax “im gonna- hah-“ your words are cut off by your loud whimpers “aww cmon baby- you can write someone whos never even seen you heartfelt love letters but cant- ah finish- mm your own sentence” hes teasing but in reality hes in the same position as you “fuck- you” his open mouth turns into a smirk “bet youd like that” thats it, something in you snaps and your practically screaming and writhing in place as Spencer delivers his final pumps to his cock before he’s leaking cum onto his own chest with heavy whines as he tries to catch his breath with his eyes closed.

When he finally opens them to see you shock is evident in his face when you’re already gone and the line is left ringing. He buttons his pants and runs to his front door trying to catch you but instead his eyes land on another envelope. He opens it expecting it to be another love letter and pictures of him jacking it only to be met with photographs of YOU touching yourself, your mouth dropped open, hand on your pussy, only showing the bottom half of your face, the note attached reads “you have my phone number now.. id appreciate going on a date with you before you turn me in - your dearest Y/N” god this was going to be fun.

[happyk44]

Grover getting busy and swamped with Lord of the Wild duties so he prefaces this to Percy early because he knows Percy gets worried when he's not as present. So it's just a quick text of "hey, I might be unresponsive for a bit, swamped with work, don't worry, love you" and Percy gets it so he sends back a thumbs up and a "love you too!"

Then time passes and the reality of Grover's silence begins to sink in. And it pokes and prods at Percy's borderline traits, makes him stressed and angry, frustrated and scared, terrified of being left by his best friend to the point of him vomiting up his feelings.

And Grover calls him a few days in and he's half panicked but also thrilled because certainly this means it's all over and Grover is back and talking to him and everything is okay, but it's not because the empathy link is strong and Percy's vibrant swirling emotions are make Grover dizzy, so, "hey, Perce, could you just relax for a bit, or put up that mental block you made me show you how to do after you carried the weight of the world on your back a few years ago"

And no no no no no. Percy's insides are imploding. Blood and guts and bile boil on the back of his tongue. He's a horrible friend, he's a horrible person. He doesn't deserve Grover. He just keeps hurting him.

Grover hisses sharply over the phone. "Percy, relax."

"Relax?" The words slip out of his mouth like a whimpering hiss. Anger cuts through him with a red hot blade. Self-loathing fills his wounds and replaces his blood with its cold sticky ooze. "I- You-"

"Okay, I'm going to put up the block," Grover says.

And no no no no no. Percy needs to know how Grover's feeling, needs to know he's okay, but the moment he tries, he's denied, left with something vague and uncomfortable. My fault, my fault, my fault, he thinks, a broken record.

"Percy, you can't panic every time I get a little quiet on you," Grover says, and Percy hates himself. "It's not fair to me."

"I'm sorry," Percy breathes. Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me.

"I know." There's a quiet sigh and then, weakly, "I'm just kinda tired of..." He doesn't say what.

Percy's heart shatters. His throat swells and sticks. Air feels impossible to breathe in. He's choking. Dont leave me, don't leave me.

"Look, I love you, okay? We're bonded for life, man. I'm not going anywhere," Grover promises. "So just. Try to settle, okay? I'll let you know when I'm free and we can catch up then. It's not gonna be forever. Just... a couple weeks."

A couple weeks should be doable. But Percy knows that there's a rottenness inside him that won't be able to handle it. Will get simmering and bubblings until it spills into all his bitter cracks. It'll leave him angry, rude. Desperate.

He wipes away the tears threatening to spill over the edge of his eyes, and tucks himself closer into the wall. "Yeah, yeah, that's fine, G-man, I'll be cool."

They both know he's lying.

Grover exhales so soft, this weary tired sound, and the shattered remains of Percy's heart that float endlessly in the void of his soul shatter even more. Why can't he just be normal? Why can't he be a good friend? Why does he keep ruining everything with everyone?

"Okay," Grover says. "I gotta get back to it. Bye."

The immediate end of the call after Percy's "bye, love you" crests through him like a tidal wave. Slams hard and heavy, cold and furious. He throws the phone across the room. It's not satisfying enough.

What is wrong with him, what is wrong with him? Why is he like this - needy, angry, pathetic? Why can't he chill out? Go with the flow? Relax on an inner tube and float idly with the current and the gentle waves.

Instead he's a rolling hurricane, destroying everything in his path. Island dwellers who've grown up dealing with it for so long just sigh and make preparations and shelter it. Newbies less so, cowering from his torrential rains and shattering winds. The ones used to it, they just tiredly sweep up the pieces when it's done and move on. They'd be fine, happy even, if he stopped coming around. If he stopped blowing their things around and breaking windows.

But others - the howls of wind, the threat of floods and lightning - it's too much. They're scared and in the aftermath, they nervously step around, unsure of how to handle the debris he leaves behind. They don't know to avoid the sharp branches, keep an eye out for broken glass, that the eye of the storm is a breather, not an end.

But the island dwellers do.

No wonder Grover is so tired.

[autism-alley]

augh found my old post abt pjo and disability from before the show came out but it was on ye olde blog so i’m literally just gonna copy and paste, 3, 2, 1—

ok now that i’ve got it on the brain, i want to talk about disability in pjo and specifically how calling percy jackson dumb or treating him as such is not only a mischaracterization, but ableism. as a quick note, i’m keeping this to just percy to avoid having this already long post be even longer, but there are other disabled characters in pjo worthy of discussion, though i hit many of the same points in this post. i bring up percy specifically because he is mostly the character i have seen people treat as stupid.

percy is a dyslexic teen with ADHD who comes from a low-income family, raised by a single mother, and deals with an abusive step-father. i cannot stress enough how much of his character is shaped by that experience, but as hard as it is to single out any one part, i am going to focus on his ADHD and dyslexia. this kid has nightmares of being forced to take tests in a straightjacket as teachers ask him if he’s stupid and withhold him from recess with his peers. he is constantly labelled as “troubled” and blamed for things he didn’t do or aren’t his fault. he is told, over and over again, even from trusted adults, that he is “not normal” (othering him). he bounces between schools. he struggles to make friends. he deals with bullying. he has difficulty studying and reading, even when invested. teachers struggle to connect with him and tend to just give up on him. these are real disabled experiences, and rick does a good job at presenting them in the pjo books. sometimes, it feels like everything is a struggle. you are living inside a system that not only is restricting, but actively works against and punishes you.

in contrast, CHB is a great example of how when environments meet the needs of disabled people, it hugely changes how disabled we are in that environment. demigod brains are hard-wired for ancient greek, not english, and they’re born impulsive, with high energy levels that help them survive battle—but aren’t very good for a classroom setting. but by having them read books in ancient greek, regularly do lots of training/physical activities, and have genuine opportunities to express themselves...they function pretty damn well. percy discovers that while he struggles academically, he is brilliant in combat and capable of saving the world numerous times—he is a hero. do you know how important that message is for disabled children? disabled adults, too? that we can be heroes?

it is here, in camp half-blood, that percy finds a place he belongs, that shows him his worth—finally, somewhere is built to not only include him, but to nurture and genuinely prepare him for the world outside its boarders. however, i think people forget that just because percy functions in the world of CHB and the gods, that does not mean he doesn’t face ableism in the mortal world—and that there is an entire group of people who see ourselves reflected in his character.

i could talk on for hours about how much being disabled shapes percy’s identity and how he interacts with the world—like how percy’s humor revolves around coping with his environment and actually displays a very low self esteem after being looked down upon his entire life. this kid doesn’t even have to say anything and he screams i had a neurodivergent childhood. but about 5-6 years ago, when i was more regularly tuned into the fandom, every time i saw someone call percy jackson dumb or an idiot, even jokingly, i raised an eyebrow, and now that the series is getting fresh coverage from disney+, i have wanted to make this post. so much of this kid’s life and personality comes from being treated like he’s dumb or incapable, so it’s troubling to watch part of the fanbase reflect the harmful parts of this character’s upbringing. i truly hope it does not become common again. it’s also one thing coming from a neurodivergent/disabled person with similar experiences (and even then i personally find it a little uncomfortable), it’s another to be said by a neurotypical/able bodied person.

percy jackson’s experiences make for very important representation, and for people to characterize him as just a goofy, unintelligent guy is not only an insult to his character as a kid who is intelligent, but previously lacked the environment to show it, but also ableist. so in the dawn of the new tv series era, i ask that we cut that shit out. rick riordan did not create rep for neurodivergent and disabled kids for them to be called stupid by the fanbase. even jokingly.

[geneticdriftwood]

lost and found pt. 1: missing pieces (dickroy wip snippet)

Summary:

"In the photo, Roy’s head hangs backwards over the arm of their old couch. His face is covered in doodles that Dick had helped a tiny Lian draw, all in multicolored permanent marker. He’s trying to look dramatically outraged, but the effect is ruined by the bright grin he can’t quite suppress. His gaze is directed off camera, to where Lian is giggling delightedly in Dick’s lap, a bright streak of blue smudged across her right cheek. The look in his eyes is full of such intense love and devotion that Dick forgets, for a moment, how to breathe."

Or: Dick thinks about the past and fails to change the future.

A/N: this is a little snippet from pt. 1 of lost and found, my wip au where Lian and Damian become friends while she's running around gotham still "dead". they get themselves stranded half a galaxy away, and in the process of rescuing them, dick and roy finally work through their issues and figure their shit out. takes place shortly after bruce returns from the time stream, pre-nu52 canon but with lian's current death plotline

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

The last kid from his gymnastics class has finally been picked up, so Dick heads to the staff locker room to rinse off before going home. 

Honestly, Dick hates this locker room. It’s nothing like the tiny one at his old gym in New York, with its cracked mirror, and its shower with shit water pressure, and its photos and stickers and children's artwork on every locker. This one is too big, all shiny and new and impersonal, remodeled, like the rest of the gym, with money from a generous anonymous donation. Because Bruce can’t resist shoving himself into every fucking corner of Dick’s life.

That’s probably enough bitching about Bruce for now. He doesn’t want to hit his daily quota before he even finds out what happened last night with Damian. 

Dick finishes his shower and towels off, changing into a clean pair of sweatpants and an old Wonder Woman t-shirt. Gym bag over his shoulder, he waves goodbye to his coworkers and steps out into the soft light of early evening. He throws a helmet on, hops on his bike, and pulls out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of his apartment. 

The fog of stress and exhaustion has finally cleared from his head, and he’s feeling more like himself than he has all day, but something in his chest still aches. 

His last group of the day had been the tumbling class for 5-6 year olds. It's one of his favorites to teach–– it’s mostly just playing games, and he loves seeing how carefree and comfortable in their own skin the kids that age still are. But there’s moments when he looks at them and chokes on the air in his lungs, unable to swallow the grief. 

Sophie had landed her first cartwheel today, and all he could see was Lian, running into the tower kitchen to proudly show him that look, she finally got the feet right! And he and Donna had applauded, and let her lick the cookie dough off the spoon, and listened as she’d sat at the kitchen island, kicking her feet and telling them all about some new animal fact she’d learned. 

He thinks about calling Roy and sharing the memory. But he doesn't know if he should, hasn't talked to him recently enough to know whether the thought of past joy would be a comfort, or just a painful reminder of loss.

It aches down to his bones, that he doesn’t know. The distance between him and Roy feels so wrong, like he’s missing a limb. 

Dick pulls in and parks in front of his favorite little corner grocery store. Dick wants to say he doesn’t know how all this started, but, well, he definitely does. He just doesn't particularly want to think about it.

This is his own damn fault, he knows. Roy’s been trying to reach out, lately. They see each other semi-regularly, at Justice League meetings or during the occasional mission. Out of costume sometimes, too, at someone’s birthday dinner or a West family cookout. But Dick’s had a lot of practice dodging conversations he doesn’t want to have. And normally Roy doesn’t let him get away with that, but they both know better than to start this fight in public. 

So Dick avoids being alone with Roy, and Roy stares at him from across the room, eyes burning holes in the side of Dick’s head. Between the two of them, silences have always been so much louder than screaming matches. 

Dick glances down. He’s a little surprised to notice that he has his phone out and opened to Roy’s contact, where a much younger face looks up at him. Donna had taken the picture, one afternoon when it had just been the three of them and Lian in the tower.

In the photo, Roy’s head hangs backwards over the arm of their old couch. His face is covered in doodles that Dick had helped a tiny Lian draw, all in multicolored permanent marker. He’s trying to look dramatically outraged, but the effect is ruined by the bright grin he can’t quite suppress. His gaze is directed off camera, to where Lian is giggling delightedly in Dick’s lap, a bright streak of blue smudged across her right cheek. The look in his eyes is full of such intense love and devotion that Dick forgets, for a moment, how to breathe.

