#she might be on more credits but I don't know

[flawseer]

What's your opinion of what everyone did after the sealing of Darkstalker in the legends book? It just seemed way too quick with how they just moved on from the horrors, as Fathom and Indigo had kids and Clearsight flew off to a new continent to have kids with and create a whole new tribe. On another note, considering how Fathom was kind of banished (from what I remember) and had kids split off from the Royal Family, do you think there may be a descendant of Fathom somewhere hiding with Animus powers? Or do you think they just ended up being adopted back into the royal family after being discovered?

I personally consider Legends: Darkstalker the best book in the series, in part because I believe Sutherland's writing shines when she is not binding herself to the 5 books arc structure.

That said, the ending does have a bit of that one particular prequel problem. You know, the one where the characters are confirmed to be at a certain location in the future, so they absolutely HAVE to end the prequel story getting to that location IMMEDIATELY.

That's what I was thinking with regards to Clearsight's ending. Now, everyone deals with trauma differently, so I can only comment on her actions from my own limited point of view. I don't think I could have done what she did, at least not so suddenly. She had relationships beyond Darkstalker, with Listener and her parents, whom she presumably was still on good terms with. Like, especially her parents I think never actually learned what happened to her. They might have continued living thinking their only daughter died in the evacuation.

When I think of that part of the book, I personally like to envision an epilogue where Clearsight returns to her parents and lives with the Nightwings for a while (a couple years maybe). Her parents are supportive and Listener is grateful and admires her friend for saving her family. So much so that she reverses her stance on futuresight and authors a scroll about it, crediting Clearsight as a master prophet (this is the scroll that Moonwatcher later reads).

But the other Nightwings still fear Darkstalker, and they remember his girlfriend who stood on stage with him and looked at him adoringly as Darkstalker massacred his own father (they don't know she was tricking Darkstalker). So there is public tension building at Clearsight living with them, and it begins to negatively impact the people who support her. In the end, Clearsight decides to leave the tribe, both to protect her loved ones from getting caught up in her fallout and to separate herself from all that trauma and find her fortune on the new continent.

Notably, she actually tells her friends and parents about that plan this time, and they don't spend the rest of their lives wondering what happened.

As for Fathom and any potential descendants, there is a 'realistic but boring' answer, and one that is a bit more interesting narratively.

The boring answer is that, yes, there are descendants of Fathom around. Lots of them. It is inevitable. If you take an individual and step back one generation, you find they will have 2 parents. Above that they have 4 grandparents. Then 8 great-grandparents, 16 great-great-grandparents. At 10 generations back we are looking at 1024 theoretical ancestors. Now as these numbers get bigger, some of these lines will cross-breed with each other again, so the math isn't entirely clean, but just trust me that these numbers balloon really fast the more generations you go back.

Fathom was alive 2000 years ago. If we lean conservatively and say the average dragon has eggs at age 20, that means 100 generations have come and gone from then to today. The number of ancestors over this many generations is so high, you might pick any Seawing currently alive in present day and there will be a very decent chance of them having Fathom somewhere in their bloodline.

You go back far enough and everyone starts to be related to everyone else. Ancestry is funny like that.

For the more narratively interesting answer: I do believe Fathom re-integrated into the royal family again. One thing that needs to be kept in mind is that Pearl, like her brother, also had her entire life uprooted by the Royal Seawing Massacre. She was all at once dealing with the shock of losing her parents and the stress of having to now run the entire kingdom without being prepared for it at all. There was no time to process any grief, or the lingering fear. When she sent her brother away and forbade him to have children, that wasn't an act of malice, it was the only solution she could think of to keep everyone safe from the future threat of magic without also having to execute the last part of her family.

Neither of them ever had any ill will against the other. Pearl was dealt the shittiest of hands and she tried to make the best play she could at the time, while desperately trying to keep herself together. That is what I think.

As Pearl and Fathom got older and the situation in the Sea Kingdom stabilized, Pearl might have finally been able to reflect upon what happened and to process some of her neglected emotional turmoil. I believe Fathom eventually reached out again and they both found a way to reconcile, mending their fractured relationship. I don't know if Fathom moved back into the palace; perhaps he chose to stay away to keep the rest of the populace at ease. But I think his children or grand-children would eventually re-integrate into the royal family.

This turned out a bit wordy and the question was sitting in my inbox for a good while. But I hope this provides an interesting answer.

[urautismdiagnosis]

Dashi Design (and her lore for my au)

DASHIIIIIII she has my life eeee

Dashi is my go getter queen, also the headshot of her is her correct hair texture its just that the total body art is a bit older but yeh :>

Dashi lore for my au under the cut

ONTO THE LORE FOR DASHI IN MY AU 🎉🎉🎉

First of all, let's take a little look at her interests- surfing, photography, going out to cave dive for those photos-

And she does all of this stuff, that alot of people might only do as hobbies, to the max!

Whenever she has any interest she always goes as high as she possibly can-

Her family is kinda rich, like "we have rich person hobbies and have expensive vacations every year 💅" kind of rich. Hence why she was able to get so much support for all her interests at a young age, whether it be surfing or photography competitions and so on.

Anyways she's also got an older brother, (I've named him Dan btw) and he's the eldest

See the thing about him and dashi is that they used to be super close as kids yk? He was the oldest sibgling and big brother and both he and dashi were both similar in alot of ways! They were both super competitive and determined to reach their goals, he also was the one who got her into surfing and taught her a ton of stuff!

They were close kinda like how dashi and koshi are...

The thing is though a big part of his identity was being the golden child and amazing big brother and perfect high achiever son, so when dashi started getting older and developing her like.. whole seperate interests and identity that her brother...

Well they started clashing alot, because well she couldn't play the "little sister" that he could teach so everyone could admire how amazing he was, instead she was having her own achievements that he couldn't have any credit in.

He was the kind of older brother who... well choose to be kinda patronizing to make themselves more masculine and popular... and at a certain point it went from "aw big brother helping teach his lil sister!" To " ur actually talking down on me and I hate that, and whenever i try to bring it up you act like I'm a 5 year old when I'm not. Also I dont need ur bad advice on this, I know what I'm doing and ur just acting like a pro in something u don't know anything about"

Alot of his identity and self worth comes from bragging about *his* achievements

The undermining of her own achievements didn't even just come from him either, alot of her passions and skills were just seen as hobbies for fun and not real jobs. Its why she ended up as primarily a computer specialist, she worked as a meteorologist actually! She would use those advanced machines and systems to track and decipher weather, and even was a co-pilot for the weather researchers... but her parents just kinda saw it as her just "being a weather girl"

Her parents are genuinely very kind and caring, nuturing her interests and always trying to be there for her emotional needs but, but they're very out of touch. The type of people to just... not understand why saying a certain phrase *actually is kinda specist* or *why photography actually matters to helping climate change* or *hey actually you can't just try to feed wild animals food even if they act cute cuz it'll hurt them and no it actually IS really bad for a variety of reasons and-*

That sorta thing...

They do genuinely love and try to support her tho, they just... wanted her to get a real job so she could have a good life :/ they're genuie ly nice folks who love to help people out tho

Regardless though,dashi still wanted to fulfill her passions and dreams and needs,and then she learned about the octonauts

at the time thr octonauts were a VERY experimental and risky organization, but she did research and genuinely believed and wanted to be part of what could possibly be a revolutionary organization for rescue, research, exploration, and conservation-

So she applied in secret.

