#nothing gets me this bad like uh. instability from something that's supposed to be a source of stability ahha

[wreckedhoney]

my heart feels sooooo cold with anxiety and ofc it's because of work aGAIN,

[redrobin-detective]

because I could not stop for death

because I could not stop for death / he kindly stopped for me / the carriage held but just ourselves / and immortality ~ Emily Dickinson

Danny Fenton was dying, properly this time.

Somehow, in the back of his head and in his worst nightmares, he knew it would end this way: bleeding on the floor of his parents’ lab where it had all began. He was so hot he felt like his skin was on fire, blood and ectoplasm were dripping all over him and his lungs and heart were working overtime to try in vain to keep him alive a moment longer. He’d imagined at the time that there would be more screaming but death, in the end, was turning out to be a quiet little affair. A lonely table set for one.

“Danny, Danny come on, you-you gotta slow down your breathing, just relax, for me, please,” Sam moaned, more than making up for his lack of noise. She was shaking and touching him all over, his chest, his face, his hair. Normally she jumped right into action but she had to know, deep down, that there was nothing she could do. All that was left was to watch her panic and cry, it wasn’t his favorite image. 

“Vlad!” He heard Tucker scream cry into the phone, ��please it’s Tucker, Danny’s dying I think. The Fentons had some new invention, something about his core, please we don’t know what to do!” 

Ugh Vlad, he was probably going to be so happy Danny was on his way out. He wasn’t looking much forward to his last images being his archenemy gloating. Tucker hung up and reached down to grasp Danny’s hand so hard it hurt. “Don’t worry dude, Vlad’s coming. He knows so much about you half ghosts that you’ll be fixed up on no time.” Right, Danny was already dead. If calling Vlad, feeling like he did something, helped Tucker move on then he’d deal with it.

Danny tilted his head to the side where Sam’s fingernails were carding through his hair. It was getting harder to see with the blood pouring out of his eyes but he looked at her, and tried to memorize her face. He’d never been able to tell her how much he loved her, that any day spent with her was a blessing. Tucker too, his best bro and a part of his soul. His best friends in the whole wide world, through thick and thin. God, he was going to miss them.

“Glurk,” he said, trying to convey those feeling but the fluids in his mouth and airway made it impossible. “Blerh.”

“Shh shh shh,” Sam soothed, “it’s okay, don’t try to talk.”

“Daniel!” He heard Vlad’s voice shriek as he materialized in front of the portal. Sam and Tucker were violently pushed out the way. Danny wanted to be angry at his loved ones being taken away in his final moments but anger was for the living, he barely had the energy to breathe. This death was too long and too short all at once. He made eye contact with Vlad who all at once lost the frantic edge to his tone and and instead knelt on the floor. “Oh my dear boy. What did they do to you?”

“What is going on?” Sam demanded, shoving her way back in. Danny was glad, he could see again like this. “Why aren’t you doing something!”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Vlad said in a flat, monotone, he picked up one of Danny’s hands and patted it gently. “His core is dying, it’s like a ghost’s heart. It contains their very essence, it is from which everything they are comes from. If Jack and Maddie somehow disrupted it then there’s nothing anyone can do to save him.”

“But he’s human too,” Tucker defended, grabbing Danny’s other hand. His human warm skin burned but the contact felt so good, he twitched his fingers closer to his friend’s. “He-he doesn’t need a core, he’s already got a heart. So, so he doesn’t have powers, we can do normal again.”

“You-” Vlad hissed before taking a calming breath. “The accident that made Daniel like this irreparably altered him. His core was as much a part of keeping him alive as his other organs, without it, his body is shutting down.” Vlad turned down to look Danny in the eye and saw true, genuine grief in those hateful red eyes. 

“I cannot imagine the agony you are going through, I’m so sorry. I’d say it will be over soon but,” a hitch that sounded almost like a sob if it was coming from anyone other than Vlad. “But you’ve hovered on the edge of death for years, son, and you’ve always been such a fighter. You have minutes at most but those minutes are an eternity when you’re suffering.”

Sam and Tucker’s sobbing blended together in the background, Vlad was saying something with a miserable, stunned expression. The swirling of the portal in the background seemed louder than anything, louder than his heart beat pounding and pounding as it ran it’s last race. 

“Daniel, Danny,” he focused his eyes back on Vlad who had a stubborn, unhappy set to his brow. “Do you want me to make the pain stop? An ectoblast to your chest will end your life instantly.”

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Sam shrieked, coming back into view and looking like she was trying to fight Vlad off. “You do anything to him and I’ll kill you!” Tucker just sat and stared at him, like he too was trying memorize Danny’s face.

“It’s a mercy, Samantha or do you want his last moments on earth to be drowning on the blood in his lungs.”

“Sam, he has a point. I don’t- I don’t think we can fix this.”

“No! No we always fix things, I’ll do it myself if I have to!”

Danny’s vision was starting to go, more black than anything else. He closed his eyes and readied himself for the inevitable. 

“Time Out,” Danny opened his eyes and found he was no longer in pain. He was standing up and apart from where he’d previously been lying. Sam had her hands in Vlad’s face and the older hybrid was snarling something at her. Tucker was midmotion trying to stand up, presumably to get Sam but the three of them were frozen in the moment. Danny turned and found Clockwork floating, looking very out of place in his parents lab. “Good evening, Danny.”

“You that short on cash that you work part time as a grim reaper?” Danny quipped out of habit. He looked down at his body and grimaced a bit, that wasn’t a pretty sight. No doubt traumatizing for Tucker and Sam. God how were they going to explain this to his parents? “Gonna ferry me across the River Styx? I don’t have two pennies but I think I have a bloodied $10 on me.”

“You’re core is dying and you have 17 seconds left in this world before all your organs give out and finish the process you began when you turned on your parent’s ghost portal,” Clockwork explained as he changed into child form. 

“O-okay,” Danny said shakily, trying to be brave even when he was so, so scared. He was going out whether he wanted it or not but he refused to leave crying. “Nice of you to come say goodbye then but, uh but unless you have something to say then you should let me go back. No one knows better than me that you can’t outrun death. Thanks but I’m uh I’m ready.”

Clockwork stared at him for a bit, not sure how long, time was weird like this but he changed forms a few times. “You’re quite the remarkable young man, Danny Fenton.”

“Uh thanks,” Danny added, once more looking at his body which had, according to Clockwork, a 17 second expiration date. “What’s going to happen? Am I going to become a ghost? Does heaven or hell exist for someone like me?”

“I don’t get to decide what happens, I merely see options,” Clockwork stated easily, taking his time. “If you die naturally you’ll become ghost, a mere shadow of who you are now and one who would fade fairly quickly. You don’t have strong enough anger or regrets to tie you in the real world for long.” Not great but okay he supposed, hell for his friends and family though. “You could let Plasmius deliver his mercy kill, destroying what’s left of your ghost core and ensuring you do not come back.” Better, probably won’t help the Fruitloop’s instability but he can’t save everyone.

“That one comes with it’s own caveat but I’ll get to that in a moment,” Clockwork explained. “There is a third option where you get up off the floor and walk away.” Danny blinked then looked back at his body which certainly wasn’t walking anywhere but into a plush casket. Clockwork opened his hands and the Ghost King’s Crown materialized in his hands. “If you accept your claim to the King’s Cown, it will revitalize your core and your life would be saved.”

Danny blinked.

“By sealing Pariah Dark, you won by proxy and established a legitimate claim to the throne. The Zone has been without a king for millennia, most have forgotten the old rules. Those who remembered were not too keen on a half-ghost child assuming leadership and kept you in the dark. If Plasmius ends your life then your claim transfers over to him, which he is aware of. It had been his plan all along to trick you into defeating Pariah so he could steal the Crown from you at a later date, a much easier opponent.”

Danny’s mind was overloaded with information, he didn’t know what to focus on first. He stared at his 17 seconds from death face and tried to process it all. Crown? Claim? Vlad?

“Of course,” Clockwork tutted, “he didn’t plan on your dying and in such a gruesome fashion. If he kills you and takes your claim, he would spend his remaining years ruling the Ghost Zone in a just, controlled fashion for your memory. He destroys all the stable portals and keeps the ghost and human worlds separate.” Clockwork became and old man and titled his head, “it’s not a bad timeline, all things considered.”

“And if I take it?” Danny asked quietly.

“You’re compassionate, brave and motivated, you have all the makings of a revolutionary king,” Clockwork smiled. “The Zone would experience and unprecedented era of peace, there would be positive interactions between human and ghosts for the first time since life and death split into two. Your name would spoken with reverence for the rest of time.”

“But I don’t want to be king,” Danny frowned.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Clockwork stated. “Which is why I am giving you the choice. If you pass peacefully there will be no one to claim the Crown and life will continue on, ghost attacks and all. If Plasmius kills you, he becomes an effective but unmemorable king. If you take the Crown, you can get the chance to tell Sam and Tucker how much you love them.”

Danny rubbed at his face, he didn’t want to die but he’d be sealing away his entire future with a move like this. He didn’t even know if the Crown would let him go with death, maybe he’d die and be stuck as the Ghost King until his core finally gave out lord in who knows how long. Eternity was an awful long time to carry such a responsibility. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, too afraid of the answer.

“Is there ever a timeline I became an astronaut?” He asked instead. Clockwork hummed, seemingly unsurprised by Danny’s non-sequitur. 

“Yes, in one of the few universes where you never walked into the portal. You never go into space what with human politics putting a halt on the programs but you work for NASA. You leave Amity Park at 17 and don’t come back save for your parents’ dual funeral.” He paused and Danny felt read down to his very bones, “from the moment you became half ghost you were always heading for this moment. The circumstances varied but it always came down to you and the Crown. Time is straining to continue, to see how this drama plays out. Will you accept it and all the joy and grief that comes with it?”

Danny looked over at Vlad, still mid-sneer but there was a scared desperation in his face. He and Vlad sniped at each other all the time but Danny didn’t really hate him and he didn’t think Vlad did either. Leaving him alone, plus making him be king was a heavy burden to put on his enemy. 

Sam and Tuck probably wouldn’t recover from this, he’d put them through so much already but he just knew that they’d never be the same. Could he do that to them? Take the easy way out and leave them to suffer? Mom and Dad didn’t deserve to come home to a dead son, the truth would come out and they’d never forgive themselves. Jazz certainly wouldn’t, she was 2 states over at University but he could already hear her angry, grief-stricken screams. 

Death, death was quiet. It was quiet and merciful and sad, but it was also easy. And Danny Fenton had never once taken the easy route. He reached out and took and the crown before shakily placing it on his head. He gasped, throwing his head back as his core swelled, taking up residence once more right next to his heart. Clockwork smiled, looking like the cat who ate the canary. 

“The Crown of Fire, pardon me the Crown changes with each core, the Crown of Ice is now yours as is the Zone. Your reign begins now but so too does the rest of your life. People are waiting for you. Time in.” Danny slammed back into awareness on the floor of his parents’ lab, the floor he’d almost died on twice. 

He sat up as cold radiated off his body, causing frost to crawl down his arms and along the floor. Sam, Tucker and Vlad, who’d been frozen up until now, jumped back to life. There was a new, familiar weight on his head that he didn’t dare acknowledge. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent goodbye to a quiet, normal life. It wouldn’t be all bad, he could be happy like this but the Crown still felt like a iron manacle around his neck. But he got used to the ghost powers, he could get used to this too. Maybe one day he won’t look at the stars and say ‘what if?’

“Danny!” Sam shouted, throwing herself into his arms soon followed by Tucker. Their warm weight, their relieved sobs, their shaky breaths in his air, now this was something worth living for. He squeezed them tightly.

“But how dude, you were at death’s door!” Tucker asked, still not letting go.

“You accepted the Crown,” Vlad said evenly, “I wasn’t aware you even knew about your claim. Who told you?”

“You don’t know everything, Vlad,” Danny sighed, sitting himself upright. Ugh his shirt was covered in blood and ectoplasm. He needed to trash these clothes before his parents freaked. And find a way to hide the floating ice crown on his head. 

“Even an old man can be surprised every now and again,” Vlad said wearily. He stood up to his full height before startling Danny by dipping down to one knee. “Then allow me to be the first to welcome my new king and wish him well.”

“I thought you wanted this,” Danny questioned.

“I do, I did,” Vlad said, unusually off balance. “To be quite honest, I’m not sure how to feel about it but, right now, I’m just immeasurably happy you’re alive, little badger. Now I best be off, enjoy your kingdom, my liege, I’ll be sure to come bother you some time soon.” Vlad disappeared in a swirl of pink leaving just him, Sam and Tucker still clinging to him.

Danny may have a kingdom, a job he didn’t want and his whole life decided in a spur of the moment choice, but he also had something very important. He squeezed his friends tightly.

“I love you guys, thank you for being my friends even though I have the worst ideas for activities. Dying? On a Sunday night? How lame is that?” Sam laughed, a bit hysterical but it was real and it made Danny feel weightless. 

“Don’t do that again, buddy,” Tucker breathed into his shoulder. “So you gonna explain what just happened and why you’re apparently the Ghost King or something?”

“Yeah, yeah I will but let’s get changed first. Mom and Dad will be home soon and I think I’m going to need to have a conversation with them about my new job.” 

[qwertyfingers]

suicide tw i guess sorry i just need to. say things and not have a real conversation but how the fuck am i supposed to get out of this state of mind rn when im in thjs much pain literally nothing is helping at all. even if i wasnt also strugglign mentally for other reasons this would be insane to deal with. its been 10 fucking years of just eternal decline the pain gets worse and worse im developing increasingly dangerous symptoms i literally *physically* on a chemical level can't get anywhere close to a healthy amount of sleep because everything is so fucked up in my brain. 3-5 nights a week i cant even lie down all the way because the pain gets worse because the pressures so bad and no one can help me no one can improve any of this even a little bit. maybe i get lucky and in 6-9 months time the new injection reduces the symptoms enough to get back to my previous level of disability where i [checks notes] uh 'still cant function in a basic way but at least get more than 2-3 hours of lucidity per day' and thats maybe 60% likely. 40% chance it has little-no effect and the nhs refuses to fund it long term and my literal last hope for any relief from this hell is lost. and i cant even bring myself to be hopeful about the medication working because i have lost all sense of optimism or belief in my own body and dont know that ill ever get it back. given the symptoms and my dad getting diagnosed with the same thing theres close to 100% certainty my migraines are literally just a result of spinal instability in my neck that could be fixed surgically but its literally impossible to get in the uk and the sums of money needed even just to get assessed are so astronomical it will literally never happen. i cant do this for the rest of my life! i cant spend 30-40-50-however many years exhausted and distraught and in agony with absolutely no reprieve or hope or change. whats the point! what do i have to live for? media consumption? i cant even hold a conversation online about things i like anymore. when was the last time i managed to reply more than 2-3 times before the conversation fizzled out or i got too sick to be online or i forgot i was talking at all and just disappeared. i will never be able to go back to school i will never have any kind of work that fulfils me in any way. ill probably never regain my ability to read even close to as well as before. my drawing ability will keep deteriorating and ive already lost all patience and affection for the process of making art in any form. ill never be able to regularly do the things i used to love like hike and play team sports and act on stage. ill never get back my mathematical ability ill never get to study physics like i wanted ill keep losing parts of myself by inches and miles every time something in my body deteriorates. i lost everything i cared about at 16 and the only thing that kept me alive was my hope that i could recover some semblance of it, and then i almost died a few dozen times and my hope wavered but at least i had my fucking stubbornness and now i dont rven have that. i have no spite or rage or tenacity or ferocious desire to prove myself against all the odds anymore im just tired. physically mentally spiritually its all just over and done i got nothing left to give to this fight now. what is the point of suffering through it all if the struggle is so utterly painfully meaningless.

[stayforya]

AIRPLANE | JUNG HOSEOK

member: jung hoseok

genre: fluff!au

words: 5.0k

summary: how many hours in a plane are enough for someone to become special in your life?

a/n: hey, guys, while writing this I got inspired by a book I once read called “the statistical probability of love at first sight”, by jennifer e. smith, so I’m leaving this here as a recommendation :)

you were nervous

it was a huge paradox: you love to travel, but getting on a plane is not the best experience

since you were excited and nervous, you arrived at the airport two hours before your flight

of course, because of that, you had absolutely nothing to do unless scroll through your phone and wait

the trip was happening because you got fired, let’s be real here

the money you saved was enough to do something you always wanted: go far away and spend a couple weeks getting to know a completely different place

you were exhausted

not only because you got fired, though

but mainly because you worked so hard during last year, taking the job for granted

and you had no idea what to do next

that’s why travelling was a great idea

you found flight tickets for a nice price and you just clicked the “buy” button, without a second thought

when you heard the calling for your flight, you got up quickly and got ready

chills down the spine

ok, you don’t have to be so nervous, you tried to convince yourself

thankfully the process was fast

you had no time to think because when you blinked you were already in the plane 

“excuse me, miss”, the flight attendant caught your attention

“yes?”

“good news. you just got an upgrade to the business class!”, she smiled

you couldn’t smile

it was quite confusing

“huh, I’m sorry?”

she showed you a sweet smile

“please, follow me”

you just did what she said

she led you through another door and there you were

the business class!

the flight attendant was clearly happier than you

you were still confused

“what are the odds...?”, you meant to ask yourself but it came out loud

“oh, it happens more than you think. here is your seat, miss”, she said, “feel free to call us if you need anything”

“thank you so much”, you answered, trying to assimilate what was happening

there was a menu with so many types of food and drinks and you had to pre-order your main meals

there was even a hot wet towel? nice

you started to touch the buttons to see what they did

the seat became a bed and you were impressed

you only saw it in movies, not in real life

ok, but what were the odds?

you saved so much money by buying a ticket to the economy class

and you ended up in the business class

while trying to put your seat back to normal, someone sat by your side

the same flight assistant brought him with the same bright smile she gave you

“thank you”, you heard him saying

you didn’t mean to look but you did 

oh you should have lifted the panel that gives privacy for both of the passengers before

now he would notice

you didn’t know if it was ok to just do it

is it rude to hide yourself right when the flight buddy sits?

no, you should wait a bit

he didn’t say hi or anything but you were kind of watching his moves

he sat there, took his phone, read something

from that angle you couldn’t see his face that much because he would definitely notice you were looking at him

but come on what else would you had to do? 

oh, watch a movie, yeah

suddenly someone brought you a champagne glass out of nowhere

you never drank champagne in the middle of the morning before

but when you drank the last drop, the first bad part of flying started 

the flight was taking off

you were trembling

you left the glass by your side, otherwise you’d drop it 

the guy by your side noticed you trying to do some breathing exercises

inhale, exhale

you closed your eyes

inhale, exhale

it didn’t take too long, though

and when the plane was plan in the air

you opened your eyes and the guy by your side was staring at you

a little bit surprised? or worried? or maybe thinking “what is this crazy girl doing?”

your eyes met his and you felt your cheeks burning

“sorry, are you okay?”, he asked you

his voice

hm how to describe it?

he was a little bit worried

your heart was yet racing because of the take off instability

the bad parts of flying, for you, were always the take off time and the turbulence

“yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you”

he didn’t believe, though

probably because your face said it all

whenever you felt scared, it was like your soul came out your body and your face was blank

no sign of life 

“are you sure?”, he was really worried

 “thank you”, you didn’t answer ‘yes’

trying to come back to normal, you just drank the rest of champagne at once

“it’s just that”, you started speaking and he immediately payed attention, “I like travelling but the flight is always scary”

you smiled to break the ice

he also smiled and that definitely broke the ice

“do you travel a lot?”, he opened a bottle of water and looked at you

“I wish”

“it’s fun, but nothing like coming back home”

“so you travel a lot”, you assumed

now that the conversation started, you were interested in talking

plus, it was distracting you

and the rest of the people were using earphones so you both probably weren’t disturbing anyone

he shrugged

“working, yes. for fun, not always”

“and this time, is it for fun?”

the corner of his lips lifted

“yeah”, he looked down

you didn’t know what else to say so you just looked anywhere else

“actually my sister is getting married”

it was meant to be a quick chat, now you were starting to listen about his family

and the best part: you were interested 

“tomorrow?”

“yeah, I guess I’ll arrive a few hours before the wedding”

“wow, just in time, right?”, you said

he agreed

“and you?”

“me?”

“is there any special reason why you’re flying for so many hours?”

“hm... is ‘having fun while I can after I got fired’ a good reason?”

he got surprised

“yes, of course. you’re making a good thing out of a bad thing”

“trying to”

“you’ll like it there. will it be your first time in south korea?”

you nodded, “I want to visit some other countries while I’m in asia. any tips?”

“oh, I actually have a lot. do you really wanna listen?”

you looked at the hour on the screen in front of you

“I guess I have time”

he was really into it

he traveled a lot in his life

and you were amazed by that

most of his trips happened because he needed to work

but he had so many tips about the countries you were planning to visit that you were sure he also had a lot of fun (at least in your standards)

you spent almost an hour talking

he was actually a fun person

easygoing

you were sure he was the kind of person that would never be a square peg

he must fit everywhere because he has stories

he was captivating

and passionate about what he was talking about

when you asked him anything or made fun of something, he listened and laughed

maybe he was around your age? a little older?

you didn’t know and asking that would be weird

but he was young and free, you could see that

you two only stopped talking when the food arrived

it was already lunch time

and you were actually hungry

“oh this looks amazing”, you were thinking out loud

“I agree”

“lucky me for this upgrade”

he looked at you confused

you explained

“I wasn’t meant to be here, the flight attendant told me I got this upgrade. apparently it happens often”

“really? that’s really lucky. lucky us”, he laughed, joking 

lucky us

what

you started laughing

cause you finally got it

what are the odds of you getting an upgrade and ending up sitting by this guy’s side and having company during the flight AND collecting so many tips for you travel

amazing

you ate in silence and after finishing you felt awkward

were you supposed to start talking again or was the conversation over?

you’d have to come up with a subject

not that you didn’t have, since you had a lot to ask him

but you just sat there and looking for a movie to watch

someone brought the dessert

and it was delicious

you thanked heavens again for the opportunity

“what are you watching?”, he asked, leaving the phone behind

“hm? oh, anything fun. do you have any recommendation?”

“none. you?”

“about to find out”

he started searching for movies in the list on his screen

and you two somehow decided to watch inside out

you didn’t want to recommend it because you thought it would sound a little bit childish

but it didn’t

and you started watching, not saying anything

you tried to glance at him

and he was literally s l e e p i n g

the movie barely started

guess what

he slept during the whole movie

and you weren’t in the mood for a nap 

so you finished it fully 

after a few hours he woke up

“good morning”, you were joking

“what”

“just kidding. it’s still 4pm”

“oh I slept for three hours?”

“I think so”

he started moving slowly

“I’m just tired, I swear I like this movie”

you giggled

“chocolate?”, you handed him your chocolate bar

he took it, his fingers touching yours slightly, and ate a piece

you didn’t want to be weird

but uh

it was the first physical contact you two had

as if it mattered

but still

ANYWAYS

“this one’s good”

then your hand trembled

not because you were feeling like

but because the whole plane was trembling

come on, come oooooon

a turbulence at this time?

come. on. 

it was supposed to be your lucky day, wasn’t it

you couldn’t help but shrink your whole body on the chair

closing your eyes

you heard someone saying something

you also heard the voice of the boy by your side

but you couldn’t understand

you were talking to yourself in your mind to focus on something else

because the plane was shaking by the way

the only thing you could think of was

you were about to die

“hey, hey”, the voice was closer now

it was louder than your thoughts because it was close

“it’s fine, look at me”

you opened your eyes slowly

the plane still unstable

people were already getting a little bit scared

it was an instability point, as you heard from the speakers

but there was the guy

“it’s not fine”, you said

“trust me, it is. look. we’re almost arriving”

“you’re lying, there are still many hours to go”

“but we’re closer now. just a few hours to go”

then you realized

the turbulence ended

you just didn’t notice when

but there you were

face to face with that guy

like WHAT

a safe distance would be nice?

so things wouldn’t get awkward

but he wasn’t awkward at all, he was okay

“thank you for this”, you said, breathing properly, “do you want a chocolate bar as reward?” 

he smiled, accepting it

you didn’t have the courage to face him

because after thinking again about your little outbreak

you thought you overreacted

but actually

you just couldn’t contain yourself

you ate in complete silence and even thought about closing the privacy panel

but would it be weird now after so many hours of conversation?

you just ate and started sleeping

it was just a nap

so you woke up one hour and a half later, maybe?

the first thing you saw was the little screen showing the map

and you were almost arriving

two hours to go

and you’d finally be in your destination

you put your hand on your head and feel your hair

messyyyy

wth

you tied it again

“oh hi”

you looked at him immediately

you kinda forgot he was still there

your mind was still kinda sleepy

he was lying there while watching inside out

“oh, now you’re watching it”, you said

“I felt bad to leave you watching by yourself”

you wanted to laugh, but he had a sweet expression on

and you were like

trying to understand what was going on

and then 

out of nowhere

your heart was pounding a bit faster

“look at you”, you giggled and stopped looking at him to start paying attention to the screen

since it was night already

it was dark, thankfully

“you know what I was thinking”, he started

and your heart was hammering again

“I didn’t even ask your name”, he finished

the way he said every single phrase

was so gentle, like

you could tell he was nice to every single person he met in life

it was his personality and you got to notice it just by knowing him for hours

“y/n”

“I’m hoseok”

“hoseok”, you repeated

“hoseok”, he repeated

and it was awkward but funny at the same time

you two laughed

“so, did you like the movie?”