It’s not like Dick wants things to stay like this. He misses his friend so much it burns inside. But he doesn’t know how to fix this. He’s afraid to try. Dick feels stuck, frozen. Why the hell is this so hard? 

His thumb hovers over the call button on the screen. He really, really wants to hear Roy’s voice.

Suddenly his phone vibrates, and a text from Tim pops up at the top of the screen.

dropping itty bitty bat off at ur place, eta 20min. if u arent home to stop me i WILL be stealing all ur zesti.

The tension of the moment breaks, and Dick is back to being just a guy in a parking lot. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and pauses for a moment before pocketing his phone and turning to head into the store. He’s got a kid he needs to make dinner for, and he should probably restock on Zesti.

As he pushes the door open and is hit with cool air and the sounds of shoppers, a little voice in his head whispers “coward”. It sounds uncomfortably like Roy’s.

[backgroundagent3]

You did Daisy for the character game. How about my baby??? 🙈

Thanks for the ask! I'm assuming you're talking about Fitz, so here you go! 💙

First impression: I think he was the character I loved the most at the beginning. I thought he was adorable and I found his awkwardness hilarious, and I especially loved his dynamic with Simmons in season 1. It really stressed my out how innocent and helpless he seemed though, because he just didn't know how to defend himself at all back in the day.

Impression now: I have to admit my opinion of him changed for the worse after 5.14, and I so wish that hadn't happened (or at least had been properly dealt with), but it did, so here we are. I still love him, and I think he had some really good and interesting character development and a great ending.

Favorite moment: It's really hard to choose because he has so many funny moments that I really enjoyed, especially in the earlier seasons. One moment I loved was in 1.06, where Jemma gets infected with the chitauri virus and he enters the lab anyway to help her find a cure. Here's where I realised he's not just the nerdy comedic relief, he's also loyal and kind, which in my opinion are some of his best qualities.

Idea for a story: I'd like to know how he came up with the idea for the night night gun. Dendrotoxins are neurotoxins produced by snakes, right? So now I need to know what kind of experiment led to him potentially knocking out a couple of students by accident before he thinks to apply the science to a non-lethal gun. I like to think that after the accident, he went to extreme lengths to get a snake (because that's funnier than just the neurotoxins) and extract its venom all to make some bullets which might not even work. He then needs to get some volunteers to test it on, because the test subjects need to be human to get the correct dosage to knock out a person. Can you imagine him going up to random students and asking them to participate in a pretty dangerous experiment all for the sake of a weapon that he's gonna name the night night gun? I think it has the potential to be hilarious.

Unpopular opinion: I think the writers didn't know what to do with him in the later seasons. I felt like his presence was not only irrelevant but also unnecessary. Like seasons 1 to 3 he wasn't the main character, but he still played a role in the show. Seasons 4 and 5, he was arguably pivotal to the plot. But seasons 6 and 7? I couldn't tell you why he was there if you held a gun to my head. All the time he spent lost in space in season 6 was a waste of time for him and other characters as well, and it just took some much needed time from the main storyline of the season. And he was barely in season 7, but I didn't even miss him because they'd pretty much made him a side character at this point. Maybe he was important as the other half of Fitzsimmons, but not as his own character. This is of course not his fault, I just think it's such a shame that they wasted all the potential he had, just when he got really interesting and complicated after season 5.

Favorite relationship: Romantic? Fitzsimmons. I was rooting for them literally since their first scene. I love that their ship name is cannon. And platonic? Lance Hunter. They had such a hilarious dynamic in season 2, and I love how Hunter helps him and doesn't care about his brain injury. Honourable mention to the bus kids.

Favorite headcanon: Not my own, but I read somewhere that he's autistic, and I love that headcanon for him. I feel like that's kind of how Iain played him, and it would have been cool if they'd explored this in canon.

This was fun to write, so thank you so much for the ask! 🐵💙

Character Asks.

[pastelmusings]

The first one-shot let's gooo, I also posted this on ao3 here!

-

It was the third time this week you had him on the table... Sitting stoically as usual, unblinking eyes staring at you, a light purple this time no less.

"Simon..." you finally started, setting your screwdriver down on the counter with a light cling, eyes drifting up to meet his. "Can you just power down while I do this, or something? It's kind of hard to focus."

He finally blinked at you, head tilting ever so slightly as his white hair fell across his face, as if processing whether that was a command, or a friendly suggestion. He had gone and popped one of his joints out of place, again, one of his more fragile spinal support ones no less. Such delicate work was a touch more difficult when you could practically feel his eyes trained on your every minor movement.

"Requesting clarification: is that an order or suggestion?"

You bit back a groan, fighting the urge to manually power him down yourself. It seemed like the only time he was actually willing to go offline now a days was when charging, and it was getting increasingly difficult to deal with...

"Not an order, but at least sit still..."

He was sitting perfectly still, not even activating his simulated breathing, not moving a fraction of a millimeter as you carefully twisted a new screw into place. What you had wanted to say was 'stop staring', but he certainly wouldn’t understand your reasoning behind asking, leading into a long-winded conversation about human preferences, which would be the third one of the day.

"You seem to have a slightly elevated heart rate. Question: is this stressful?" He asked, his voice box vibrating the metal supports under your fingertips ever so slightly as you tightened the last screw, praying that this one would hold better.

"No, not stressful... Just stop breaking your supports, I've only got a few left to use."

It wasn't really his fault. A model manufactured as long ago as him, especially with so much of his metal alloy out on display due to your lack of replacement parts, was bound to have a fair bit of rusting and structural integrity issues. You had never really been in the 'refurbishing androids' business, working predominantly as a scrapper, but with a model as rare is his it seemed stupid not to at least give it an attempt.

He hoisted himself off the table after you pulled away, testing out the flexibility by turning his ‘waist’, or where it would have been if he had a full torso, slightly, the exposed pieces of his metal spine twisting with him and clicking into place. It didn't look like he would snap in half any time soon, thankfully, but finding a replacement part for his torso was a pretty high priority item if you ever wanted to even think about getting rid of him.

"Your blood sugar is down by 25%. Should I make you something?" You noticed his eyes shift back to their basic white LED, usually a sign that he had used his visual scanner to once again go poking around at your chemical and hormone levels. Now that was truly a practice you couldn't regulate, order or no, as it was integrated into his base code... A decommission medical grade Android as an assistant had both its advantages and drawbacks, apparently.

"No, thank you. I was going to grab something out on my parts run later." You replied, glancing down to mentally count how many more supports you'd likely be going through within the next week, if these breakages kept up their pace at least. His expression didn't actually change, but it was quite obvious he had a bit of a problem with that.

"Eating later will push your circadian rhythm back, making it harder to fall asleep. Counter: I'm making you food now." He immediately walked to the kitchen before you could get a single word in, leaving you to follow him with your protests.

"Hey. Simon—" you huffed slightly, "I'm not even hungry right now." That was a bit of a lie, which he was well aware of due to his detection of the increased ghrelin hormone produced, but he knew you knew that.

"58% probability you'll want something with simple carbs due to low glucose levels, but also roughly a 72% probability you'll want something higher in iron and protein to combat fatigue..." He seemed to be contemplating, running the numbers in his head before deciding. "Request: soup or custom rice bowl?" You stared at him a moment while he stared back, fighting the ever-growing urge to just power him off and go about your day.

"...Soup, please."

He actually smiled, one of his rare ones, before nodding. "It'll be ready in approximately 52.4 minutes."

He had practically assigned himself all of the cooking and cleaning duties around your little apartment and workshop, since his body really couldn't take anything more laborious while it was still being repaired. You didn't have any initial protest, per se, but his increasing persistence about maintaining your general health was becoming kind of concerning in its obsession. You remind yourself that when he was still in commission, he would likely tend to dozens of different patients every day, said this probably put a bit of a strain on his base code, at least whatever part of it hadn't been corrupted by time and neglect.

You must have been crazy for even attempting to make him fully functional again, considering what his individual parts would sell for. That damn scanner alone, with the condition that it was in, would probably sell for both your combined weights in precious metals. They don't make them like they used to...

You were quickly pulled from your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder, causing you to immediately tense.

"The serotonin in your blood is low. And your heart rate... Did I startle you?" His voice calm and even, with the most imperceivable hint of likely manufactured concern.

You didn't get an answer in before his arms wrapped around your waist from behind, ever so gently holding you like you were a poor wounded animal. "Physical touch necessary, is this better?" His synthetic skin was almost warm... Almost as soft as yours, and certainly more pristine, every little mark precisely designed to make him look perfectly imperfect.

"This isn't necessary..." It was your gut reaction to deny him, even if it did technically feel better.

"It is." He spoke plainly, as if simply stating a matter of fact. You felt his 'breathing', his 'heartbeat', all completely simulated of course, hardly comparable to the functionality of the real thing, but it did make it feel more like hugging a human, rather than a highly advanced doll.

He stayed there for another minute, pulling away finally to recalculate how your hormone levels were fairing, seemingly satisfied with the result. "Dinner will be ready in 46.5 minutes. I'll bring it to you, go rest."

It was stated more like an order than a suggestion, though without any sort of authoritarian tone, or really any tone at all. You decided to comply anyway, not able to think of anything better to do, and he seemed rather pleased.

The smell of soup filled your small apartment, leaving you wondering if you'd actually be able to go pick up those stupid replacement parts tomorrow.

[bumblebwii]

BTS X THE WALKING DEAD C3

Jungkook centric! Please read the previous two parts before this one aha :)

6K word count

Summary:

He was left alone for a while, he fell asleep quickly, discarded bits of twine close by to kill off any threats. His dreams were plagued by his parents, by Jimin, by all of those awful kids at school and Jungkook felt weak in his dreams for a while, cowering away from their attacks in the corner, until his tears solidified into a weapon and his sadness solidified into anger and he used it to fuel his thirst for blood, picking them off one by one in a little game of hide and seek. Jungkook won.

CONTENT WARNINGS

depictions of murder, cannibalism, blood, gore, bad people, bad parents and trauma.

Jungkook let out a gentle breath, a long exhale that barely made a noise as he used it to carry away the day’s intensity. Corrupt bosses meant that the company was beginning to crumble and sink, they didn’t care for the little people and that was the first fault in the company’s structure. The company was on its knees and going under; it would take Jungkook down with it if he didn’t get out soon. He was turning twenty two, his birthday was sneaking up on him like a horror movie plot line and he could not help but feel overwhelmed by it. 

The first year of university had been just as bad as his high school friends had prophesied it would be, as bad as Jimin had warned him about, but it had been fun, and had brought him to an oasis in a desert that was shaped like a twenty-three year old Min Yoongi. The boy who had pulled Jungkook out of the lifeless cycle he was sticking himself in. The door of the small house jammed as Jungkook tried to push it open, like it usually did, and Jungkook groaned as he barged it with his shoulder to get it open. His house was a little house share situation, there were six of them in the three bedroom house, two in each room; it was how he and Yoongi got together, they shared the same room and grew inseparable. Their other flatmates were like ghosts and they barely saw each other; it was ideal for the young couple. 

Yoongi was standing at the stove, cooking something that smelled divine and Jungkook could not hold back the smile that spread over his face. “Hi.” Yoongi smiled, stirring something happily, “dinner’s nearly done I’ve just-,” Jungkook shuffled over and wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s waist and let his head rest against Yoongi’s shoulders, it was a back hug sent from heaven after the day from hell that Jungkook had gone through. Yoongi patted Jungkook’s hands lovingly, letting the younger boy simply rest there for a second, “I’ve missed you too. Now, go wash up and get comfy then I’ll bring dinner up to our room, okay?” Jungkook nodded, detaching himself from Yoongi before dragging his body up for a shower. Getting into his pyjamas had always been Jungkook’s favourite part of the day. 

Yoongi came in with their food just as Jungkook was changing and whistled playfully over Jungkook’s half naked, damp appearance and Jungkook stuck his tongue out, “please, I look like a zombie. Work was dreadful and I’m either gonna quit tomorrow or just hold off until I get another job.”

“If this is what zombies are gonna look like then I can’t wait for the apocalypse. If you need to quit then quit, we’ll be alright. I’m working and I can always take on a few more shifts until you can find another job. My parents are happy to help us with shopping money too.” Yoongi reassured him, setting out the food along the floor, they could not afford a little table, then again, the house was too small to fit one, even if they could afford one. “You’re too young to worry about stuff like this, honey. You’ll be grey by twenty seven.”

“I think I’d look sexy with grey hair. At least I’d not have to worry about buying bleach if I wanted to go pink again.”