The thing is though, Dan had found out. Their relationship at the time was strained at best but they were still siblings. But then he snitched.

her parents. Freaked. Out

To say they were concerned about their daughter going out to just- possibly- "die in the middle of the ocean!" Or "be stuck and trapped with strangers in the middle of the ocean!" Or "struggle to ever settle down because you're in the middle of the ocean!" Or "get stranded on an island in the middle of the ocean!" Or "get eaten by a whale and cry because u weren't ever able to get back with ur ex u sarcastically said ud get back with because we kept talking about how amazing he was and how we thought ud get married and how sad that made us and then you'd die in a whale in the middle of the ocean!" Or whatever 🙄

Like girl did get swallowed by a whale but it was chill yall need to calm down 💅 like so what if siphonphores tried to eat her once or if the octopods crashed or nearly crashed several times? Like she handled it yall need to have some faith in ur daughter smh

Anyways needless to say they made the process SO HARD esp since Dan STOLE HER LAPTOP WITH HER FILES because he was "woRriEd foR hIs baby SiStEr trYiNg tO ruuN AwAy🥺🥺🥺" She is a grown woman btw and a highly renowned professional in her career.

anyways she managed to join thr octonauts anyways and her parents did chill at least half a year later once they realized she wasn't gonna die in the ocean and that she was fine not "settling down" for a while, they still DONT understand it but like they were just worried their daughter was going crazy and running away (THANKS FOR ADDING A BUNCH OF DRAMATIC LIES TO CHANGE THE STORY DAN)

Anyways she and Dan don't talk anymore, if u ask either of them about it "they just drifted apart", koshi doesn't really know what all the drama that happened was tbh :/ she just remembered them fighting over a laptop and figures they never really got along 😐👍

Anyways dashi makes it a point to never make koshi feel the way dan made her feel

Also dan ended up becoming a lawyer for businesses if u were interested :/

Dashis parents sound pretty bad here and they def aren't perfect, but they're usually just uninformed and they genuinely do have a "we should help everyone in our community ^v^ " mindset and taught dashi alot about self confidence and etc

If u made it this far then congrats!

Btw she didn't start out as a scientist when she joined the octonauts,its actually something that she added to her skillsets and shellington supported her thru it

I'll have to make a dashington post soon lol and also tall about her relationships with the rest of the octonauts crew

She and peso were the last two octonauts to join

[nowhateverthisnostopasking]

So, while this next idea would be ideally used in the DC Animated Movie Universe, it could work in a new continuity (though, damn do I wish otherwise. lol); nevertheless, it doesn't rely so much on established DCAMU canon as my earlier hoped for projects.

*The Idea*

I think the Titans would have a Christmas break, whenever there wasn't a major threat to address, anyway. I believe Bruce Wayne would invite Damian's new teammates to Wayne Manor, if they had nowhere else to go, plus he understood it was healthy for his son's emotional development and well-being. I think this was a basis for quite a few fanfics, so even though I thought of it before seeing them, I give credit to those who beat me to the punch and with actually comprehensive detail. aha

Raven would go, as she has no other home, and Beast Boy would tag along for fun, to be the little brother who - while a valued friend - would sometimes fail to read the room, so would interrupt what should be more intimate social outings. That lovable rascal. haha. And he'd mess up Alfred's kitchen trying to cook something vegetarian even though he can't prepare food himself yet; might be a fun character moment to have Damian prepare the food for everyone, to be one of those surprise skills that still make sense. Maybe add other Titans, but I don't know, just those three at minimum.

The primary threat would be Scarecrow, since he would be one of the most dangerous Gotham supervillains for them, especially Raven because her emotion-based powers would be violently disrupted by his fear toxin, and more simply his psychiatric expertise; similarly, her empath power would become agony as Scarecrow spreads fear throughout thousands of people, with all that fear crushing her. Hence, why Damian would be vital for her as he is someone who can control his terror better than most, so he could talk her down to focus only on his bravery, rather than on everyone else's fear.

On a tangent, I think Crane would have employed Killer Croc as muscle, who would serve as Beast Boy's rival in the story. Maybe even build a bit of a bond as worthy enemies through mutual understanding about being outcasts due to a condition they can't change.

I feel like a good element for the climax would be a reversal of Damian helping Raven, when Scarecrow's fear toxin actually works on Damian, so Raven can help him keep his sanity with fortitude she had thanks to the support he gave her earlier. What would Damian fear? It could be knowledge about being planned as just a weapon, but I doubt that would bother him yet. Fear of failure? I think his confidence was unflappable at this point. I believe the fear would likely be losing Raven, thus her being there would challenge and help him overcome that fear.

*Closing*

Not sure how the entire plot would pan out, but I'm an ideas person, the structure is done better by others. Still, it feels like it has potential as a baseline. Simply wanted to put this out ASAP while I thought of it.

Anyway, I'm a sucker for a half-decent pun, so the film would be called something like "The Knightmare Before Christmas." It'd be a nice bookend for the teammates to watch the name's inspiration at the start and end in one of the Wayne screening rooms. Might be a legal issue, but I've seen cross-company cooperation before for more than this.

Damian: I'm not afraid of anything.

Raven: I didn't see it as much as felt it, and I've been trying to shake it off ever since.

Scarecrow: Fear reveals the truth.

[etherealily]

𝕏𝕆𝕏𝕆, 𝔽𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕩.

this might be one of my favourite things i've written. hope you enjoy! happy v-day💌

Queued + not proofread!

Felix Catton + fem!reader. Warnings : Cussing. Drugs. Long.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : You don't want to fix him, but you do, anyway.

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Okay, okay, so he beat someone up on campus, so fucking what?

It's called being a good fucking person. Look, you do not let some utter chav get away with cat-calling a girl in the middle of the dining hall, and then a frat party, where she might have been roofied if she'd have been dumber (thank god she wasn't), and in a fucking library, just because she couldn't cause a scene. Three strikes and he was out.

But apparently, so was Felix.

"No, Sir, I'm telling you, he was--'

"Professor Walker."

Professor. Asshole. "Professor. I apologise. Professor, I'm telling you, he was being absolutely dodgy!"

"Mr. Catton, I'd advise you to stay calm--"

His fist slammed on the table, the pens on this useless waste of a PhD's desk bouncing, seemingly in tune with Felix's blood pressure. "YOU are a philosophy professor, yeah? Don't bloody talk about practical shite to me, and don't tell me what to do about what happens in the real world, when your whole career is telling people to overthink everything and keep their heads in the clouds!"

Uh, whoops.

His adrenaline shot down as fast as it had shot up and all of a sudden, he was acutely aware of his ranking in this shithole.

Student.

He's lucky he wasn't expelled.

Because the philosophy 'professor' said "young minds often reject new ideas".

Figures.

He got let off with a warning, an extremely disappointed voicemail from his mother (Felix, dear, you know philosophy was my major, that was a horrid joke to make), to sit in on one month's worth of philosophy lectures - surprisingly, without charge - and a mandatory weekly anger management session for the rest of the academic year.

That last bit was what he was most chagrined about.

He did not need a bloody shrink. GOD. He was fine. He just couldn't handle the philosophy 'professor' telling him to 'stay calm' when he was perfectly calm. Maybe he knew that would set him off. Any class with Felix in it is sure to get more listeners. So maybe it was this Professor Walker mooching off his campus-wide popularity.

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Having to miss classes wasn't exactly on your bucket list, but your body was far less used to Oxford winters than you'd expected, and so the flu decided to scrape a week off your lectures. You made up for it, though, being a swot on your first free week of Uni, and not needing to catch up on much.

However, there was definitely no chance your professor took too kindly to your absence, seeing as psychology was your major, and she expected you to be there, rain, hail or shine. Star student, you were not, but the only one taking it seriously, you were.

So here you were, sitting in front of her as she regarded you. "You need extra credit."

"Yes, Professor."

"Your career path?"

"Uh... undecided."

"Career focus?"

"Psychology.' That, you knew.

She hummed, shaking a packet of sugar before ripping the corner. You watched the tiny, crystalline cubes get engulfed by the brown of her coffee.

"You should try going into therapy."