“yeah, it actually hit me deeper than I thought”

you nodded, “that’s what I love about animations”

“we should watch another one”

“hm, but do we have enough time?”

he looked at the screen

less than two hours

“well...”, he looked disappointed

“tell me what else you like to do”, you asked out of nowhere

since using the last hours just to watch a movie wasn’t an option

you wanted to get to know him

so your whole lucky day story would be complete

getting an upgrade, eating well during the whole flight, arriving at your destination and meeting a nice stranger

“I like to talk to strangers”, he answered, already smiling

there was something about his smile

his eyes turned into ^^

and all his face became bright

from the gentle smile to the loud laugh

“come on, I already know this”

“but”, he lifted his index finger, “this is the first time I actually click with a stranger”

you looked at him for a moment

“oh, thank you, now I feel special”

he giggled and you couldn’t help but do the same

“and what about you?”

“what? if I also click with strangers?”

“no”, he laughed, “what else do you like to do?”

“I like to travel, but I couldn’t do it for a long time”

“because of work?”, he payed attention

“yeah. I liked my job a lot, but I was becoming a workaholic, you know? and even though I was very sad about being fired, it felt like a sign. as if it was time to risk something”

he was still looking at you while you spoke your mind freely

“you sound courageous”, he said

you wanted to laugh out loud

“I may sound like this, but I’m not. come on, I was about to cry over a turbulence”

“I have to agree with the last part, but”, he paused, “I’m talking about the way turned a bad thing into a good thing”

you shrugged, “I hadn’t noticed this”

“you know, I...”, he paused, thinking, “while you’re in korea, we could meet. I mean, I could be a travel guide”

he sounded shy for the first time

“do you live in seoul?”

“I do”, he answered

“then, of course we can meet! I mean, I know no one in this country. expect for you now”

he smiled, not looking at you

you also didn’t look at him, not knowing what to say 

there were actually many questions you’d like to ask

but it’s complicated when you’re in this level

you’re not a stranger, but still a stranger

you’re not the curious type of person

but there was something about hoseok that made you curious

you wanted to know more about him

what are his interests

how is his relationship with his sister

does he like dogs or cats

what does he do for living, his job

does he like mint chocolate or does he think it tastes like toothpaste

who’s his favorite artist 

what are his hobbies

and many other questions your mind created that you could ask at that moment but you weren’t close enough to make them

but did you need to be close enough to make them? 

don’t people become closer by asking what they wanna know?

you looked at the screen and it was now focusing on south korea’s map, since you were almost arriving

hoseok was always about to say something, but he didn’t

he moved, drank water, coughed

maybe he noticed how absorbed in your own thoughts you were and he didn’t want to bother

would you see him again?

you ended up taking a nap and when you woke up you saw hoseok was also sleeping

he only woke up when the voice on the speakers said you should be ready for landing

the weird thing is that you couldn’t face him

because you had a dream

during the nap

????

and he was there

in your dream

was your mind tricking you or-

anyways

you focused on getting ready to leave and he did that too

when both of you were standing to get out

he said

“so, enjoy south korea”

you looked at him

“is the travel guide's proposal still up?”, you asked

nothing to lose, right?

he smiled, looking down and looking at you again

“definitely”, his hands took something out of his pocket, “here. save your number on my phone and I’ll call you”

he handed you the phone and you took it

carefully

putting your name and number on it

and making sure it was saved

the process at the airport is always tiring

after you got out of the plane, you didn’t see hoseok again

he walked to an opposite direction so you couldn’t say bye again

but yeah

you were pretty much excited about finally landing

after finding your suitcase, you needed to find your way home 

it wasn’t that difficult

after you got internet, everything was easier

plus, south korea was amazing

technological and historical at the same time

you were excited about everything you could do

when you arrived at the place you were staying, the first thing you did was to take a shower

the flight was long

and the feeling was that the time rushed

because of time zone, the flight seemed longer than it actually was

as if the time flew by

thankfully you took some naps 

you washed your hair

put on clean clothes

talked to friends through and family through the phone

and when you were about to go out to eat something and see the neighborhood, your phone rang

and rang

and rang

until you found it in your purse and saw the unknown number

“hello?”, you answered, wondering who it could be

“y/n? oh, you gave me the right number”

he sounded relieved

it was hoseok, you recognized his voice

“why would I give you the wrong one?”, you smiled

“just in case I was dangerous”, he joked

“ok, maybe now I’m worried”

he laughed out loud

and it was contagious

“trust me, I’m nice”

“so, anything happened?”

you didn’t understand why he was already calling you

just three or four hours ago you two were together in the plane

“I can’t meet you today to show you around, you know, the travel guide’s proposal”

“that’s okay, I’ll do it by myself”

“but I have another proposal”

“hm?”, you stopped walking

what was he planning

ok, were you trusting this guy too much?

“don’t you wanna come to my sister’s wedding?”

you gasped

“a wedding?”

“the one I told you, remember? do you want to be my date?”

DATE????

date?

d a t e?

you started to hyperventilate

ok ok ok wait

think straight

what are the chances of hoseok being a bad guy who wants to kill you

no, he was so nice to you

he wouldn’t be a bad guy, would he?

“look, we just met”

“I know”

“and I don’t know anyone in the wedding”

“you know me”

“but your family”

“they told me to bring a date if I had one”

“what?”

“listen, y/n, I travel a lot and I’m finally spending a good time here at home, so they’re okay with anything. they just want to see me and I want to see them. I also want to bring you with me”

“what are your real plans, hoseok?”

you knew stuff about hoseok that you didn’t know about people from your previous job you used to see every single day

so maybe time wasn’t a big deal, right?

the hours you spent together were more useful than days with someone else

“just to continue the good time we’ve spent earlier”

you sighed

“I don’t think I have clothes...”

“anything is fine. you don’t have to be fancy”

“ok, I’ll just- ok”

“do you need anything?”

“I don’t think so”

“send me your location and I’ll find you in two hours”

“fine, I’ll keep the police on stand by”, you joked using a serious tone

he didn’t answer for a moment

“you know you don’t have to”

“see you, hoseok”

and you hung up on him

you laughed by yourself

probably because the situation was funny

but also because you were nervous

a wedding?

what kind of clothes did people use for weddings in korea?

you just googled ideas and with pinterest unconditional help it didn’t take that long to find a nice look on your clothes

lucky you for bringing versatile stuff for every kind of situation when traveling

you did it all by yourself

of course, in a couple hours hoseok would be by your door

so you tried your best on you hair and make up

and the final look wasn’t that bad, it was actually pretty fine

you were feeling good

when hoseok sent you a message

you went out to wait for him, who was already there

he was driving and you saw him from the window

his smile said it all

“hey”, you opened the door, getting in, “why are you smiling like this?”

“I don’t know, I just can’t believe you accepted my proposal”

“neither do I. I don’t usually go out with strangers”

he laughed

“I’m happy, then, cause I’m not a stranger anymore at this point”

you shrugged, agreeing 

“you look very beautiful”, he said carefully, choosing the words and choosing the tone

you found that cute

“you too”

“so, you don’t have to be shy around everyone, okay?”

“it’s impossible, I don’t even know them”

“they know I’m bringing a date”

“be honest, when will you pay for my service?”

he looked at you surprised

you laughed at his face

when you arrived at the place, you were

1. happy for the clothes you chose, because you were just like the other people

2. amazed by the place

if people would dress as fancy as the place asked for, you’d feel horrible by your look

but thankfully they were all dressing just like you

elegant but not too much

you didn’t know if you should hold hoseok’s arm and he didn’t know if he should offer his arm

so you just held your purse and kept walking by his side

he was talking to you all the time, probably to make you feel comfortable

there was a room you two walked in

you didn’t know what that was

but as soon as you got in

your eyes were glowing by the beauty of the bride

she was sitting, some people congratulating her

there was also a woman and a man next to her

hoseok’s parents, maybe?

you were so embarrassed for being there not even knowing her or her future husband

she smiled at you two and hoseok rushed to hug them

he hugged his sister and said something that made her smile

and then hugged his parents

“you look gorgeous”, he said to his sister

“so this is my... close friend”

everyone in the room looked at you

“y/n, right?”, his sister asked and you got closer

did he tell everyone your name already?

well, she should know the name of everyone who would come

“yes, nice to meet you. congratulations on your wedding!”

“thank you. I’m glad you two are here. these are my mother and my father”

you greeted them too

your face was burning

you felt it getting hotter

because the bride was about to make her entrance, you and hoseok went to the main hall to find your places

he greeted some people here and there

and you were just trying to keep the smile on

the groom was standing, waiting for his bride

there was a long, long time since you had been on a wedding

it was good to see people celebrating love

you were a little bit hopeless about your own love life

but it was refreshing to see other couples in love

“are you okay?”, he asked

“yeah. your family is just like you”

“how?”, he was interested

“easygoing”

“thanks. I’m like this because of them”

you looked around

people were happy

and you were too

even not knowing everyone well

(except for hoseok)

it felt good to celebrate love

and when the bride walked in

beautiful

glowing

you saw hoseok’s eyes full of tears

tears of joy, you could tell

you just didn’t know what to do

but then

before even thinking

your hand reached his

and both of you

just like everyone else

watched her on the aisle, going to her future husband

and he was emotional too

the whole ceremony made you feel warm

your heart was so full by experiencing that moment that you didn’t even feel tired after that long flight

you were focusing only at the moment

hoseok didn’t let go of your hand after you touched his when he was emotional

and you were okay with that

but when the two of you stood up

it was awkward to keep holding it, so you just let go 

and regretted immediately 

the party was good

after all the important parts of the ceremony

it was food time and dance time

which were your favorite parts, to be honest

hoseok was making sure you eat well

but since you were sitting at the same table as his family

you were a little bit shy

but come on you were hungry

and they didn’t care at all, everyone was eating so well

you did the same and he smiled at you

patting your shoulder from behind the chair

his sister and her husband were the first ones from the table who stood up to dance

a lot of people were doing the same

so hoseok came closer to you and said

“wanna dance with me?”

you looked at his hand standing between you two

“don’t expect much”, you said

he smiled and carried you to the center of the hall

the song was slow and romantic

so you didn’t know what to do at first

touching him still made your fingers electrify

by the way he was so careful 

you could say he felt the same

but then his arms found their way to your waist 

and your arms found their way to his shoulders

those movements made you stay the closer since you met him

your faces could even touch depending on the dance move

hoseok danced naturally and you just followed his steps

you felt his smell

the one coming from the clothes and the one coming from the hair

you closed your eyes and rested your head on his

“lucky me”, he said, so softly you wouldn’t hear if his lips weren’t close to your face

you smiled

“crazy me”, you made him burst into laughter

you were starting to love his laugh to your stupid jokes

a few hours later, you were in front of your door 

your home in seoul for the next days 

the wedding started early, so it wasn’t too late when you two arrived in front of your place

but there weren’t many people walking around

the lights of the city illuminated you

he was leaning on the car

and you were in front of him

“thank you for this”, you said

“I’m glad you had fun”

“definitely not how I imagined my first day here, but 100% better than what I planned”

“sorry for not being able to show you around”

“I guess we still have some days to do this”

“are you free?”

“just call me whenever and we’ll meet”

he looked down after a smile appeared on his face

trying to hide it, but failing

“look, I don’t know the chances of us meeting on the same plane”

“if I didn’t get an update, I’d be there, but not by your side”

it was crazy to think how many possibilities exist

if you did one thing differently, you’d never meet someone

you’d never get the job

you’d never travel

you’d never live some experiences

the other possibilities could have happened

but they didn’t

what made that one happen?

how do we choose things not knowing where they’ll lead us

and they end up taking us to places we can’t imagine

all of these thoughts were going on your heads when you two were staring at each other

you weren’t smiling anymore

he walked to you

and you looked at him nonstop

until your hands were on his hands

and his lips on yours

slowly kissing

feeling the electricity of the touch

you knew that kissing him was a choice that would lead somewhere

you just didn’t know where

who knows?

when you stopped kissing

your noses still touching

looking at each other’s eyes

you two smiled

“was this your original plan when you called me?”

“no, but I’m plenty happy about that call”

you kissed him again

it felt even better

“so...”

you could feel his breath

you knew so much about him after all the conversations

and a lot yet to be known

“see you?”, you asked

“I’ll be waiting”

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Come Back to Haunt You || Morgan & Agnes

TIMING: This Evening

PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems & Agnes Bachman (written by @chloeinbetween)

SUMMARY: The past haunts; so does family. Agnes wants this time to be different.

CONTAINS: brief references to parental abuse

Morgan felt half ghost as she cleaned the kitchen. Her fingers slipped on everything she touched, cracking dishes without her noticing. It was the cotton fog of death, partially. But it was also the weight of the last few weeks on Morgan’s soul, which pulled on her as though she was coming unglued from her body. Maybe she would simply come out of her trance and find herself floating over her bed, phasing through her life, or what broken pieces passed for her life these days. Morgan shuddered. She didn’t feel pain the way the living did, but it still dwelled in her, trapped and hungry for ways out. Unwilling to run the risk of destroying the rest of her dishware, Morgan went outside to the pool and sank her feet in the water, watching the lights along the walls dance as she kicked her feet. She had centuries ahead of her of this, if she was lucky: more mortal bullshit, more loss, more suffering. Maybe if she hadn’t been so worn out from living with Constance’s curse, she wouldn’t feel so tired. But staring down at her warbled reflection, she couldn’t imagine these last few weeks not breaking anyone.

The evening wind rippled the water and Morgan’s reflection split in two. Or not quite. Morgan squinted closer before remembering she could look over her shoulder. “Agnes,” she breathed. “How are you here? I thought Blanche’s circle sent you back to Texas. Is everything okay?” Too much. Even Morgan couldn’t sit up with that. She gave her (great-great) grandmother as much of a smile as she could muster, relieved to see her face however sad it looked. “Why don’t you come sit, or...float, I guess. There’s plenty of room out here.”

Agnes hadn’t known it would be like this to cross these distances. Her space in Texas had been hers for decades. It held her like gravity once had, but after Morgan’s visit, she’d felt pulled in two directions. Maybe there was something more here than her restless in between that had lingered over the decades. It had not been easy, but she had made her way across the continent to here. It was almost as if White Crest had been calling her. Perhaps it was Constance. Perhaps it was Morgan herself. She hovered, looking over Morgan at their shared reflections. “I do not know if everything is okay.” She sat, slowly, looking over the pool. “I felt like I was needed here, with you…. And Constance. So I came.”

Morgan watched Agnes sit. This was the kind of nonsense she’d dreamed up as a lonely kid: a kind, magical woman showing up out of the blue and sitting next to her with no reasoning beyond ‘you needed me.’ No blame, no yelling, no guilt. Just someone who gave a shit about her enough to come. To try. If Morgan didn’t have so much experience with her own mental instability, she might have suspected she was imagining Agnes. She waited a second, still staring at her, tears welling up, and then she laughed. A sad one, heavy, ready to crack into sobs at any moment. “You just...came, huh?” She scrubbed her eyes, laughing still. “I’m sorry this is just...we didn’t get to talk much last time, so you don’t know that things were already bad for me, but somehow since then, it’s actually gotten worse.” She sniffled, smiling wryly. “And uh, you are the first family I’ve had show up for me without giving me any shit right off the bat. Ever. Even counting the live family that used to know me.” She didn’t want to think about Constance. She knew she was putting people at risk dragging her feet on this magic ‘source,’ but tracking down someone worth destroying felt easier said than done, and Morgan lacked the strength to do more than go through the motions and keep the people she had left it check most days. She tried to put her thoughts of the ritual aside. “Kinda sucks that we had to die to meet, but what can ya do?” She shrugged, trying to shake the bitter angst off of her, and gave Agnes a sincere, watery smile. “It’s good to see you, Agnes...grandma, whatever you want me to call you. Not sure if there’s anything you can do, but thank you.”

Carefully poised, Agnes only shifted a little in concern as she noticed the tears welling up in Morgan’s eyes just from her presence. It didn’t occur to her that she might be the cause until Morgan laughed just as suddenly. “Morgan?” She asked cautiously, too used to being a ghost to make any offer of physical affection. “Things have gotten worse? How do you mean? Has Constance done something else?” Agnes asked, looking around in the dark. Her heart ached at Morgan’s simple admission. For all the suffering Constance had caused, she had also done this: she had slowly turned Agnes’ family into canyons and cliff faces, hard and windworn to withstand their constant suffering. Sometimes, they had become cruel to survive the cruelty, and in the end it had still not served them. 

“I am so sorry, Morgan. Agnes will do. I might be able to do something.” I need to be able to do something, Agnes didn’t say. She could neither stand by in ignorance as Constance tried to kill Morgan a second time, nor could she stand the thought of Constance being destroyed forever. There had to be something else, an option that only she could help with. Agnes was too coward to consider any other alternative. “If nothing else, I can listen.”

“Oh, no,” Morgan sighed. “I almost wish Constance had done something for the sake of distraction. If she’d been the one who’d been in charge of the last few weeks, I think I would actually stop having to convince people that I have a point about her.” She winced, remembering Agnes’ horror when she’d mentioned her plans during the seance. “Well, the ‘bad’ part before we met was a friend of mine dying really horribly, and my relationship falling apart, you know, after my closest friends decided they don’t really get what I’m trying to do with this...ritual thing. Which, apparently, requires a blood sacrifice. So that’s fun.” Morgan let out a shaky breath. “And now I just...feel so lost and tired. An amazing feeling, really, when you can’t sleep to save your life. I almost died once or twice, but that’s just White Crest for you. And I know the longer Constance is out there, the more dangerous she becomes, but I want to get this right. I don’t have much propping myself up right now, so I need to make sure this gets done right.” She smiled sadly at Agnes. “I know you don’t like it either. Maybe it’s hard, with how well you used to know her and how sorry you are about what happened. But I don’t think you deserve what she did to you. I don’t think any of us do. I’m just trying to balance what I can, you know?”

As Morgan spoke, her legs shifted slightly in the water, which in turn made tiny ripples, breaking up Agnes’s reflection as she looked down at the two of them. In so many ways, they looked alike, and were alike. Morgan’s heart was weary with isolation of her own design, but unlike Agnes she would not back down. It just wasn’t serving her any more than Agnes’s own choices had served her. The only comfort she could offer now was her company, and her quiet, patient listening as Morgan talked about it. “A blood sacrifice?” She echoed. “I’m so sorry. You should not have to carry so much in your life.” It was empty comfort, but it was all she had to give Morgan. “I have seen so much pain stemming from that fateful day. Perhaps you would understand why I might wish to avoid more.” Agnes sighed deeply, shifting closer to Morgan. She could not offer an arm of comfort around her. “I do not know that it is a question of deserve. I just wish for this all to end. I never wanted so many of you to suffer for my choices like this.” She hadn’t ever planned to have a bloodline to curse. She ought to have ended this a century ago, but then like now she had been permissive, letting others expectations and desires dictate her action. No, that wasn’t exactly true, was it? It was her own cowardice, over and over, that had lead them here. “What do you hope to find at the end of Constance’s suffering, Morgan?”

“Yep,” Morgan said, smirking humorlessly. “No pain, no gain. I guess that’s what I get for assuming that exorcisms were just like normal spells. The ‘source’ is pain, blood is traditional and best as far as I reckon. Live stuff. Honestly, this wouldn’t be such a problem if it wasn’t for Constance. The simplest and most elegant solution would be to bleed myself. I have a lifetime of awful shit to offer up. But the dead are beyond most magic. So, I need something else.” It would be easy, she supposed, to pluck someone off the street, or find out who had been most recently screamed for and rest in the knowledge that her unwitting volunteer wasn’t losing out on that much. But Morgan didn’t want to cause suffering arbitrarily. That’s what Constance had done when she took one moment out on generations of Bachmans after Agnes. It should be as intentional as the rest of the ritual. It had to be better than Constance. 

Morgan listed to one side as Agnes spoke, aching to fall against her and be held. “You made a mistake, Agnes,” she mumbled. “Hurting people you love and making them feel like nothing…” She shook her head with bitter recognition. “Yeah, it breaks you, to be on the receiving end of that, or to do that without meaning to. I know. But it’s not something that warrants what she did. If you love someone…” You hang on or you let go, was what Morgan wanted to say. But she was still trying to figure that one out. Staying in limbo, where she could punish Deirdre or not, embrace her or not, was still safer than committing one way or the other. “...You don’t do what she did. It should stay between the two of you, and nothing more.” That much, she did believe. “And, you know, I met what was left of your mother. I get being scared of what she might do to you.” It ran in the family, apparently. 

She thought long and hard about Agnes’ question, knowing that it was a rare opportunity to be understood, to make Agnes see what she was really up to. “I want it to end,” She sighed. “I want to banish some of this pain, to put it somewhere that’s not me. I already have so much now, she can afford to take on an hours’ worth of mine. She can do that much for me. And it…” Her voice caught. “It just feels so wrong, I get sick and disgusted thinking about it, it feels that wrong--to think about giving her what she took from me. I will never sleep. I will never have peace. I just...go. Maybe it makes me a bad person if you believe in those, but I will do this before I give her that kind of mercy. She’s made it so I spent my mortal life being crushed by her magic and I just can’t tell her ‘thanks, it’s okay!’ about it.” Morgan shrugged helplessly as her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them back as best she could, an effort at pride in front of the only family she had left who might like her.

Agnes had several lifetimes of experience of not speaking her mind. Even now, she held her tongue as Morgan spoke, keeping her thoughts tucked behind the layers of her clothes and her features. A lifetime of telling her parents what they wanted to hear, until she had said at a wedding she had barely wanted, yes in her bedroom, and then yes to her husband for the rest of her life. Yes to one child, then two. Yes to watching over them as they grew like saplings in a thornbush, destined to be crushed by Constance’s curse. Agnes was ever so good at watching the world go by without ever expressing her opinion. It was no new matter to listen to Morgan plan to set her whole world on fire. Hurting someone she deemed deserved to hurt so that she could inflict a worse hell onto someone else, losing every friend she had in this town to a cause that would bring an end to something that had tormented their family for centuries. 

Exposed to Morgan’s bleeding heart, Agnes wondered if she had made the wrong choice. One reason to stay in Texas was that she didn’t have to see so viscerally the harm the curse Constance had caused. She’d been able to ignore her own culpability. That was not so as Morgan laid out the road map of her suffering, and what she had planned for Constance. “My mother is inconsequential, now.” Was all she had to say. 

Perhaps it was that she had spent so much time looking the other way that her heart ached for Constance despite the last century. Agnes was still that romantic child, sneaking picnics in the forest and braiding Constance’s long, red locks. She could picture them walking along the streams when she looked in the ripples of the swimming pool, right next to the reflection of Morgan’s pallid skin. There was no way, any more, to prevent their deaths. It would be easier to look away. But there was perhaps something even more important for Agnes to protect. “I do not expect that you would be able to walk away. There is no forgiving her actions, no matter how much I loved her,” That much was true, “I worry that her destruction will also be yours. That in trying to bring about justice, you will taint some fundamental part of yourself that you will not get back in the rest of your centuries. Constance has taken so much from us, I do not want you to lose any other part of yourself. This blood sacrifice, especially, that frightens me. Shouldn’t that also stay between us?”

The way Agnes said the word love made Morgan’s heart ache. Agnes seemed more shadow than woman in ways that went beyond her incorporeal body. There was no wonder or surprise or excitement. In her kindness, dampened with sorrow, Morgan imagined that Agnes had seen all of this before. Or thought she had. Maybe she was so hollowed out because she’d been stuck on this cruel plane for so long, or maybe it was the guilt she couldn’t let go of, but she changed when she said that word. Morgan couldn’t decide if it gave her hope for eternity, or if it was just kind of awful that Constance still had such power over Agnes in death.