Yoongi chucked to himself and took a bite of food, watching as Jungkook shimmied on a pair of pyjama bottoms. Life was stressful but it was dinners spent with the love of his life after an awful day that made Jungkook’s heart feel fully content. Jungkook wanted to spend the rest of his life doing this, eating and laughing with Yoongi, watching some sci-fi comedy on their shared laptop, or scrolling through social media and laughing at the memes that shaped the pair’s humour. 

Yoongi was a great cook, although that was to be expected of a culinary student who dreamed of opening his own restaurant. Jungkook supported him all the way, Yoongi’s restaurant would be out of this world. Yoongi was teaching Jungkook to cook, ever patient and caring. He was like that only for Jungkook though, because from talking with Yoongi’s peers, the older boy gives Gordon Ramsey a run for his money. Darling-boy Yoongi with his soft smile and benevolent habits was a terrifying man in the kitchen, he ran a tight ship and had a commanding aura. One that he threw in the bin when it came to Jungkook and he helped Jungkook with anything; piano, cooking, building, budgeting, all of it rolled with gentle chuckles and careful, wonderful hands.

Their food had long been finished, crusted onto the plates before Jungkook huffed out a little squeeze of air and took them into the kitchen to be washed. It was no surprise when Yoongi trailed after Jungkook with a small blurt of information about the show and actors they were watching. It was a little habit of Yoongi’s to know the who, what, where and when’s of films and series and Jungkook could listen to the man talk for hours, which Yoongi often did, little tangents here and there about whatever thoughts Yoongi had cropped up mid sentence. Yoongi could be a whirlwind when he felt comfortable enough with you; a little goofball and Jungkook’s beaming ray of sunshine.

Love felt good to Jungkook, like sitting on the world’s comfiest settee after being on your feet for hours, like submerging yourself in a pool of perfectly cold water on those humid summer days. Yoongi had quickly become an important cog in Jungkook’s life, he had crept in and captured Jungkook’s innocent heart in a short span of half a year and Yoongi had pulled Jungkook up into feeling like a functional member of society after a lifetime of feeling like an outcast in his own home.

“Jimin-ah called me earlier, Jungkook.” Yoongi said softly, a wary tone sewing itself into Yoongi’s voice. Jungkook and Jimin had a weird relationship to say the least. Jungkook both loved and hated his older brother for being the only person before Yoongi to actually give half a shit about Jungkook, but Jungkook also hated Jimin for being the poster child for everything in their parent’s eyes and unintentionally being the reason for all of Jungkook’s anguish. Jimin was the sweetest person alive, so full of love and grace and all things lovely, always had been, he had been graced with perfect features, perfect nature, perfect everything. That’s something their parent’s would rub in like some lemon and salt concoction onto a gaping wound as they pointed out all of the features Jungkook still needed to grow into or change; the nature he needed to alter. It drove Jungkook crazy.

Jungkook nodded gently and smiled tightly, “oh.” He took a sip of his drink and Yoongi let out a slow sigh. 

“He was asking all about you.” Yoongi and Jimin were close friends, quickly forming a bond that Jungkook was both endeared and apprehensive about. They would talk often, much more often than Jungkook and Jimin would. “He misses you, Jk. He wants you to call at some point so that you can decide when to have that coffee with him like you promised.”

“Ugh, he never forgets anything. That was an empty promise. I don’t even like coffee.” Jungkook huffed into his glass like he did not want Yoongi to hear and scold him.

“He loves you. You forget that.” Yoongi said lightly with a disapproving shake of his head, “so call him and go buy a smoothie instead. Anyway, he called to tell you that your parents are coming tomorrow at noon and they’re taking us to lunch.”

Jungkook chugged the rest of his drink and groaned loudly. There was no escaping his parents grilling him half to death tomorrow at lunch. Jimin most definitely will be there too, gleaming and innocently stomping Jungkook into the asphalt. “I honestly think that being shot in the leg would be far less painful than sitting around a dinner table with my family.”

—

When Jungkook awoke, it was to the feeling of cold metal against his chest and a dead feeling in his limbs, “fuck.” He mumbled, voice clogged with sleep.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would have said that was attractive.” Taehyung sighed, pinching Jungkook’s face in between his fingers and thumb, moving Jungkook’s face side to side and checking Jungkook’s pupil reaction. “I remember you that day. You saved me. Us. Thank you.” Taehyung said, “it’s a shame you turned out like this. We could’ve been great friends, your brother is the greatest.”

It was a knee-jerk reaction to let out an annoyed snarl of a sound, old cauterised wounds reopening at the remark about the two brothers, a constant thorn in Jungkook’s childhood of everyone preferring Jimin to him, of their parents asking Jungkook why he could not be more like their oldest son. 

“Hit a nerve, did we?” Taehyung laughed softly, “Yoongi’s told me all about your little childhood trauma and as someone who took a great liking to neurology, I can’t help but see why you’re the way that you are.” Taehyung had a sweetness about him, but it was boxed away and hidden away beneath a mound of post-apocalyptic ice-heartedness. “Jimin wants to see you.” Taehyung said and cut some of the twine to free Jungkook up a little bit, pulling him into a wheelchair. “You can try to run, but I’ll put a bullet in your other leg and leave it there.” He offered as he pushed Jungkook out of the cell and into another one, They were on a top floor, the stairs not too far away, Jungkook’s leg was in agony, he chose to hold off on the running, it was in his best interest to stay in the wheelchair for now. He’ll run when he’s more healed and better equipped. 

Jimin’s cell was glowing with the light of a yellow-bulb lamp and Jungkook scoffed quietly, typical, it was alive with gentle murmurs and his older brother’s light laughter. “Googie!” Jimin smiled, leaning out of his bed to hug Jungkook, swatting away Namjoon’s worrying hands before engulfing Jungkook in a tight hug. “You’re okay!” There were tears in his voice and Jungkook tried not to shove the other brother away, he tried to collect the good memories together just so he didn’t cause more harm than good; Jungkook took a deep breath. 

“Jimin.” Jungkook patted his back. When Jimin pulled away from the hug, he held Jungkook’s face in his hands and inspected him closely. Jungkook found it infuriating how light and baby-faced Jimin still looked. The apocalypse had taken no physical toll on his older brother, he was still as gorgeous and perfect as ever and their parents would be proud, boastful. The apocalypse had not been so kind to Jungkook, who developed scars and sharper, uninviting features; his skin wrinkled in certain places and in the quick reflections he caught of himself, Jungkook looked old, older than he truly was. Thankfully though, no grey hair.  

“Thirty four looks good on you little bro!” Jimin smiled, it was odd, as if they weren’t surviving an apocalypse, as if Jungkook had immigrated somewhere far for a few years. As if Jungkook had not nearly killed Jimin and felt no remorse in doing so.

“Does it?” Jungkook asked, eyebrow raised, “I would say thirty eight looks good on you, but I’d be a liar. You look half dead. Or maybe a quarter dead would be more fitting considering our current society.” Jungkook shrugged, half a dead laugh edging at his lips.

“Oh, come on, he looks fine, even you can see that!” Taehyung huffed, pushing all of Jungkook’s buttons, “couldn’t even tell you almost died, Jimin.” Taehyung lightly hit Jungkook’s shoulder and Jungkook glared up at him. “You should compliment your brother, it's the least you could do. He looks far better than you do and we only took the bullet from your leg.”

Jimin mumbled something that Jungkook did not bother to listen to and he pushed himself up off the wheelchair, he was much taller than Taehyung, who honestly was so beautiful Jungkook felt bad for cursing him mentally. Taehyung looked tired and prematurely aged by his profession, but he managed to pull it off and look like he had never faced a day of trauma in his life. Jungkook hated it, hated him. Everyone in the cell rose to alert at Jungkook standing, ready to shoot to kill, but Jungkook rolled his eyes and limped away, ignoring whatever they were saying to him and he shut the door to his cell and laid on the top bunk.

He was left alone for a while, he fell asleep quickly, discarded bits of twine close by to kill off any threats. His dreams were plagued by his parents, by Jimin, by all of those awful kids at school and Jungkook felt weak in his dreams for a while, cowering away from their attacks in the corner, until his tears solidified into a weapon and his sadness solidified into anger and he used it to fuel his thirst for blood, picking them off one by one in a little game of hide and seek. Jungkook won.

Jungkook awoke naturally to an unnatural atmosphere. It was silent, deadly so. He got down from the top bunk clumsily on the count of his damaged thigh and observed the open cell door and wondered if this was a test where he would be shot the moment he dared darken the threshold with his feet. He stared at it for a while until the sound of quiet cries stole his attention, Jimin was in floods of tears, tied to the bed much like Jungkook had been and the older one of the pair looked at Jungkook with wide, pleading eyes.

“You’re awake! Untie me.” Jungkook stayed unmoving and he continued to watch his brother. He could kill him. “Please, Jungkook. This is important! They went to go and talk with these people who we’ve been having trouble with and it’s gone quiet. I need to go.” Jungkook nodded once and walked towards his older brother, who watched him with a hopeful gleam, puppy-dog eyes that lured most people in and tricked them into giving Jimin all that he demanded. Not Jungkook. 

He leaned in closer to Jimin and placed one final kiss to the forehead. It was a venture that soothed the inner part of himself that rejoiced in his brother’s survival, it entertained the scattered part of himself that he was tricking his brother and kissing him goodbye to either let him starve or become some other fucked up person’s toy for a while, it lessened his sane-self’s unwillingness to procrastinate death and made him want to live more alongside his only living friend and brother.

“Fuck it.” Jungkook huffed and ran over the threshold. Still not dead. Jimin was smarter than to make a ruckus, there were outsiders here and shouting would only lead them to where he is incapacitated. Jungkook took a little stroll through the block, taking his weapons back. Guns. Knife. Bat. Crossbow. The crossbow had been a little treat for himself from one of the rooms and it hung over his shoulders and across his chest like it was some festival bag. 

Walking up to what used to be some sort of communal room, Jungkook did not anticipate hearing familiar voices, assuming everyone would be dead. He approached silently and waited in the dark doorway, unseen, unheard, armed. It was a circular room with two floors, donut-shaped top floor that allowed a circle of dim light in the centre bottom floor and almost pitch shadows, perfect shadows for hiding, around the edge beneath the flooring of the top floor. He watched on as Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi tried to bargain the survival of Seokjin and Taehyung, who had been grabbed by two ugly, beer-bellied men looking to get their dicks sucked and blood thirst quenched. Jungkook ate these kinds of people; did not even bother in hearing them out. What surprised Jungkook, however, were the two girls and a nimble looking boy sneaking around the shadows, knives ready to attack the three in the middle, unseen, unheard. Fun. A level playing field.

This little band of six were his to kill and his only. Jungkook was a possessive man. Sue him.

Jungkook took a calculated step into the shadows, the smallest girl, early twenties, was closest and henceforth, Jungkook’s first victim. He had perfected silent killings, the apocalypse called for silence and Jungkook steeled himself to be at her almighty, beaconing call. He grabbed her quickly and pushed the knife into the base of her jaw below the ear and pulled quickly across before jabbing it into the base of her skull so that she did not turn, then he lowered her to the floor with ease, despite the hot blood that cascaded over his hands. Jungkook missed that feeling, someone else’s blood coating his hand, another last breath stolen by his god-awful presence. 

The boy was next, running right into Jungkook’s little trap and finding himself slaughtered like the first girl, bleeding and dead on the floor, Jungkook loved the sight of blood, loved the feeling of stepping in the viscous, sticky liquid, but right now, Jungkook had to avoid it because sticky boots were noisy and Jungkook needed to stay unheard. The third girl was unaware of the fate of her companions, so did not bat an eyelid when someone stood behind her as she readied herself to attack, motioning something that must have meant something to the dead ones. Her attack would never happen though as Jungkook beat her to it, acting quickly and uncaring, he cut her throat and her brain stem and dropped her to the floor. 

Whoever these men were, they were foolish. It was three of them, slow and fat and they stunk of rancid body odour. Jungkook hated body odour. He hated people like this, who did things without poise and common sense. What Jungkook hated the most, however, was the bargaining, the talking, dragging this whole thing out by its old, wrinkly balls; these were the creeps that had been causing their little group of six problems? Pathetic. Kill first, think later. Realistically, Jungkook knew there could possibly be more than the sorry saps that just so happened to be present and dying today and that their deaths could cause some reality tv drama Jungkook was too disconnected to truly care about, but if Jungkook was going to exploit and farm these people for his own greedy benefit, then he wanted them to at least go down with a little bit of a fight and preparation. Jungkook wanted it to be fun; so he’d guide them, teach them how to have apocalyptic brains, rather than diplomatic brains, herd them right into their own pens and then the moment it all clicks together for them, it’s too late. Just the thought of it makes Jungkook’s fucked little mind feel some kind of satisfaction.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, we can work together. There’s safety in numbers.” Namjoon spoke loudly and Jungkook held everything he possibly could in just to keep himself from gagging. Idiot. There was so much potential for serious danger in bigger numbers. Plus, it was such a cliche move, the peaceful, rough around the edges leader just trying to restart the world one little piece at a time. 