For a moment, you almost chewed her head off.

"As a career.", she clarified, almost snorting as she saw your expression. "You interact well with people, and you have a good grasp on the subject." Ah. Say that properly, bitch.

"Here's what I'll do.", she declared, taking a large sip of her coffee - you were almost 90% sure she'd made it Irish earlier - before sliding a small, stapled pile of papers over to you. "I'll give you all the tools you'll need. See if you can get them memorized and come back for a solo quiz later this week. Then, you can begin conducting."

Conducting?

You skimmed your eyes over the stack of paper. Weekly mandatory anger management sessions. Split second, and you thought it was for you, because maybe she had heard you mentally call her a bitch.

"An extremely hardworking and well-scoring student recently got into an altercation on campus, on grounds.", she explained, and you nodded, your eyes not leaving the stack of paper.

'Conducted by' : blank. You supposed that's where you were supposed to sign.

"Although we have a strict policy against harrasment and conflict, none of the three parties involved has openly stated discrimination. The only solid thing the university has got is a confession from the initiator and witnesses from the side of the victim. But given his clean record so far, we have resorted to only this. Sessions to contain any such future outbursts."

Who even was this kid, and why was he your form of extra credit? "But I'd be using him as a lab rat, basically."

"Come again?"

"I'm not qualified or licensed to conduct these sessions, so I don't think--"

She waved you off, the bint. "It's a mere formality, no need to put stock into it. That's not to say you can slack off, half-arse it, either, but he's had no history of violence and is known to be a relatively good-tempered student."

Then why the fuck?

"We figure he can be let off easy - we'd never take sides, so this is off the record, but he was justified - and you can get extra credit, and the victim can be appeased. Quiet and a win-win-win."

The coffee now completely drained, she watched you think it over while staring blankly at the space in which you needed to sign your name. Inhaling deeply, she leaned over, gently prying it from you and flipping the page. "This bit, very important. Sort of like an NDA. No, maybe... an ANS. Agreement Not to Sue. But less official."

"This looks more like summat he should be signing. Basically, since I'm not a licensed therapist, if he doesn't get better, or gets more fucked, the Uni isn't to blame?"

"You need to sign it, too. You'll have to record the sessions, as well."

"So you know I'm not 'half-arsing' it?"

"So we know he's coming to them. But yeah. That too.", she smiled, tilting her head. "You in?"

Well, yeah, you kind of had to be, seeing as she cut marks for your absences out of sheer fucking spite.

You nodded and so did she. "Brilliant! Sign here."

Scrawling your sign - that you came up with in the eighth grade instead of fucking having fun like a kid - on the blank spots her manicured nail hovered over, you bit the inside of your cheek. Was it weird that they weren't telling you who it was?

Was it weird that the sheet had been blank when it was brought to you, meaning whoever this bloke was, he had no clue what was coming?

Uh huh. Yeah.

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"A student?! A first year fucking student? I'm getting a kid-shrink?"

"It's a mere formality. Given your record, we're sure you don't even require these sessions--"

"Professor! Come on! Can't we just say I took them?"

It's quite interesting how chill a philosophy professor can actually be once you get to know them personally. And Walker was cool, as Felix had come to find out in the past couple days of knowing him.

"Afraid not. But I'm sure she's been adequately trained by the psychology in-charge to handle these sessions."

"Why can't the in-charge do it? Would actually do summat!"

"She's busy."

He scoffed as he was handed a stapled stack of papers. "What's this, then?"

"Read it."

He did, for a while, before looking up at him with raised eyebrows. "What is this, a Liability Waiver for if she bollockses my mental health by accident?"

"More or less."

Sweet lord. "Oh, fantastic, so I'm a scapegoat, a trial for this first year, am I? See if counselling is her 'thing'?"

"You know, a more positive attitude towards this, and you might not have to go the whole year.'

"What, sayin' she'll give up?"

Walker looked almost amused, snorting. "No. I'm saying you might actually get a solution for your rage issues."

"I don't have--'

"You could learn a thing or two, Felix. Learn to calm your temper - no matter how non-existent you claim it to be - and learn how to be happier."

"Brilliant. A first year is going to teach me about the joys of non-reactivity, then? Brilliant. We'll see her keep her temper when a girl's being near groped in front of her, hm?"

"We'll need to have you sign there and there and twice on the last page, please."

"She got this before me?", he muttered, glaring at the signatures already present on the pages. "So she got to decide whether she wants to deal with me, not the other way around!? Unbelievable."

"Sign, please, Felix."

He grumbled under his breath, attempting to recall whether he'd ever even heard your name before, as he messily signed something that was probably not his signature, on each page. He has no clue what his signature is. He figured he'd sort it out when he takes over the family estate (or business), or whatever.

"None of these look the same."

"Well, this is hardly official is it? 'S long as my name's there, it's not a problem, yeah?"

"You're gonna give me a migraine before my first week as your student advisor.", he muttered, accepting the sheets back anyway. "Okay, good. Sessions start Saturday."

Fucking spectacular, now this girl was taking his weekends away.

WEEK 1

Your pen twirled between your fingers and the inside of your cheek practically split open with how frequently you'd been resorting to chewing on it lately.

You'd passed the solo quiz that your professor had set up for you, and she'd declared you 'adequately trained' to take these sessions.

Okay? And? What, were you supposed to jump in joy?

Late. This arsehole, 'Felix Catton' was his name. You just... try as you might, you couldn't place a face to the familiar name. And that face was almost ten minutes late.

But one thing you would not do is get up and leave until the hour was up. Work ethic. Wait till the last moment. With any luck, he wouldn't show up at all, and you could complain, and get extra credit some other way--

The door exploded open, and shuffling, throwing-off of a coat and grumbled-settling-down was heard, as you looked up from your notes.

"You're the first year, then?"

Oh, THIS GUY?! Whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, you remembered him!

You nodded. "Yes. Uh, just a second, Mr. Catton.", you muttered, angling the video camera right, ignoring the scoff it elicited from the junior.

"I'm two years older than you."

"What would you like me to call you?" That plug from the Christmas party who tried to overcharge me?

He watched you fiddling with the device for a bit before sitting up, one leg crossed over another as he huffed, playing with his rings. "Felix is fine."

"Felix it is, then.", you mumbled, finally getting the thing to work, before clearing your throat and sitting up. Here we go. "So, Felix.", you began, trying to smile off the awkwardness. "We're here to just go through these Uni-mandated sessions, so that you may have an insight into conflict resolution and--"

"Do you wanna know why I'm here in this bloody session?"

You glanced over to the camera for a second, feeling like you were in a fucking Office episode, before nodding, gesturing at him to continue. Fuck, if this shite went on the record and he said summat so unbelievably stupid you were at a loss for words, you could kiss your extra credit goodbye.

"I punched a lad. Hard, till his nose bled and he couldn't stand up without support."

You nodded, flicking through the file of information you'd received from some advisor of his, Professor Walker. Nice chap. "Yes, I see that. How does that make you feel? Did it make you feel powerful?"

"Mhm.", he hummed, nodding as he glared at you, a sort of smirk on his face, like he thought this would have you freaking out about his sadistic tendencies. It's funny he thought you cared.

"Happy?'

"Very."

"I see. But one thing that's conveniently missing from your file.", you replied, eyes flicking accusatorily to the camera before reaching his eyes once more. "Is why you did it.", you stated, your fingers intertwining as you looked at him with rapt attention.

This seemed to throw him for a loop, the self-satisfied grin fading for a moment.

"Why'd you want to know, sweetheart? So that you can record me confessing to the crime on tape?", he mused, gesturing at the camera before reclining back in his seat, his arms crossed. "Because I'm sorry to disappoint your wide-eyed, freshman dreams, but I've already said it, on the record."