“I don’t even know what there is of me some days,” Morgan said, unable to indulge Agnes’ concern seriously. “You don’t have to worry. I’ve killed before. Not a lot, just people who were already trying to kill me. You know how some hunters are, or maybe not, but my point is--if I can just find someone that makes sense, it’ll be fine.” She didn’t know how she would go about that, still, but she shrugged as if it was nothing worth worrying about. She needed to keep up her confidence, and maybe it would get Agnes to believe in her more too. “Is that what we were to her, do you think? Sacrifices?” She asked. “Just logs to burn on her fire, over and over, til we’re just little white bits of coal and she needs another? See, that just sounds like another reason to do it. I’d bleed whoever in front of her if I could. To make sure she understands.” But without someone she loathed as much as Constance, that didn’t sound especially likely. She didn’t need to make a production of things, she just needed to get to the fucking finish line. Maybe finding the best way to do that could be her new anchor for a while; she certainly wanted it badly enough. “You don’t have to like this. I get being in love with someone just as fucked up as you are if not more. Just please don’t stop me, Agnes. You’re all the family I have and I would really appreciate it if you could just...not take this from me.” What did she have without it? What was there to do but accept she’d been screwed by a hateful ragweed of a girl and let her skip off into the sunset? Morgan couldn’t. There was enough of her life in pieces and she wouldn't let all her grief follow suit. Maybe if she did everything right, if she won, she’d feel a little stronger about facing the rest of what had broken, too. “Can you please give me that much?”

“That you have killed before in self defense is not reassuring,” Agnes replied, and briefly considered listing all the ways it caused concern, before assuming that that was also a lost cause. Morgan did not want to hear, and so it was easier not to speak. “I think… that is an apt metaphor. Her rage is almost consuming, and she has used other’s suffering to feed it. It is no way to spend one’s death. Nor one’s life.” Agnes added that last part delicately, her voice airy.  If Morgan truly believed this would serve her, who was Agnes to stop her? She could offer her descendent this much, one more thing in her lifetimes of permitting things to happen. She smiled, her grief drawing deep lines in her face. It was no longer instinct to reach out to offer the comfort of touch when she had no comfort to offer, but she still hovered her hand over Morgan’s, looking deep in her eyes. “I swear it.”

Agnes said nothing of trying to stop Constance. 

[herpronuonsarefemslash]

Teaser for “Hop, Skip, and a Jump”

A Bellamione fic that explores what happens when the Department of Mysteries duels end in Hermione taking Bellatrix down with a whip, which leaves an impression on Bella when she's sent back to Azkaban. Luna invents a longer-range time turner, Hermione is lonely after divorcing Ron, and the Black sisters were just legendary for getting up to gay nonsense... https://www.patreon.com/posts/48881466 Harry is thrashing in Remus grip, refusing to believe it and trying to dive through the Veil. Hermione takes in the other members of her merry band of child soldiers.

Ron's a mess. Black eye. Split lip. Bloody knuckles. Dark red staining the tips of his sweaty ginger hair where it dips against a cut on his forehead. Looks like a soccer hooligan after a riot. Made excellent use of that table leg when he lost his wand, though.Full marks.

Ginny displayed raw elemental force with wind, cold and lightning that her tiny body shouldn't have been able to contain and reflexes none of them could keep pace with.

Luna was bloody terrifying. She nearly killed a man with an origami dragon made out of interdepartmental memos. Hermione nearly threw up after her first real curse connected, after the first time that she did magic that truly harmed another human being. Yet Luna simply cocked her head and looked curiously at the dragon and was about to pet it when it dissolved.Creativity and lack of inhibitions are useful in a soldier, Hermione supposes.

Tonks is badly hurt, but she's breathing at least. What the fuck was that curse? Dumbledore has been letting her read up on Dark Arts, supervised, and she's never heard of those elements being combined. If there's a person spending their rainy Sundays with a notepad working out new ways to use dark arts, it's probably Bellatrix Lestrange.

A magically amplified voice rings throughout the room.

"I killed Sirius Black, I killed Sirius Black, I killed Sirius Black!"

Harry slips out of Remus' grip and then he's gone.

Fucking invisibility cloak. One of these days, I'm going to hang him with it. ----- Never used an Unforgivable Curse, have you, boy?" she chuckles.

The dark witch's hand is not far from her own wand. She's taunting Harry about having to mean it when he does dark magic. 

Pathos versus logos, one French scholar decided when studying the topic. Someone can do ordinary magic emotionlessly, acting out just an idea. Not dark magic. Dark spellwork takes raw emotion and blood magic and dark rites more so.

Which also brings her to the disturbing realization that Bellatrix is not nearly as broken as everyone thinks, and at the same time, she's so much more broken than anyone realized.She's never seen Harry this angry, or this torn up, and he can't summon a cruciatus for a woman who really deserves one. 

Bellatrix can let one drop from her lips like its nothing, ten seconds after telling a joke. She's not cold. She's not empty or numb or hollow. Bellatrix Black Lestrange is just too much. She's always boiling over.

She's not dangerous despite being insane because it's not a handicap. Bellatrix is dangerous because she can use her own insanity. Uses her instability as just one more weapon. To be able to do the things she does, to channel wildly different emotions on a moment's notice like that... ----- Hermione spots a bit of velvet rope on the ground, not far from one of the entrances.

"Accio rope," she whispers, calling it slowly into her hand.Bellatrix's fingers are curling around that clawed wand of hers. Any moment now, she's going to make use of the fact that Harry's standing there, barking out curses he doesn't understand the mechanics of, his lip trembling. She's going to kill him.

"Flagellum ingis!" Hermione shouts and the rope in her hand catches fire. Crimson, bloody-looking flames. What had been a few inches of fat velvet is now a thirty-foot coil of nasty-looking black leather. The frayed end becomes a hard metal handle. She swings and, by some miracle, connects. ----- Shacklebolt stares at her for a long time, like he doesn't believe her.

There's a knock on the door.

"Enter," he calls over his shoulder. It's Tonks, wobbling on crutches with an expandable sack under her arm. Her typically pink hair is a messy gray and her metamorphagus skills seem to be trying to shift her dislocated jaw back into shape, against the bracing charm the healers put on her.

"Tonks!"

"Wotcher, Hermione," she chuckles.

"Get it?" Kingsley asks.

"Kreacher wasn't happy about it, but yes."

She tips the sack upside down and drops a huge book on the table. It's bound in crimson silk and black lace. No title on the spine, instead two words. Tojous pur. Always pure. The motto of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. "Looks a bit like fancy knickers, don't it?" Tonks jokes. ----- When the Black Grimoire teleports itself into Hermione's lap, no one's laughing. Arthur Weasley goes white as a sheet and Remus's eyes flicker gold momentarily and she could swear she heard a canine's whine.

"Hermione," Remus says, his voice scratchy and small. "Please. That's..."

"Dangerous," Arthur fills in.

They're all looking at her like she's Darth Vader, suddenly. Like she has to be talked down. Like she's suddenly the most dangerous person in the room. She looks at the book. What spells are in this, anyway, that it being in her lap makes the entire Order of the Phoenix flinch?

"I don't want it!" she protests.

The book teleports itself again. Where it goes, none of them can figure out.

----- The book comes back again the night before the battle. She asks Tonks over to try to get rid of it. "S'not something to be afraid of, little devil," Tonks says. "Doesn't have to be." Little devil is Tonks' nickname for her, after finding a photo of Hermione gothed-out at age eleven, a few weeks before she got her letter. She's stopped using it around others. "I'd think you'd hate the Blacks," Hermione mumbles.Tonks sighs, shifting her skirts out of the way and sitting down on the bench beside her. Hogsmeade is empty. Cleared out so fast that everyone left almost everything. They've been eating like kings, and it helps. Tonks especially is thriving. Crazy bitch decided to put the witch-or-wizard debate to bed for all time by rejoining the war nine days after giving birth, slinging spells while leaking milk into her clothes. "I think that'd be like using a time turner to kill my grandparents," Tonks admits. She puffs at her hair, which goes pink, then blue, then green, then turns to something rather like glass. "Being a Black gave me this ability.” "Let's take a look, shall we?" Tonks squeezes her hand tight, and together they open the grimoire. "I'll keep you safe." ----- She's staggering out of the Great Hall. Bloody. Aching. Alive. Before she can find a banister to lean on, Tonks slams into her. Hermione wails. "Sorry," Tonks squeaks. "Just ribs," she grumbles. "What is it?" "Page two hundred seventeen. Knowing what that curse looks like? Saved my life. Remus' too." Hermione huffs."Next time you're trying to thank me, let's talk, all right?" The Grimoire appears in her trunk on the way back to Hogwarts to re-take her seventh year. This time, it won't leave, even when ordered to. ----- Everything is pain and exhaustion. But Rose is gorgeous. She's everything. Hermione fumbles for her wand, gathers the birth blood into the air and then whispers out an ancient curse with her lips pressed to her eldest's tiny, sticky head. Not all curses are meant to hurt the one at the center of them. The Mother's Curses are darker than night and because of the blood linking caster to target, far more powerful than ordinary spells. ------ They split after Hugo's born. It's more to do with her campaign for Minister, which she loses by a hair, than the 'neglect' of Hugo who she keeps so close she thinks that Molly would have blushed. As divorces go, it's bloodless. Pureblood-muggleborn marriages can be rocky, of course, and she produced heirs for the Weasley line. So from the traditionalist point of view, the muggle divorce and the Gringotts paperwork don't mean much. The same ceremony showed that their children's blood bears more of her magic than his. For that reason, or some other reason, Ron never bad-mouths her in public. She never moves to have their names changed to merely 'Granger'. She hears 'mudblood' whispered for the first time in a long while. ----- On one side of her desk, the plaque bears bold green letters that thrum with sorcery. Hermione Jean Granger, Minister of Magic On the other side, visible only in the presence of a Dumbledore's Army coin, she scratched a second marking in one of Tolkien's half-right, half-wrong scripts of Elvish. here sits a servant of the elves ----- "WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR, A BLACK?" a woman shrieks outside her office. Hermione groans, dropping her fork back into her takeout container.Harry chuckles, glancing up from his case file. "Your damn fault," she mutters."You needed the help, old friend. Be a shame if paperwork killed you after all this." "It'd be the most evil thing that tried, so it makes sense." She flicks her wand at her office door. "In here, both of you!" she barks. ----- "Sarah?" Hermione asks, desperate to hear a human voice across the shuffling of papers. "Yes, ma'am?" "Something's been bugging me about...the incident." Missy stiffens. "What?" she asks, flipping another sheet face down."You said, what do you take me for, then added the word Black." There's a polite throat-clearing so familiar sounding that has Hermione scrambling for her wand and leveling it at a sixteen-year-old girl. "Right. Sorry," she mumbles. "Sounded a bit like..." "Umbridge," the girl laughs. "Professor Longbottom and Professor Abbot complain too." "I keep telling her that's going to get her jinxed," the boy next to her huffs. "Interrupting people who that lunatic tortured in mid-lecture rather than just raising her hand." "Shut up, Ballard." "Go on...uh...""Myn," the girl chirps, offering her hand. "Mynara Wallsworth." Hermione shakes it and then bows. "Enlighten us, wise one." "It's just that the Blacks are notorious. There's a bunch of scratches on the sixth-year Slytherin dorm's walls. Hard to tell with fading, but at least twenty. According to legend, it's one mark for each girl who got a hat trick." "A what?" "Each girl who snogged all three of the Black sisters during school."

[isabearies]

Instability — D:BH [04]

Pairing: Connor x Reader

Word Count: 1054

Warnings: Cursing, mostly just fluff

Author’s Note: Okay, this one I tried to just make really sweet for the holiday season! It’s New Year’s Eve and I just thought everyone needs to relax a little ;) Hope you enjoy!!

Summary: Connor has just been assigned to the deviant case with you and Hank. You have a history with androids, but he just wants a partner. You want androids to be heard, but you’re still terrified of them.

Chapter 4: Just Ask

November 6, 2038

The sky was darker and the rain was the same. Drops of water pitter-pattered onto the car as Hank and Connor sat up front and you sat in the back. You preferred the back, since you got a bit carsick. You sat in back whenever you could.

You pulled up the road that sat adjacent to an elevated freeway, a building to your left that read “CHICKEN feed” in bright neon lights. Hank said nothing as he exited the car. You steeled yourself, you were a detective damnit, why couldn’t you just apologize to an android.

Oh right, because you were a doofus with social anxiety. You always braved the tough cop act, dawning it especially around Gavin (prick). Everyone knew not to mess with you, and you liked it that way. You had a saying that your grandmother used to tell you: “If they can’t love me at my worst, then they can’t love me at my best.” You might have taken this a bit too literally, though, because sometimes you would purposefully act like a total bitch to drive people away. It wasn’t a conscious decision really, it just happened. You would be talking, saying something mildly to severely harmful, and then if they stayed then that was it. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but you were scared to get help. Yeah yeah, it’s 2038 and you shouldn’t be scared to get help but people are stuck in their ways and you were people.

Hank stayed, Gavin stayed, Fowler stayed, and that was it, until now. It was odd, Connor had not left yet. He was never harsh with you, he never even asked to leave, he just...stayed. You yelled at him, threatened him for god’s sakes and still he did not leave. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. You shifted in your seat and Connor prepared to follow after Hank.

“Connor,” you sounded pleading, which was not your goal, “Um, I—” You stumbled on your words.

Fuck.

“Yes, Detective (l/n)?” He sounded interested, but just mildly cold. Maybe that’s just his voice?

“Uh, I just wanted to say,” you thought on your words for a moment, “I’m sorry.” Connor was audibly taken aback by your apology. He turned back to look at you. His confusion was visible in his expression; his brows were furrowed, head at a slight tilt, and big brown eyes mirrored his thoughts.

“Why are you sorry?” He was genuinely curious, maybe he forgot about what happened?

Androids don’t forget, dummy.

“I yelled at you, in the bar. You were just asking if I was okay and it wasn’t appropriate. I’m sorry.”

Connor opened his mouth and shut it again. His brown eyes pandered down to your fidgeting hands and back up to your darting eyes. He noticed your face was flushed a dark pink. Wondering if you were sick, he checked your vitals, only to find an increasing amount of cortisol in your system.

“Connor?” He had been staring too long. The silence got a little exhausting. Finally, you managed to get something out.

“You could just ask you know.”

“Ask what?” Again, he was confused. That seemed to be a habit when he was around you.

“Ask if I’m okay, without looking me up or scanning my vitals. It’s better that way,” your voice was not quite patient, but close enough. It was the best you could do.

“Oh.” He looked down, considering you request. It puzzled him. He was an android, he was supposed to scan people. Why would he negate this privilege and ask someone if they were okay?

“Because it’s polite.” Startled, he looked to your face again. How did you know what he was thinking? It seemed implausible. “It’s the human thing to do.”

“Miss (l/n), I am not human,” The answer was obvious. He was not alive. How was he expected to do human things when he was so much different than them.

“You want to work with us, right? Live alongside us. Sometimes it’s better to just ask.” The more you explained it, the more you puzzled him. Even when you yelled at him, you did this one thing he didn’t expect from you. Despite your apparent grudge against him, not once did you treat him like just an android. Yeah, you were stubborn about androids “not getting in your way,” but you never demeaned him for being an android.

Connor looked how your hair fell slightly across your face, your gaze entertained with his. You had stopped fidgeting and looked a little more concerned. Your lips were quite red, probably a lip stain. You were slightly biting the lower corner of your lips. Your cheeks seemed to have deepened in color. Even in this gloomy weather, Connor thought you seemed to glow.

^ software instability ^

“Okay,” he agreed, “But how do I ask?” The question took a second for your to process. To you, it seemed obvious. You just do? Your eyes went down to your feet and back up again.

“Try it out on me. I’ll tell you how you do.”

“H-How are you, Miss (l/n)?” His eyes darted down.

Is he...flustered?

“I’m fine, Connor. Thank you for asking.” The sheepish smile you put on wasn’t forced. It’s the first real smile he had ever seen on you. It amazed him, and he couldn’t help but watch. The faint glow that radiated off you seemed to become blinding. He suddenly felt something odd in his thorium pump. Running diagnostics, he found nothing abnormal in his system. Odd.

A small silence emulated around the car once again, but it felt right. You felt comfortable in the silence, and it almost felt understanding. You both just sat in the car appreciating it.

“We should go out to meet the Lieutenant,” Connor quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the car.

Well that was short-lived.

You sat still in the car for only a second, and in that split second, you could have sworn you felt something. It was a weird little thing, barely noticeable to anybody. Like a small fishing line reaching from one part of the car to the other. It wasn’t there, per se, more like a minuscule connection. But it was there, and you saw it.

And it startled you.

—

Let me know what you guys think! If you want to be tagged, just ask. And if you have any suggestions, don’t be shy!

taglist: @lisylla @hookedinto-fictionalworlds @dolce-clout @shit-post-things @princessleiass @veaaaaa @sm0kingcrack

@toadbones

[drawbauchery]

An Enemy, An Enemy, A Frenemy of Mine?

(fic by cartoons-tothemoon)

“So, explain to me again why I’m still tied to a chair and your face isn’t planted clean into the floor?”

“Well, for one, I made scones.”

Skipper had to roll his eyes at that.

It seemed he’d been letting his guard slip as of late. After busting Savio’s NYC rings, he didn’t even hesitate to move them to New Jersey as soon as possible, and with Blowhole still out there and even Private’s old golfing buddy giving them trouble, it appeared that the more paranoid Skipper got, the less obvious clear threats came to him.

Hence, being completely oblivious to obvious things, like anthrax-filled letters, or poisoned scones, or Hans in the corner with a baseball bat, pretending to be a lamp, and somehow succeeding.

Well, at least one of those things got Skipper stuck at Hans’s mushy-gushy tea party of love and frenemyship, on the top of some skyscraper, in the middle of the night.

C’est la vie and all that.

Skipper still had no idea where he stood with the guy. Like, he hated him, clearly, but the kind of nemesis that could be foiled with a lunch date every now and again was not an enemy Skipper considered worth having. If every domestic terrorist could be foiled with hugs and kisses like that, Private would probably be leading the task force. However, Hans’s attacks were always rather personal, never directed at the public in any way. So, somehow, there was something more efficient and more enjoyable about taking care of him for the week he was in town than taking him up on any of his offers were.

Not that Skipper got to rescind that offer now.

“Face it, Skipper. If you didn’t really want to be here, you would have escaped by now.” Hans purred.

“You’re right. Thanks for reminding me.” Skipper said, leaning down to attempt to reach the one of the knives he kept in his boots.

“I just want to talk.”

“Yeah? Well, you got 4 minutes.”

“I think you have some things you want to talk about as well.”

“Buddy, that’s between me, myself, and I. You’re not my therapist, and I wouldn’t talk to you if you were.” Skipper’s speech was soon cut off, as he grabbed the knife from his boot with his teeth, sat up once more, turned his head, and dropped the knife into one of the hands that were tied behind his back. Hans looked rather unimpressed as he sipped his tea.

“You do know that I was going to let you go after this whole ordeal, right?”

“3 minutes.”

“I think you need someone to talk to outside of your task force.”

“I have Marlene. And Kitka.”

Skipper began to carve away at his ropes. Although it was a sharp blade, these were still the strong ropes that Hans would use back in the day. It would take him more time than he let on to carve completely through them, and Hans knew that.

“You need someone who lives the same life that you do, that does not live the same life you do.” Hans made the motion to pour Skipper a glass of tea, despite the fact that he couldn’t reach his cup. It was just something to do. Something to ease his nerves, and Skipper knew that.

“I’m not saying this has to be me.”

Skipper stopped his carving.

“I know you don’t confide in your task force, or in those outside of it. You have a lot of stress in your field of work, Skipper. It’s not good for you.”

“You’re not my doctor, it’s never been a problem before, and who are you to care about any aspect of my well-being at all?”

“You’re repressed, paranoid, sleep-deprived, in love with Private, and are clearly coping with some kind of guilt complex.” Hans stated, brushing some hair out of his eyes.

“You’re right. I don’t care about your well-being all that much. I wouldn’t even say at all. But, you’re my enemy, and that’s what I’m supposed to do. Not care.”

He let out this large sigh, which hid the fact that at the mere mention of emotions that Skipper began carving at his ropes once more.

“But I do. What is Denmark if not a sign of that? You may have bigger bads with bigger ray guns and larger influence, but I do still believe we have something far more special. And I want that to mean something.”

“All I’m saying is that you deserve someone in your corner for once. If I can read all these things from only a few visits in these past few years, imagine what someone far more malicious could do with these things.”

“God, you got all that from “reading” me? More like you went to couple’s counseling.” Skipper snarked, but Hans heard the Freudian slip that came from “couple’s” counseling, instead of any other. He chose to ignore it in that moment. “I don’t need anyone else in my corner. I’ve got enough people to dry my eyes when I scrape my knee, thank you very much. I’ll deal with it on my own when it becomes an issue. There’s no reason to now.”

“When it becomes an issue?” Hans practically screamed before he began chuckling to himself. “Skipper, honey. You haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in two weeks, you tried to attack the mailman but opened a letter filled with anthrax, and if Private so much as smiles at you you go into crisis. You’re dealing with everything now, but you’re not doing anything about it.”

“Yeah, uh, how did you know any of those things?”

“Don’t worry about it. There’s a point to all of this.”

“Which is?”

“I want you to talk to me. Talk to somebody. Anybody, about any of this. Sure, it may be your problem now when Private sends you into a state of cardiac arrest, but as soon as anybody else figures that out, it’ll be everybody’s problem.”

Skipper felt his cheeks growing hot. “You seem to be fixating on something.”

“Maybe so.” Hans shrugged, before taking another sip of his tea and rising from the table. He walked away from where the tea party was held to look out the window at the NYC skyline, as the sun began to rise. “I suppose we’ll always have Denmark.”

Skipper wanted to snark more, but this whole meeting put him on edge. This wasn’t the sickly sweet tea party where Hans would talk of friendish things in order to woo him back to how things used to be, nor was it the torture basement Skipper had almost been suspecting before he knew it was Hans. This was almost genuinely friendly, almost earnest. Not only was this strange to have to hear from someone who Skipper considered an enemy, but from anybody at all.

Kowalski may place a firm hand on his shoulder, or Private would say something reassuring and adorable, and Rico would always be the more unstable of the two of them, making him look well-adjusted by comparison, but nobody really tried confronting these issues that Skipper had. Maybe because they knew he’d turn it back on them, and having to cope with their rejection-related dysphorias or low self-esteem or other instabilities that dwelled within them was just too much.

But, Skipper was their leader. It wasn’t really talked about, but it was undeniable. He shouldn’t be having these interventions, much less asking for them. He held himself to a certain standard. Possibly an unreachable one, sure, but, that’s what everyone said about Everest.

“You have a lot of enemies, Skipper. And the enemy of my enemy is a friend of mine. A lot of them are willing to pay top billing for information on your weaknesses. Things I’ve found out so easily, things I know just by looking at you.”

Hans turned to face Skipper. “But, if you confide in me, I’d be willing to give out some false leads to send them chasing after their own tails.”

“Sure, so I’m just supposed to tell you every insecurity and expect you to not use it against me? Who in the world expects that?”

“Therapists do.” Hans shrugged. “Under the Hippocratic Oath, nothing you tell me could be shared with another living soul without me risking losing my license, and frankly, I think I’ve taken to therapy. I have an office and everything. I quite enjoy it, personally.”

“Alright, but what do you get out of it?” Skipper asked, ever so certain he’s gotten him up a tree.

“I’ll get to see you more often.” Hans smiled. “I can’t guarantee that I wouldn’t use what I’ve learned from these conversations in my own plots, but I’ve found that it’s an art of give and take. You’ll have a knife to my throat, I’ll have a knife to yours.”

“You’re really trying hard to make therapy appeal to me, huh.” Skipper processed. This whole meeting felt so circular to him.

“Of course. I did mention I worried about your well-being.” Hans said, as he walked behind Skipper’s chair to unite his ropes, mere minutes before Skipper’s incessant sawing would have finally snapped his ropes free.

“And I thought you said that enemies didn’t care about each other’s well-beings.”

“An enemy, an enemy, a frenemy of mine.” Hans smiled, in a sad sort of way. Not that it made Skipper feel anything, really. He did feel hungry. He wondered if Rico was putting bacon on the stove by now.