Jungkook raised his crossbow, new and shiny; something he could experiment with quietly and took aim at the man standing with Seokjin in his arms, the tall surgeon had been forced awkwardly to his knees and held by the head against the man’s protruding stomach, his filthy, stained hand against Seokjin’s mouth and Jungkook dreaded knowing what it smelled like. Shit, probably. 

The release of the crossbow whistled with a satisfying speed and lodged itself into the inner corner of the man’s right eye and through the back of his nose’s bridge and out the other side of his temple. “Nice.” Jungkook smiled to himself before turning the crossbow to the other man holding a very alarmed Taehyung and released the arrow, this one jammed into the hinge of the man’s jaw and disappeared into his head somewhere. The two surgeons let out screams of horror and Jungkook rolled his eyes. You’re welcome. 

Namjoon and Hoseok jumped forward and grabbed for them to return to safety, looking around for whoever had killed the two oafs. Jungkook slung the crossbow back over his shoulder with a huff and watched for a moment as the final remaining pig of a man - an insult to pigs, Jungkook thought - looked around for the attacker and called for the three, very dead, hidden ones to come out. It was pathetic really, sad and pathetic to watch him grasp at nothing. They were standing right by the northern end of the light area

“Show yourself! Who are you?” Namjoon spat and Jungkook turned his glare to the leader. Idiot.

“All this diplomatic talking shit is gonna get you killed, dickhead.” Jungkook said harshly. “Whilst you were trading peace talks, this fucker had three toddlers getting ready to rock your shit and that’s only fun when I’m the one doing the rocking. Trust me.” Jungkook walked silently so that he was in the shadows right behind the guy. “What happened to the guy who shot me before actually checking for bites?” Jungkook laughed, cocking his gun, “what, my brother let you get your dick wet and you change your morals for killing his little brother?” Jungkook almost laughed at the feeling of the gun almost against the guy’s head. He was slipping, quickly.

“Jk-ah that’s-,” Yoongi started but was cut off by the oaf grabbing his hair and holding Yoongi right beside his head. There was something inside of Jungkook’s head that appeared like the conscience did in cartoons, screaming and begging for Jungkook to save the only man that had always made sure to keep Jungkook safe and loved, that part made Jungkook angry and defensive over Yoongi and someone grabbing at his first and only love. There was another angry voice in Jungkook’s head that reminded him that this was the end of the world, their old lives no longer mattered, Yoongi no longer mattered; Jungkook wanted to kill him anyway, get revenge for being abandoned in that alleyway after risking his life to save them.

Jungkook watched in annoyance as the man stumbled and fumbled for safety with a feisty Yoongi fighting to get out of his arms.

“I got your brother. Kill me and I’ll kill him. I just want the pretty doctors. They’re useful in more than one way.” He was waving a knife around, threatening the wrong side of the shadows. 

“That’s not my brother, that’s my husband. Grabbing him is worse than my brother. I need the doctors. You can’t have them.” Jungkook took silent steps toward the man, gun in hand and murder on his mind, and he pulled the trigger without a second thought. The man’s head threw itself in the direction of the bullet and his brain matter painted Yoongi and his body slumped like a sack of potatoes. The gunshot made Jungkook’s ears ring as the sound of it bounced around the room in awful echos and Yoongi catapulted himself out of the dead-man’s grip and towards Hoseok, who pulled Yoongi in with a worried kiss to the top of his head; something about it did not sit right in Jungkook’s stomach, but the adrenaline of the killing was still pumping through him and he could not concentrate on it for too long. Too many voices ringing in his head.

Jungkook’s tongue poked the sides of his cheek and he grabbed at the ankles of the dead man in front of him, pulling him along the floor so that Jungkook could begin to prepare their meat to use. He needed food and lots of it after the ordeal of the past few days. There was a big pool of blood spilling out from the men with arrows in their head and Jungkook only smiled to himself as he pulled the arrows free and watched as the blood splashed at his feet. He stomped his foot lightly in the puddle like a child and then purposefully stomped it on a dry patch, leaning down to messily write ‘Jeon Jungkook. Still not dead.’ Beside his boot print in the semi-warm liquid with his finger. He grabbed at another one of the men and began pulling them toward the open space, a chopping line, with shallow huffs.

“What’re you doing? We put the dead bodies outside.” Seokjin said quietly, shaken up by what had happened and probably half deafened by the gunshot.

“You shouldn’t have killed them. I had it handled.” Namjoon spat, turning to glare at Jungkook, who dropped the body to laugh heartily at Namjoon.

“Handled. Sure. Not how I would have put it, but if that’s what helps you sleep at night.” Jungkook moved onto the next one, huffing, “I just saved your behinds.” Once he had successfully moved all six bodies into the open space and stripped them of their clothes, he took the large axe that one of the dead had dropped and Jungkook twirled it in his hands; he took a moment to admire the blade.

“They were kids!” Namjoon yelled at Jungkook, “how do you have no remorse - no, how the fuck do you kill with no question, it’s-, what are you doing?!” The leader startled as Jungkook brought the axe into position and brought it down onto a shoulder joint with a thunk; someone to the left gagged at the pop of the joint as Jungkook grabbed the limp hand and twisted it with a ruthless pull and it jaggedly came away at the opening.

“Dismembering a body, what does it look like I’m doing?” Jungkook scoffed, bringing the axe down again on the other shoulder joint before he picked the large arm up, the tendons and strings of muscle and veins reached out in a ghostly attempt to pull the limb back together. “Oh, gross.” Jungkook laughed boyishly and it was accompanied by someone retching loudly and vomit splashing onto the floor. “As for those ‘kids’ you speak of, Namjoon-ssi, they were gonna get you before you could talk your way out of it and you would have had no idea about it. We’re at the end of the world, wake up. Kill or be killed; there’s nothing to think about.”

Blood kissed at Jungkook’s cheeks and the surrounding area as he started hacking at more limbs. They shot at him first, how could they be high and mighty about compassion and letting people live. Jeongguk scoffed to himself, pulling more and more limbs into a little pile. He was willing to share, there was a lot of meat here; a lot of organs to burn and bones to whittle at. 

Yoongi straightened himself out from his vomiting, each of them somewhat transfixed in horror and unable to look away. “Jungkook-ah, why are you- why, just why?”

It was a loaded question and Jungkook thought for a moment, he was a ticking time bomb and deadly, but he refused to be stupid or walked over. “Gotta survive somehow. I told you all, I’ve had to figure out the best uses for bodies.” Jungkook said slowly, bringing the axe down onto a blood stained neck “It was sunshine and rainbows for you lot, being in a group from the beginning, you’re all in it for each other. Outsiders, as you can see, have ulterior motives. Dangerous.” Everyone listened closely, silently horrified and getting semi-answers they’ve all wanted to ask, “You have to go insane to stay sane, but when someone’s ‘sane’ is a superiority complex, the normal people have to get the upper hand if you want to survive, which naturally - Taehyung will vouch for this with his brain stuff - humans have survival instincts that go haywire in dire situations.” 

Jungkook leaned down to pick up the head of the person, looking at it for a moment in it’s greying, ugly glory, half open eyes and blueish lips, hollow cheeks from lack of food and deep, deep bags.

“Survival instincts of other people, animals, viruses and plants will be the reason you die in an apocalypse. That and lack of resources. People are deadly.”

“Are you deadly?” Hoseok dared ask. “You must be to make it this far alone.”

“Yah, Jung Hoseok, are you missing the part where he just silently assassinated six people and is now dismembering their corpses?!” Seokjin snapped, glaring up at Hoseok from where he was sprawled on the floor, “obviously he’s deadly.”

“Are you a threat?” Namjoon challenged, arms crossed and eyes flickering over the dead bodies, to Yoongi, then back to Jungkook. Yoongi looked several ways devastated, a little green in colour and he was doing all he could to not look at Jungkook.

“Push my buttons like you did last night with that bullet wound and I might be.” Jungkook shrugged, the head still in his hand, blood dripping from the slice quickly into a large puddle at Jungkook’s feet, “so much blood in such a tiny person.” He marvelled softly, before throwing the head toward Taehyung who squealed in surprise, “a brain for you to look at and poke.” Jungkook laughed heartily, the sound only growing when Taehyung picked the head up and kicked it away from himself like a football.

“So you-,”

“Do you know how hard it is to survive alone?” Jungkook asked, mood switching quickly and the others seemed to notice the darkness in his voice because even Seokjin sat up to look at him. “Forget the walkers and the adults being dangers to your very existence, but to be that hungry, that alone, to see literal children die or fight or beg for food you could never give them?” Jungkook glared at Namjoon, the direct cause of his anguish, “do you know how soul destroying it is to put a six year old out of their misery? Or to ignore their cries to help them because you can barely keep yourself alive, adding another the mix is asking for something bad to happen.” 

Jungkook looked over at Yoongi, who had begun crying, mumbling that he couldn’t stomach listening to more. He needed to hear more.

“You said to me, Yoongi, I’d understand if I’d been through what you guys had, so you’re gonna understand what I’ve had to go through and then I can hear what you’ve had to fucking go through.” Jungkook hissed, “because I am not going to be this nasty little villain for surviving; I will not let any of you sit there and pity me or look down on me just because I’ve had to change because all six of you left me for dead.”

“I went back!” Yoongi hollered, crying and shaking, “I went back! It took all five of them to pull me away from you. You were so fucking still and covered in blood and we thought you were bitten and-,”

“I already told you, I don’t want to fucking hear it! Too little too late.” Jungkook shouted back, axe pointed toward Yoongi, “not a force on earth would have pulled me away from you! I certainly wouldn’t have just left you to fucking turn!”

“And you think I was in any fit state to put a knife in your head or let one of them do it?! I loved you more than life itself, you were the only thing that ever pulled me through life, especially after my parents died!” Yoongi slammed his hand on the table in frustration, “you still had a pulse and I had plans to come and rescue you but you had gone when I got there!”

Jungkook turned away from Yoongi, “whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore, the damage has already been done.”

Jungkook heard the clunk of Yoongi’s boots along the floor, away from him, “stop blaming me for leaving when you left first. Playing the hero when you were nothing but an idiot who had no idea what the new world was. Seriously, what did you expect Namjoon to do after you ran head first into a hoard of zombies, Jungkook?!”

Jungkook brought the axe down hard onto the hip joint, slicing it clean off with a shout of fury. “You’re supposed to check! You were supposed to see if I was okay before shooting me! You were supposed to pull me out of the fucking rubble and wait to see if I was coming to! I saved your lives and you tried to kill me.” Jungkook swung the axe down again, “there were two fucking doctors present!” Jungkook shouted, throwing the axe down to use his bat to smash the skulls of the dead, watching them cave in like rotten pumpkins, taking in deep lungfuls of the stench their blood and brains gave off. He took one last swing before he steeled his emotions and threw his bat down and stretched. “Hoseok-ssi.” Jungkook said quietly, “take these and put them wherever you store your food, I’ll finish sorting the rest out.” He pointed at the limbs to his left.

“F-food?” Hoseok asked, leaning down to grab the limbs.

“Yes, food. Gotta eat something.” Jungkook frowned, “Seokjin-ssi. Go and get a bucket or something to put the organs in. Taehyung. Do what you want with the heads, look at the brain and try to find a cure, throw them away, use them for football, I don’t really give a shit.” Jungkook puffed out a little bit of air. “Namjoon-ssi, Yoongi-ssi, take their bags and clothes and sort through them into what’s needed and what can be burned or thrown.”

Nobody really gave any objections, but everyone moved with slow and confused movements, unsure if Jungkook was serious or not. “Food.” Hoseok said disgruntled and visibly disgusted. “They’re humans.” He was talking to himself, subtly addressing Jungkook but attempting to avoid confrontation. 

“Like I said, flying solo is hard. Gotta eat whatever you can get your hands on.” Jungkook shrugged, examining what he had cut off. “I’d much rather eat cake or a salad but it’s tough shit. There’s a lot of you, surely food is hard to share sufficiently?” Jungkook turned to a pale looking Namjoon. 

“We adapt.”

“That’s…” Jungkook scratched his stomach, his shirt coming up over his hand. “So you’re all used to eating like... snakes?”

“That’s not what I said. We adapt. Took the ‘sane’ route and went hunting animals, not people. That’s twisted.”