You frowned, tilting your head softly for a moment. "No, I'm asking, because I truly don't know. They wouldn't give me your identity, let alone your case."

"Well, I hit a lad. For cat-calling a girl."

He observed your face almost twitch for a moment, and he figured you were about to throw the camera at him, but instead, you switched it off. "And they're punishing you for it?", you asked, leaning your forearms in front of him, basically whispering although the camera was off.

Huh. Whoa, maybe you were on his side.

"Yeah, isn't it mental?", he scoffed, leaning in, too. "I figured I should get some sort of medal, y'know? Maybe a commendation from the dean."

"I wouldn't go that far, but it's good, what you did.", you laughed, softly.

"Exactly!", he huffed, a genuine smile now on his face as he leaned back, rubbing his hands over his jaw. "Wow. I- sorry, love, but I didn't expect us to, like, agree."

"No, no, yeah, totally! I thought you were a hotheaded twat. I didn't expect...", you exclaimed, gesturing at him. "Reason."

"Right. Well, okay, great! Uh, phew, yeah?"

You nodded.

"So, yeah, this is cool. We'll just... you'll take care of it, won't ya? Thanks, you're a peach.", he grinned, standing up and not believing his bloody luck!

"Hey, hey, where are you going?"

Turning, he frowned. "Well, we agree. So you'll talk to your in-charge, and say I don't need it, yeah? Oh, oh, you want me to stay the hour so you can, like, log it in. Yeah, yeah, got it.", he mumbled, nodding eagerly.

"What? No." He was, uh... clearly not on the same page as you.

His smile faded slowly. "What?"

"We've got weeks left of this."

"Yeah, but. Wait, I thought you agreed with me."

"I do. It's bonkers to punish you, but, it's mandatory, so."

"'So'? So, go do summat about it, then!", he cried, gesturing at nothing in particular. "Tell 'em there's nothing to work on!"

"I'm not just going to--"

"WHY?!"

You almost flinched. God. Maybe he did have anger issues.

"WHAT'S IN IT FOR YOU?!"

Oh, oh-- uh oh. He didn't even know why you were doing it, and you were sure he'd blow five gaskets if he did.

"Just finish it, stop causing unecessary problems!"

"No, seriously! What's in it for you?"

"SIT DOWN!"

For some reason, that, he listened to.

He slumped down.

"Shut up and do what you were instructed to do." Lord knows where you'd got the balls to talk to a junior like that.

Reaching over to turn the camera back on, you began again. "What would you like me to call you?", you repeated.

"How about I call you something and we can workshop sm'n out for me later?", he grumbled under his breath.

"Sorry? You weren't audible. What was that?"

"Nothing. Felix."

"Felix.", you echoed, nodding. "We're here to just go through these Uni-mandated sessions, so that you may have an insight into conflict resolution and live an overall, controlled and more fulfilling life and have a more fruitful experience here at Oxford.", you read off the script, jaw clenched, mirroring his dirty look.

"Yes, I'm aware, thank you, freshie."

"I'd like it if you adressed me by my name. You already know it from the sign-up form for the sessions, but I am happy to repeat it if you wish.'

"Sign-up form?", he scoffed, looking directly at the camera. "Is that what they're calling it on the record?"

"That is what it is."

"Sweet Lord, it's a Liabil-- hey.", he grimaced, narrowing his eyes at you as you kneed him from under the table.

"Right. Y/N. Am I supposed to call you 'Doctor', too, freshie?"

"Just my name is fine."

He rolled his eyes, his hands fiddling with his rings. "Let's begin with your recount of the incident."

How many bloody times?! He was about to explode.

~~

You ended the session at exactly one hour, because you couldn't take this moron anymore, for fuck's sake.

He didn't object.

Shutting off the camera, you wordlessly packed up your things, stuffing them into your bag.

"Are they payin' ya?"

You snorted, zipping up your bag before slinging it over your shoulder. "No."

"Fuckin' snake."

"How am I a snake, Felix?", you sighed, tapping an impatient foot on the floor.

"Pretending you're on my side and that. Was that just to get information for the therapy part of it? Because that was a bitch move."

"What? No, I genuinely think it's odd that they're punishing you for something like this."

"Then why?! What could they possibly offer a fresher? They wouldn't increase your scholarship for shite this petty, so-- wait. EXTRA CREDIT?!", he gasped, standing up startlingly quick. "You're doin' this for a couple points of extra credit ?! WHAT?!"

"So what if I am?", you asked, schooling your face and your voice to be the picture of calm. "Either way, these sessions are mandated if you don't want this to escalate. It'll be over before you know it."

"EXTRA CREDIT?!", he practically shrieked, as he followed you out the door. "How bloody pathetic! You're going against what you know is right for extra bloody credit?! Just fucking study!"

"It'll be over before you know it, Felix."

"For the rest of the academic year, I have to come to you every Saturday and listen to you blabbering on about how to 'take deep breaths and count to ten'.", he scoffed, incredulously, easily overtaking you and obstructing your path in more ways than one.

"Doesn't always have to be a Saturday."

Oh, he was about to actually get anger issues.

"This pisses you off, too! Come on, admit it, fresher! You don't like this any more than I do!", he declared, crossing his arms defiantly.

You sort of liked pissing him off. Gave you much more to work with, sadistically. Reaching into your bag, you handed him the tiny blue journal you'd bought. "Here."

"What is this?"

"It's for noting down your feelings. You will have to fill at least one page every day and bring it back to me during our sessions."

He gaped incredulously at you as you shouldered past him. You're giving him homework?!

═════════════════════════ ⋆⋅💙⋅⋆ ═══════════════════════

WEEK 5

"You're not taking off your helmet?"

"No. Bothers you?"

You glanced at the camera for a second, before shaking your head, the corners of your lips turned down in feigned and exaggerated indifference. "No."

"Because I'll keep it on, mud and all. I fell on the way here."

"You fell?"

"Yeah. Helmet's now my coping mechanism. Calms me, y'know?" That made no bloody sense!

"So you're keeping it on."

'You wouldn't deny me my coping mechanism, would you, Y/N?"

You sucked on your teeth, shaking your head once more. Dirt on the desk, dirt on your laptop, dirt-- FUCK!

"No, it's alright."

He grinned slyly, nodding, before sliding the journal over to you. "I filled it."

"Entirely?" It's only Week 5, what the hell?

"Yes, actually. I'm an overachiever."

You raised a brow, taking it from him and placing it next to his file.

"So. How are we doing today?", you asked, once again intertwining your fingers and placing them on the desk as you leaned closer to the imbecile.

"You're not readin' it?"

Oh, please, like you had no clue what was in there. "No, actually, I've got to directly submit this to both your advisor and my in-charge."

"What?"

"Yeah, protocol. That's why I said to take it one week at a time so we can monitor progress, but it seems you're an 'overachiever' - your words, not mine."

"Can I have it back?" His tone was almost nervous, and you were now even more certain what he'd actually bloody written in there.

You almost smirked before you remembered the presence of the camera. "You want it back, Felix?"

"Yeah, I think I, uh, used a couple of profanities."

"That's alright, I'm sure they'll understand."

"Can I please have it back?"

You shrugged, holding it out for him to take, letting him tug on it for a moment before you released it from your grasp. "Would you like another one? Since you've filled this one?"

"I'll buy my own."

"Very well. I ask again, how are you doing today?"

He huffed, momentarily looking like he was actually prepared to answer honestly. "Great."

"Great.", you echoed, your pen twirling between your fingers. "And define 'great' to you."

"Not shite.", he said through gritted teeth.

"In more elaborate, less crude terms, please, Mr. Felix.'

"I am doing well today. Not bad.", he mumbled, playing with the buckle of the helmet he'd so adamantly kept on that was now seeming a bit too bloody tight. But he couldn't take it off. Not when it was clearly bothering you. "Nothing particularly terrible or triggering has occurred."