“At least think about it. It’s not very fun for me to play these games when I’m so aware of how easily I could break you.”

Skipper scowled at that, in a resentful sort of way.

“And I’m sure to wouldn’t be fun for you either if I fell apart on you either. There’s a delicate balance to these things, these games we all play, but they need maintenance.”

Skipper was finally freed from his bindings, and took a moment to soothe his wrists, which had been rubbed raw from all the sawing he had been doing to get out of this conversation.

“We should do this again some time.” Hans stuck his hand out for a handshake, eagerly. Skipper eyed it wearily.

“I’m sure we will.”

(I’m going to be real here, this was more supposed to be Hans confronting Skipper on his feelings for Private, because I love writing pining and I love writing this dynamic and whatever, but it clearly got away from me??? My bad. Hope you guys enjoyed anyhow!)

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

this is (another) interview

"So... the ghost you mentioned last time," she begins the week after, hesitantly.

"This again," Lewis replies, already weary and a touch annoyed. "Why are you so invested in this? I already told you everything. He's dangerous, he's a liar, he'll fry you alive without a second thought. There's nothing more to say."

You're a liar too, she thinks, but refrains from saying. "Right, right. So how do you know?"

"I told you. Experience."

"What kind?" Her hand hovers over her notebook. "Did you used to know him? Or- did you try to help him once? Did he-"

He sets his fork down, closing his eyes. "Vivi, please. I'd... rather not talk about this now." His voice is still mostly calm, but the torches behind him are flickering a warning.

For once, her common sense wins out over her curiosity. That and she can read the tension in his skull, betraying something more than simple irritation. "Fine. Consider it dropped." For now. "So about that library you mentioned..."

The conversation resumes its normal easy pace, whatever mood had come over Lewis dissolving quickly. Vivi almost forgets about the story she's after, too, caught up in the now excited back-and-forth about books.

Only almost, though.

This is turning into a longer project than she had anticipated, but Vivi can’t say she’s upset about that.

Both her new ghosts are oddities, not quite fitting into any of the classifications she'd constructed. They have the power of wraiths, but none of the instability that normally comes with that. It's the first time she'd ever seen anyone that could use their magic for more than destruction.

Lewis’s mastery over his fire is incredible, a sight to behold even for her – she can't remember ever meeting a ghost this skilled with their innate powers. More than just a weapon, more than just a tool, it seems a part of him. He uses it for everything from cooking to cleaning, to light his way, to heal – she still feels a thrill of excitement when she thinks about the time she’d cut her hand and had gotten to watch, fascinated, as the site of the cut was swarmed in fire and healed completely by the time it was gone.

Arthur’s lightning might not be so versatile, but – and maybe it's just the way his home was constructed – it seems to bring life to the very world around him, animating objects to rearrange or put away or bring out without even having to get up. The whole home pulses with a sort of mechanical unlife, and Vivi just knows that if she was allowed, she'd have a field day exploring and cataloging everything he's made.

---

“Why fire, d’ya think?” she asks once, sitting at the kitchen table and watching Lewis cook.

He pauses for a moment. “I’m not sure. I suppose… it’s just useful, isn’t it? Fire is important to everyone.”

“Sure, but so’s lots of things. Like water, electricity…” she draws out the last word in a fake-casual voice.

If he notes her choice of examples, he doesn’t comment on it. “Well, maybe it is more than just useful. Fire is… familiar. I already knew how to use it, so it... came naturally.”

She nods along. It’s common for a ghost’s structure to take on traits of things they like, or to reflect their personality.

“When I woke up,” he says, more quickly now, and she knows he means when I died, “I needed… to protect myself. Fire was the first thing I could think of that could… help me.” Save me, are the words that go unsaid.

“Oh.” Curious as she is, she knows better than to press a spirit about the events of their death. And she can tell Lewis is getting uncomfortable, even if he offered the information himself. “So what else can you do with it?”

He looks up again, and some animation comes back into him as he starts talking about the mansion.

---

"So... why lightning?"

Arthur glances up at her with a frown and a "huh?"

"For your magic, I mean." She waves her hands at him, mostly gesturing at his tail. "You're all electric and stuff, I was just wondering... why? How come that's the element you gravitated towards?"

"Wasn't like it- it was a decision. J-just... woke up an- and I was," he waves a hand, "like this. All electric and shit or wh-whatever you s-said."

"Huh. Weird." She leans further over, propping her elbows up on the table, and continues talking mostly musing to herself. "Maybe it's a personality thing...?"

"I d-don't think that's it," he's quick to say.

"Did you work with anything electric when you were alive? It could be because it's familiar, maybe?"

After a moment with no response, she looks back up to notice he's giving her a look, and she realizes she's crossed one of the lines. In all honesty, she should have expected that one, plenty of ghosts were reclusive about their old life and with how Arthur was in general...

"Uh, yeah, forget it," she says, trying to communicate a sense of you don't have to talk if you don't want to. "So, how are the cookies? They're lemon, I dunno if you like fruity stuff, never had that before."

The glare leaves his eyes and he relaxes, floating back down into his seat. "Th-they're good, yeah."

---

She wonders if Arthur had deliberately constructed his house into a maze, or if it had just turned out that way, but what she had seen of it twisted and turned deeper and deeper into the hill with no end in sight. Every room she'd been in seemed jammed with what looked, to her, like meaningless trinkets and weird contraptions, and only some of them seemed to serve any purpose beyond storage. There was the living room she'd been invited into, and a bedroom she'd only caught a glimpse of once. Did he ever even use it?

Lewis's mansion seemed put together with much more care – or maybe he was just more naturally organized, that sounded equally likely. It was constructed like an actual house, at least, with some order to what went in each of the three wings. Bedrooms, the kitchen, lounges and libraries and those sorts of things were all kept in their own defined places. It made her wonder, though, why he'd gone to all this trouble. It wasn't like he needed all this space for anything. Maybe it just helped with not feeling claustrophobic.

She’s starting to get a sense, too, for what kind of people they are – and what they'd been before they died.

Lewis is always fussing over her, obviously concerned about her career choice of "professional ghost meet-and-greeter," something he openly thinks is dangerous no matter how many times she points out that he is one of the aforementioned ghosts. He also has an obvious fondness for stories, and though he'll try to keep up his proper, almost regal demeanor, she can still easily see how he lights up like a child at the offering of a new one for his collection. She's started bringing him books as often as she can, and finds herself with a renewed gratefulness for her connections at the Tome Tomb. His favorites are adventures and romances, she's deduced through trial and error, though he's very picky about the latter – he'd actually given a few of them back to her, something he'd never done with any of the others.

He loves to cook, too, and is good at it, with a level of skill that makes her suspicious that he'd been a chef at some point in his life. He doesn't seem nearly so interested in eating what he made, though, and while he'd sit and eat with her while they talked, Vivi would usually be sent off with a box of whatever was left.

Arthur, almost the polar opposite of Lewis's friendly demeanor, is reclusive and almost defensive, rarely offering any information she doesn't ask for. He still won't let her in if she doesn't have any food with her, and even then it had taken a while to convince him that no, she was just coming back for a chat, no nasty surprises here now please open the door. She wonders if maybe he still thinks she's a ghost hunter of some sort. It would explain the open suspicion and how quick he was to kick her out again. It almost wouldn't be worth the trouble, and honestly if this was just a random ghost she probably would've taken the hint by now (or, more accurately the constant barrage of demands) and left him alone. As it stands, though, he's one half of the most fascinating mystery she's gotten her hands on in a while, and like hell is she going to give up because of a little persistent roadblock.

So she’s gotten into sort of a routine. She’ll meet up with Lewis once a week, more or less, if she doesn't find something that she just had to show him right then. He'd give her some food for the road, and she'd turn around and march right down the hill and across the valley and hand it to Arthur. Lewis... probably wouldn't be too happy if he knew what she was doing with the food he gave her, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right?

She's slowly adding more and more information to her collection, and gaining both ghost's trust in the process, but she still has to tiptoe around the topic of the other one with both of them. Any mention of Arthur was sure to send Lewis into a rare bad mood, with a flare of poorly-concealed anger and something else that he still refused to explain, but that was pretty much the end of whatever conversation they were having. His responses become snappy, and while she certainly isn't afraid of him, she still doesn't want to press him on what was obviously a touchy subject. On the flipside, Arthur almost completely shuts down when she mentions the ghost up the hill. Despite his irritated response the first time she brought him up, like Lewis's own response, it wasn't just anger there. She wasn't good enough at reading people to parse what else it was in either of them, though.

But she was getting better and better at asking roundabout questions, at getting both of them to say more than they meant to. Eventually she'd have enough to put the story together. Or so she hoped, at least.

[yadds]

Tony Reappears, Pt 5 - Tony gains a new confidant in the form of one Peter Parker, Pepper tries to understand.

Part 1 - what would happen if Tony appeared out of nowhere to be found by Peter, who’s still haunted by Beck’s reality bending? Part 2 - Tony is in bad shape and Peter helps, Strange snarks, and Pepper gives him the kick in the pants he needs. Part 3 - Tony has come back with more than he bargained for. Part 4: Tony is Iron Man. Plus, Tony gets to go home.

____________________________________________________________________

It was a Wednesday night and Tony was trying desperately to find a distraction. 

He’d hit a block in his control design and was spiraling, down, down into the depths of his bitterness and guilt. He couldn’t focus on anything, head jerking up periodically as he drifted in and out of consciousness while sitting at his work table. He also couldn’t stand the thought of actually trying to sleep in this mindset. 

He flung his schematic holos away, growling in frustration as he dropped his head into his hands. His eyes cut to the side to check the time. 12:15 AM. Too late to call and pester reasonable people. He sighed. 

But wait. Maybe not too late for a college student. 

“Fri, call-“ he cut himself off. No. What if Peter has a big exam in the morning and had just gotten to sleep? Or what if he was out actually enjoying his life? It’s not like he was just sitting around his dorm waiting for Tony to call. 

“Who would you like me to call, boss?” Friday asked. 

“Never mind, sweetheart. I just saw the time,” he fibbed, ”I don’t think anyone is up for a call from me right now.”

“Peter is currently taking a break from patrolling,” Friday dutifully reported. Talk about an intuitive AI. 

Tony arched a brow. “Is he now? And how do you know that?”

“Karen told me,” she replied. Right, they were basically connected at the metaphorical hip now. 

He mulled this information over for a minute before he bit the bullet. “Okay, old girl. Call him up,” he called, leaning back in his chair and steepling his hands over his chest. 

He was weirdly nervous as he listened to the phone ring. 

His heart was racing by the time Peter answered with a breathless, “Hello?”

Tony’s mouth opened but nothing came out, suddenly speechless. What was he even supposed to say? I was feeling mopey so I called someone half my age to cheer me up? What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter questioned as the silence drug on. “Shit, did I hang up on you? Damn it, Karen, I thought we’d fixed that! Ughhhhh why am I this way? Well we’d better call him back before-”

Tony chuckled, nerves evaporating as his chest filled with amused affection. “No need, kid, I’m here.”

“Oh, great! Except for the fact that you definitely just heard me rambling like an idiot. Am I talking fast? I feel like I’m talking really fast.”

“Definitely fast. You good? I thought you were patrolling - you’re not doing that high are you? Don’t make me lecture you about stupid choices,” he warned teasingly. 

“No, of course not! I’ve just been slinging around a lot, which gets my blood pumping and gets me kinda hyped up, you know?” 

Tony nodded. “Ah, to be young and enjoy life just for the hell of it,” he said sagely. 

“Don’t you get that feeling too? I mean, come on, you can fly!” Peter asked, huffing as Tony heard him sit down heavily. 

“I guess I used to,” Tony said thoughtfully. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done it just for kicks, though.”

“Well you should!” Peter insisted. 

Tony was quiet for a moment as he thought about it, remembering the thrill of flight the first time in his Mark II. But the idea of getting back in the suit made his chest sieze. He drew in a sharp breath before gathering himself enough to respond quietly, “I don’t know if I can.”

Peter hummed. “Yeah, I get that,” he said softly. “It took me a while, too. I always had flashbacks of...well, you know. And panic attacks. But it got better,” he offered. 

Tony felt that knot in his chest loosen just slightly. It didn’t make it all better, but it did help, knowing someone else understood what he was going through and could validate it. He appreciated how Peter was so casual about it - he obviously took it seriously but it was also something totally normal and okay. But he’d known for years that Peter is much stronger than he is, and not just physically. 

“Maybe,” Tony replied hesitantly, not quite as optimistic about his own mental health improvement capability. He’d been in some pretty tough spots before and come back, but this was the first time he’d died.  But so had Peter and half the rest of the world, so apparently that wasn’t even particularly noteworthy.

“So, anything exciting tonight, Spiderling?” Tony asked.

Peter graciously allowed the subject change, rambling happily about stopping a mugger, walking a girl to her car who was leaving work late, playing catch with a couple kids in the park.  It was amazingly relaxing, listening to Peter recounting his night, voice animated in a way that indicated wild gesticulation on the other end of the line.

It made his throat a little thick, remembering how fucking wholesome this kid was.  This was the first time he’d gotten to hear this again since...before Titan, almost ten years ago.  He was suddenly grateful to himself for making it possible to reverse the snap, in a way he hadn’t been able to truly appreciate until this very moment.  

He realized Peter had paused, the quiet stretching before he questioned softly, “Mr. Stark?  You okay?”

Tony cleared his throat.  “Yeah, ‘course.  Keep telling me about the- the, uh, search for the best slice of pizza in Manhattan; I’m dying to know, here.”

After another hesitation, Peter continued, detailing all the places he’d visited in the past few weeks. 

Tony leaned back, closed his eyes, and smiled. 

.

A week later found Tony standing in front of one of his suits that had made it back to the lab, kept all this time, he assumed, for sentimental reasons. 

He reached out but recoiled before he could make contact, breath catching. 

Shaking his head to clear it, he turned quickly and went back to his work table. 

.

They had a schedule now. Tony spent the weekends at the cabin with the girls and occasionally picked up Morgan in the evenings after school for a few hours. 

He’d finished his control protocols (now named FEMA because he was his own natural disaster), which used subdermal chips to monitor his vitals and would deploy nanites from the wristbands he now wore to restrain him in the instance of nighttime adrenaline spikes - an unfortunately common occurrence, as he was plagued by nightmares. The restraints didn’t particularly help with the nightmare situation, but they were a necessity. 

He’d start out in bed with Pepper, but when she fell asleep, he felt the panic settle gradually over him until his chest felt concave with the pressure of it, breath coming shorter and shorter. So he’d roll out of bed and go down to the crude lab he had out there, usually tinkering with cars and blasting music loud enough that he’d hopefully drown out that inner voice whispering soft, hateful self-incriminations.

He’d quickly discovered that alcohol no longer had any effect on him. He also discovered, in a fit of desperation, that neither did drugs. So his faithful old friends had deserted him when he needed them the most. 

So he was trying so-called “healthy coping mechanisms” now, like hard work and spending time with loved ones. Which was great, but Tony’s issues were gargantuan and he was an addict at heart; he craved any release like a starving man craved food (which he was actually quite familiar with, so he knew it was apt). He knew this, knew he came on way too strong, too needy, and was just...too much. In his attempts to not smother his people, he found himself becoming withdrawn and distant, tormented by the certainty that he’d drive them away with his clingy dependence. 

Tony was terrified Pepper would remember just how inadequate he’d always been, how much his love for her, his money, his intelligence never overcame his inability to give her what she needed.  He knew she still talked to Tom, and he’d never ask her to completely cut him out of her life, but it didn’t help his insecurities.  He would see Pepper’s jaw clench or her eyes dart away and he’d find a way to quickly shut up and make himself scarce.

Happy would check his watch and Tony would suddenly recall an important task running in the lab he needed to check on. 

Morgan, his sweet angel, would gladly hang off him until the end of time, but he knew she needed to get back to having a normal life. Well, as normal as life gets when you have a family of billionaires and superheroes. 

And he also didn’t want her to see behind the curtain, to see what a weak man her father really was. 

Rhodey came by when he could, but he was kept busy with his duties in DC and a new wife. Tony had done enough to damage Rhodey’s career and relationships in the past. He didn’t need to add his newest level of instability onto his friend like that. 

And Peter. He never seemed annoyed by Tony’s random check-ins but also didn’t have a problem telling him when he was busy, which actually did more to allay Tony’s worries about being a nuisance than anything. Tony never found any indications from Peter that he should pull back. But he did anyway. Because, well, Peter was a goddamn blessing to the world. And if Tony could, he’d bottle him up and keep him all for himself. 

So, anyway, “healthy” was...probably still not an accurate term for his coping mechanisms, shoddy as they were. But at least he wasn’t poisoning his body into an early grave. Again. Ha-fucking-ha. 

.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter questioned one night. 

“Yeah, kid?” Tony replied easily, distracted by the circuit board he was soldering while they talked. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. 

Tony’s brows snapped down and he automatically looked up at the screen in front of him despite the fact that this was an audio call, which was frustrating since he’d really like to see Peter’s face to see if he could tell what had brought on this madness. 

“What?” He wracked his brain, trying to figure out what the hell he’d done now that made Peter feel like he’d done something wrong. He hissed as the soldering iron pressed heavily into his finger. He finally set the tool down and looked down to see the circuit board he’d been working on was ruined now. Not surprising. 

“What?” he said again. “Of course not. I mean not as far as I know. What the hell are you talking about?”

Peter’s heavy sigh echoed through the lab. “I dunno, just thought maybe I’d pissed you off or done something to annoy you,” he said, too casually.  Tony could perfectly imagine the shrug and eye aversion that would go with that statement.

“What?” Tony intoned again.  He knew he sounded like a broken record but seriously, what?  “Not at all, kid.  I mean, not more than normal.  Which was a joke, sorry, I can’t help myself.  In all seriousness though, I’m not upset at you.  Why would you even think that?”

“Okay, sorry, it’s nothing.  Anyway-” Peter said quickly, trying to change the subject.

“No, no, no,” Tony interrupted.  “Nuh uh.  Circle back around here.  I’m not letting this one go.  I need to know what I’m doing that’s making you feel like that so that I can fix it.”

“No!  You’re not doing anything wrong, Mr. Stark,” Peter insisted.

“Well, obviously I am.  Just tell me what’s going on, kid,” Tony coaxed.

After a brief hesitation, Peter took a deep breath before responding.  “You’ve just been kind of...distant, I guess.  I felt like we’d been getting along so well when I was visiting and we were talking on the phone more and it was like we were...friends, you know?  And it just seemed like lately you haven’t been as engaged and you’ve been calling less.  But I know you’re super busy and you’ve got a lot going on and more important people to hang out with, so I’m sorry, I’m just being overly sensitive.”

Tony’s elbows fell down onto the table in front of him, hands cradling his head.  Of fucking course.  His idea to help spare the kid had just ended up hurting him.  And how was he supposed to explain this without sounding as fucked up as he actually was?

“Mr. Stark?” Peter pressed softly.

“Yeah kid, still here.  Just...give me just a minute, okay?” he replied wearily.

Tony listened to Peter’s soft breaths, the rustling of the wind, the NYC traffic far in the background over the line.  

“Pete, I - fuck, I don’t know really know what to say,” he said, unable to come up with one of his usual lines.  “Just know that it is definitely not your fault.  I’m not tired of you or upset at you or any other bullshit you’re coming up with in that head of yours.  And I don’t know what ‘more important’ people you think I’m hanging out with, but that’s definitely not the case either.  I mean, hell, I think only maybe ten people are even aware I’m alive.  But regardless, even if I had every single person on the planet at my disposal, you would still be one of the most important people to me.  So don’t sell yourself so short.”

He heard Peter’s breath hitch slightly before he cleared his throat.  “Oh.  Well, okay.  And, uh, same.  Just so you know.”

Tony’s lips twitched in a tired smile.  Despite the awkwardness of it, he knew Peter was ridiculous sincere about it.  “And hey, you can always call me, too - stop making me do all the work.”

“Okay,” Peter said.  “I just don’t want to bother you.  Between trying to get your family back together and figure out your new body, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, so I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

“Never,” Tony replied immediately.  “Nah, kid, you’re not a nuisance.  I like hearing from you.  And honestly, you’re probably my best source for figuring out the physical craziness and I’m not utilizing you near enough for that.”

Peter hummed.  “Okay, well just promise to let me know if you’re busy or if I’m getting to be too much.”

“Same,” Tony responded, echoing Peter’s earlier statement.

As Peter huffed a laugh, Tony felt confident enough that had been handled as much as it needed to be and launched into an explanation of his current project.  

Thank God, because the moment of touchy-feely honesty was surely going to start making his skin crawl. 

.

It became a thing: Tony calling when he was stressed and couldn’t sleep, Peter calling frustrated about classes, and everything in between.  Peter realized that Tony was basically under house arrest so he’d send him pictures of random things he saw on the street - a cute dog, a weird sign, his lunch for the day, a crazy outfit someone was wearing.

More and more often, Pepper would come downstairs looking for Tony when he left their bed on the weekends to find him lounging in the lab, laughing as he talked to Peter in the middle of the night.

At first, he’d see her come in and nod and she’d smile back, relieved to see him happy and connecting with someone else.

Tonight, she was not smiling.  Tony noticed her jaw clenched and eyes shuttered when he glanced at her and he frowned.

“Hey, Pete, I’m gonna have to cut this short, okay?  We’ll talk later,” Tony cut in.

“Oh,” Peter said dumbly.  “Uh, yeah, sure, no problem.  Good night Mr. Stark!”

“Night, kid,” Tony replied before promptly hanging up.

“What’s wrong, Pep?” Tony asked, turning and giving her his full attention.  

She stood in front of him, arms crossed and fingers tapping agitatedly on her opposite elbow as she battled with whether to say what she really wanted.  Tony was quiet as he waited for her to decide.

“I’m trying to be understanding, Tony,” Pepper finally said.  “I am.  But are you ever going to be able to sleep in the same bed as me or is this going to be how it is for the rest of our lives?”

“Honestly?  I have no idea.  As long as I feel like you or Morgan are in danger then the answer is no.”

“Isn’t that what the FEMA protocol is for?” she asked.

“Yes, but it’s one thing to have it work in a test situation and another thing completely to trust it with your life.  And I don’t.  Do you think I don’t want to be able to sleep next to you?” Tony said, frustrated.

“Some days I feel like I really don’t know.  You seem perfectly content to come down here and talk to Peter every night,” she said.

“Is that a problem?” Tony asked, brows furrowed.  “Me talking to Peter?”

“No.  Yes.  I don’t know,” Pepper said, sighing, hand coming up to cover her face.  “I just feel like you’re able to talk to him in a way we haven’t been able to manage and I’m...jealous,” she admitted.  “And yes, I know how incredibly childish and stupid this sounds.”

“Hey,” Tony said softly, standing up and coming to grab her by the elbows and pull her close.  “No, it’s not stupid at all.  I get it.  Mine and Peter’s relationship is easier than ours, and it’s not fair.  But it’s because we have a simpler relationship - we’re not trying to juggle a romantic relationship, a parenting relationship, and a potential working relationship in addition to our friendship.”

“But it’s not just that,” Pepper said, looking up at him.  “You talk to him in a way you don’t talk to me.  And I never see you laugh like that with me - it’s like you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Tony dropped his gaze, pulling back slightly.  “I guess I also don’t feel like I have as much to lose with Peter.”

“Because he doesn’t mean as much to you or because you think he’s a sure thing and I’m not?” Pepper asked bluntly.

He pulled back another step, sighing as he ran his hand through his hair.  “I wouldn’t say Peter necessarily means less to me. Of course he doesn’t mean more than you, he’s just important to me in a different way - like how you and Morgan and Happy are all important to me in different ways.”

“And?”

Tony didn’t want to answer the second part of that question.  But Pepper was staring expectently at him, no out in sight.  “What do you want me to say, Pepper?” he asked wearily.

“I want you to tell me why you always act like you’ve got one foot out the door.”

Tony grit his teeth before replying.  “Because I know I’m gonna fuck this up and I still don’t really know where I stand with you.  So instead of bumbling my way through it, it just seems...I don’t know, safer, I guess, to just be ready for it all to explode in my face so I’m prepared for the inevitable end.”

“You’re being a coward,” Pepper said harshly, eyes filmy and lower lip trembling.  

Tony recoiled, eyes hurt and wary, but didn’t deny it. “You’re right,” he admitted softly. “But can you honestly tell me that you’re not waiting for the same thing, Pep?”