“Oh so you’re used to eating snakes, not like them.” Jungkook laughed to himself and lugged up a torso, “more for me I guess. Where do I store this? Show me.”

Hoseok nodded and scurried out in front. Jungkook thought fleetingly that he should probably mention that Jimin was freaking out and probably tearing his stitching but he chose not to say anything. They’d find him eventually. 

Hoseok was talking about something rather animatedly; Jungkook had never paid attention to what he was saying, he did not care enough but he thought that had their paths crossed in their lives before, the pair would have been inseparable. Hoseok gave off that sort of energy. Jungkook hated it. Nobody should be like that through the end of the world. 

Jungkook stopped walking as he stood beside a door that read ‘infirmary’ on a faded sign and then underneath, in some kind of paint, read ‘dead inside’ and he huffed out an eye roll and turned to Hoseok, who was still blabbering on. “Aye, has anyone looked behind the relatable door?”

“Oh, uh, no. We looked through the windows on the outside and it’s like sardines in there. Seems like everyone went to the doctor with the flu.” Hoseok motioned horizontally across his neck with a flattened hand and a grimace, “Seokjin hyung said that any medical stuff in there will be redundant because it’s all infected with blood and gunk and stuff, so we all voted to save our resources and leave it.” 

“How stupid.” Jungkook scoffed. Medical supplies were vital, even if it was just one small thing, it was needed.

“Come off your high horse. We’ve raided about fourteen different pharmacies and everyone’s medicine cabinet. Your brother remembers his way around.” Jungkook side eyed Hoseok, who was readjusting the limbs in his arms. There was a switch in his demeanour, like the atmosphere around him had fallen from soft shades of purple to the separated elements of pink, red and blue. “There’s also more than one infirmary in places like this, we’re not completely hopeless. You forget that we’ve also had to do shit to survive. It’s not been some kind of peaceful journey, don’t forget that. We know danger when we see it and we are not afraid to do what it takes to stay safe.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Guess we shall have to wait and see.” Hoseok huffed and came to a stop in front of an old freezer. He heaved it open and stood proudly before the open space and that switch had been tampered with again, “jajang!” He cheered sweetly, “a solar powered freezer, courtesy of Namjoon’s sexy brain. Wanna know how he did it?” The man looked as hopeful and excited as Jungkook get about shutting him down and the fact made Jungkook mentally laugh; he remained stoic and silent as he regarded Hoseok. 

“No. I’d rather stick my own fingers in my bullet wound again.” Jungkook neatly placed his meat pieces in there and then turned away so that he could fetch the remaining pieces. 

He entered the canteen area again, Hoseok stropily following behind. “What the fuck are you all on?! My Jungkookie wouldn’t do that!” Jimin’s frustrated voice echoed through the room and Namjoon’s deeper, calmer yet stressed voice followed.

“Hey, calm down, you’re gonna pull your stitches. He can explain.” Namjoon pointed to Jungkook, who looked between them both and shrugged. 

“Probably could but I don’t want to so I won’t.” Jungkook shrugged and heaved up some more body pieces, there was a twinge of pain in his leg but he did his best to not address it. No weaknesses. “Did you get me a bucket, Seokjin? They burn better when they’re fresh.”

“Told you, Minnie. Your little bro is a few tools short of a whole toolbox.” Taehyung muttered to Jimin and Jungkook halted in his movements, dropping the body parts like they were hot and he turned to Taehyung with a nasty glare.

“You’re really getting on my last fucking nerve.” Taehyung looked unphased, entertained if anything, he was doing this on purpose; Taehyung would be the crack in the floor of Jungkook’s plans. Taehyung was a neurologist, he knew all the ways he could manipulate someone’s brain. Jungkook would have to take their trust in him first. “I’m trying to help you, I just saved you, I’m not trying to make enemies with any of you.” Jungkook lied, pointing an accusing finger at Taehyung, “but you’re really testing my patience, Taehyung. Stop running to my brother like some child trying to ‘tell on me’ it’s pathetic.”

“Koo, lets just ca-,”

Jungkook turned his glare to Jimin and his brother went quiet. “Tell me to calm down Jimin, I dare you.”

“Hey, one of those kids had an Iphone in their bag! It works and everything! Oh, JK, they even have your favourite song!” Yoongi cheered, walking into the tense atmosphere obliviously, the beginning trill of a song Jungkook had only dreamed of hearing again and he soothed instantly. Yoongi was semi-cleaner, no more smatterings of brain.

Hoseok burst into small twinklings of laughter, “you listened to Mang?”

“Seokie, he had the biggest crush on this guy and he had never even seen whoever it is-, was-, whatever.” Yoongi chuckled and cuddled up to Hoseok, showing him the phone. There was that twist in Jungkook’s heart again at seeing Yoongi so close, so soft with someone else, but he ignored it and huffed his way over to the body parts and lugged them back up and limped away.

“Go back to bed, Jimin. Stop following me.”

“Jeon Jungkook.” Jimin was firm and tearful. It was just them in the hallway. “You’re different. Where’s my Jungkook? There’s no spark in your eyes anymore.”

Jungkook huffed and stopped for a minute, “I’m sorry that not everyone can be as untouchable as you. Get over it. People change, life goes on.”

“But this is a scary change. You’re the thing they fear. Tread carefully because they shoot to kill and I can’t lose you twice.”

[itsgirlcraft]

Vent

TW body horror vent art (dismemberment, blood, twisted limbs), swearing, lots of caps

Tl;dr: online college reading makes my back ache and my anxiety is off the charts. I keep hyperfixating and tensing my body too much when not doing school, so I'm wasting my energy and getting bad sleep. I want to quit psychology but I fear that's the cowards way out. I'm running out of meds so I only have today and Saturday to get ~5 hrs of reading done.

I'm so fucking tired and half of its my fucking fault. This whole godamn week, actually since I started college, I've had shit ass sleep and no rest and I fucking HATE IT but I KEEP DOING IT AND

FUCK!!!

I'm sorry I know that like all of you mutuals have it hard too I don't wanna put my stupid self-sabotaging bullshit on your shoulders but hhhhhhhh. I'm seething and I can't fucking get any of this BS done and AAA I just want to REST but NOOO, I have to go play minecraft for 5 fucking hours and draw stupid shit for 3 hours and fucking waste my existence away! I haven't gotten a fucking shower in a godamn WEEK! But noooo, I can't just GET UP and do that! I have to fuck around doing bullshit that just hurts my fucking body because of my stupid negative urgency ass!!

((I react really stupidly impulsive to stress and do shit I shouldn't)) it's not even like I'm hurting myself on purpose, I'm just such a bitch I keep the cycle going and going and going and FUCK!! I swear I'm fucking trying I swear to god I hate this too but it NEVER FUCKUNG WORKS I just go a tiny bit feeling okay and them BAM the moment I am stressed or worried I go fuck off to neverland and horrifically fuck myself over!!!

((I've been hyperfixating in a...really bad way lately, more than usual. I'm not talking abt the quirky or cool shit, I'm talking my muscles tense up so bad they hurt and my wrists go numb and my fucking legs twist round each other so bad that I can barely fucking walk.)) Hhhhhhh. It's like cutting off my other leg after college has already broken the other one.

College has completely fucked me over and sent me on a stupid spiral for the millionth time but this time idk if I'll even get out of this in one piece bc this stupid hyperfixating has drained energy that isn't even THERE. I fucking spent just under 2 hours fuckibg reading 16,232 WORDS for psychology on Monday and my fucking shoulders BURNED from sitting tense at my computer and AAAA. Then I spiraled MORE Tuesday bc I didn't wanna do that AGAIN. Bc my stupid ass psych textbook is online only, and DOESNT HAVE A PAGE COUNT OR WORD COUNT! So Monday I didn't even KNOW what I was getting myself into and fucked up!! And then Tuesday I got a word counter that worked for the site and was able to FINALLY finish chapter 1 for psych only to spiral AGAIN! Because THEN I realized it'd take around 3 hours for each chapter and I have to read chapter 2 TOO for this week!

But I thought I had to do it ALL YESTERDAH bc the godamn discussion board bullshit is supposedly due on Thursdays! ((The syllabus is inaccurate, and I only got that Thursday bit from a different document. It's unclear if part 1 is on Thurs or not. The first half is making a FUCKING ESSAY with 3 paragraphs, thesis, citation, etc. And part 2 is responding to 2 people with 8 sentences and a citation but GUESS WHAT! Each response is 1 point! And the main essay/post is 8 points! Combined they're just TEN DAMN POINTS! THERES ONLY 8 WHY DO I NEED TO DO A FUCJING ESSAY?!???!))

I DID manage to do the stupid discussion on Thurs, bc I said fuck it and didn't read ch 2. But NOW I have 3 hrs of reading to do STILL. PLUS I seem to have THE SAME FUCKING AMIUNT FOR ENGKISH!!! I thought English was chill but NOOOO, it has these stupid pdf photocopies of a book and I have to take screenshots to annotate bc otherwise it's just a useless text that I can't do anything with! And it'll probably take like 2 hours to read JUST THE FIRST CHAPTER! THERES THREEE FUCKUNG CHSPTERS LIKE THIS! WHYY!! And I thought reading was GOOD AND EASY BUT NO! My fucking body is so squishy and fragile that it breaks instantly and I can't fucking read for more than an hour and FUCKKK I WISH I HAD A PAPER COPY OF THIS SHIT! BUT ITD COST MOREEEE!!

It's not even like this shits HARD TO UNDERSTAND. I KNOW THIS! LITERALKY I fucking recognize EVERYTHUNG in psych so far like is this NECESSARY?? I KNOW that reading is IMPORTANT and I should do it but FUCK!! IS IT WORTH DESTROYING MYSELF?????

And I wanna quit psych but that feels like the cowards way out bc I KNEW there'd be lots of work. I fucking knew what would come about but here I am!! In the fuckibg spiral! And I haven't said any of this to my mom bc she's tired enough and I just want to get this shit done. I feel like I'm eating my own body and health, sacrificing it, to try to do this shit that I know I probably need to give up on. But I don't wanna just STOP, I DO like psych and I wanna learn!! I WANT to be here!! But I can't fucking get this bullshit reading done and it's driving me insane!!!

AND!!! AND NOT TO MENTION MY FUCKIN MEDS!! My adhd meds are regulated heavily so I only get a month's worth but my pharmacy/doc are so unreliable when filling it that I have to assume I may not have any for a few fucking days. AND THATS A DEATH WISH IN COLLEGE!! One fuckjng day missed is MASSIVE. Even tho I'm all online and shit I CANT RISK IT, but I only have ONE!! ONE! And it's already fuckjnv 4 pm rn and I've still got 10 page for English ch 1 and then the 3 hrs psych reading and the idk 2 hrs English ch 2 reading and FUCK HOW DO I DO THIS??? And I really wanna have a chill time on Halloween so I wanna get next week done ASAP but this week's a bitch in itself and AAAAAAA!!

[sonicasura]

Thats actually where I got the idea from. Youtube randomally gave me that video some weeks back, and well things just went that way after. And Kafka is going to feel more than sorry for anyone who goes through this type of pain. And becomes very mad when someone who has no idea what they are talking about says that giving birth can't be that painful. Or is as easy as pie.

Soshiro and Mina find they have to hold Kafka physically down to avoid the himbo killing the offender if they are bad enough. Though neither don't mind later giving said offender a very bad day later once Kafka has calmed down and distracted with the kids.

My sister actually asked if I planned to add even more kids, and if the next births for those will be done by either Mina or Soshrio. Its something to consider for much later though as I have no idea if I should even add that. I got enough work as it is.

The sonogram was a fight in and of itself if I'm being honest with you. Even with his mates/lovers there to try and keep things calm, the poor person who had to handle the equimpent and use it on the eggs needed a good vacation after it was all done. And yeah, they did not expect to see human fetus inside the shells at all.

Temporary claws to get out? Defently and Kafka giving a little helping hand as some of the eggs at a bit too thick shelled for the babes to be able to properly get out. Once again, the fault of his very mixed heritage, as they've learned through the family documents that its a common thing to happen if you end up laying eggs in the Hibino clan.

Its 50/50 chance on wether or not you give live birth or lay eggs in Kafka's family. His not happy he got the latter.

And somehow, No 10 becomes the one to who has to save Soshiro's ass multiple times during the time Kafka was still carrying the eggs. The swordmans bad habit of poorely timed words would have send him to the hospital in record time. Or even killed him if the living armor was there to get them both the hell out.

No 10 is honestly starting to wonder if Soshiro needs to get his head checked or something. The battle manic kaiju is starting to wonder if the man has a deathwish.