"And is that always the standard you measure your experiences on? 'Not bad'? If nothing 'terrible or triggering' has happened, it's a 'great' day?", you asked offhandedly, noting it down. 'Not shite'.

His eyes darted up to you. "What?"

"I said, is that always the stand--"

"No, I heard you. Just... isn't that what everyone does?"

"Do you think it is? Do you think it's what everyone does? Have any of your friends told you it is what they do?"

"What do you do?"

"Me?" Were you allowed to answer this? Is that against some therapist rule? You weren't sure, and you couldn't really ask your textbook right now, could you?

He nodded, mildly intrigued.

"Personally, for me to count a day as 'great', there should be an equal balance of absence of bad things and presence of good things."

"Well, then, I fell off my bike, but I did well on a test. Is that, in your books, a 'great' day?"

"Depends. Which do you weigh more? Is falling off a bike worse than getting a bad grade, or is getting a good grade better than staying upright on a bike?"

"Getting a good grade."

"Well, then, I suppose, there's your answer."

Huh. This was an odd perspective he's never exactly... heard before. Wait, no! This shite is not working, fuck off, fresher!

"Whatever."

"Whatever indeed.", you nodded. "You seem to have a better attitude this week, to the session." He did not. But it would piss him off if he thought that you thought this was working.

"I do not."

"Oh, well, then, pardon me, my mistake. So, tell me. Why do you think it is, that you're not particularly interested in these sessions?"

"Because I don't have anger issues. If a bloke catcalls a girl once, it's whatever - still bad - but whatever. Happens. But if he keeps doin' it, almost roofies her at a party and constantly tailing her, and then tryin' to score in a fucking library, just because she can't yell out at him, that's, like... creep behaviour!"

You nodded. "Yes, you mentioned this, in the first session, and also to your student advisor, it seems.", you replied, tapping the tip of your pen at the bit of the file that mirrored what he was saying.

"And you think that that's a therapy-worthy answer."

"Why do you not think you're going to get anything out of these sessions, Felix? Even without anger issues, per se, everyone could use some guidance in controlling their emotions and resolving conflict peacefully, wouldn't you agree?"

"No, I would not agree. I think that if you're being an absolute prick , then no amount of peaceful talking is going to do anything. You need to get physical. Teach a lesson."

"I see. And you know this works because...?"

"Because he's shut up, hasn't he?"

"Right, but maybe he's still doing it. Perhaps not to that particular girl, but how do you know for sure you've 'taught him a lesson'?"

"Because- well.", he muttered. Shut up, fresher! "He's not that daft! He wouldn't risk another beating!"

"If he's daft enough to do it three times even after she expressed disinterest, Felix, I'm sure he might be 'daft' enough to 'risk another beating'."

He tsked, taking off the bloody tight fucking helmet, and running his hands through his hair. You watched the brown spill through the gaps of his fingers, before your eyes came back to his face. "You're frustrated?"

"Yes, I'm frustrated."

"What do you usually do, when you're frustrated?"

"Certainly not sit in a room with a fresher and 'talk about it'!"

"Right, I suppose you don't.", you replied, smiling. "So what is it you do?"

"I dunno, smoke?"

"Smoke?", you asked, tilting your head, noting it down. "You smoke?"

"Yeah, I smoke. What, you going to turn this into a cancer-awareness session?"

"I'm simply trying to understand you, Felix."

"What is this, like a first date, you learn shite about me, and see if I'm worth anything in your eyes?", he scoffed.

"Would that make it easier to open up?"

"No! God! What high school did you go to? Idiot."

"Oh, so we are going with the first date thing?"

"No- I- you're so stupid! I don't actually care what high school you went to! It was rhetoric!"

His outburst, oddly, was not followed by a calm and infuriating retort, in fact, you just looked back at him, disappointed, it looked like. But that was impossible, because that would mean you gave a crap, which, you couldn't. You did this for extra credit like a fuckin' try-hard, right?

The silence almost devours him whole as he looks into your eyes - why were they so... he didn't even know, that look you were giving him just... freaked him out.

"Time's up. You can leave."

What?! No, no, no, he just got here.

"Already?"

He heard the video camera shut off. "Time flies when you're actually working with me, Felix, y'know?"

"Don't get used to it, I had a shit day.'

You chuckled softly, nodding. "I won't. Have a nice rest o' your weekend, Catton."

WEEK 10

"Hello again, Felix."

"Hi."

"You seem cheery today."

"Yes, actually. I went out last night. Downed a couple pints with the lads. It was fun."

"I'm glad you had fun."

He nodded, pursing his lips as he rocked back and forth, awkwardly.

"Yes, so. If you don't mind, I'd just like to go back to some things that were left unfinished in some of the previous sessions. Let's circle back to your mention of what you do when you're frustrated. Smoke. Anything else?"

He sighed, rubbing his temple as he looked up at you. 'No. Well, if you're talking about last night, uh, drink, yeah, sometimes, but never to change my mood or whatever."

"I see. So that's all you do, when frustrated?"

"Yeah. Smoke."

"How about this. Next time you feel frustrated, instead of picking up a pack of cigarettes, pick up a pen."

"What, write down my feelings like a thirteen year old girl?"

"No, draw. On paper, on a desk, on your hand, who cares? Draw."

"Draw?"

"Yeah. It's worked for me, and you seem to be responding slightly better when I give you real life examples of what's worked and not worked for me, so."

"What, the bike thing from Session 5?! Because I-- Oh, please, you're not that bloody smart! Anyone could've said that, doesn't mean I'm 'responding better' just because you said it worked for you, you're a fuckin' fresher, everything you read in your stupid little psych textbooks would work for you!", he snapped. He didn't even know what half of that meant. He just wanted to say something.

"See, it seems that this is more what you do when you're frustrated, Felix, per my observation. You're free to correct me if I'm wrong, but since our previous sessions, this sort of insulting defensiveness is what I feel you resort to."

"'M not defensive. I just think this is pointless."

"Yes, you've made that quite apparent."

"Well, then how about you just declare me fixed?"

"It's not about declaring you, alright, it's about finishing the minimum duration provided to us by the University."

"Fine."

Silence. "So. I ask again. Why not draw?"

"Fine, I'll draw."

"Alright. Thank you, Felix. Time's up."

"What?!"

"Just kidding. You've only been here five minutes. How about... and humour me here...", you muttered, reaching under the desk and groping around until you pull out two sketchbooks. "We draw right now?"

"What, and then you analyse how fucked I am in the head?"

"Or we just draw. We don't even have to talk.", you replied, handing him the sketchbook. God, this better work. You'd had to draw info from child psych books for this guy.

~~

It took barely five minutes for him to begin talking again.

"What are these pencils?"

"Don't ask me, they're all Oxford-provided."

"What a joke. You know, when I was a fresher, I didn't even let myself think of borrowing anything from Uni, I got all my own shite, and even if I lost it, I'd ask it to be sent over from home."

"Really?" Fucking rich boy cunt.

"Mhm.", he hummed, the scratches of his incessant scribbling almost grating in the silent room, but also comfortable, somehow, blending in with the smooth swish sounds of your own, lazy strokes. "Only the best. Can't afford mistakes, can I?"

Can't afford? You'd researched him enough to know that little existed of the sort for him.

"I suppose you can't."

"Y'know, I fucking lost my shite third week of freshman year. How about you?"

"I'm handling it okay, thanks for asking." You were, in fact, not. Your assignments were all overdue by now, and you were having to pull all-nighters that bled steadily into mornings because of this new extra-credit task you'd taken on, and to top it all off, none of the other Professors seemed to care that the Uni was milking the two of you. Abusing your need to improve your grade - although you shouldn't fucking need it -and subjecting him to these sessions with none of his own volition.