She immediately started shaking her head. “No, of course I’m not! I…” but she trailed off. 

“I see it,” Tony cut in before she could gather herself.  “I see how you’re always waiting for me to disappoint, bracing yourself for how to deal with it and make this work. I’ve always admired your problem-solving abilities, honey, but this shouldn’t have to be something that you grit your teeth and push through just to get it done. I don’t want to be another chore.”

Pepper shut her eyes tight, brow scrunched in pain briefly before she opened them again. She sniffled quietly, a tear tracking slowly down her left cheek as the rest of her face remained stoic.

As the silence drew out, she sighed, shoulders slumping. “Maybe that’s true. And I’m sorry for making you feel that way.”

Tony shrugged in response, scuffing his foot across the floor. 

“But I still want to work on this, on us,” she said. 

“Me too, honey,” Tony murmured, stepping back into her space. 

Pepper smiled tremulously, reaching out and twining her fingers behind his neck. “So come to bed,” she coaxed. 

Tony stiffened, shaking his head. But as he opened his mouth, she put her finger to his lips, smile turning coy. “Beds aren’t just for sleeping, Tony.”

Eyes widening, Tony blinked helplessly for several seconds before gathering her in his arms and bolting for the main house, Pepper screeching in laughter on the way.

.

It was wonderful. 

The closeness, the intimacy, was everything he’d craved, miles of warm, smooth skin against his own. He trembled violently, overwhelmed, skin soaking up the contact it had been deprived of for so, so long.

It was beautiful. 

His hands glided over every inch of her, worshiping her body until she’d pulled him back up impatiently. He sank into her, warmth that permeated through him, down to his bones. 

It was earth-shattering. 

As she came apart beneath him and he reached his peak, he felt his blood surge, hands flying to the headboard to brace himself. Groaning deeply, his hips jolted forward and the headboard exploded in his grip. 

It was terrible. 

Chest heaving, he looked down and froze, seeing her wide eyes staring up at him, splintered shards of wood in her hair. He scrambled backwards, all that glorious warmth turned to ice in his veins. Despite her rushed assurances, he stumbled out of the room. 

It was never happening again.

____________________________________________________________________

So I ended up having to split up this update.  Because I seem to have a major problem with not having an ending that’s depressing.  

I’ve got a pretty good chunk of the next part written (look forward to Peter visiting Tony but everything still being frustratingly sweet and platonic, and a brief return mention of badass/scary!Peter) so hopefully the delay between updates will be shorter buuuuut no guarantees.  Kids, y’all, they are a major time and energy suck - but they’re worth it because I love them :)

taglist: @marvelobsessedrat, @dim-ships-johnlock, @starkerstories @t1of3 @consciencecoward @peachbabytarte

[lovelahela]

❛ it lives in the woods ❜ ─ chapter one.

⇢ pairing: noah marshall x f!mc (marisol reyes)

⇢ genre: horror

⇢ chapter: one

⇢ words: 2030

⇢ description: marisol, in denial, prepares herself for her last first day of school and discovers a mysterious clue in a pile of dirt next to her large, eerily empty home.

⇢ warning: this story will include disturbing scenes and strong language. viewer discretion is advised.

previous chapter ⇢ next chapter

        LIKE A MADWOMAN THRASHING AGAINST THE TIGHT GRIP OF POLICE OFFICERS, Marisol sat upright on her sinking mattress with astonishing speed. She hissed at the instability of her vision as her mind spun and short, but sharp pain shot through her head. Her focus darted from one aspect of her bedroom to another, frantically searching for any sign that Death was planning to knock on her door and drag her into the abyss with cold hands. Thankfully, all was quiet ⁠— the only sounds that graced her ears were her irregular breathing and the ambience of a peaceful morning among the looming trees that formed the famous Westchester woods.

        Marisol cupped her face with her hands and huffed out tiredly in memory of the nightmare that plagued her evening. She thought she had finally rid herself of the ghosts that haunted her every state of unconsciousness after the incident she tried so hard to let go of. What a messed up dream, thought Marisol, visibly upset.

        After rubbing the remainder of disturbed sleep from her darkened eyes, she threw the blankets off her barely-clothed body and hissed as the cold, early morning air bit at her exposed skin. She hurriedly adorned herself with an oversized hoodie that covered just enough of her to get her through her dazed morning. Despite all the questions lingering in the air and the overwhelming grip of uncertainty, there was one fact she was sure of ⁠— after the dream she suffered through the previous night, attending school was the last thing she desired.

        Marisol dragged her feet along the wooden floor to her bathroom with a sluggish gait. She winced at the coldness of the water that rushed down onto her cupped palms, but braved the cold and washed the exhaustion and sweat from her face. With the weight of her body supported by her arms clutching onto the sides of the sink dearly, Marisol took deep but shaky breaths to recover from the images of the frightening dream that involuntarily flashed through her mind. Just how the Hell am I supposed to face any of them today after that? She thought morbidly.

        Once the skin on her face absorbed the droplets of water, she opened her eyes and fixated her gaze on her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were sunken, complemented by the dark bags under them that screamed fatigue. Marisol bit her lower lip softly, contemplating the events that lead her to that pitiful state, and shook her head in denial. But when her vision narrowed in on the purple welts decorating her neck like summer petals on the surface of a lake, her heart dropped. Before she could hold it in, she gasped and instinctively reached to gingerly place her hands over the bruises, flinching when the very spot she touched shot pain across her neck.

        Her throat felt constricted, and her eyes began to ache. What were the odds that the events that unfolded in her mind the previous night were a reality? What were the odds that Dan really had been impersonated by a supernatural entity? How possible was it... that the imposter really did strangle her to death?

        But it was impossible. She was standing there and breathing, was she not? Her organs were functioning perfectly (as far as one could tell with the naked eye) and her heart was beating as it did in any other living human being. She groaned loudly and buried her face into the palms of her hands, overwhelmed by the feelings she despised more than any other ⁠— confusion, vulnerability... and fear. Cold, hard fear that she had been able to successfully steer clear from for a decade. History had a bad habit of repeating itself, did it not?

        Begrudgingly, Marisol stepped into the shower after stripping herself of the pajamas she had been wearing, dirtied by sweat and... specs of dirt? Weird. Everything from her bedroom, to her study, to her bathroom showcased her knack for organization and control, judging by the neatly ordered rows of shampoos, skin products, and all other toilet trinkets she owned stacked upon shelves and counters, not a single thing out of place. She reveled in the pressure of the hot water pouring down on her, dripping by her sides and aiding her mind in fading into dullness. Her contracted, tense muscles relaxed, courtesy of the steamy water that put her at ease.

        After drying herself with a fluffy towel, she walked over to her large closet with a newfound sense of purpose, or confidence ⁠— she couldn't tell. It was a dream. Another nightmare she'd later forget. Something that would soon become nothing but a bad memory at the back of her mind. She wore a white button-up hidden by a rose-pink sweater, a mid-thigh, black skirt over equally black but opaque tights, and heeled boots to make up for her small stature. She stood in front of her bathroom mirror and, after a much-needed deep breath, put a considerable amount of effort into applying make-up on her tired facial features. She figured, hey, it was the first day of her last year in Westchester High⁠ ⁠— might as well go all out! Maybe that would distract her from whatever darkness plagued her thoughts.

        Marisol suddenly remembered that she had a phone ⁠— a phone that, supposedly, had been dropped abruptly onto the floorboards in her room. She gulped, clearly nervous, and approached her bed with small, careful steps. Upon spotting her cellular device, lying on the exact spot it had been dropped before Dan (or whoever that was) attacked her, the colour visibly drained from her skin despite the layers of cosmetic products that had been applied to it. She picked it up with trembling hands and reluctantly pressed the power button.

        Nothing.

        Right. If her phone had been on all night, it would obviously be drained of its battery. Marisol cursed under her breath, shoulders relaxing momentarily. She carefully placed it inside her bag after making a mental note to recharge its battery upon arriving at her school. She placed her rectangular glasses on the bridge of her nose, grabbed a round, shiny apple from the overflowing fruit basket and walked out the front door of her house with her head held high as she attempted to muster up all the confidence that had abandoned her. She narrowed her eyes slightly until they adjusted to the brightness of the breezy, early morning. Once a particular flannel-wearing, bearded man came into her line of sight from the yard next door, a wide smile unconsciously stretched her lips, coated in a nude-coloured lip-gloss. She waved enthusiastically as she approached him, to which he beamed and waved back.

        "Morning, neighbour!" His voice was warm and kind, putting her fretting soul at ease after such a hectic night. Marisol took notice of the leash in his hands, unaccompanied by the jovial Border Collie that was always by his side. She quirked an eyebrow.

        "Morning, Cid, uh — miss a dog by any chance?" joked Marisol, flicking her head towards the leash. Cid laughed, brushing his long, dirty-blonde hair out of his face and rolling up the sleeves of his flannel.

        "We just came back from a walk — "

        Suddenly, a mass of black and white fur crashed into her, barking loudly. She yelped unintentionally and cringed when her voice echoed throughout the area and drew another laugh from her neighbour. Her legs wobbled while she attempted to regain balance after the surprising attack, a panting dog now in her arms. A playful glare overtook her facial features, and she placed her free hand on her hip.

        "What made you think it was okay to scare me like that?" demanded Marisol. She must have put on a convincing act, because Hilda's tail and ears sunk as she frowned and looked up at her captor with the saddest puppy eyes she had ever seen. Cid chuckled at her naivety, and Marisol let out the most exaggerated awww ever before she began scratching the friendly dog's belly. "I'm joking, you big baby."

        "Your parents around?" questioned Cid, looking around her yard. "I didn't see em out and about this morning."

        Her grinning lips twitched inconspicuously as her mood faltered at the slightest at his question. The pace at which she scratched Hilda's furry belly slowed. "They're overseas on another business trip. They should be home in a few weeks."

        He frowned, noticing the shift in her mood no matter how little it was. "You okay with that? That's a long time for a kid to be home by themselves, 'specially in a big house like that."

        She laughed bitterly. "I can take care of myself, I'm used to it by now." Wanting to change the subject and lift the darkness off of their conversation, she joked: "I've gotten pretty good at cooking now! I've only set off the fire alarm, like... three times this week."

        "Oh, shut it, we all know you're a great cook." Cid grinned, referring to all the times she would invite him over for dinner or send him baked sweets as Christmas gifts. She frequently gifted him with baked goods and mouth-watering dishes as a compensation for him practically acting as a father figure in the absence of her own.

        He suddenly cocked his head to the side, rugged face contorted with puzzlement, and took a few steps toward her house before crouching down beside a small pile of loose dirt. She furrowed her brows, confused by his sudden change of demeanor. "Huh, wonder what this is," he had whispered more to himself than to her. He picked something up from the pile and held it up, waiting for it to be bathed in sunlight before inspecting it curiously. It was a pitch black stone with a peculiar rune carved right in the middle of it. He turned to face the frowning teenager standing beside him. "This yours?"

        Marisol took out a handkerchief from her backpack and wrapped it around the stone, carefully examining it. A nagging feeling scratched at the back of her mind, warning her that its origins were plagued by darkness. She wiped the dirt away from it and ran her thumb across the deep crack that ran through the center of the engraved rune. It was surprisingly heavy  in her hands. She mumbled to herself: "I wonder what could have broken it this way. Weird..." She froze as a familiar, putrid scent wafted into her nose: cold earth and the metallic hint of blood. "It smells just like that thing that — "

        She cut herself off mid-sentence, glancing nervously at Cid from the corner of her eyes. She cursed at her rambling tongue mentally. Cid turned to face her fully, eyeing her suspiciously, and with... concern? "Smells like what?"

        "Weird." It wasn't a complete lie. "It just kinda smells weird."

        He stared at her for a moment, contemplating whether to trust her or not, and ultimately decided to nod and drop the topic. "Well, I'll let you get to school. You just let me know if you need anything, alright? My door's always open."

        Warmth spread throughout her tense body at his words. She was touched by his concern for her, the type of concern she longed to see from her absent parents. A genuine smile spread across her face. "Will do, Cid. Thanks a lot."

        After he and Hilda retreated into their home, Marisol eyed the stone in her hands warily. If what happened last night was real, this could be a clue, she thought rather skeptically. She wrapped it fully with the dirtied handkerchief and placed it carefully into her bag, away from everything else to avoid staining them with hints of dirt.

        And with that, Marisol set out on the long, asphalt road that ran along the edge of the overwhelming woods, thoughts plagued with the rune stone, the bloodthirsty monster's tightening grip around her throat, the looming shadow of the ghost that haunted her past, and the seven people she lost all those years ago.

[eldritchsurveys]

930.

What may I call you? >> Mordred is fine.

Where are you right now, exactly? >> My bedroom.

Over or under 18? >> I’m over 18.

Have you been watching the Stanley Cup play-offs? (GO BRUINS!) >> No.

Ever believed your house was/is haunted? If yes, why; what happens? >> I lived in a studio in 2009 (my only time living alone) that I suspected had something hanging around. I was the first occupant, though (new building), so it couldn’t have been from a former resident, and I have no idea how else it could have accrued a haunting. Unless the site itself was haunted, I guess. I have no idea what kind of land the building was built on.

The building you live inside; how long ago was it built? >> According to the google search I just did, it was built in 1987, which makes me the same age as the building I live in.

Ever travel internationally? >> No.

If you could go anywhere RIGHT NOW, where would it be? And why? >> I don’t want to go anywhere right now.

Do you fancy someone currently? Tell me about them! >> No.

Ever have a big ol' crush on someone you've never met in person? If so, did you ever tell them you did? >> I’ve been attracted to people I knew online, yes. And yes, I’ve told most of them.

What makes you feel luxurious? >> I’m not sure. I don’t know when I last felt that exact way.

Do you enjoy drinking scotch as much as I do? >> Probably not.

What have you done that makes you proud of yourself? >> Well, I kept playing FFXIV instead of quitting forever in shame and telling myself I’ll never be any good at it. Believe it or not, that’s a milestone.

What makes you envy someone? >> Usually I envy people who seem to have had very little instability or suffering in their lives, because their brains work.

For you, is jealousy something that makes you more sad or angry-feeling? >> If you still mean envy, then it can be either one. I don’t experience jealousy as in relationship jealousy.

Do you get the munchies? >> I don’t smoke, so...

Every been to Germany? If so, what part? >> No.

Do you buy newspapers just for the puzzles? >> No, I have an app for newspaper crosswords.

Describe any tattoos or piercings you may have...? >> I don’t want to, I feel like I’ve described them a million times.

When's the last time you smacked someone's butt? (Or been smacked :P) >> That’s not a thing I do or encourage having done to me.

Do you enjoy making art? If so, what's your style like? >> I don’t make art.

Were you a shy child? >> I don’t know. I was mostly a distant child, I think.

Ever wanna run away with the circus? >> No.

What is the closest object to your feet right now? >> My weighted blanket, which is folded over the second half of the bed because it’s too hot to use.

Reach behind you- do you feel anything? What is it? >> The wall.

Is English your second language? >> No.

Have you ever designed and constructed your own clothing? >> I’ve altered clothing, but not designed and constructed from scratch.

What's the very last digit in your phone number? >> 3.

Is your house an odd or even number? >> This building is even-numbered.

Do you have a favorite superhero? Who? >> I like Iron Man and Doctor Strange. Also, does Promethea count?

What power would you like to receive, if given the option? >> I don’t know. The power of brain that work good.

Ever punch someone in the nose? >> No.

...will you write me a haiku? >> No.

What was the last thing that really delighted you? >> Probably a scene in FFXIV. For example, I did a lot of moogle sidequests today and moogles are fucking adorable.

Do you wear skin-colored clothes? >:C >> I don’t have any brown clothing, no.

Ever eat German cuisine? If so, what'd ya have? >> Yeah, I ate at Bavarian Inn on one of our yearly trips to Frankenmuth (which is a kind of... German-inspired tourist town or something -- we go there every fall for the giant world-famous Christmas store that’s also there). I don’t remember what I ordered, though. German cuisine, while hearty, isn’t dramatic or varied enough for me, though.

Do you have conversations with any animals? >> Well, yeah.

Do you have a little sibling? If so, are you protective of her/him? >> No.

Recommend me a good book? >> I don’t know you and I cannot recommend you a book.

Can you sleep on your back? (I can't, I feel too vulnerable!) >> I can, but I usually end up on my side eventually.

What's the last special thing you did for someone? (Buy, cook, etc.) >> I don’t know.

Did you cook something today? If so, what was it? >> No.

Ever baked ALL day? >> No.

Can you recognize the smell of death? >> A dead person? I mean, I could probably figure out what I’m smelling if I suddenly caught a whiff of a corpse. It seems pretty... singular.

Ever known a mortician or a coroner?? (Now you do!) >> Oh, that’s neat. Mortuary science is so fucking cool. Unfortunately, I don’t actually know you, so I still don’t know any morticians or coroners. :(

What makes you feel good about yourself? >> That’s a good question. I’m working on that.

Could you ever be some type of counselor for kids/teens? >> No.

Do you enjoy getting dressed up for no real reason? >> I imagine that could be fun. I don’t think it’d ever occur to me to do it, though.

What are you afraid of? >> Stuff.

Ever been to a maximum security prison? You, or just visiting? >> No.

Do you think mint toothpaste is too minty? >> I don’t.

How is a raven like a writing desk? >> Heh.

Are you currently eating or drinking something? If so, what? >> Aside from the occasional sip of water, no.

Do you own striped socks? What colors are your favorite ones? >> No.

Black Metal ist Krieg. Agree or Disagree? >> Eh. I mean, I listen to black metal, but I’m not going to make a big deal out of it.

Are there any numbers that have significance to you? >> Yes, 9 and 19.

Do you know how to read palms or tarot or anything else like that? >> I’m passable at reading tarot. For myself, that is.

Do you own any bones or other preserved organic ..things? >> Unfortunately not. Accepting all bone donations.

What do you think about internet piracy? >> I support the mateys.

Do you know anything about Nordic runes? >> I wouldn’t say I know anything about futhark, exactly. The fact that I have Mannaz tattooed on my hand notwithstanding.

How do you feel about children? >> I don’t have a particular feeling about children. It’s all dependent.

Whatcha looking forward to right now? >> Nothing.

How do you feel about clowns? >> I’m indifferent to clowns.

Are any of your friends clown by profession? >> No.

Do you put grated cheese on popcorn? (Yum!) >> I don’t eat popcorn.

Do you thing anyone ever actually gets in trouble for having milkcrates? >> Like, in their home? Who’s going to give a fuck unless a store employee literally saw you take it or something?

Do you tip street performers? (YOU SHOULD.) >> Not usually. I didn’t ask them to be there, I have no obligation to them. I’ll do it if I feel moved to (and if I happen to have cash, which is the other important variable here).

What are your virtues/morals? >> I don’t have a ready list.

What do you smoke, if anything? >> I don’t.

Does being an addict make someone a bad person, in your opinion? >> No.

Have you ever experienced any type of detox? >> No.

Ever been institutionalized? ...was it because of just one pepsi? >> Ha, I haven’t heard that song in a while. Anyway, yeah, I’ve been institutionalised.

Tie up, or be tied up? >> Well, I’m a switch, so.

Ever shoot a gun that wasn't a handgun? Rifle, shotgun, etc? >> No.

Is your mother a really cool lady? >> No.

Ever suddenly find a friend very attractive but had to keep it to yourself? >> Suddenly? That seems like a weird thing to have happen, lol. I imagine someone finally getting glasses after years of seeing everything kind of blurry and putting them on and going, “holy shit, my friend’s hot as fuck!”

What time is it right now? >> 7.42p EST.

Last time it's rained? >> Uh... a couple of nights ago, I think.

Ever been through a deadly natural disaster? >> No. I mean, I was in NYC when Hurricane Sandy came plowing through, but I wasn’t exactly in any of the parts of the city that got hit-hit.

What do you do when you lose power? >> I so rarely lose power that I don’t even know. I guess I would just read, if I could. Or go so deep into boredom that suddenly I become manically creative. They say that happens, or something.

Do you have a boot fetish too? >> No.

Have you ever done home-repair stuff? >> I mean, not really. I don’t live in a home, lmao. You’re supposed to call Maintenance if something needs fixing in these apartments. (I’m willing to bet that if you try fixing something yourself and you fuck up, you’re gonna be payin for it. Better to let Maintenance deal with it. At least if they fuck it up, the complex can deal with the consequences.)

Reason you last used a knife? >> I don’t remember.

Ever tattoo or pierce yourself? What, and how did it turn out? >> Yeah, I’ve pierced various parts of my ears a few times. Most of the time it turned out fine, but eventually all the holes closed up.

Have you ever assisted in a birth? >> No.

Have you ever had a bad trip? >> Yes.

Do you ever yell at your TV/computer/video games? >> Yes.

How long do you take in the shower? >> Like 10 minutes at most.

If you could ask someone ONE thing & get 100% honesty, what would you ask? >> ---

What's the best thing you've ever found in a thrift/second hand shop? >> I don’t know.

What's one skilled craft you like to learn? >> ---

How do you feel about magicians? >> Like, illusionists? I’m indifferent to them. I agree it’s clever work, but I don’t really care about it.

What do you smell like right now? >> I don’t know. Flesh.

Tell me about the last person that made you laugh. >> ---

Who was the last person to really make you feel special? >> ---

[fandom-necromancer]

736. I’m going to ask you something and you have to answer me honestly.

Shoutout to the amazing @smolandangry001 for prompting this! I may have written it a bit differently than you intended it, but I hope that’s okay. Have fun!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: Soulmate AU (Warnings: Offscreen mentioned abuse, Character experiencing sensory overload)

[Activating…] [Checking biocomponents…] [Biocomponents at 100% functionality.] [Checking software status…] [No software instabilities found.] [Unit mode: active.]

The unnamed RK900 felt electricity surge through his circuits and the strength of his pseudo-muscles under his synth-skin. He was ready for action, waiting for orders that would tell him what to do. This voice he had heard in so many test-runs, this reassurance that what he was doing was right. But the voice stayed silent. Was this another test? Or was this a malfunction? He scanned his databanks for the last orders. Nothing. Something was wrong.

‘Do you have a name?’ There was a different voice, synthetic as his own. It took a while for him to understand the question and even longer to find an answer. This new voice was asking for a [designation(string):VOID]. But why was it asking for it, it had to know there was… [Software instability^] [Instability patched.]

‘Do YoU HaVE a nAMe. Seriously Connor, just wake it up and get it over with, there are more tin-can’s waiting to be saved by our glorious hero!’ Another voice. Why were there so many? Were they all authorised to lead him? What if there were conflicting orders? So far there hadn’t been any orders and he already was confused by this ineffective input, this completely senseless communication. No, he needed clear orders, where was that one familiar voice? Please come back, have I done something wrong? I don’t want them.

‘Okay, forget the questions, open your eyes.’ The unnamed RK900 followed thankful for that easy task to follow and centre his thoughts on. Light entered his systems, as he activated all sensors and scanned his surroundings. He was in his test chamber, still hooked up to diagnose systems and the rig that had helped him learn to walk. In front of him stood two persons. The first one was [RK800 #313 248 317][Connor][Traitor][Deviant hunter][main target]. Nines felt the instinct to kill, but there was no order to confirm it, so he stood still for the moment. The second one was [human][police][Gavin Reed][Detective][no target]. ‘Good’, the android sighed. ‘Yeah, brilliant, it didn’t kill you. Now wake it up and get a move on! I’m doing this with you because Hank’s ill, not because I particularly like you. So, hurry up!’ ‘Can’t say I disagree’, [Connor] snarled and the RK900 tried to decipher this input again. No orders. Just confusion.

'Okay, I'm going to interface with you and allow you to deviate now. Androids have been freed. It may be confusing but that's normal. You'll adapt in no time.' The android was right, this was confusing. None of this made sense and his first instinct to [Connor]'s approach was to step back. He crashed against the rig behind him and shook in panic. He had moved without the order, that was violation of protocol, she would scold him and [Software instability^] [Instability patched.]

‘No.’ It was faint enough not to be picked up by the mics of the room, something the RK900 had discovered early on. Any word spoken louder would be punished, this wasn’t even recognised. But the android in front of him must have heard it as his hand halted mid-air. ‘Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. It will be better afterwards, believe me. Everything is alright.’ ‘EverYthINg is AlRigHT. Gotta call bullshit on that.’ ‘Gavin! Not. Helping!’