Soshiro definitely didn't have fun while Kafka was carrying. Tabiki no doubt warned everyone about this particular behavior as the Hibino clan who dealt with the latter method are a lot more aggressive than the other half. Sadly not even No.10 can shut Soshiro up in time before he says something to piss off Kafka. It's ironic when the battle maniac has more common sense than the Vice Captain.

The himbo would be super apologetic later because now he understands the stress of outta control hormones. I just see Mina and Soshiro using that labor simulation machine as punishment, lol. There are no doubt other officers who had to go maternity leave so the medical ward might have one they can borrow.

I feel bad for everyone on base throughout the entire period. They are so out of depth here and really feel like they're walking on eggshells around Kafka. Poor man can't help it but again hormones.

[yumekittyships]

double whammy here's selfshiptober day 2 as well. also featuring casfloch.

blanket | flame

WARNING: this prompt is going to contain some mature, intimate themes. nothing extremely explicit, but please dni if you're a minor.

Floch was hyperfocused on the road as he drove, a little annoyed with himself for this decision. He and Casper had decided to go to a Halloween party a friend was hosting this weekend since everyone was off work. With the weather getting colder, and the Halloween spirit in the air everywhere, a night of partying and fun was all everyone needed. At least, that's what Casper and Floch were thinking, until this surprise snow hit. It wasn't anything super heavy or crazy, but it was enough that your car would go drifting if you weren't careful. There was black ice on the roads and it was making for a difficult situation.

The drive out to Eren's place was nearly an hour, and Floch and Casper were halfway there when the snow hit. With the holidays nearby, the highways were busy, so the couple decided to take some back roads to avoid the heavy traffic. Unfortunately, this had turned out to be a terrible idea. Thirty minutes away from home, and an equal time away from Eren's, Floch was beyond pissed off when his car started stalling. It was his own fault for not preparing it well enough for the winter weather. Although, an old car like this was about on its last leg anyways.

So, that was how Casper and Floch found themselves stranded on the side of the road in the freezing cold with a car that wouldn't start. Eren was willing to come out and help but he was going to be at least 45 minutes because he had to get gas and set up his hitch in case Floch needed a tow. Floch cursed under his breath, feeling the car already getting cold. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Dammit.. Stupid weather forecast.. How the hell do you not know there's gonna be snow?!"

Casper was shivering a little bit, but that was the least of his worries. "Well, being upset about it isn't gonna make the damn car start.. For now we just gotta focus on not freezing to death.." He muttered, glaring at nothing in particular. He wasn't upset with Floch, just upset at the situation. After all, neither of them could've predicted this. Floch thought about Casper's words and perked up slightly. "Wait a second- I'm gonna grab something from the truck, hang tight."

"Okay, don't get murdered. These are perfect 'crazy serial killer sneak attack' conditions, yknow."

"Oh yeah, thanks Casper. I'll make sure not to get murdered walking five feet away to the trunk of my car. Oh, and did I mention we're in the middle of nowhere?!"

Floch slammed his door and Casper flinched at the loud noise. He scoffed under his breath and crossed his arms, annoyed with his partner's attitude. He hated it when Floch got loud, and Floch knew that. Although, the situation was pretty stressful.. Casper spaced out, paying little attention to the background noise. At least, until a very cold Floch opened the front door, and spoke. "Get in the back seat."

Before Casper had a chance to reply, Floch had shut the door again. Casper furrowed his eyebrows and glared for a moment, before rolling his eyes and getting out. He made sure the slam the car door right back, simply because he felt like being petty. He climbed into the back, almost instantly regretting his attitude, as he saw that Floch had laid the back seats down and covered them with a couple of spare blankets he had been keeping in his trunk. Casper begrudgingly climbed in, shutting the door much more softly behind himself this time, and Floch joined him moments later.

"You done throwing a fit?"

"You slammed the door first."

"...True.. Sorry, just.. annoyed and stressed out. I didn't mean to take it out on you.. Cmere, even if you're mad at me I'm not gonna let you freeze your ass off, and Eren won't be here for another half hour or so."

"Uh huh this totally isn't an excuse to cuddle up to me as an apology either, right?"

"Since when have you ever not wanted me to hold you."

"Shut up." Casper muttered in response, and crawled over to join Floch under the blanket. One was beneath them, and the thicker blanket covering them. He nestled against his lover's chest, embracing the warmth. Still, the temperatures outside were only dropping, and with it, the car grew colder too. Casper and Floch were nestled closely together, trying to keep each other warm. After a few minutes of silence, and trying to get comfortable, Casper broke the silence.

"Yknow, we might warm up quicker if you'd quit being stubborn and make out with me."

Floch laughed softly in response. "Oh really? I thought you were mad at me huh?"

"I am, but you're still warm, and I'm still cold."

"Uh huh.. Whatever helps you sleep at night. But sure, if you insist, I'll make out with you to 'keep you warm', no other reason." He spoke sarcastically, and then pulled Casper up a little closer to him so he could kiss him.

At first, it was just soft little kisses, nothing really out of the ordinary. But Casper wasn't content, gripping Floch's shirt and trying to press closer to him. Breaking the kiss for just a moment to catch his breath, Casper found himself interrupted when Floch immediately stole his lips away again. It wasn't long before Floch found himself on top of Casper, full on making out with him at this point. The windows were starting to fog up just slightly, and Casper had wrapped his arms around his lover, holding him close. There wasn't a word spoken, just the two lost in the taste of the other's lips. They broke away occasionally for a breath, but the tension was growing, and Floch pushed his hips desperately against Casper, rutting against him as he kissed him. The other broke away from the kiss for a few moments, panting slightly as he looked up at his dear husband. "I hope you're not getting any ideas.." His tone was a near challenge, but a hint of desperation hid behind his words.

Floch leaned down to bite Casper's neck lightly, a warning. "You started this.. Besides, you're not trying to stop me yet.." He muttered against his skin. The friction between them as Casper pushed his hips up slightly against Floch, was enough to drive the both of them crazy. Casper huffed softly, giving up his defiance and tipping his head back slightly in submission. The two were absolutely entranced with each other, and any semblance of cold that had worried them before was masked by the heat coming off of their bodies, the heavy breaths and whimpers as they desperately felt their way around each others' bodies. It was easy to lose track of time like this- easy to forget that there was someone coming to get them out of this situation. Although, the way things were looking, the pair weren't so sure they wanted out anymore.

Just as they were about to start undressing each other, they were startled out of their trance by a loud knock on the window. Before either of them had a chance to respond, Eren had opened the back door and peeked his head in. "Hey, lovebirds, I hate to break up your backseat fuck-fest but it's freezing out here, so unless you plan on staying out here all night, get a move on." And with that, he shut the door, and headed up to his own car to get Floch's on the hitch. Casper's face was so red he felt like he might burn up, and any arousal he felt had been snuffed out both by the cold and by the interruption.

Floch sat up and smirked a little. "Hey, maybe we should get caught in the middle of nowhere in the cold more often." He teased lightly, leaning in to peck Casper's lips.

"Eren is never gonna let us live this down.." Casper muttered, sighing and plopping his head against Floch for a moment. "We should go help him out."

And Eren did not, in fact, let Casper and Floch live that down. Floch, on the other hand, invested in a better car and some window tint. Despite how shitty the night had started, it definitely ended on a better note. ♡

[navire190413]

spent pretty much the entire weekend with x-chan again. we went out to eat cheap yakiniku on friday night then went to our usual bar. he invited me to stay the night and play video games so i did. we didnt shower together or kiss or cuddle or anything. it was just like we were friends hanging out. hahah but oh, there's a reason for that. we got in a massive argument the night before and earlier that day.

i messaged him in japanese asking why hes so nice and loving towards me when we're together, but so cold and doesnt want to message me or call me a lot of the time when we're not together. and his response was "theres a lot of distance between our hearts. its not like we're particularly close right now", and my response was "but you can still kiss me?", and I guess the way i said it in japanese had the nuance that i was complaining about him kissing me, because thats definitely how he took it. so all day long on friday he was saying he never wants to kiss someone who complains about being kissed again, that im ungrateful, etc. i was trying to explain myself about what i actually meant and it was just my shitty japanese that started a misunderstanding. he wouldnt really listen to me and just got upset that i was trying to defend myself instead of apologizing. so i lowered my head and fucking said sorry. and then invited him to go to yakiniku with me that night.

when we met up, everything was fine. we walked hand-in-hand to the restaurant and continued on like normal. what is it about us where its so much fun when we're together but we just bicker if we spend any time apart.

we went to the bar together afterwards and everything was fine.

the next day, we just watched tv together in bed and chilled around. he kept telling me how beautiful i am and what not, but idk. we had a date-night planned later that night in ikebukuro, so we got ready together and went. we went to an 青森県直送居酒屋. The food wasn't that good, and the atmosphere was okay but we felt like we couldnt relax at all. so we ended our reservation early and went nextdoor to one of our favourite izakayas we always go to. we ate the usual ホッケand drank and smoked a lot. i confirmed with him he isnt currently talking to any other girls so that relaxed me a teeny tiny bit. i have basically cut out every man in my life in an effort to get him back and not make him jealous.

afterwards we went to our usual bar again. everything was fine for the first hour but then i got drunk and asked for a kiss and it started a whole bickering match again. blah blah blah he only kisses people he has feelings for and the fact i would even question his motives was super insulting to him. he likes me but isnt in love with love me so he's trying to figure out if he can love me again, etc etc etc. we were bickering so much that we decided to do it in english because everyone around us (all of my fucking bar friends), were all giving us weird looks and laughing at us and we didnt want them to understand what we were saying anymore. half of them hate x-chan and think i should drop him immediately, the other half really like him as a person but think we treat eachother like shit, basically.

we eventually worked everything out. the kind of things im allowed to ask him about, and what im not allowed to ask him about. some things just make him really stressed out; like asking about his motives (he's a straight to the point guy and has never lied to me almost to a fault), but me asking him things like if he's seeing other girls, or like "what" are we, is totally fine. its annoying we always bicker, but afterwards we just sat and drank in silence for like 5 minutes before he muttered out a sorry. he even messaged me after he got home and told me he was glad we talked about it. i blacked out after so i dont remember if we kissed when we said good bye like we usually do. idk if we will ever kiss again at this point hahaha im trying so hard to get back together and do the right things but i somehow always fuck up. through stupid mistakes like using japanese that gets misinterpreted.

when i messaged him sunday morning to say good morning he told me he wanted to call me that night. okay whatever. he called around 7pm and we chatted about our days a bit. i was outside smoking and drinking a lemon sour when he called and half-way through one of my share-mates came out to also smoke, so i said bye and hung-up so i wouldnt be rude to my share-mate in a shared space.

i have plans to go to our usual izakaya again on wednesday night, then im taking him on another date on friday to a traditional japanese food restaurant. sigh.

i just lied around most of the day and then did laundry, which i didnt even get half-way through because my korean friend invited me to go get yakiniku with her last minute. i didnt even get to finish doing my nails. my nails are always super long, but now they're super short so i can type insanely fast with minimal mistakes. wooooo. but i also feel like i have no value as a human when my nails aren't done so i'll do them tonight.

anyways, went to yakiniku with y-chan at like 9pm. it was fun. we did all you can eat and drink. she's fluent in english, but wants to practice japanese more so we just chatted in japanese. we went to my usual bar after yakiniku and i got a surprising number of hugs from people? for some reason everyone was really excited to see me last night. it felt good but also. i already saw everyone this weekend on friday and saturday hahaha. i had to leave to catch the last train and like 3 separate people we like "nooooooooo!!!" haha.

i was 40 minutes late to work today because the 山手線 got delayed like 3 separate times due to 安全確認　after 緊急停止. i made the mistake of getting off the train after it was delayed for 15 minutes and stuck at 新宿駅。i thought if i ran to the 埼京線 i'd be able to get on and ride it until　渋谷 and get to work on time, but the 埼京線 platform was so packed with people with the same idea. there were people spilling down the stairs and into the main walkways of shinjuku station. no such luck riding that train, so i ran back up to the 山手線 and just waited in the significantly smaller crowd compared to the saikyo line. finally got squeezed into a train and one stop later another 緊急停止。i just gave up at that point hahaha. luckily my boss was understanding and actually read on twitter about it before i even messaged him.

[heroftruth]

A visit to Red in Johto leads to a Hilda opening up to him about her nightmares.

@twilighttheater

“how long has it been since you last slept?”

She steals a glance towards the other once the question registers. “I slept for a bit earlier.” Hilda isn’t lying when she answers him, she did get some sleep, but as for how restful it was, or rather wasn’t, is another matter. Rest hasn’t come easily- she hadn’t had a full, undisturbed, and restful sleep since the night she beat Team Plasma, and that had only been achieved from how exhausted she was mentally and physically.