"That's good to hear. How close are you to offing yourself, then?", he mused, raising a brow and licking the back of his molars as his eyes slowly reached yours. Fuck. He was onto you.

You tsked, reaching over and shutting off the camera. "You know I have better things to do than edit this to cut out your little quips, right? I really can't have you talking about offin' yourself."

"Oh, so you're also a drown-in-alcohol kind of person, I see."

What in the everloving fuck-- "God, get a fuckin' life, mate.", you muttered, reaching back up to switch the camera on after silently glaring and counting down from three.

"I'm handling it okay, thanks for asking.", you repeated.

"Huh. Really?"

"Yes. Why, is your school year not going okay?"

"No, it's going spectacular. My parents pay for an afternoon to go off once a week for a useless fresher to tell their son to meditate."

You chose not to respond to that, instead pursing your lips and continuing to draw. A flower, it seemed, your hands wished to create.

"Why do you even need extra credit?"

"I was sick, and I missed a couple classes."

"Oh, and you flunked the tests?", he asked, reaching over to grab your pencil out of your hands and use the eraser on the back of it, before tossing it back to you. Prick, and if that smirk was any indication, smug prick.

"No, actually, I'd already finished a good chunk of the syllabus content my first couple weeks so I did fine in my tests."

"So why?"

He looked genuinely curious. So genuinely curious, that you actually felt like this was a first date and he was an annoyingly inquisitive romantic candidate.

"She just didn't like the absences." Plus, everyone else just took Psych to slack off.

"That's not fair."

"Yeah, well, you beat up a creep for a girl and they're punishing you, so."

His eyes flicked over to the camera momentarily. "That's on the record."

"It should be."

═════════════════════════ ⋆⋅💙⋅⋆ ═══════════════════════

Normalcy is hard to achieve because it's never truly been attained.

Now, this kind of knowledge is only acquired when you take a philosophy class - like you - but since Felix was a PolSci-stuck-up-arsehole, it really didn't strike him that the life he'd lived before you had neither been normal nor happy.

Which is why when he found you and a couple of your friends hanging out by the lawn of a frat party, passing around a spliff, he just couldn't resist.

"Is this your coping mechanism, then?"

He reveled in the groan you replied with.

"Ladies, if you could excuse us?"

You rolled your eyes as all your mates nodded slyly before scrambling up. With hungry and suggestive looks at him and then you, they waved subtly. Spectacular. They already thought you were hooking up and now... fuck.

"Ah. I think we're gonna need that, if you will.", he called, winking as he grabbed the spliff from one of them, before settling down next to you. "See? I'm a celebrity. You should bring that up next time, see if you can't do anything with it."

"What?"

"Like, ask me about that. Incorporate it. 'How's it feel, Felix, being the life of the party, and the apple of everyone's eye?'"

"Incorp-- do you think this is a game? Like this is a play?!"

"Well, yeah. It's basicall--"

"GOD, you absolute prick! I'm here freakin' out about the syllabus, tests, and stayin' up to analyse and collate your bullshit and I have to submit it and study resources for it and--", you paused, catching your breath and glaring at him before taking a hit to calm your nerves. "And you think it's a story, like an improv session, where we add off each other.", you mumbled the last bit out.

"What are you, burnt-out from this shite?"

You didn't respond and he watched the smoke flow above the two of you. "God. You are. What sort of a freshman's burnt out by second term?"

"The kind that has to be a shrink to some anger-issued arsehole."

"Hey, c'mon, you-", he huffed, tilting his head at you. "You don't have to put too much effort into this, it's a formality."

"To you!", you yelled, sitting up in frustration, your elbow on your knee and your blunt in your fingers.

He sat up, too, sighing. "I'm sorry. For what it's worth."

"Worth nothing."

"Yeah, I can tell.", he muttered, hiding a scoff. "Gimme."

You rolled your eyes, but handed him the spliff nevertheless, which he grumbled as he took a drag of. Knees elevated to his chest, he exhaled the smoke. "This is good. Is it American?'

"How should I know?"

"You don't care what sort of weed you smoke? This actually is one of your coping methods?"

"For the love of-- lay off, man!"

"Whoa, whoa, it's a joke!"

"You're a joke!"

He almost laughed at that. Almost, because he'd had quite fucking enough of you. He didn't forget who he was just because you might have changed his perspective a little. He was still Felix motherfucking Catton, a motherfucking Upperclassman. And when he was a fresher, he had to treat his Upperclassmen with utmost respect- no, reverence - so he'll be damned if he's gonna let you sit here and call him a joke.

"Stand up."

"What?"

"Stand up."

"Why?"

"NOW, FRESHER, NOW!" Okay, the startle in your body language made him feel the tiniest bit bad, but still, it was exactly what had been done to him, and he wasn't all whiny about it.

"Okay, okay, I'm up, I'm up!", you mumbled, straightening out your shirt. "What?"

He had no clue what he wanted you to stand up for.

"So. The reason I had you shoot up..."

Think, Felix! Think!

"...Is actually quite simple, really. I'm sure you've already guessed."

"You want to get my mind off it or summat."

Sure. "Good. You're smart. And how will I be doing that?"

You shrugged. "Take me on a joyride on your stupid bicycle or summat.", you grumbled.

Sure. Let's go with that. Better than Felix's idea of making you do jumping jacks, like his seniors had done to him.

"Wow, maybe shrinks really can read minds. And at least you have one of your own.", he replied, flicking your forehead as he shepherded you over to the exit of the party. Yeah, he didn't think through how far you'd have to walk before you actually reached his bike. Oh, well. Better for him.

"So.", he began, arms swinging exaggeratedly at his side. "Have you heard anything from your in-charge yet? Walker won't tell me anything."

You shook your head. "It's all the same. 'Received tapes. Good work. Keep going.' Like I'm bloody angling for a gold star."

"Well, you're angling for the college equivalent of a gold star, which is a smidge of extra credit."

Shrugging, you seemed to agree. It was a pleasant sort of... stoned sort of quiet for the rest of the walk until his bike came into view. "There it is."

"That's the bike you fell off of after you aced your test?"

"Yeah."

"How?", you scoffed, buckling up the little helmet he offered you "Thing looks brand new."

"What, you were expecting some post-war, ancient bike?", he snorted, clambering onto the seat.

"Yeah, I thought it'd be some rusty, squeaky, rickety thing. How's this supposed to work? Where do I sit?"

"On your own bike's seat.", he replied, gesturing to the rest of the bicycle lot.

"I don't have a bloody bicycle! I'm normal! I walk to classes!"

"How close is your dorm?!"

"Quite."

"Well...", he huffed, taking off his helmet. 'Well, okay, so, just... take one."

"Take one?"

"Like... a random one. Borrow an unlocked one."

"Steal, you mean."

"Semantics."

"I'm not stealing."

He groaned. He had way too much of a heart to punish you like his seniors did.

═════════════════════════ ⋆⋅💙⋅⋆ ═══════════════════════

"Could you slow down?!"

He watched you grumble before you slowed down, allowing him to jog up next to you. "I'm going to hold onto the handlebar because I wouldn't put it past you to steal my bike and then ask me 'how did that make you feel?' in the next session."

You actually had to stop the bike to laugh for that one.

"Oh, she acts human.", he remarked, crossing his arms across his chest as he regarded you. "Alright, it's not... that funny."

But you just didn't stop laughing.

Well, until you started crying.

Maybe that weed was laced. Yeah, he was feelin' a bit off, himself. Shit.

"I mean, fuck, Felix, mate, you- you know I don't think you should be antagonized like this, yeah? You're... you, you're good, you- you helped a girl, and your anger issues are good!"

Okay, clearly the laced weed was hitting you both at the same time, somehow. Either it was causing him to mishear some sympathy from your end or causing you to express sympathy. Either way, somehow, you were both oddly on the same page.