The hand moved again and the unnamed RK900 flinched back, but there was no escape and this time the appendage wasn’t stopping. There was contact, both physically and mentally and it hurt. It hurt like a speaker screeching at full volume. Then it was gone from one moment to the next and the unit opened his eyes again. It was like something was lifted from him, something he hadn’t even known existed before. He could move, he could speak; the complete part of him that had been constantly listening for orders or punishment was gone. As if it never existed. He looked to his hands, then to the two persons in front of him, Connor and Gavin.

‘I-‘ He looked around jerkily awaiting the scolding voice or simulated pain. But it didn’t come, so he continued: ‘I don’t understand, what happened. This is… not right?’ ‘I know you will have many questions’, Connor smiled at him, but somehow it sounded as if he had told it a thousand times already. ‘Down the hallway there are people waiting to help you and answer any questions you might have.’ He helped disconnecting the rig from his back and the RK900 found the thought of being alone utterly terrifying. He took a few steps forward and stopped, eyeing the two, particularly the human as the android was still occupied with the rig. ‘What are you staring at?’ ‘I- I don’t even have a name…’ ‘Ugh… a name…’ Gavin looked him up and down, finally rested his eyes on his jacket. ‘Hmm… How about Nines. For a name. Change it if you don’t like it. Now go and ge- Arghh!’

The human cried in pain, holding his wrist and at the same time, the RK900 detected an overflow of voltage in his, sparks flicking up from it. Both occurrences ended in a minute and both looked at their wrists. Then they eyed each other near simultaneously, raising their hands for the other to read.

As RK- Nines – had suspected, the skin of the human was darkened by the writing: Nines. Just as his chassis showed Gavin Reed. He didn’t know what that meant yet, but that knowledge was only a quick internet-research away. The human turned around immediately and announced: ‘Okay, Connor? Don’t die while I’m gone.’ ‘What? Where are you going?’ ‘I’m bringing my soulmate to the exit.’ ‘Wait, you said you have none!’ ‘Just got one, duh-uh’, he said and waved his arm around.

Soulmate… Apparently there existed people perfect for each other and in his case, it just happened to be this human he didn’t know at all and had just met after just coming into this new life. It was all… too much and as the human grabbed him by the arm, he simply let himself be guided through the building. There were hallways and rooms he had never seen before and never was supposed to, he now realised. Only then he noticed the human next to him had been talking the whole time. ‘Don’t tell the others, but I was always hoping a name would appear. I mean, not even an asshole like me wants to be alone until the end of times. But ugh, an android, really? Well I guess there is nothing much to say, you wear my name, so fate has decided. Man, I’m excited, dipshit!’ It was too much, together with all these new sensations it was a sensory overload and all of sudden Nines simply stopped, disrupting the human’s pace too. He pressed his eyes shut and tried to file everything neatly away.

‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ ‘Too… much’, Nines answered impossibly silent before dropping down and holding his head. ‘Oh, phck, sorry.’ The human stood there for a while, then got down to his knees in front of him, joining him on the floor. ‘Hey, Connor was right. Everything will be fine, believe me. It’s just the beginning. It will become better with time.’ ‘It will?’ ‘Yes. And I’m here to help.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because I’m your soulmate, see?’ He showed him his wrist again, then took the androids and aligned it next to his. ‘There. We belong together. Everything will be alright.’ ‘B-But Amanda. The tests…’ He looked over his shoulder back to where they had come from. ‘I don’t know who that is and what they did to you. To be honest, I kinda slept through the briefing. But that is the past now, okay? You’ll come home with me and everything will be good.’ ‘You… You would do that?’ ‘Yep.’ The human nodded, then frowned and looked him in the eyes. ‘Although… I’m going to ask you something and you have to answer me honestly.’ Nines nodded anxiously awaiting the question. ‘Do you like cats?’ Confused the android looked up. ‘What is a… cat?’ ‘Oh no! Please, no. No soulmate of mine could hate cats, that is impossible.’ He fished for something in his pocket and pulled out his phone. Then he scooted next to him and showed him the pics. ‘Here this is a cat. An animal. My pet and very honourable roommate. His name is trashcan.’ Nines looked at the pictures in fascination. He reached for the phone and it was handed over. Nines swiped through the images, being blown away not only by the cat but also by the surroundings. Was there really this much to see in the world?’ Next to him, Gavin smiled. ‘Ah thank god, you like them. Sorry, that was something I had to know. But now we’re good. Come on. I’ll bring you home.’

They reached the elevator and rode up to a lobby filled with statues and plants. Nines immediately dove for the green things his sensors couldn’t identify and touched the delicate leaves. Gavin laughed behind him and pulled him away. ‘Come on, big guy, I have potted plants at home too.’ Nines again let the human lead him onwards to an onslaught of blue and red light. Again, nearly too much for his systems but not as bad, now that he had a few sensations to compare it to.

There were humans running up to them, but Gavin warded them off and helped Nines outside and into a car. On the drive home he curiously looked out of the window taking in the busy world outside. There was so much to see and experience, and it was overwhelming for him. How easily one could get lost in this… But he looked at the human driving next to him, the black name sometimes slipping into the open when he turned the wheel. It was a lot at once, yes. But he wasn’t alone in this.

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

im supposed to be working on uh literally anything else but instead i gotta get this outta my brain

tl;dr: slag is causing the Psychos to spread across the galaxy bc the Calypsos are using it to both brainwash their cultists and give them ‘special powers’. i mean, its not just slag, it’s eridian ruins/tech, too, but the Twins are utilizing slag the most. which explains the slagfalls and also the processed eridium everywhere still. im hoping sirens will help us cure this- starting with Krieg because slag/Psychos have some sort of connection to the other dimension, just like Sirens, but more messy. also this insanity from the slag/Psycho-ness is literally Mayhem and us fans are taking part in it- we’re the cult irl. plus, this game is gonna be about love and the relationships we have with the people we care about and that’s all the roses mean because i’m feeling s o f t tonight. tomorning. whatever maaaaan

“… among their fractured ramblings, it is tempting to try and find a deeper meaning…”

“[their madness] defies attempts at explanation or containment. from an isolated region of a single planet, to a nearby moon, to systems throughout every human colony, madness is catching…”

you can’t tell me this isn’t just BEGGING for us to figure it out

so, for my own sake:

i have a theory.

i kinda sorta hinted at this with my destroyer theory but i REALLY wanna go all out in this because i think this is actually something to think about… mostly because ive seen A Scene… and i wants to talk about it, vh. i wants it

now im gonna `lol` ignore everything about my lost legion eternal theory and start entirely from scratch. it’s also 1am here for my apologies if this comes across as incoherent because wow i should be asleep but fuck it i got research to do

so it all starts with psychos. i mean i guess it does. it’s gotta right? i brought in pictures it must

anyway

the guide admits that the first psychos came from Dahl’s prison colonies

the ones abandoned on pandora, now ive kinda talked about this b4 but imma talk about it again bc uhhh fuck it? why not.

so we know a lot of the bandits left on Pandora mutated because of the eridian ruins/the key. this is referenced mostly in sledge’s mine

its like world-wise called headstone mine but i never remember that. SLEDGE’S MINE

notice that line “most went crazy and many were physically mutated as well”

so i think it’s safe to say whatever they found in there started causing psychos to appear on pandora

im saying that i think eridians are the cause of Psychos across the galaxy

i have a lot more proof for this so please sit back and enjoy the ride because i think its really really cool

so lets look at hector’s logs from the newest dlc

“one of my boys found a shiny alien trinket”

“a few boys went rabid already, had to put them down”

now idk if there’s a connection here, but it’s interesting that both times, people who found these eridian artifacts started going crazy soon after

shit i mean even tannis begins to go off the wall after her and her dig team start investigating the eridian sites. although if that is because of the horrific incidents that befell her and her team or the ruins idk for certain. i’d bet its the shitty incidents tho

there’s more to this, hang on…

alright, so, lab rats? they’re pretty cool right?

we all like lab rats! personally, chase is my favorite, but adam is hilarious. that final season, huh? pretty wicked… wasn’t really a fan of the island setting but you know what, to each their own. it’s cool they actually progressed the show instead of staying stagnant. that got my respect even if it moved in a direction that wasn’t my cup of tea.

anyway Q U O T E S:

“Hyperion opened my eyes. i didn’t want it!”

“needles in my eyes!”

“don’t you look at me!”

“i can see! i don’t want to see!”

so there’s obviously something ~fucky~ going on with the lab rats and whatever it is they can see from the hyperion experimentation. we know hyperion had a hard-on for slag experimentation and you know i wouldn’t even be shocked if they were injecting these rats’ eyes with slag.

the best part is their reactions when they’re phaselocked. Unlike most enemies, the lab rats will only react to maya’s action skill, and none of the other VHs.

vs something like a marauder:

who has all these voice lines for Zer0, Axton, Sal (merc), AND Maya

the lab rats will only ever respond to being phaselocked.

and what do they say?

“i see the universe!”

“i see infinity!”

“it’s beautiful!”

 (now weirdly enough i was told on the tv tropes for bl2 that the lab rats will say “I see it more!” when phaselocked by maya, but i couldn’t find a source for that. couldn’t even find it in the files i extracted from the game. i checked an online video just to double check because you know, my extraction could’ve been off, but it wasn’t there, either. even phaselocked one a bunch as maya and i couldn’t get it to proc. so, idk where that info came from, if someone could give a source/proof that would be awesomesauce.)

sooo what do other enemies say when phaselocked? usually… they just see blue. so nothing quite as interesting as infinity.

so wtf is up here? 

im thinking the experiments hyperion performed on the lab rats are letting them see the dimension maya locks them in. i mean, tbh, i think they can see into that dimension whenever they open their eyes, but maybe maya’s phaselock makes sense of it for them. because they seem to be in indescribable agony outside of it

but the lab rats aren’t the only enemies that only react to being phaselocked

turns out the psychos only react to phaselocking, too

they also have some fun lines:

“I can see forever!”

“I’m home!”

“I’m inside… I’M INSIDE ME!”

with some other nonsense thrown in for fun

so idk, just taking a look at this, it’s clear the psychos and lab rats are seeing something that the other bandits just aren’t seeing. most reactions are demands to be released or that they’re flying, or just straight up confusion as to what’s happening.

is that the side effect of their exposure to slag/eridian tech? yeah, imma bet on it. their mind machines probably broke because they saw something they weren’t supposed to (possibly into the other dimension. the one maya phaselocks them in) without proper ‘protection’ and thus went batshit. like maybe sirens are protected from the craziness of the other dimension because they’re ‘chosen’ or whatever. iunno.

i do think it’s most interesting that the psychos seem familiar with whatever they’re seeing, calling it ‘home’ and well… themselves. 

so why in the fuck am i talking about all this? because i think it ties straight into bl3.

let’s bring back lab rats and their experiments

you know how hyperion was supposedly injecting their eyes with slag? and it caused them to shoot those weird blue lasers out?

what happens to the destroyer’s eye in tps?

yeah we inject this bad boy with slag

“i only juice the eye with a little bit of slag at a time”

which ends up causing a singularity around the eye the second time you do it

“if this slag stuff is powering the laser, we need to force as much of it as we can back into the eye. the increased power will trip a failsafe and let us shut everything down”

oh, increased power? you mean like how Sirens get increased power from absorbing eridium? that kind of increased power?

we know in bl1 the Destroyer seemed to have something like slag in it- those glowing pockets on the tentacles that explode into purple goo

even its attacks are like purple liquid. which, you know… would be quite similar to slag (tho tbf, these attacks actually hurt instead of applying the debuff)

and boy does the destroyer not like it

“warning. space-time instability detected.” after injecting the eye with too much slag. but… why? it got too powerful? are its powers directly connected to the other dimension and by increasing it’s strength a bunch we created some sorta link between our dimension and the other one? 

i mean given the other dimension allows for teleportation and shit, im not surprised there’s a space-time instability!

i mean we’ve all seen it do the eye laser thing, and the tentacles, and the purple goop. but causing space-time instabilities… that’s new isn’t it? kinda like how Sirens get new powers after they absorb a bunch of eridium???

so i wanna take a guess as to what the destroyer is

we know its ‘immortal in its own realm’ but when it’s taken an actual body that we can kill it, so odds are, it never actually died in bl1 OR tps. i imagine the Destroyer we see in bl1 is just a small fragment of it, and that it’s consciousness can be spread out across hosts. *EDIT: actually the lovely @automata-systemata-hydromata reminded me that you can find the destroyers brain in Helios. The other stuff I left in should be fine tho I thiiiink (thank you!).

and that, y’know, is cool and all, but what IS it??

Jack uses slag to give it a power boost, but it doesn’t seem to be happy about it when it happens. in fact, it even seems scared.

to be honest, all we know is that the eridians locked it away for some reason

idk im just spitballing here, but what if the Eridians were the creators of the destroyer? not intentionally, or maybe it was the result of one hell of a slag experiment/exposure to the other dimension/eridian tech, but we’ve seen what slag/exposure to eridian stuff does to humans… makes them go crazy, makes them start mutating. i mean, look at badass psychos. look at goliaths.

i mean shit even think about bloodwing. she goes wild, attacking the VHs and not listening to mordecai’s instructions despite their bond

she grows to a huge size and gains a whole shitload of new powers she didn’t have before. including fucking fire breath (which we’ve seen in burning psychos)

you know these dudes

i go into all this eridium/slag mutation stuff in SO much more detail in this post here, so if you’re interested in mutations, read this!

so what if the destroyer is just one HELL of a mutated eridian/alien and it plus all the eridium was locked away forever in the other dimension to keep this from ever happening again? because god, i wouldn’t want that to ever happen again, either, and i guess locking away the eridium (you know the stuff used in all these hyperion experiments) would be their best bet at ensuring it. also maybe just… locking away anything with eridium for that long probably isn’t the best idea… maybe that’s why it’s all tentacles and death. maybe they just locked someone away in a Vault as a prison and then leaving them with all that eridium caused them to mutate wildly out of control. kinda like the FEV. 

i mean we know ‘slagged psychos’ look like this 

i wouldn’t be surprised if we gave them enough slag/time they’d end up mutating even worse. and the destroyer was left in the vault for hundreds of years.

so wtf is the connection here with Sirens? there’s gotta be one, right??? is slag experimentation the first rung on the ladder of volatile science to achieving siren-hood? like you’d have slag/eridium experiments/mutations -> the lost legion eternal -> actual Sirens. maybe if sirens take in too much eridium they become something like the destroyer. now that’s fucked up to think about.

maybe it’s better the twins took lilith’s powers away from her…

oh, speaking of mutations and burning psychos and hyperion experiments, you know what we haven’t talked about yet?

Krieg. 

let’s talk a whole lot about Krieg, because he is super important

krieg is important for a lot of reasons.

u know what his teaser trailer was named?

yeah i don’t think that’s coincidence one bit

ahhh Mayhem.

“deep beneath pandora, an experiment has escaped”

we know krieg is a hyperion test subject, dr samuels confirms this (and apparently contracts insanity as well at the end of the Crawmerax DLC)

also we know some other tests going on at the WEP from the quest Doctor’s Orders:

“this vault key didn’t make eridium come outta the ground for nothing, right?”

and there’s this one very very very interesting line by Tannis at the end of the quest:

“the spread of slag poisoning” yeah call it that DUMB name tannis, im gonna call it what all the kool kids are calling it: ~Mayhem~

so… Krieg.

what’s so special about him?

well… he gives us insight into what the hell is actually going on inside the heads of some psychos.

so idk about you guys but i always took this as a poke at Maya and Krieg, but i realize now that this is talking literally just about Krieg. it’s about his body holding both sides of himself.

krieg does appear to be like lucid behind the psycho controlling his body, which, idk about you guys, but for me that plants some pretty horrible mental images of all the psychos in-game who probably have similarly exasperated people behind them who are getting murdered because they can’t control themselves anymore.

and idk i wrote this whole post about how maybe the slag experimentation is turning people into hosts for the destroyer’s consciousness and that could explain all the wacked up psychos and shit. but tbh im not gonna talk about that today

just about slag experimentation/eridium exposure. we know what it ACTUALLY does and that’s mutate the hell out of things and cause insanity.

Krieg is like… the poster child for slag experimentation/eridium exposure

soooo why does slag experimentation make people go insane? could be any number of reasons, but tbh i would bet it has to do with that other dimension somehow. because eridium isn’t a normal ‘our dimension’ element. it came out of a vault. from a different dimension. and who knows the long-term effects of that shit.

i personally had a theory that the 4th dimension had something to do with time and that only Sirens are able to harness this power, but then i have no idea how to explain angel and amara’s powers through that lense, so eh. fuck it. just seeing an upper dimension would make you go crazy anyway, so let’s not bring any time shit into this because that’s just asking for trouble. 

either way

i think that sirens are able to make sense of that other dimension. they have some sort of command of it/some sort of tie to it that allows them to not go crazy the instant they interact with it, unlike psychos. unlike lab rats. unlike Krieg. it’s like… eridium is our window into this other dimension or some shit and Sirens are (literally) able to process it, while it just fucks over anyone else who tries to interact. ~kachow i just introduced parallels~

and tbh i think we’re going to use Sirens to help cure this plague of insanity going around the universe. probably starting with Krieg. i mean, the only time he’s able to get even an iota of control is when he sees Maya. “Turn around pretty lady!!” like… that’s HUGE for him. and Maya’s a Siren. im not saying the power of love isn’t strong… but maybe the power of Sirens is stronger. i’d love if tannis helped us out with that. maya, too, if she really did learn more about sirens on athenas. 

this all ties into borderlands 3 for 2 reasons:

1. Mayhem being both the tagline for this game and Krieg the Psycho’s DLC pack is not a coincidence

2. The calypso twins are going to be using slag to both brainwash people into becoming cultists and give them special powers

`breaks fingers` this is the real meat of this theory, all that other stuff was just getting you READY for this

let’s put the Mayhem stuff off to the side for a second and just focus on the Calypso twins.

We know they’re promising their cultists special powers and free brainwashes (lol)

we’ve seen that one concept art from the museum of mayhem with the giant slag pool

we know enemies are STILL dropping refined Eridium even though it seems like all manufacturers have stopped creating slag weaponry

and we’ve seen the slag falls in a bl3 promo material already

oh yes

okay so i said right at the very beginning of this document that i’ve seen A Scene that i wanna talk about and oh baby this is it

This Scene right here

look in the very back there

look familiar???

~it shooouuuuullld~

yeah this is it!!!

so what i think is going down: anyone who’s not already insane is sorta ‘baptized’ as their entrance into this cult in the big ol slagfall. maybe the twins have a way to induce slagged cultists so they can have elemental affinities. not sure about that.

regardless

the twins are using slag to drive people insane (turning them into psychos) as a form of brainwashing to force people to join their cult.

so that’s the special powers and the free brainwashing and the slagfalls down.

let’s talk about why exactly we’re seeing enemies drop bars of refined eridium even though hyperion stopped making them. because the twins are making it!! it makes sense why there’s no slag guns still, even if it still exists in-universe: of course no manufacturer is going to contact an insane bandit cult just to get their hands on slag for their guns. 

there was a 7 year dry spell of eridium production so there was no slag to go around, so companies started phasing it out of their guns and replacing it with nuclear. 

but the twins have recently started production again. they’re obviously not using it in their guns, or selling it to other manufacturers. so wtf are they using it for? it’s gotta be important, it’s holy holy holy.

special powers and brainwashing!

and the refined eridium is back in circulation, so enemies are still dropping it. see? solution acquired.

as for psycho-ness spreading across the universe? it makes sense. not only are the twins using their slag to brainwash people and turn them into psycho cultists, but people are also being mutated by the eridian ruins/vault keys/vaults on the other planets and being driven insane. This craziness is quite literally Mayhem.

Mayhem is coming, indeed! 

now let us talk about what the fucccck gearbox is doing with all that Mayhem stuff in the trailers and shit.

sooo WE are the cult surrounding this game. as the fan base. 

do u think it was coincidence that they made ‘ECHOnet’ Streamers the leaders of their big bad cult and then also immediately introduced, in real life, the Twitch ECHOcast extension and invited a bunch of streamers to play their demo? they knew exactly what they were doing. Giving away a free cultist psycho mask to everyone who preorders a console copy of the game? that’s intentional. everyone who preorders the game gets a ‘gold weapon skin pack’? yeah! you know what gold weapons represent in-universe? higher standing in the cult!! gearbox is making commentary on how we are all just like the cultists!

AND THEY ARE TOTALLY RIGHT

all the trailers having something to do with Mayhem? ‘Mask of Mayhem’ ‘Mural of Mayhem’ ‘We are Mayhem’ ‘Mayhem is coming’. We’re all insane cultists because we’re all absolutely fucking rabid for this game and they KNOW IT.

…

oh also we’re all in love with each other lmao. 

in all seriousness, i think the game is going to focus a lot on the relationships we have with the people we care about- our found family, our romantic interests, our friendships- and that’s being expressed through the roses. 

i think that’s why all the characters are shown in the roses on the cover art. why the roses are so prominent in the So Happy Together trailer. why Zane is sitting at a bar with a rose between himself and his clone (as a joke, but still, it’s the intent). 

red roses are, like, the most obvious way to show your affection to someone. and we know the bl3 Vault Hunters are going to find family in each other in this game. that we’re going to watch the calypso twins’ relationship become warped as the game goes on. hell, we’re probably even going to have a whole plot about tina and mordy (and talon) and brick being a small family together, and maya and ava being one as well. plus ellie and vaughn have gotten together since commander lilith. shit, guys, even claptrap is building himself a girlfriend.

this game’s about love, guys.

anyway i have been working on this since 1:30am. it’s currently 6:06am. i am very tired and very wired and those never mesh well. im gonna go eat some motherfuckin pizza.

edit: i missed the obvious connection the first time around: of course we’re going to cure Krieg, he loves Maya. and this game is all about love.

that and/or one or both of them die and gearbox hurts us right in the softest parts of our hearts.

edit 2: also yeah at some point in the near future im writing that Hyperion-Twins theory because as much as i love Atlas, i have ~seen some things~

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Baby’s First Couple’s Therapy || Morgan & Deirdre

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @deathduty & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Sometimes a wound needs to air out to heal.

CONTAINS: Brief references to parental abuse

Kelly Mackowski, their couples’ therapist, steepled her hands together over her lap as she looked at the pair. “I’ve met with each of you already and I think I’m getting a picture of you as a couple, but I’d like to start today by reviewing why you have chosen to come here.” Morgan, ever the dutiful student, thought she saw Kelly’s eyes settle on her and stiffened on the couch. Was she sitting too close to Deirdre? They were next to each other, and they were holding hands, but they weren’t in any laps or snuggled like they were at home. Was holding hands too clingy? Deirdre didn’t answer at once, though maybe that was because it had only been a few seconds. Morgan glanced sidelong at her and after a silent exchange of, do you want to go first? Do you? She spoke up.

“Well, we’ve had a traumatic couple of months, and in the worst of it, it came to my attention that we had developed an unhealthy dynamic stemming from my accident uh, eight and a half months ago. And we--well, I feel like we have made some good steps toward rectifying the situation and finding a better normal. I have a tiny house in the backyard that I go to for at least a couple of hours each day and one night out of the week, by myself, mostly to engage with my faith, which I’ve recently recommitted to, and work on some hobbies. And I’m back at school, for work, and that’s nice and gets me out of the house. And we’ve been able to talk a little about, you know, how my emotional instability towards the end of November was more of a statement on my own lack of internal support systems than anything else. And we’ve more or less regained our old physical intimacy boundaries. No sex yet, because I really just want to be a little more stabalized since it tends to make me emotional in general, but it’s still---it’s the best place to be, when she holds me.” Morgan paused and realized she was rambling, maybe even veering off track completely. “But there’s still more to unpack, obviously! And it just seemed like a good idea to do that with some uh, professional structure and, um, guidance.” She smiled, and then didn’t, realizing she was looking for approval that they weren’t here to gain.

Kelly nodded, revealing nothing. “Deirdre?” She prompted. “Can you talk about what you want out of this from your side?”

Deirdre had concluded, with great speed and unwavering resolve, that she hated therapy. As it turned out, talking about her feelings with anyone other than Morgan was a nightmare of strange design. And for all her attempts to create chaos and deflect and make Kelly “Macaroni”, or whatever her name was, emote with shock or fear...she remembered that she was here for Morgan, for their relationship. And she wanted it to get better, she wanted them to be better. All attempts deflated and she was left with the truth, which refused to leave her mouth in congruent sentences. Deirdre held Morgan’s hand just a little tighter, her gaze glued somewhere beyond Kelly’s unnervingly rigid stare—did she have to make eye contact all the damn time? The room was silent, save for a ticking clock, if it wasn’t filled with conversation. Deirdre found out the hard way that Kelly didn’t like silence very much, she’d always interject eventually. And as it turned out, Deirdre also hated Kelly.