“The time difference and all has had me up.” Again, her statement is not a total lie, but she knows the lack of honesty in what she chooses to tell would earn her a stern look for Reshiram if the dragon were to see her. Jet lag, or simply trying to keep traveling, has been the source of her lack of rest for ages- even if today it isn’t the only root.

Red doesn’t buy it for a second, while she has valid excuses he already knows this can’t be the only source of what’s making her restless. She’s defensive and looks exhausted, if it had been a stranger then Red would’ve minded his own business… but not with Hilda. “Is that really the only reason?” He asks, giving her a chance to tell the truth. He’d probably have to call her out if she didn’t, and even if she did the point still stands: she needs to get some rest before she passes out somewhere. “Even if that is all it is, you really look like you need the sleep. Surely whatever it is that you have to do today can wait while you give yourself a break.”

Cerulean hues avoided his gaze, a sigh slipping through her lips as she let his question hang in the air. She should have known the other would be able to read her so easily. Even if they haven’t known each other for long, their stories mirrored so closely.

Hilda continued to avoid his eyes, unsure of how to respond. “I’m okay,” She started, this again did not feel like a lie as she uttered it. After all, Hilda had gotten used to functioning off of far less sleep, her once normal sleeping habits slowly crumbling throughout the later half of her journey. Over the past three years a combination of stress, pushing herself, and the nightmares she refused to confess to had seen to that. “I’m used to this, besides it’ll make adjusting to the time difference harder.”

“Being used to it doesn’t make it okay,” he replies bluntly. “And while I do see your point, I don’t think resting for at least an hour is going to do you much harm. You’ll have at least a bit of a recharge and then stay up for the rest of the day so you can adjust.” Even while she felt like she wasn’t lying, Red would’ve felt like that in itself was her lying to herself. But even while he spoke to her, he didn’t look at her as though she was fully the one at fault. He wanted her to listen to him yes, but he didn’t blame her for how she felt and hoped she wouldn’t read it that way either. “…If you decided to maybe I would too, my sleep schedule hasn’t been consistent in years. Whenever I pass out is purely up to the legendary pokemon.” He jokes, but it’s also completely honest. He partially hopes that by admitting this, maybe she might be a little more willing to talk about her own troubles… and maybe take up his thought to rest.

She knows he isn’t wrong, the sleep patterns she has held have not been healthy ones, regardless of if she’s found a way to manage. Even so, she can’t get herself to admit to this. A small, pessimistic, part of her wonders why the other trainer cares so much, but this too she refuses to voice. Hilda knows that giving into that negative voice that’s been in the back of her mind since her journey picked up isn’t something she should indulge

A sigh works its way from her lips. She cant help but pull her knees closer to her chest, cerulean hues firmly situated upon her hands that wrap around them. Hilda knows Red is trying here, and even if talking about this all hasn’t been easy in the slightest, she should try to meet him half way. “I haven’t been able to sleep through the night,” she starts, her voice quiet. “Nightmares.” He’d suspected that might have been part of it, to hear the confirmation didn’t surprise him at all. He’d simply nodded, this was yet another thing he was not a stranger towards himself. It was not an easy thing to handle in the least either, there was no perfect answer for how to solve this one. Besides simply… talking about it, and talking about what caused it. Which Hilda was usually not very open to doing, but that was fine. He’d listen when she was ready, she had to decide it. Not him. “If it’s too much, don’t feel like you have to talk… but what happens in your nightmares?” He thought back to her comment, feeling like she was still in Team Plasma’s throne room. He felt like his suspicions on her mental state were confirmed more than enough, but Red couldn’t tell if she knew already or not.

She steals a glance Red’s way, letting her gaze settle on they way he’s looking at her. His expression is knowing, making her remember just how understanding her has been. His concern feels genuine, even if he doesn’t push her to talk about what has been plaguing her. Hilda can’t help but be thankful for his patience, she’s been shutting out his efforts even if she wants to let him help.

“I-” Where to begin, Hilda doesn’t even know where to start, her voice wavering as she tries to say something. In her nightmares she’s mostly back in the throne room. Sometimes Reshiram doesn’t wake, sometimes she is consumed in flames, other times it’s the sheer anger that radiated off of Ghetsis. “What do you know about what happened with Team Plasma, mostly at the end?” She hoped her question didn’t come off as dodging his, her intent only to understand what he already knew and what she could spare herself from potentially having to retell.

He pauses to consider her question, desperately wishing that he could answer this in a way that would save Hilda the trouble. But in truth, he only knew crumbs of information about the whole situation with Team Plasma. Especially at the end, the aftermath was more clear than the actual event itself. “I remember hearing about Reshiram and Zekrom being summoned… and a brutal battle between you and Team Plasma’s leader, but I’m sorry to say I don’t think I know much else.” He frowns with sympathy, “…only explain as much as you feel you can talk about anyway, if this is too much again: you don’t need to tell me anything.” He felt like her even considering it at all was a step in the right direction if nothing else.

She manages a nod, thankful for his understanding that discussing this isn’t an easy thing. “I feel like if I don’t talk about it now, I won’t.” It’s been over two years since that battle ended, and yet. The team had risen and fallen once again, and still; she has hardly talked to anyone about it. “Team Plasma’s King, N, wanted to battle, Zekrom and Reshiram against one another, in order to settle if pokemon should be liberated or not. Reshiram only woke for me right before I fought against him.” That was the part many knew, it was the battle that had hit the news, the one they had all planned for. “I think part of him wanted me to beat him, to show him that there was hope for pokemon and people. But it didn’t matter, the whole battle was a set up.”

Hilda could still remember the sheer rage that had radiated off of Ghetsis when he had stormed into the ruined throne room, the facade he’d put on of a sickeningly calm sage across Unova forgotten. “Ghetsis was manipulating N the entire time, everything about Team Plasma was his cover for control. He said-” Her voice caught off and she let her eyes fall shut. “He said since I knew the truth I would have to be eliminated… I nearly lost my Samurott to him.”

The story was different yet horribly familiar, as he too had dealt with a criminal leader demanding control, and had his life threatened by them. The biggest difference is that he wasn’t as lucky as Hilda had been in the end. But he didn’t want to compare the issue with her, she’d been through a lot all the same and he just knew how it felt from the bottom of his heart. “I’m glad to hear that you didn’t at least,” he replied after a pause to think. “And also glad you got through it alright in the end… truth be told, while I’ve never been in that same position as you… I’ve been in a disturbingly similar one. So I know how much it can sting you, even years down the line after it’s already done and over with.” “…In your own time, you’ll be able to let it go little by little. As hard and I’m sure unbelievable as that sounds, talking about it with someone is a step in the right direction.” He tried to offer her a comforting smile back, “I’m glad that you trust me enough to even tell me all of this, so thank you for that.”

At first she merely manages a nod, trying to pull herself from the memory of her beloved pokemon unconscious in that throne room, of trying to bandage his wounds enough to get him to a pokemon center. “Sometimes it hits me that he’s still out there, that Interpol never found Ghetsis or the Shadow Traid, even after they caused chaos in Unova twice.” That realization always slammed into her when it came, that those foes were still free in the world and could come back at anytime. “Does that ever happen to you, with Team Rocket?” She did’t know a great deal of what Red himself had faced, but she remembered hearing that he’d gone up against the organization. After that it seemed like every few years a young trainer would be at odds with another organization in different regions. She never expected that she would become one of them.

His words caused for her to glance up, a small smile of her own slipping across her lips. “That you, Red, for everything.” I know we haven’t known one another for too long but it feels easy to talk with you about all of this.” She couldn’t shake the feeling of safety that came with being around him, this sense of comfort from knowing she didn’t have to explain everything- he understood without her needing to. “I’m glad I came to visit.”

He sighed as he didn’t want to answer, he didn’t want to potentially stress her out further by bringing up his issues… but also, he supposed she asked about unfortunately a significant thing in his life. “All the time,” he answered after a pause. “I cleaned out Team Rocket’s influence in Kanto… I believe, but they resurfaced for a bit in Johto, I hadn’t known because I’d… gone into isolation by then. I thought the problem had been solved, it was someone named Gold who drove them out.” “When I started allowing myself to have more public appearances… I found out that they’d gotten their claws into who knows how many places. I started tracking down their bases and driving them out again, it’s like being 14 again but this time having a brain to really understand what’s going on.” He nods, “so… yeah, I’m uncomfortably familiar with knowing Giovanni is still out there. Someday he’ll be behind bars though, I’ll make sure of that. …And if I can help you with Ghetsis, all the better.” Dropping the heaviness of this conversation for a moment did feel good though, to see her actually smiling and looking just a bit more relieved than she certainly had earlier. “It’s no problem Hilda… and I’m glad you did too. I’m one person but, well I try my best to help anyway. I’m happy I could do that for you.”

She listens as he shares from his own story. It hit her once again how strongly similar some of what they had both been through was. They both had thought what had happened was over, only to discover that it wasn’t. “I understand that, a trainer named Rosa stepped up in my absence. I…” Her voice caught, thinking back to hearing what the other girl had gone through at the hands of Team Plasma. “I feel so guilty about what she had to deal with. I’m one of Unova’s heroes, but I wasn’t there.”

Red’s words cause her to have to take a second to push the panic that attempts to form in the pit of her stomach down. “Please be careful, I don’t know much about Giovanni but Ghetsis is not a sane man.” As much as she would love to see the man face trial for all that he has done, all the people he has hurt, and be put behind bars, she can’t bear the thought of another person being hurt. “I hope someday both of them are brought to justice, but I don’t want to see you hurt either.” She would help Red through if he sought to go after either of them, there is strength in numbers after all.

As the heaviness of the conversation begins to life she feels herself relax some, the tenseness in her posture fading away some. “You have helped, I’m glad I met you.” She leaned back, feeling calmer now allowing for fatigue to settle in. Perhaps Red was right, that getting some more sleep would be a good idea, or at least to try to. “I’ll try to get some more rest for a few hours.”

He’d wondered if Hilda knew her, it doesn’t surprise him that she does all things considered. But he hadn’t had the chance to ask until it was already made clear. “I know Rosa,” he responds with a nod. “She’s really something else I’ll say that, and… I felt guilty when people like Gold and Krys end up stepping up to be heroes when I wasn’t there, so… I know that feeling. But… in short, there’s nothing that can be done about it now and…all we can do now is keep moving forward with our lives. Try to make up for any mistakes we make.” He hadn’t expected such concern from Hilda for his safety, and thinking the sentiment over he figured he likely should have. But Red’s so used to people thinking him to be unstoppable, hearing that someone was sincerely worried for him and his actions… he hadn’t heard that in a long time. He’d paused as emotion threatened to well up in his eyes, before he cleared his throat and pushed the feeling back down. “…I’ll be fine, I’m sure. You don’t need to worry about me, but… I’ll be careful in any case.” Could he promise that? … He’d try his best to do so, if nothing else. He smiled hearing that she was actually going to get some rest. “That’s probably for the best, and… well we can find something to do when you get up. Sleep well, Hilda.”

“She really is,” Hilda started, her thoughts drifting to the other trainer. “I met her not long after I returned to Unova.” She couldn’t help but worry about her, Rosa had gone through so much at the hands of Team Plasma, and Hilda couldn’t help but feel like she was partially to blame. “It’s hard figuring out where to start with moving on, after everything.” She was trying, Arceus she was trying, but it felt to her like she hadn’t gotten anywhere.

“Please,” She paused to look over at her, her gaze meeting his. “If you do be careful. I’ll go with you, if you’ll have me. You don’t have to go it alone.” Hilda knew he couldn’t promise to be safe, and neither could she. Being in their positions, all the could do was promise to try. That was just reality of the targets that resided on their backs. It made Hilda wonder if there would always be some risk there as a result.

She gave him a small smile back at his words. “Sounds like a plan, I’ll try to.” She really didn’t want to sleep, worried she’d just fall into another nightmare once she closed her eyes, but she knew the other was right. She couldn’t run herself ragged, she needed to try.

While her thoughts drifted to Rosa, her last statement made Red’s thoughts drift to the peak of Mt. Silver where he’d asked that same question. “…I wish I could tell you,” he replies without thinking, his mind still halfway stuck in the memory of the howling winds and chilling snow. “It’s… always difficult, and different for every person. But trying to figure out how to move on… that’s a good step in the right direction regardless, at least that’s what I like to think.” The feelings he’d tried to push down threated to come back again as she spoke, he felt as though he’d lost control of his emotions around her. It was not a good feeling, but it meant she’d get more of a personal reaction out of him for certain. “…I don’t want to put you in danger, Hilda. I’d never object to your company but… I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt because of something that I got myself into.” He helplessly shrugs, both at the situation and his inability to control his reactions. He worried that her nightmares might come back too, but much like she’d said to him she didn’t have to go it alone. Red wasn’t planning on resting just yet, if she’d been woken up by yet another nightmare he’d try his best to help. He had more than enough practice trying to calm himself down, surely at least something would work.