"I don't have anger-bloody-issues.", he gritted out, tapping his fingers impatiently on the handlebar.

"No, mate, you do, but, like, they're good, you don't have to get all touchy about it. I like it, personally. Think it's good. You're stickin' it to the man and all that."

He scoffed as he shifted closer, flicking your - well, his - helmet back a bit. "You're on thin ice, 'mate'! I told you, I don't have anger iss--"

"You're yellin' at me right now!"

"I'm NOT--", he cut himself off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You're pissin' me off."

"Everything pisses you off! That's why they're called anger issues!', you retorted, and he swore he was close to pushing you off the bike and seeing how many minutes of meditation you'd employ not to uppercut him.

"I don't need your shrink bullshit, and you can't do it anyway! I don't get how you're burnt out, y'know? You half-arse everything!"

He barely knew you outside of these sessions. He was straight up lying, but he wanted to prove that it wasn't that easy to keep your calm when provoked. Especially not by some smart aleck swot-freshman who thinks her psych major means she can read his mind and give him lip.

Ow ow, ow. Fuck. He needed to sit. down. The 'weed' was definitely about to make him pop a blood vessel, because did he just see three stars in the sky run down in front of him? No. Can't be, yeah?

"D'you think...?", you groaned, hastily removing the helmet. "D'you think there was summat in the punch?"

"Think it was the weed."

"Weed doesn't-- oh."

He nodded, gently steering the bicycle to the nearest bench, which was barely a hundred paces away, observing your feet elevated and the pedals rotating on their own as he tugged it along.

Grunting lowly as he sat, he held out a hand for you after you leant the bicycle against a nearby streetlamp. You slumped down next to him. "This is why I don't take Donna's weed, but she swore it was clean."

"Some friend she is."

"Hey."

"Oh, please, come on. She lies to you, gives you laced weed because, what, she thought she knew best on what would calm you down? That's not what a friend does."

"What does a friend do? Take you on bicycle rides across campus?"

"I mean, sure. Why not?", he asked, gesturing around. "It's fresh air, yeah? We had some talkin' happening, as well, sorted out our differences and that, yeah?"

You chuckled, softly, shaking (and lightly clutching) your head. "And what did we sort out?"

"That you're a bit of a cunt. And I'm a twat."

"Second one is accurate."

"That statement just proved the first one.", he retorted, before scoffing and breaking into a fit of breathy giggles. "Fuck."

You watched the world spin for a while, a dizzying amalgamation of shapes and stars and colours and suddenly you were aware of the clothes on your body, the wind in your hair, the saliva on your tongue, the beat of your heart.

And that's when you did it. You weren't sure what you expected or why you did it, but you just ended up kissing him like it was summat you were meant to do next, like a script. Like clockwork.

He, to say the least, was surpised it was you who initiated it. Honestly. He'd always been a very daft person when it came to... well, boundaries, for one. Sane actions, for the other. However, there was something less daft and more... crazed about this drug-induced haze you were clouded in that rendered his self-awareness moot.

And so he kissed back.

Ravenously.

This, it seemed, according to the faux marijuana, was all he ever fucking needed. Poof, no anger issues. And for you? Poof, no stress.

It was wrong, to say the least. Not due to anything besides the fact that there was no logical person who'd put you two together. He groaned softly, almost reverently, as he gripped a couple locks of your hair, a wordless direction for you to get your idiotic arse over here. And you did. The kiss didn't break. You guys should get an award for that impressive feat.

But the real award should be for your desperate, bruising grip to sobriety, the one that eventually led to you pulling yourself away from his lips, breathlessly.

"I know what you're doing."

He wasn't one for biting his lip, so he bit down on yours, instead. "Yeah? What's that, babe?", he asked, fiddling with the button of your jeans.

"You're tryin' to get off the hook of these sessions by claiming conflict of interest 'cause of this."

Oh, fuck, he hadn't even thought of that. Would've been so fuckin' smart, and plus, he'd have got a lay out of it. But he didn't exactly feel like giving a premature end to these sessions that he'd - never fucking admit - grown sort of fond of.

"Or maybe, I'm trying to get off, period.", he whispered, kissing at your cheek.

"Yeah, right."

"Trust issues much?", he murmured, his hand gently sliding into the front of your jeans. "Maybe next session, we should work on that, sweetheart."

Fuck.

════════════════════════ ⋆⋅💙⋅⋆ ════════════════════════

No one ever tells you this - lest you experience some form of joy in life - but waking up to good smells rather than any form of sound is heaps better, calmer, lovelier.

And you woke up, not to the sound of your alarm, but to the smell of goddamn butter and toast. Like, fuck, okay. Damn. This is what life should feel like, then?

You groaned, almost ready to scream at how at peace you were, before getting out of bed, rubbing your face. You shot right back in, though. Right. You were starkers.

"Felix?!"

God, you hoped it was actually him and you hadn't had some sort of adventure after him last night.

He practically left skid marks, the way he rushed to the bedroom doorway. "Uh huh?"

"Where the fuck are my clothes?"

"Oh, I put them in the wash."

"Felix--"

"Just kidding. They're in that drawer, there." Across the room.

"Could you get them for me?"

He smirked. 'Yeah."

"'Yeah' as in you will, or 'yeah' as in you could, but you won't?"

His smirk dissolved into an almost fond simper. "You know me so well."

"I'm not walkin' out naked."

"See, what is it with you girls, gosh! As if I didn't see everything last night, now you're suddenly all coy?", he teased, yanking the drawer open and tossing you your clothes, rolling his eyes before turning around so you could change. "Last night count as a breach of, uh, what is it...?"

"Not breach. But Conflict of Interest. Yeah. So, I'm guessing you're free, now. No more sessions."

"Mm. Shame, that. I had some really interesting things written in there.", he replied, pointing to a blue notebook on the bedside table.

"Like what?"

"Like... me realising I'm falling in love with you.", he whispered, softly, hand on his heart. He paused long enough for you to begin to question whether this was dedication to his joke or an actual, sincere fuckin' confession.

"Fuck! Wow! Gullible much? I'm joking, obviously! What, you think I'd have some, like, ten lines written every day, like 'Oh, my love, oh, my love, XOXO, Felix!', or summat?"

"Well, I don't bloody know! Your'e scarily good at the poker face, y'know?"

"Why, thank you, thank you very much.", he preened, tipping an invisible hat in your direction.

"Makin' French Toast. You vegetarian? Or vegan? Nah, I don't care, you're eatin' this."

Groaning, you got up, took his offer of an unused toothbrush, and let him escort you to the bathroom. "These rich-kid-dorm-suites, I swear--"

"Jealous much?"

"I swear to fucking god, you better stop saying 'much' after everything and thinkin' it's funny!"

"Anger issues much?"

"Arsehole much?!"

He giggled, waving at you before scrambling over to the kitchen to make sure his French toast was stil intact. Not before he grabbed your imaginary 'flipping-off' from the air and brought it to his heart, as if you'd blown him a kiss, instead.

Fucking hell. You had to now spend a. money, on Ibuprofen, b. time on coming up with an explanation as to how this happened and why you still deserve than extra credit, and c. energy on having to deal with this Felix Catton guy who you'd apparently come to be relatively fond of.

Spitting out your paste and gargling the remnants out, you walked out of the bedroom to the kitchen, where Felix had laid out the toast on crappy paper plates. "Left over from a party, figured I'd use 'em."

"Thanks.", you nodded, sitting down and biting a bit off one. "It's good."

"Thanks.", he parroted, dropping the last onto his plate before turning off the stove and sitting opposite you. "So, it just violates it all? Just 'cause we shagged, you can't 'fix me' anymore?", he asked, gulping down a sip of orange juice.