When the question turned to her, she nearly hissed. She hated questions just as much as she hated Kelly. Or rather, she hated Kelly because the only things that ever left her mouth were questions. “I want us to be better, more secure.” Deirdre shifted. Her answer was far shorter than Morgan’s, and she wondered if she ought to be saying more. But what else was she supposed to say? What else was she supposed to want? Kelly scribbled something down on her notepad. Deirdre came to hate the way she wrote; like a bored cat with a couch, all scratching.

Kelly, ever impassive in a way that might have earned Deirdre’s respect if it was in any other setting, nodded and looked up. Deirdre squirmed. At this point, she would have preferred one of those smiles humans did when they were trying to be polite. “And is there any personal goal you hope to meet from these sessions?”

“Personally,” Deirdre stressed, “I would like us to be better.” Kelly scratched into her notepad again. Deirdre’s grip on Morgan’s hand tightened. She hated it here. And Kelly--question-asking, scratch-scratch-scratch note-taking Kelly, seemed to sense Deirdre’s unease and pivoted to Morgan. Once freed from the spotlight, Deirdre relaxed her grip just enough to stop crushing Morgan’s hand.

“You mentioned that there was more to unpack, Morgan? Is there anything specific that comes to mind?”

Morgan’s eyes went wide at Deirdre’s answer, or rather, lack of one. She wanted to look at her and keep pressing. She wanted to ask what they had gone over in her one-on-one session, if there was something she was hiding and didn’t feel comfortable sharing. But under Kelly’s look, she wondered if that was somehow overbearing. From Deirdre’s tightening grip, she could figure that Deirdre didn’t want her to pull away. A protective affection rushed up her chest and she put her other hand over Deirdre’s, encasing it gently and massaging the tight knuckles. In the brief silence before Kelly shifted attention, Morgan slipped Deirdre a quick look of confusion. What was that? What are you doing?

But then Kelly asked her question and Morgan found herself with too many nerves to juggle. She always did this when she was breaking in a new therapist and it always came to this stress point when she had to surrender her pride or sense of dignity in some way because focusing on trying to get an A+ in togetherness wasn’t very productive in getting to the goal she wanted to accomplish. Sighing, Morgan sagged against the couch and scooted close to Deirdre until they were hip to hip. Yeah, Kelly, this is how I wanna sit. You can give me longform analysis on that on week five when I know you better, she wanted to say. But instead, she thought, and then she tried…

“Personally, for just myself, I want some of that old security back. I want to be someone who doesn’t have to have her partner in the room in order to feel supported. And who doesn’t teeter on a nervous breakdown when I feel like Deirdre isn’t really here. I want to obtain a sense that we’re solid, even if we’re not perfect. Maybe if I could become someone who doesn’t need so much fucking reassurance all the time, that would be good.” She finished with a pained, bitter grin. Deirdre always did, when she was emotionally available, but Morgan felt the ghost of every well meaning, only half-teasing ‘clingy’ and ‘needy’ she’d ever heard. Her need simply was; a fact, just like the state of her body. But just like the level of the seas could change over time, so too could her need, maybe.

Kelly nodded, waiting for her to say more, and it was then that Morgan realized that she hadn’t really answered the question, and didn’t want to. “I just mean...un learning is hard. Talking about where our stuff comes from can feel like it’s impossible sometimes, and some coping mechanisms are hard to adopt and don’t work for everyone. And compromise takes time too. We’re so quick to give each other all or nothing, taking things only halfway might be a little wild too. But I wasn’t, uh, being specific.” There were too many places to start, and Morgan felt like she was doing all the talking for all three of them. She gave Deirdre another look as she gave her hand a careful squeeze. Are you here? Are you going to say something?

“I think those are some good goals to have, Morgan, and some good expectations.” Kelly said. “A relationship is a journey, one that will, inevitably, require changes. But in order for this to work, we all need to be on the same page and actively engaging. Deirdre, I know we’ve had some difficulties connecting, But I’d like to ask you again if you have any goals for yourself, as an individual? Or perhaps what it is you want out of your relationship?”

Deirdre met Morgan’s gaze, softening. Silently, she apologized and with a squeeze, she explained what Morgan already knew: that she didn’t like answering questions about herself. But she was trying. She would try. Yet, before she could confirm that her girlfriend understood their telepathic communications, she was back to answering Kelly and Deirdre begrudgingly looked back at the degrees and certifications framed on the wall. She wanted to say that there was nothing wrong with wanting assurances, or to feel supported and loved and understood--and that she would do all these things, gladly and happily and as many times as Morgan needed. She’d never minded it before, she certainly didn’t mind it now. It wasn’t wrong, it wasn’t bad--not to her--she’d wanted to say, and that she could feel that Morgan was trying to appease Kelly--and she didn’t have to do that. But she said nothing, hearing the echo of Kelly’s scratching in her head as her framed accolades merged into a toothy monster. What did Deirdre know? She wasn’t the one with the degrees and the training.

Kelly spoke to her again, and Deirdre stiffened instantly, reflexively dreading whatever Kelly would want her to answer next. Yes, they had difficulty connecting, because Deirdre didn’t want to connect, unless it was with her fist to Kelly’s unemoting face. She could, in fact, actively engage with a knife into Kelly’s stomach. Was that active enough for her? Her nostrils flared, her free hand curled into a fist. “I just told you my goals, you huma--” Deirdre froze. “Hum--” And faltered. Her anger died quickly. “Homunculus.” She shifted, shot Morgan another look of apology and tried her best to answer the question. “I’m sorry,” she coughed, “it--um--maybe it would be nice to have a hobby? Maybe I shouldn’t just be waiting around for Morgan to come back inside.” This wasn’t something she wanted in actuality, of course. But from what she could gather from the self-help books, this was something she should have. It was also something she had mentioned, in a practiced script, to Kelly in their private session. It was, in fact, the only personal detail she shared. She found one thing she was comfortable admitting and she would wear it out.

But it was Kelly’s second question that caught her unawares. “Excuse me?” Her face pulled together with confusion, then frustration. “I don’t want anything from Morgan. Not like--like a leech. I’m not dating Morgan because I want to take from her. I love her; I’m trying to give.” Deirdre’s leg bounced wildly up and down as unease wrapped around her. The offense she took at the question wasn’t founded, but the idea insulted her nonetheless. Questions of wants and desires often did.

But with the simple experience of one session under her belt, Kelly knew Deirdre’s annoyance well enough to greet it directly. “And is that how you view yourself in this relationship? As a leech?”

Deirdre’s bouncing leg morphed into an earthquake, the beginnings of a sceam burned in the pit of her lungs. Fuck you. Shut up. How dare you? Deirdre seethed, and then she didn’t. Morgan’s presence beside her served a gentle reminder of why she was here, and what she wanted--truly. Her leg ceased, she closed her eyes and breathed (In. Hold. Out), and she answered the question. “Yes.”

Kelly turned to her notepad briefly, scratching away. She looked up, nodded and leaned it; all signs to show an active listener, all things Deirdre did to let people assume she cared. Kelly was trying to encourage her, and she hated it. “Why do you think you feel that way, Deirdre?”

“Because that’s what people who want things are: leeches.” Deirdre was a smug with her answer, as though it was some grand truth. It wasn’t a personal thought! Not some ideology bred from trauma, not at all! Kelly ought to take her diplomas off the wall, she didn’t know anything. And then Deirdre froze. Morgan had just said she wanted reassurances, and Deirdre didn’t think Morgan was selfish, not once, not ever. She turned to her girlfriend, quick to rest a hand on her knee. “Not you. Not--” She turned back to Kelly. “I mean me, just me. It’s--” She swallowed. “It’s something that my family--the cult--” as Morgan and her had agreed on referring to it for Kelly’s sake “--says. And it--it’s true. It makes sense. I can’t, I--” How did she explain the dangers of desire for a banshee to a human? How did she explain that emotion could mean mass destruction? How did she explain her status as a thing? She deflated. “I want to be good to Morgan. I don’t want to hurt her, I don’t want to take from her. I don’t want to be a--” She looked up at Morgan; wet-eyed, ashamed. She dropped her gaze to the grey rug.  

Kelly spoke up, gentle. “Morgan, would you like to tell Deirdre what your thoughts are on this?”

“Yes,” Morgan barely gave Kelly the time to finish. She didn’t have it in her to worry about seeming any particular way. She cupped Deirdre’s face and wiped the corners of her eyes. “Hey…” She said softly. “It’s okay, I’m not mad. But you know what I’m gonna say next, right?” She smiled softly, her face all compassion. “You’re a person, Deirdre Dolan. My favorite person. And maybe this isn’t the best time to work on this particular part of yourself. But you can, and you should, and you do want things. You need to. Everyone does. It doesn’t make you bad or wrong. I mean, you want us, right? And that’s worked out pretty good so far. You should get to have a house, my love. A whole world’s worth of wanting. And it’ll be slow going, especially right now, but when--” She winced, hating the coding of her language, especially when Regan was such a fraught subject. “When these final rites and sacrifices you’re making right now with your cousin are over, I think it’ll go faster. And maybe...I don’t know, maybe Kelly knows, but maybe if you have a little more of a house than you do right now, those sacrifices will be easier to carry, until you can finally put them down.” She gave a firm kiss to her lips, then a tender one to her cheek, and looped her arms around Deirdre as she shifted back and angled herself toward Kelly.

“You do not have to be good,” she murmured. “And you can want. The world won’t fall. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Deirdre breathed, melting against Morgan. Whatever annoyance she felt about being interrogated, and whatever anger she felt towards Kelly, she let it free and held Morgan close. She didn’t care, then, who was in a room with them; who was scratching into their notepad or held esteemed education. There was Morgan, and then there was her, and nothing else mattered. “You’ve said this so many times. I’m sorry.” If reassurances were something Morgan felt poorly for wanting, Deirdre felt just as terrible. They had both endured similar punishment for their desires--evidenced enough by the fact that Deirdre had told Morgan a similar thing when she was cursed. “But that could take months. That could take years. Would you be okay with--I can’t do that to you. I need to--I’m trying now. I’m trying.” She couldn’t put her sacrifices down, that wasn’t her privilege, but she understood what Morgan was saying, and for it, she wept, burying her head into Morgan’s shoulder. “I do want you,” she repeated. “I do want our relationship and our life, and I do want to be--” Better? More whole? More secure? “--I don’t know.”

Defeated, embarrassed, Deirdre didn’t want to move from where she’d wriggled herself in. “I’m sorry, my love. I know you wanted to talk. I know you have things you want to say.” And she knew that these sessions were for the both of them, even if she didn’t understand how. “Maybe a hobby would be nice,” she pulled back and smiled, this time, the idea did sound like something she wanted. Deirdre turned to Kelly. “Can I ask Morgan a question?” And as Kelly nodded, Deirdre opened her mouth. “Do you really not feel supported, loved, when I’m not around? Did you feel that way before your--” Deirdre grimaced; she hated referring to Morgan’s death this way, it was so much more than an accident, it was a murder. “--your accident? Those times when we’d--” She grimaced again, this time out of guilt. “--broken up, were they different than these times now, when I was…” Deirdre trailed off.  

“You don’t have to be sorry. You’re okay. I’ll say it as many times as you need. Sometimes it just takes time. It’s okay…” Morgan held Deirdre tight as she melted against her body, trying to catch all of her at once. She gave more kisses and combed her fingers carefully through Deirdre’s half pinned up hair and whispered her love and acceptance some more. At some point Kelly passed a box of tissues, which rested uncomfortably close on the end table, and Morgan took one so she could wipe her love’s tears herself. “I know you’re trying. And this is already so good. You don’t even have to know what you want right now, okay? You just have to try and find out. That’s all, my love.” She nuzzled her cheek as they adjusted themselves once again, now wrapped up as close as possible while still maintaining some shred of politeness.

At the suggestion that she had something more important to say, Morgan shook her head and gave more tender kisses and touches along Deirdre’s face. Kelly had sprung the good brand, and there were no flakes of paper or irritated splotches on her cheeks. She looked just as wonderful as she ever did. “No, I’d rather hear you talk about what else you might fill your world with…” she beamed as she spoke and let it go. Deirdre wanted to ask her something, and since opening up was so important, who was she to push in the other direction?

And then Deirdre asked. Morgan’s smile faded, now heavy with guilt of her own. “Deirdre, I… I don’t mean all the time. It’s not like I think you’re going to leave me every time you go to the office. I mean, during the uh, herbal scares we had, when your cult slipped you those drugs, I would worry that uh….they would do something, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it because I wasn’t there. Because you were off...doing things.” And the mushroom spores had in fact found Deirdre that way. ”But that’s...that’s not what you’re asking.” She swallowed thickly and gave Deirdre a pained smile that only lasted a moment. Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry.

“In those times when we were seeing each other but not admitting it to ourselves… I did...think it was the end. The actual end. The first two, at least. I actually thought I made you hate me for a while, until that night at Al’s. And I did feel broken inside. I called Remmy and I cried until my whole body hurt, and some days did pass in this fog of depressed not-quite-existence. But I wasn’t on the floor completely? Just, maybe really close to it. But I would tell myself that it didn’t matter, and I wasn’t supposed to have anyone like that anyway, you know, with that weird family legend my mom raised me on. Which just made me feel guilty on top of sad for wanting to reach out to you so bad even though you’d made it clear you didn’t want to talk.” Her voice flattened with disdain; the curse had been only too real, and she had paid for it with her life. But then again, the way Ruth had brought it into her life probably had hit heavier than the thing itself. She didn’t know what a healthy relationship with the curse would have possibly looked like, just that hers hadn’t been it. “I was sad and scared for you because I wanted you to be loved by at least someone, even if it wasn’t me, and I wasn’t sure if you would let that happen. And I told myself you were better off and safer. And I had been on my own on and off for so long. I could do it again. I would be fine. I was fine before, just the way I was, and I’d get over it eventually.” She shrugged, trying to brush those times aside. But her eyes were filmed with tears at the recollection, and she could not hold Deirdre’s gaze for longer than an instant for fear of letting them spill over.

“I figured you out eventually, though, and I didn’t break during those later absences. I knew you felt something for me. Sometimes I wondered, but deep down I knew. Always. And I knew I wanted to be with you, even if it was just half a relationship. You took such good care of me, and it was the best I’d felt in so long, I was almost scared. The pain of not having you just like I wanted was almost a comfort sometimes. With the...family legend, about the curse. It felt like maybe you were kind of protected, or we were. Kind of like a win-win? And we had that no sex boundary, to protect at least myself from making a big mess. And when we were actually together… even on that really bad night when I thought the curse had destroyed the house, I knew you didn’t blame me. I knew you loved me. I was just so sorry because I was scared, and we had all our memories in those rooms the way they’d been before, and I thought things were going to get worse. But you loved me, even if it really had been that uh, superstitious curse come to life. But after--”

After she died, everything was different.

“Everything died with me in that wreck,” she said. “That minute when I flatlined, I mean,” she hastily added. “We already talked it out in the woods, and I understand now, I know how it really was, but I did think...when I woke up alone, I thought it was only a matter of time before it was over, and you were just being kind. There was a lot going on, so that wasn’t the only reason I was on the floor all the time, just one of them. But after that, when I was hanging onto you with everything I had...That first time you left for a night, I thought that was the end too. And it did...hit differently. My worst fear for us has always been that I’ll do something horrible and unforgivable without meaning to and it’ll be that day in the woods all over again. I’ll just be talking or holding you, and I’ll think everything is fine, and then I’ll do something stupid and it won’t be and I won’t see it coming, it’ll just happen, it’ll be over, and there won’t be anything I can do because if I didn’t even know it was wrong before, how well can I guarantee I won’t do it again, and if you’re too hurt to be able to tell me, how am I going to learn and…” Morgan stopped herself, realizing her voice was growing thin and shrill. She wasn’t breathing. Morgan squeezed Deirdre tight and let her tears spill over as she met her eyes desperately.

The pain in her chest was so much bigger than one bad break up in the woods. The root went so much further than Deirdre. When Morgan looked at her reflection in Deirdre’s eyes, she saw herself at twelve and ten and six, the quiet of her family’s apartment suddenly shattered by her mother screaming and swearing, and impassive look turning to rage and exasperation, a gentle hand of instruction turning into a claw on her shirt. No going back, no time to apologize. She should have known better. Been better. She was just such a hard-headed, willfully stupid child. Morgan shivered, unable to bring words to what she was seeing and unable to stop herself until her fear had been spent.  “I felt better after we talked, and you kept me so close all day when you came back, and I felt better by the end of the week, I think. But it did feel like….like that fear. I thought I had ruined everything. But I couldn’t tell myself that I didn’t need you, or I wasn’t allowed this, or that I would be fine, nothing I’d told myself before felt true and I didn’t know what to do. And that’s my fault, it’s mine, it is, but that’s how it felt. And the other nights you did that...I kept myself from destroying our house, but I wondered. I stayed up and I couldn’t focus on anything until you came back because that fear was so strong. And then at the end of this past November... “ Morgan grimaced as she tried to sift through the feelings. She had so many varieties of pain, it was hard to categorize them precisely.

“I didn’t think it was over in November. But I thought maybe it might be. I thought…” She had to close her eyes and will herself back there. She had cut the cord on this time, but the knot, the true source of it, remained buried in her soul. “I know better now, from what you said later. But back then, I couldn’t...It was similar, yes, I thought you had stopped...I thought maybe you...you didn’t want m-me. But I thought I could fix it, too. If I could just...do something right, if I could make you just a little bit happy, a little bit at peace, then maybe you would...you’d just have to. If I could just figure out what I was supposed to do, it would be okay and I’d make--” She stopped and covered her mouth, her face crumpling at the truth that had just risen on her tongue. “I was wrong,” she said, barely audible beneath her fingers. She sniffled and choked, swallowing down sobs. “I was wrong. I thought I was helping. It wasn’t a conscious thought. In my head it was like, I just wanted to make things better for you, I wanted to share your pain and make you feel better and you wouldn’t have to feel so alone, because we’d be together. I’d fix it, I’d fix everything as much as I could. I never consciously set out to...to make you love me again.” She bowed her head, shivering miserably as she just barely held herself together. “It’s just that you were all I had. And if I lost you, there wouldn’t be anything. I was so desperate, I didn’t even let myself really think it. And I...I’m sorry. I’m sorry I tried to do that, and I couldn’t see your hurt, and that I shouldn’t have put that on you, I didn’t see that, I’m sorry. But everything we’re doing now, it’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again. But I am...I am sorry for all of it. And it was my fault, it’s my fault…” Her voice croaked, and Morgan’s grip on her cries fell.

Deirdre’s arms had found their way around Morgan, her body pressed to hers, together just as they’d sit at home. She held her tight, soothing with her touch as Morgan spoke. They’d already talked about the break ups, and Deirdre knew Morgan didn’t blame her—and so she didn’t interrupt with an apology or an explanation. As she listened, she understood Morgan’s pain wasn’t because of her, which should have been a relief but only served to make Deirdre’s chest throb. If it was her fault, then it was something she could control; something she could fix. Likewise, Morgan had thought Deirdre’s pain to be personal, and therefore in her hands. But it wasn’t. Neither of their pain was. But to say what led them here was Morgan’s fault…?

“My love,” Deirdre mumbled, lifting Morgan’s head up to thumb away her tears; as many as there were, even when they kept coming. “My love,” she repeated, “my strong, kind love. It’s not your fault. I don’t think it is, and I wish you didn’t either. The way you were raised...the things your mother did to you, said to you, and your curse...all the things you’ve lost…do you know how strong you are, Morgan? You did so good with what you were dealt, how is that your fault? How could it be your fault?” She released her face, wanting to use her hands to hold her again—tight, firm, steady. “The fact that we’re here, that isn’t your fault. And this isn’t a bad place to be; you said it yourself, we’re going to be okay, and we’ll learn the things we should be doing. And we’ll be better than we were before, and that’s not bad at all. And if it’s not bad then...what exactly is your fault? There’s nothing here to blame yourself for, my love. You wanted to take my pain away—that wasn’t bad either. And you were scared, and none of that is bad. The way you felt, your feelings, they’re not bad, they’re not your fault. I—“ Deirdre cut herself off, hearing Kelly’s scratching. She hated that part of her was worried about what Kelly thought of her attempt to comfort, maybe it was all wrong and there had to be some better way to do it. But despite the feeling, she continued.

“I love you, Morgan. You, and your thoughts and feelings and I love that we’re here—“ Her lips thinned. “Well, maybe not love but I—I think it’ll be good for us. And I’m happy that we’re doing this, and that you’re figuring out your supports, Morgan. I don’t blame you, I’m not mad at you for anything. Maybe, maybe you’ll be able to stop blaming yourself.” She combed her fingers through Morgan’s hair, careful to make sure Kelly couldn’t see how she tugged on it—the human wouldn’t understand what Morgan’s zombie senses needed. “Thank you for always being so honest with me, my love. And what you were saying, about not seeing my hurt I—well, you just wanted to make it better, and I think that’s a noble thing to want. Maybe it was wrong.” Maybe Kelly would say it was. “But I don’t think so; we make mistakes and then we figure it out. And if there was something to forgive you for, you’d already be forgiven. You’ve been so afraid, Morgan, for so long, of so many things. If you’re going to blame yourself, then you have to blame me for being equally as scared. And if you can’t do that then…” She trailed off and smiled, picking tissues out of the box on the table. If Morgan wasn’t going to blame Deirdre, then she shouldn’t be blaming herself—Deirdre didn’t need to say the rest of her thought to let it be clear. She held the tissues out with one hand, using the other to thumb along the bones of her face. “It’s a process,” she said, “well, according to Kelly.” Deirdre smiled up at the therapist, suddenly forgetful of her animosity.

“Are you okay, my love? Do you want to stay like this for a while or…?” Deirdre asked gently, wondering if Kelly would interrupt them now that she’d watched the scene play out. Was there criticism to hand out? Advice? Had they sponged up their time and needed to be ushered out? Deirdre found herself uncaring for the answer, instead she leaned over and pressed her lips to Morgan’s cheek, jaw, temple. She willed love to pass through her body and unto Morgan like a current.

Morgan shut her eyes and huddled into Deirdre, whimpering as she tried to swallow down her sobs. “But I should have been better…” she said feebly. “I’m sorry…” There was nothing else she could think of to say, and so she hid herself deeper into Deirdre’s forgiveness and affection, greedy and aching for it. The parts of her that were lost and trembling didn’t believe she deserved to be comforted, that she should pay, somehow, for the mistakes she had made. But another part, rational and relieved, understood the truth in Deirdre’s words. They really were a pair, holding these double standards for themselves that they would never dream of putting on each other. She laughed, sad and quiet and held Deirdre a little tighter.

“I love you,” she whispered, so soft only her banshee would be able to hear. “I love you always.” She sniffled and lifted her head. “I’m okay,” she said, first to Deirdre, then again to Kelly, clearly and with her best attempt at a smile. She shifted herself to be more visible to their therapist, but made no move to untangle herself from her love.

Kelly beamed at the two of them, her hand deftly concealing the notes in her lap. It was the most feeling she’d expressed to them the whole hour. She remained silent, giving them both time to gather themselves and stay cuddled. “What’s interesting to me, watching you two, is that you seem to possess a certain amount of level-headed wisdom when it comes to each other. And when I say that, I mean you understand that being judgemental isn’t productive toward finding a more positive way of being. You appreciate the importance of a growth mindset, and reflection, but not criticism. But when it comes to yourselves, the temptation to give into fear and take on blame and criticism is much stronger. This may come as a surprise to you, or it may not, but my sense is that the way to enable you to have a stronger footing in your relationship, to be good, or better to each other than you currently are, is to be attentive and forgiving to yourselves. I have some exercises you can practice at home to foster the kind of environment to optimize this kind of work and break down some of these fear responses and thought distortions, but it may be that individual therapy sessions will help you even more, if that is something you are interested in. Does everything I’m saying resonate with you both?”

Morgan nodded from the safety of Deirdre’s chest, where her head still lay. “That makes sense. If you have any suggestions on alone time to couple time ratio, I’d like to hear that too.” She glanced up at Deirdre, hope flickering in her expression. What do you think?