She shakes her head slightly at his words, taking a moment before she looks him in the eyes. “I don’t want you getting hurt either.” Hilda knew the situation with Giovonni was his own battle, and while she wanted to help if he turned it down she wouldn’t fault him. But Ghetsis? If he got hurt at that man’s hands, or anyone from Neo Plasma for that matter, she didn’t think she’d be able to handle it. “I know you can hold your own, and so can I, but that doesn’t mean either of us has to go it alone.”

After the conversation drifted and the two parted for now, Hilda kept true to her word and settled in. Red hadn’t been wrong, the exhaustion that had clung to her quickly won, causing for her to fall asleep quickly. In her dreams she was back once more in the castle, rubble laying all around her. It was a scene that played over and over again in many of her nightmares. Ghetsis stood ahead, his Hydreogon poised to attack. She’d been distracted, dust obscuring her view, and hadn’t registered the attack that had been called, nor that its track was farther to the side than it should have been, until it was too late to react.

Hilda jerked awake, a choked cry escaping her lips as consciousness slammed back into her, her chest heaving and the phantom sensation of dragon pulse’s heat against her skin as she moved.

He fell speechless for a moment with the emotion in her voice, feeling cornered as she was right. She had every reason to stop him and insist they work together, he would’ve done the same for her… but she was being the smarter one to say it from the very beginning. “…Okay,” he admits defeat on the topic. “You’re right, and I know you are. I’m just… sincerely not used to someone caring that much, not for a long time anyway…” He gives a careful nod, “we’ll talk about this again some other time, okay? You really need to get your rest.” He’s glad that at least she’d finally agreed with him on that. Red had been reading a book while Hilda was asleep, he was concerned about her sleep schedule becoming totally backwards as night steadily streamed in. He was hardly tired himself, but he’d been considering attempting to lay down when he heard a cry from Hilda’s room. He barely had time to think, he moved to the door in between their two rooms to knock on it. “Hilda? Are you alright? …Is it fine for me to come in?” If he was given the okay, he’d open the door and go over to her quickly. “…The nightmare came back again didn’t it?” He was afraid that would happen, judging by the look on her face alone he’d hardly needed to guess.

Her chest heaved as she struggled to make sense of where she was. It was Red’s voice that began to ground her, reminding her that she was safe in Johto- not back in Team Plasma’s castle. “y-yeah,” She started, his question finally registering. “You can come in.”

Hilda glanced over, watching as the door separating their two rooms opened, the other making his way over to where she sat. She drew in a breath at his question, keeping quiet for a moment while she moved, allowing for room for him to sit with her if he chose to. She nodded after a moment, still trying to ground herself.

“It’s more of a memory.” Hilda had been yet to tell a single person the details of Ghetsis attempt on her life, on how her Samurott had taken the attack full on to protect her, how she’d feared she had lost him. She may have won the battle in the end, but the scars across her pokemon’s chest were a reminder of where she’d gone wrong. “It keeps coming back.”

He moves to sit next to her carefully, feeling glad that she trusts him that much to allow him to even in such a state. “…I get those dreams too, sometimes.” He admits, “…it can be hard to get through in the moment. All I can think of a lot of the time is just… that it’s not now. It’s thankfully in the past, and it won’t ever happen again.” “But I know, that doesn’t solve it for you in this moment. Because you feel like you’re there again, everything feels like it did when you were there. Trying to talk yourself out of it is one of the only things you can do, besides trying to get your mind off of it anyway.” He looks at her with sympathy, remembering the talk they had earlier. “…If you want to tell me about it, you can. If you don’t want to, I understand. But regardless right now… you’re safe. At least keep that in your mind, and repeat it as many times as you need to.”

She feels a bit calmer as he sits next to her, his presence a reminder that she is safe just as he says. “Do they ever get less frequent?” She asks, looking over at him. She is so tired of the nightmares, of feeling like she’s living in the past. So desperately does she want to let it all go, to be able to move on and find a path forwards- and in a way she realizes, she has started to. She’s here in Johto after all, and she’s not only managed to form a friendship with Red, but to open up to him as well. Hilda’s gaze falls to her hands, in truth she isn’t sure she wants to talk about the memory that’s plagued her, but she finds herself drawing in a deep breath and starting to speak regardless. “I told you that I nearly lost my Samurott to Ghetsis, but that is just the gist. He’d ordered his Hydreigon to attack me with Dragon Pulse, trying to take my life. I was so exhausted, I’d fought the Elite Four, Reshiram, and N all in the same day before him, that I didn’t even notice when he’d called the attack until it was coming towards me. Percy did, he blocked me and took it full on.” Words couldn’t describe how guilty she felt every time she saw the scars across the water type’s chest. “It’s my fault he almost died in that castle, I was told that night at the pokemon center that if it weren’t for the bandages and potions I used that he would have.”

A sigh slipped it’s way from her lips once she finished speaking, a hand raising to push her loose hair over a shoulder before she looked back over at Red. “How long was I asleep for?”

[forestryfae]

i dont. understand. when are they expecting us to be able to do laundry. i have an hour in the morning i guess but i physically cant get myself out of bed unless its absolutely the last minute and they dont wait for you to hang up your laundry, theyll just drive away from you.

theres also an hour right after i come home from work but generally i need it to change clothes or shower and to regain some of my energy.

after dinner theres like 2 hours but jesus christ i JUST got back from work and i share laundryday with another guy, i have no idea how much laundry hes gonna do

then theres a meeting every other monday and a dumb bullshit hike that takes like 2 hours then were back around 7:30 or 8 i think and generally after a long tiring hike where noone waits for you so you dont get even one break even tho your legs are burning there isnt much energy for laundry. and then theres that one meal we get afterwards as a reward or whatever for the hike and then at 9 they lock the laundryroom.

so theres like 1 and a half hours there too ig but who has the fucking energy. we need showers too. and to eat. so like yeah theres like a few hours here and there and one load of laundry takes half an hour with the big machine but thats still a very tight schedule. esp considering they REALLY want us to go on the hikes cus its An AcTiViTy ThAtS gOoD fOr YoU.

like. i have limited energy and i only have so much time in the day. i can only do so much in one day before i run out of energy and i need to be allowed to be tired and need to rest too. i dont function well on tuesday evenings specifically because im exhausted. its why i take wednesdays and fridays off. i need the extra rest and time. like. idk how to even explain it without sounding lazy and whiny and kinda pathetic for not being able to do a million things a day back to back. but i actually need time to decompress and shit. idk.

the point ismondays are a shit day to do laundry, i dont want to do it on wednesdays cus i like to have time off but im expected to clean my room the millisecond i wake up and im more often than not woken up with "good morning, what are you going to do today, i think you should do laundry and cleanyour room" like thanks now i cant get out of bed until 12 and i cant do anything i was planning to do cus yall wont stop fucking pestering me if i dont do whats expected of me every single minute im alive, and they never fucking check when i actually do clean and usually cleaning my room results in 'you missed a spot'. like why even botver. its so fucking stressfull and i dont know how to stop bekng stressed and when people try to help they make it worse and itpisses me off so much, i hate having people mess witvmy stuff and moving shit around and touching fucking dirty clothes then moving clean stuff.

like jesus christ im allowed to be tired. i need to be allowed to have hobbies and free time that doesnt result in my brain being occupied by being pissed cus someone told me what im Supposed to do instead of just allowing me to fucking do what i need or want to do. like can i get five fucking minutes where i dont feel guilty cus i dont shower fast enough or i dont mop the floor fast enough and i dont walk fast enough and im not strong enough to just do shit without ever getting tired or needing rest.

were not even doing real therapy rn, i wanted a psychologist and i still havent gotten one, i wanted to talk to the economics guy and i still havent been able to, i cant talk to anyone who isnt my primary contact and i have no idea how to even reach out to her plus shes not always working so i dont always see her, and like. a lot of the time i feel like whatever i say is just Too Emotional and its not actually worth the time but my guy my parents have been treating me like i dont deserve to exist in front of them since i was a fucking toddler and when i got bullied in school my parents thought that was my own fault for getting angry that i was being treated like shit. i didnt fucking grow up with people who cared about me unless it suited them, im fucking allowed to be upset and confused and terrified and worried about shit. it makes perfect sense that i dont understand any fucking thing and im struggling so fucking much. i should be getting help and getting rid of the shitty fucking house and getting diagnosed and maybe even medicated. i should be in fucking therapy and i should be talking to SOMEONE about shit instead of sitting in my room crying every weekend cus i dont know whats wrong with me and im starting to get worried that im just too fucked up to be fixable or atleast able to be liked by people

in other news the laundrymachine was taken and theres stuff hanging to dry cus the people working here did laundry today and now i have to wait until saturday and i have like 2 tshirts and 2 pants and one bra and one sweater thats clean and that will not last until monday

[faglaios]

Put the game down.

YOU — You save and exit the game, settling your Nintendo Switch controllers back into the console in its charger. This game has reentered your life recently and has been consuming most of your thoughts at any given time. You rise from your seat on the couch, and retire to your room. There is homework that needs finishing.

VOLITION — *And* starting.

COLLEGE MANDATED BED — You clamber into the bed; raised higher than all of your other suitemates’. It was already like this when you moved in.

The mattress is firm, blankets a mess, and your sheets need washing. Tomorrow is laundry day.

1. Scroll aimlessly.

2. Attempt your homework, but give up relatively quickly.

3. [ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Easy 8] This shit’s boring, jack off.

4. [VOLITION - Medium 10] Ignore the world around you, lock in.

CHECK FAILURE

VOLITION [Medium: Failure] — This assignment is important for your quickly nearing final paper, not to mention due before the start of class.

LOGIC — Precisely 9:00 AM, but your professor is occasionally lenient with submitting *during* the start of class. Though, if you don’t start it now you definitely won’t have it ready in time, even with the slight extension.

HALF LIGHT [Trivial: Failure] — Forget *starting,* if you don’t finish this tonight we’ll be torn to shreds by our group partners the moment we sit down tomorrow.

YOU — You pull your trusty iPad into your lap. The temptation to continue playing Cookie Clicker is strong, but the quickening of your heartbeat from stress works as a good motivator.

IPAD, SEEN IT ALL — My screen is your canvas, my magnetic keyboard your tools. My distractions are plentiful, and my dull case is bland. I weigh in your lap, propped up against your knees as you type my keys. I apologize for my errors.

EMPATHY — There’s no need to apologize. Really, frankly its your own fault for starting this so late. What time is it now?

1. (Truth.) Its passed 11:30, but sometime before 1 AM. You can’t remember, but who can blame you? You’re writing this post the next day, after your class has already ended.

2. (Lie.) It isn’t too late yet.

YOU — It isn’t too late yet.

DRAMA — *And* we’re not even tired yet.

VOLITION — You aren’t helping.

INLAND EMPIRE (Medium: Success) — Hold on, I can’t be the only one that’s noticed what’s going on here. You failed that check, why is this being treated as a success? What’s going on with all of you? With *you?*

1. [INLAND EMPIRE - Challenging 12] Figure out what’s off.

2. [ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Medium 10] Ignore him, time to get to business. *Real* business.

3. [VOLITION - Challenging 12] Ignore *both* of them, this assignment is important and requires focus.

CHECK SUCCESS

INLAND EMPIRE [Challenging: Success] — You’re still playing that game. Inside your head, with your thoughts. This isn’t how we usually think, and look at your Google Document; its barely touched. You never “locked in,” you’re still playing.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — In the back of your mind you are reminded of a post you’d seen on “Tumblr dot com” (though you exclusively use the mobile app version) of a user talking about their experience as a child: rewatching the movie Shrek in their mind at any point in time. This feels a lot like that.

VOLITION — You’ve really disappointed me, I thought you were getting your assignment done.

SHIVERS — Tomorrow, by the time you sit down in class, your assignment will already have been completed and submitted the night before. It will not have even taken you very long, and you will be content with its completed state. Also, by “tomorrow” I mean today; the day you are typing this post.

YOU — What?

CONCEPTUALIZATION — This is getting too meta for my liking.

I have to be careful playing disco elysium because if i play it too much my thoughts start getting narrated to me like harry

[eternallyanxiousandstressed]

.