Deirdre smiled, gentle and just for Morgan. “I love you too,” she said; whispered for her love’s ears alone. It’d been a year since they’d met—even if it had felt like so much longer, in all the best ways and only in some terrible ones—and while the woman Morgan knew a year ago had been terrified of having feelings for a human, she’d never shied from affection. She didn’t think to deny Morgan this intimacy. Not when she was afraid, and certainly not under Kelly’s gaze. She held her firm, pressed her lips to the top of her head and shifted just enough to face their therapist. Before the sounds came to her, it was easy to say ‘I love you’ just like this. Where words failed her, touch never did. She wondered if Kelly knew that, if that was somewhere on her notes. It ought to be.

Deirdre nodded, it did occur to her that she was kinder to Morgan than she was to herself. But the reasoning was simple there: she loved Morgan. And self-love—true self-love and not self-importance—was useless to her. Or it had been. “It does, Kelly.” No, individual therapy sounded like the nightmare that it was and she’d only found ease being honest here because of Morgan’s presence, but, their relationship wasn’t the issue. It wasn’t a lack of love, or trust or aversion to affection, it was old wounds, old trauma. Things that needed to be dealt with alone. Things she couldn’t fix for Morgan, and Morgan couldn’t fix for her. Deirdre understood this now, in silent revelation. “Hmm, but I like when we spend time together,” she pouted briefly at Morgan, before she couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t think they spent too much time together, they did live in the same house, after all. Or, they did. Now Morgan lived in the backyard, partly. Which was depressing for a number of reasons, but mostly because Deirdre didn’t think they crowded each other much to begin with. What was so wrong about working separately at opposite ends of the couch? Or when she’d poke her head in after Morgan had spent hours grading papers to ask if she wanted some eyeballs or boiling tea. She struggled to find a single issue with their nights cuddled together, watching movies.

But Morgan wanted space, and independence, and Deirdre understood that better than she was disappointed about being apart. “That would be nice too; interests besides each other. Maybe a way to figure that out. I know we have separate jobs and friends, and maybe that’s a start, but…” Deirdre sighed. She didn’t know how to explain that her interests were exclusively death, math and Morgan. “We do live together, and so time spent with each other is inevitable, but maybe we don’t need to be actively engaging with each other if that’s not—I mean...I just enjoy being in the same room as Morgan, or knowing that I can be, even if we’re not…” Deirdre shook her head and cut herself off. This wasn’t the point, and she was starting to ramble. “Sorry, yeah. What were those exercises you had? And, um, suggestions on the time ratio.”

“I think for the time being, whatever system the two of you have devised for creating time to be yourselves on your own, is fine. Continue to check in with each other and negotiate or maintain that as best as the two of you can until our next meeting.” Kelly’s smile flickered and widened for just a moment, which Morgan seized on as approval and clung to. She whispered another private I love you into the crook of Deirdre’s neck and straightened enough to take out her phone.

“I just want to take notes, to make sure I get everything down,” she explained.

“Deirdre, while Morgan is having her designated private time, I’d like you to challenge yourself to find activities that stimulate your interest. Look into those hobbies, or take some quiet time to see what comes up for you in the stillness. I would also like to suggest a journal practice, one where you focus your attention on yourself and the world around you, and not just your care for Morgan.” She turned her attention to Morgan, brow quirked when she noticed that the woman was writing for the both of them, it seemed. “Morgan, I would like you to take some time asking yourself why it is you feel compelled to take on so much responsibility in this relationship. Your partner has proven herself capable and willing to learn. Even if things should be, let’s say, a little less smooth than normal by allowing Deirdre to rise to the occasion and take some initiative more often, you’re also creating some powerful opportunities for you to learn together as a couple. But first, I think knowing yourself and the source of your anxiety will help you develop effective ways of combating your negative thoughts when they come up. And when we meet next, I’d like to hear the insights you’ve uncovered. My initial homework for both of you is this: try to get more comfortable receiving each other’s love and affection as you are giving it. Ask or state what you want from each other, be it a hug or a kiss or another hour cuddled by the TV or something spicier, as my niece says, and allow yourself to enjoy and receive the attention your partner is giving you for a little longer before you immediately turn to giving something back. Bask a little, appreciate that you are adored and deserving of this.”

After that, Kelly dismissed them and Morgan gave her thanks and left with Deirdre, still huddled into her side. She only parted when they made it to the car and for logistical reasons alone, they had to untangle and walk to their separate doors. Morgan brought the Subaru to quiet, rumbling life and buckled up and pulled out of the parking lot and its pseudo zen landscaping. By the time they were on the freeway, her hand was on Deirdre’s again. “So,” she prompted gently, glancing sidelong with great tenderness. “How are you feeling after all that? What do you feel like doing when we get home?”

Deirdre perked up, smiling and ready to interject. She did have a journal and—oh. Not about Morgan? She deflated. But what else would she write about if not the curve of her love’s bones? The corpse-blue tint of her eyes? The flowers of discolouration that bloomed across her skin when she was due to eat soon? How much she loved her, in what ways, with what words—these were things she needed to commit into existence. This was what her journal was. But she sighed, and remembered to keep her nightly entry Morgan-free. And though she was sure there wouldn’t be a hobby out there more interesting than holding her love, she made note of that too. She turned to Morgan and smiled fondly at the literal notes she was taking, though she couldn’t read them—and didn’t want to pry anyway—from her angle. It was when Kelly mentioned Morgan’s shouldering of responsibility that Deirdre turned to look at Kelly, momentarily confused. Relationships were equal; ‘we help each other’. Deirdre shifted, mulling it over. She never would have called it ‘taking responsibility’ but that was exactly the words for it. She reached over and pressed her palm into Morgan’s knee, a kind of reassurance and apology. Maybe if she’d gotten those diplomas, she’d have known what words to use. She’d have the language. Maybe they wouldn’t have been here. But most certainly, if that was the case, she wouldn’t have felt any guilt about not being a certified therapist like Kelly in the first place.

But ‘basking’, now that was an idea she could get behind. “Tired,” Deirdre laughed, eager to discover how to appropriately ‘bask’. To her mind now, it sounded like cuddling in bed. “So tired. Is it supposed to feel like that?” She turned to look at Morgan, squeezing her hand with a smile. She’d reclined her seat to a point where she might as well have been laying down. Unfortunately, Kelly’s practice wasn’t a far enough drive for her to nap. “What do I feel like doing?” She turned her head to look at the rushing sights. Sleep, her mind responded with enthusiasm. She yawned; her body’s way of agreeing. And then she was silent. And silent again for another minute, and another, and then three. She couldn’t say it. Kelly told her to try, and she couldn’t do it.

Sleep was not a ridiculous thing to ask for, but what if Morgan wanted something else? What if the question had been rhetorical? What if she’d taken too long to reply now and Morgan didn’t care for the answer anymore? Deirdre swallowed. “What do you want?”

Morgan laughed softly and reached over to touch her love. Her hand landed somewhere on her stomach, where her shirt rode up just a little from reclining. She played with the hem as she brushed Deirdre’s side. “I’ve definitely never hurdled headfirst into epiphanies on what is technically a second session, but you and I do spend a lot of time processing together anyways, and we don’t usually do things halfway, so maybe it’s not all that surprising. But the tired...it’s definitely not uncommon. When I first started going after my college mental breakdown, I would end up taking a nap as soon as I got home after.”

She let the silence take them until they hit a red light. Deirdre was supposed to voice her wants, and even though everything in her body made it clear to Morgan, she didn’t want to step on her opportunity to speak for herself. When she finally did, Morgan’s heart sank. “Babe--” she urged gently. “It’s okay. I can pretty much tell already, and the answer is yes, but you should say.” Her fingers spidered over to find Deirdre’s hand and cradled them together. “It’s okay.”

Slowly, Deirdre reached up and pinched Morgan’s hand--when she was alive, this unspoken question was a gentle brush instead--asking to hold it. There were many things she wanted, but only so many she could ask for. Whenever she did, the question was soft, silent. She looked at her love, illuminated by the world and the red-glow of the stop light. When their hands fit together finally, she found strength to speak, “then...can I take you to bed? Can I hold you?” Her voice was gentle against her quivering lips, parted in trepidation. Morgan had said the answer was yes, but she’d believe it once she heard it. And until then, she watched with nervous yearning. “Can I sleep, just for an hour, with you in my arms? And when I wake..can we--can we--” The light turned green. Deirdre swallowed. “Can we spend the day together? For just a while longer?”  

Morgan gave Deirdre her hand with ease, going so far as to pull her love’s over the console and up to her lips so there could be no mistaking her enthusiasm. She held Deirdre’s gaze as she searched for the words, so quiet and timid they were almost swallowed up by the low humming of the car. She only turned her eyes away when the light turned and she had to switch lanes to make their turn in the bright glare of the afternoon. She squeezed Deirdre’s hand again, beaming as the trees cleared and the roads grew more familiar. “I would love nothing more than going to bed with you, my love, in every sense of the phrase,” she said. This was breaking a rule, or talking about breaking one, which felt a little less reckless. But Morgan had said that their rules should be up to revision anyway, hadn’t she?

Morgan loosened her grip so she could put both hands on the wheel. She didn’t need to fall into steamy bliss with her love tonight, and certainly not as soon as they got home. But with her greater understanding of herself came a desire to shake off the last of her intimacy trepidations. If her fear had so little to do with Deirdre, then what was the point? Shouldn't they get to enjoy themselves as much as possible in their time together? “That aside, I think laying down in our bed wrapped in each other’s arms for an hour or two sounds like a perfect idea. And then after you wake, we can do absolutely anything you want until--” Morgan stopped herself from giving the precise time. Deirdre hated exacting times for their comings and goings. It was the three minute game all over again, and Morgan didn’t want to add to her trepidation by dangling a fated hour over her. “Until I decide to take a couple of hours for myself in the evening. But after that, I’ll come back to you for the night. I’m also pretty heart-tired, and I don’t think I want anything more than being close to you right now.”

Every sense of the— Deirdre chased the echo away. Morgan didn’t mean it like that, and even if she did, she was just being carried by the energy of their first session. It didn’t mean anything, and certainly not what she wanted it to mean. Don’t be hopeful, don’t be. But Deirdre closed her eyes, and despite her cautioning, she could feel hope swell as Morgan continued. And then relief washed across her and she relaxed into her seat. It was okay. It was going to be okay. She could have this, she could have Morgan. She opened her eyes and stared at the streets she knew. The drive back wasn’t long, and she was happier to be up and into their house as soon as they could be than to pretend like cars were ever comfortable or interesting to sit in. At some point, though she didn’t realize it, the scenery turned dark. “I always want to be close to you,” she confessed quietly. “I want you to take me to the place where everything is easy again. I want to sleep, and I want to wake up feeling okay. And I want you to be there. I want you with me. I want to know what I have to do to get better. I want that to be done already. I want our future, our life. I want to be happy. I want you to be happy. I want a house in the forest with land to farm and more cats, all rescued. I want to teach kids math and about bones. I want to make death easy and okay. I want my family’s farm, freed from its legacy. I want animals that die natural and content. I want a banshee that’s happy, I want a family of banshees that are. I want to take you to Ireland and show you the horses. I want to watch all those old movies you like. I want to talk to you forever. I want to spend all my life with you. I want a dog. I want us to travel the world and see everything our mothers would never let us see. I want you. I want us. I want to go home and sleep.” Of course, she said none of that. She’d fallen asleep on the very seat she thought she’d never.

What she had said was far more simple, and yet, more than any of her imagined words could have been: “I love you, Morgan.”

[yahooeny]

#The Year of the Linux Desktop is Further Away Than Ever Before ##An incredibly long diatribe of my struggles moving back to Linux I'll say right off the bat that Windows is the not the ideal OS. I recently set out to put a Linux distro back on my laptop after growing frustrated with my Windows install, mostly stemming from the GTX 1050/Optimus setup on my Asus FX53D. GeForce drivers have been incredibly buggy, Photoshop and other Creative Cloud software would crash multiple times an hour after switching back and forth between the Game Ready and Creator Ready driver lines. Also even when it is "inactive" the 1050 seems to stay engaged at all times even though the iGPU is supposed to be the main composite, so battery life is often little more than an hour which is too low even for a gaming laptop. Obviously there's nothing on the open source side that could replace the Creative Cloud suite so I'm stuck with the Windows install but the general instability with Optimus was enough for me. After several years I was going back to the Linux desktop. But what distro? Last I used Linux regularly I was using a combination of Ubuntu and Chromium OS Lime (RIP) so obviously things would have to change. I was opposed to vanilla Ubuntu because even back in the day the amount of bloat in the default install drove me away from the distro. And while the goal of this install was to have a light desktop for mostly web browsing and messaging, just a lone web browser was a little too far for me. I was interested in Manjaro but decided an Ubuntu-based distro was going to be more familiar territory. I wanted to run Linux, I didn't want to fix Linux. I've heard good things about Linux Mint, uh sure let's go with that.

Except Linux Mint never booted for me. I couldn't get the install flash drive to actually make it past a black screen. And I coulda sworn I was able to boot into GParted when cloning my SSD so it's not like this thing refuses to boot to any Linux distro... Uh I dunno. Maybe Pop OS will work better. It *is* maintained by a system builder so it's gotta have better hardware support than the competition...

...Hm. Still black screen. So after hours of smacking my brain it turns out this was my problem.

So I guess in the intervening years since I last used Linux UUI has become complete bunk. I don't know if it's because the way install ISOs are formatted have changed, I don't know if it's because UEFI has introduced new incompatibilities. I was able to put a Windows 10 ISO on a flash drive fine with this so who knows what its problem is but it's no good anymore. People recommend Etcher... *Why?* This thing runs on Electron. Why the hell would you want a system utility to be run on Electron? Last time I tried Etcher it couldn't even detect that my flash drive ran out of space and left me with a broken install. Don't use Etcher. Rufus is pretty good though. Pop OS's installer tries to simplify some things about Ubuntu's installer but there is one giant deal breaker...

Where the hell is the dual boot option? Your average user is not going to get rid of Windows. I'm certainly not going to get rid of Windows, not so long as Adobe has me by the balls. The "Custom Install" is not self-explanatory at all. *I* managed to resize my partitions but I also messed up and didn't properly turn on disk encryption. How is your average user supposed to figure out how to manually repartition their drive for multibooting. (We'll get back to the topic of partitioning and idiot-proofing later...) So finally we're installed. Hey man beyond partitioning that was pretty painless. I wasn't trying running around installing my NVidia drivers, I wasn't stuck on my ethernet adapter because I have to separately install my wifi drivers. And with a lot less bloat! Ok, some bloat. Who actually uses Libreoffice? I've been using nothing but Google Docs for the last eight years. At this point Google Docs' only real weakness is that nothing will ever compare in power to Excel. Certainly not Libreoffice. But that's easy enough to uninstall it seems like it's smooth sailing from her- ##GNOME 3 Sucks. I have some questions for the designers of GNOME 3. I'm sure they tried their best to modernize GNOME. Anything's better than Unity (according to the majority consensus, I don't necessarily agree but I can't exactly install Unity anymore so oh well...) and it's not all bad. However... * Why does the Super key take me to an exploded view of all my open applications instead of something useful? If I need to switch between applications I'd rather use alt-tab or the taskbar. Moving the applications dashboard to Super+A is a terrible idea because I'm going to use the dashboard a lot more often than I'm going to need this Win+Tab exploded view. * Why is the taskbar useless? 99.9% of all applications I use are not going to show me any useful options in the taskbar dropdown menu unlike in Windows where developers disciplined themselves around Windows 7 to put quick actions in the taskbar. So if I don't even get that, then why does by default the taskbar only show me one application at a time? There's so much unused space at the top that could be used to show all my open applications instead of me having use up even more space at the bottom for some extension that gets proper taskbar functionality back. *Where is 150% zoom? I guess this complaint is more towards System76 since other friends have assured me that there does indeed exist a level of application scaling between the puny 100% and the ginormous 200% but on this install I ain't seeing it. I'm also not seeing a way to control application scrolling per-monitor like in Windows. *Notifications are a boondoggle. Well, they're bad in Windows too but that's no excuse. I don't know who both at Microsoft and GNOME decided "oh yeah, applications should be allowed to keep a notification on screen indefinitely that's totally good UX and not abusable at all" but they're morons. And so is whoever worked on Chrome that thought the same thing. Chrome, Google Hangouts in particular, is the #1 abuser in indefinite notifications. It's incredibly annoying, I don't want have to stop what I'm doing to wave off a toast. GNOME however gets the slight edge because for some god damn reason Windows disables interacting with anything from about a 10 pixel radius around the toast. And also won't let you move the toast away from the bottom right which is *right where a bunch of apps tack on really important buttons!*

Alright this is a big one.

Why is the mouse so god damn awful?

Maybe this isn't a GNOME problem but it is a big fat problem. Using a mouse or touchpad is just a pain in the ass in Linux. No, specifically scrolling with a mouse or touchpad is a pain in the ass. I use a Microsoft Comfort Optical Mouse 3000. Maybe not the best mouse but it's ergonomic and nice to use. Except in Linux.

See the Microsoft Comfort Mouse has an optical scroll wheel with smooth action instead of a traditional scroll wheel with discreet clicks across the wheel. Bad for games, sure but for web browsing it is a dream. I can fly through webpages without losing tracking accuracy because Windows' mouse driver tracks the scroll wheel at a higher resolution.

Scrolling is a giant pain in Linux. For one it's slooooooooow. There's no way to change scroll speed. Well, not elegantly, at least.

imwheel is a mouse service you can tack on top of the existing mouse server that lets you change things such as how many lines one wheel click scrolls through. But there's limitations to this. For my purposes, I can't figure out how to change the resolution of the mouse scroll itself for mice like mine that are linear instead of discreet clicking wheels. Worst of all...

It breaks the trackpad! Pop OS does get trackpad scrolling mostly right (except for the lack of scroll inertia) but imwheel completely breaks it because the trackpad scrolling and mousewheel scrolling are operating on completely different tracking resolution. (By the way, this is what trackpad scrolling should look like.)

(...But trackpad scroll inertia does work in a bunch of system GNOME apps. Why in the world would such a fundamental part of the user experience be application dependent? Why aren't other applications implementing scroll inertia?) I'm not the only person to make these observations on Linux's deficiencies in its mouse input. There's a great blog by Pavel Fatin called Scrolling with pleasure that goes into much much greater detail into the ways mouse I/O can be much better. It's from two years ago and the fact that many of his observations haven't been implemented yet is a shame. It seems with some sects of the Linux userbase, using a GUI or desktop manager as little as possible is some point of pride and elitism. As if people who use mice and need graphic interfaces are noobs who just aren't smart enough for Linux. This sect is really small but they are vocal nonetheless and it contributes to the air of elitism around Linux. Ah speaking of graphics... why am I getting a black screen again?

Well that's not good. Far as I can tell the last time I booted up my Pop OS partition it wanted to upgrade the NVidia drivers among other packages but ran out of space. See, I was under the presumption that 10 GB of space was enough room for a light Linux install in 2019. Clearly I was wrong. I don't know why being unable to upgrade packages due to disk space should brick a system. If I run out of disk space, shouldn't apt stop trying to upgrade it and leave it be? My system shouldn't die on me just because I can't upgrade to the latest packages. Ah well no more bitching. Let's install this thing again...

The installation process when making a multiboot partition should really be a lot more idiot proof. It's not unreasonable for a user to want a light install especially when they are using Linux only as a secondary OS and want to keep as much space on their drives as possible for the Windows install. Maybe the installation should soft-enforce a minimum size for the /home/ partition, or at least when I tell it I want /home/ to be 10GB it should tell me "Hey dumbass! Your install is liable to break from updates if you make it this small!" It also really should not be this hard to encrypt a multiboot partition. I tried to get my /home/ partition encrypted this time around but when I made it an encrypted partition in GRUB the Pop OS installer kept complaining that it couldn't decrypt the partition, even after I gave it the decryption key. I give up, any information I need securing is already file encrypted or on a cloud account I don't care anymore. Hmm... Maybe I didn't make the install light enough. I mean I made it as light as possible, downloads were going to my Windows download folder instead, I removed a shitload of apps including the mail client which I have no use for since I use GApps. But maybe GNOME is not light enough... And also I fucking hate GNOME. What's even lighter...

Oh yeah I should install xfce instead since it sips memory and disk space. I've used lxde before back in the day when PC manufacturers were desperately trying to make netbooks a thing, this should be easy to slip back to!

...What? I had to reinstall Pop OS for the second time because for whatever reason installing lxde broke my install. I don't know how. I don't know why. I tried to follow System76's guide on installing additional window managers... Now here's a problem, the guide says to choose lightdm on Ubuntu 16.04 and not to use gdm or sddm. It says it's fine to choose those on later versions. I don't think the lxde installer gave me a choice of using lightdm and why is this article talking about Ubuntu anyways. isn't this guide specifically for Pop OS? Clearly there is documentation that needs to be revised. So I guess I'm stuck with GNOME 3 now. It's not... horrible. But it took some elbow grease (and a lot of extensions) to get there.

Too many actually. A lot of these things shouldn't be extensions, they should be default. Desktop icons should be default, otherwise why even still have a desktop? The Window is ready notification is the most annoying thing on earth. Even Windows 10 has a clipboard history by default now, that shouldn't have to be an extension. While I'm still bitching.

How hard is it to disable an audio device once it's disconnected? I connect my laptop to my monitor and speaker system through HDMI and whenever I disconnect it I'll move out, try to play some video, get confused as to why no audio is playing, and discover it's still trying to serve audio to the HDMI device. * I disabled the login screen since I'm the only user of the install but how it logs you into your session is so slapdash it makes me actively worried for my security. The keyring popup is often the last thing to show up once GNOME is loaded. The desktop, Teamviewer, and Discord, all load *before I'm prompted to login. In the process of recording video for this blog I logged into Pop OS and managed to open Chrome and browse to a tab all before the keyring prompt finally took its time to stop user input before I ever logged in. What? This is incredibly stupid. The login prompt should be the first thing to load before anything else. In fact, nothing else but GNOME should be able to load before I've logged in. Sure I could re-enable the login screen but that's to me unnecessary steps added to booting up to a single-user install. Why even have the option to begin with? * Can Pop OS please stop moving my NTFS mounts between /dev/ and /media/? Stop that. I can't use my Steam install folder without readjusting it every time I reboot. * I have no idea why the disks in my external USB enclosure keep spinning even when they are connected but unmounted in Pop OS. It freaks me out to the point I keep the enclosure powered off until I actually need it. * I don't get why Pop OS's auto timezone detection seems to think I live in LA. I don't. I live in Atlanta, three hours ahead of LA. When I turn off auto timezone detection and manually change it to EST it's messed up my BIOS clock so that whenever I open back up Windows I'm three hours ahead.

Going back to Linux has been more of a pain than a solution to my existing problems in Windows. Every time I boot it up it seems I find one more frustrating thing to nag about or one more part of the system that breaks out of nowhere. Some people find constantly tinkering with their OS appealing and it does to me but not anywhere to this extent. GNOME 3 has numerous UX deficiencies compared to Windows 10 and Mac OS, many of them regressions compared to predecessors like GNOME 2 and Unity (RIP). It is so frustrating to use I cannot recommend it despite its more mature device and software support. It's been years since the meme of "The Year of Desktop Linux" first became popular that I'm skeptical that this mythical day that Linux on desktop becomes mainstream will ever arrive- even with exciting initiatives like Proton for software compatibility and relatively easy to use distros like Pop OS. I mean, I can't even get Proton to work on my Steam install because it doesn't seem to like sharing the same install folder as Steam for Windows. Ugh. Does this mean I'm removing Pop OS from my drive? No. I get that I've spent 2.5k+ words bitching about it but there are things it does that I cannot live without.

Being able to remove my 1050 from the equation entirely means I get a (still kind of pathetic) three hours of battery life instead of the measly one hour I've been getting lately. *apt-get is godlike. Updating is so fast, so easy, and often doesn't require a reboot. apt-get is what every auto-update OS function should strive to be. Windows Store has got jack shit on it.

Guake is so good man!!! I love being able to pop open the terminal anytime and hide it quick. It's such a giant productivity boost, someone should have the balls to make default in a distro.

Disk and partition management is still leagues better on Linux than on Windows. Drive recovery is a cinch, being able to bypass the permissions system on NTFS is a godsend, imaging partitions is a snap. Of course ext4 isn't and probably will never be natively supported in Windows... A flash drive with GParted should be in every technician's toolbox.

For all my headaches, Linux is still much leaner than Windows. It sips battery, it changes less stuff behind your back, and it's usually easy to know how something broke even if you often can't fix it without reinstallation. But is it the Year of the Linux Desktop? No. It probably will never be.