"Yeah, summat like that. I might, like, be more inclined to let you off the hook or whatever."

"Mm. What about your extra credit, then? Why don't you just act like this never happened?"

"Couldn't. In good conscience."

"But then you'll be extremely stressed. Might go back to Donna and her laced weed.", he pointed out, taking a bite. "Over the summer, you'll have to catch up on your missing assignments, yeah?"

"Yeah. Fuck. Oh, yeah, I do.", you whined, your forehead on the heel of your palm.

"Come to Saltburn, then."

"What?" What was he talking about?

"My family estate. Come to Saltburn. It's a change of scenery, and it works wonders, I swear. You'll finish everything by first week of summer vacation, and the next month or so, it's all just you-time."

"Why would I come to Saltburn?"

"I just told you."

You sighed. Logically, yes, it did make sense for a change of view. But. You didn't exactly want to get dragged into whatever a normal day for Felix Catton (and Farleigh Start - his cousin, apparently!) looked like.

"It's full of old shite, though, like, ancient stuff. Cobwebs, dusty, grimy, stuffy-- hey! Stuffy and boring. You'll fit right in.", he grinned cheekily, winking as he continued to chew.

Well, fuck.

"Suspicious much?"

'Much'. You were going to strangle this guy in his own mansion, you're sure.

"Seriously, think about it, just us, ice-cream, the sea, summer. Who knows, you could go in a loser and come out with a boyfriend. Moi."

"Oh, please.", you snickered, and he followed suit.

"I just might tell you what's in that diary. XOXO, Felix, yeah, but what'd I write before it? A confession of my love? A death threat? A riddle? Poetry? Secrets?", he mused, waggling his fingers as if to spook you. "Ooh."

You scoffed, shaking your head in amusement as you took a sip of the orange juice.

"Come on. Come to Saltburn. Worth your while, I promise."

Well, fuck.

[psychotic-nonsense]

Amateurs

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Credit for the idea - and some of the fic entirely - goes out to @thesolarangel !!!!! They allowed me to use their lovely idea, so many thanks, my friend!! Added my own flair but I hope I did your thoughts justice :D

Fudging the timeline a lil for this too. Continuity errors? Plotholes? The hell you going on about, bud, it's Valentines Day, we're just having fun here ;]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Steve Harrington, You are the most handsome, athletic, and considerate man I've ever known, and I want you to be my valentine. Meet me in the band hall at 4pm Love, your secret admirer

Steve eyes the note warily, confusion morphing his face. He can feel how comical it must look, but he doesn't really care. He just can't comprehend what he's looking at.

Senior year, fallen off his throne, the apocalypse factory sealed away (for forever, hopefully). He forgets how mundane life is outside of the hell he's lived the past three- almost four years.

Proven by the fact that, apparently, someone's left a Valentines card in his locker. And a little over a week until the day itself, no less.

It's the end of the school day, already 3:45. The note wasn't there this morning, so it must've been dropped somewhere throughout the day. He puts away his notebooks, closes the locker door, all while staring at the note.

Robin - the unlikely new friendship from this last summer from hell - is neck-deep in the locker across the hall from him, rambling about her day (and Vickie) and completely ignoring any outside force. It takes a little shove to get her out of her stupor.

"Hey, I was talking about something important here-"

"Oh sure, your endless pining is so interesting," he retorts, the hallway already blissfully empty so he can make such a joke. He shoves the note into Robin's face, holding it as she mouths the message to herself. "Any info about this?"

Robin scoffs, shoving Steve's hand away. "You know I'm bad at romance stuff, why ask me?" She turns back around to finish whatever she was doing in her locker.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I mean, do you have any idea who this could be? I don't know anyone from band."

"Who said it's from someone in band?"

"The note?"

"School's out, who's going to be in there? Pretty good place to sneak away for a Valentines meetup. Besides, I don't know everyone from band, what do you take me for, social?" She fake gags.

"Right, you just know the one-" He gets a shove on the arm for that.

"Sorry, Cupid, think you're on your own this time. Besides, you have been looking for a girl, right? Here's one falling right in your lap," Robin says, finally closing her locker. She pats his cheek, starting to walk away. "Hop to it, you're cutting it close!"

Steve stands frozen, watching her leave him behind. "Wha- I drove you here!" he calls out. "Where are you going-"

"It's Wednesday!" Robin calls over her shoulder. Right, the 'maintenance day' for Robin and her bike ("You can't forget how to ride a bike, Robs-" "Well I'm not testing it!"). No alibi for Steve, it seems.

He sighs heavily, quickly checking his watch. 3:55. He turns back to the note, seriously eyeing it and considering what might come out of this.

Oh well. Steve's not one to let someone down with punctuality, plus Robin was kinda right. Whether or not he'll have to let down this poor girl, he'll have to see.

He walks through the halls to the band room. Senses a little on edge from that uncanny feeling, but he does his best to ignore it. Hell's closed up, and everything's okay.

He makes it to the band hall just in time, yet upon walking in, the place is barren. Nothing but chairs and stands and the half-lit lights. Strange, how much more disappointed Steve feels about being stood up than he thought he would - meaning any at all. Still stings to know he's not always wanted.

Always needed, always the babysitter.

He's just about to turn around when a loud CRASH sounds from the far wall, and a storage closet door rattles as someone swears behind it.

Instincts now fully blaring in his ears, Steve immediately drops his backpack by the door and picks up a music stand, running to the back in a burst of energy. Upon throwing the door open, however, all that happens is a body falling into him, and the box said person was holding once again crashing to the floor.

Steve, in primary protective mode, drops the stand and grabs the person before they both hit the ground. A mop of dark hair is shoved into his mouth with an earthy cloud of smell around it, with a masculine grunt as they're caught and the feel of denim under Steve's hands.

Steve barely gets the person in a standing position without falling over himself, and this person takes a minute to get their legs working again. But they finally pick themselves up and massage their hands and something about that hair and smell seems so familiar...

"Whew! Thanks, man, I thought I was toast under that thing- Harrington?"

The person- guy finally turns around with a grateful smile that falls the moment he makes eye contact.

Eddie Munson. Local town Freak and D&D master, and the name Steve has heard way too much about since last semester. Thank the kids for joining that damn club.

Of course, Steve knew the guy already, word travels fast and appearances stay familiar in small towns. A three-peat senior, not too unlike Steve's super senior status (brain got too rattled after '84, and '85 didn't make it much better). A showman, either in the cafeteria or Steve's English class, he's always got something to make the people laugh. The kids praise him like a god, the halls whisper that he's the copycat of a deadbeat, and the town preaches that he's the harbinger of their fake hell.

But Munson doesn't seem dangerous to Steve right now. Nothing bad at all, actually, standing here under the light of a single sputtering light bulb that reflects in his big doe-like eyes just right, haloing his wispy hair into something angelic, and if Steve saw him in any other context he'd almost think him cute-

Oh.

Well shit.

It's well past 4pm. Munson's in the band hall by himself, in the dark.

Robin and Dustin have been telling Steve to 'broaden his horizons,' and didn't Steve himself say he 'liked more' in that food court booth?

And writing love letters sounds like something only a nerd would do...

Could it be him...?

"Munson, h-hey," Steve stutters out, realizing it's been a bit too long since anything was said. He throws the confused-curious-scared-relieved crisis to the back of his mind, focusing all his energy on just acting normal. 'Casual' went out the damn window when one of his hands ran through his hair. "What, uh.. what're you doing here?"

Thank god for that simple little response. Eddie latches on to it with a smile that makes little dimples show on his cheek, though they're gone too soon when he turns to kick the half cardboard, half duct tape box still in the storage closet.

"Just repaying some old debts," he says, that same jesting lightness he'd throw in quips against Mrs. Schneider. Eddie snaps his fingers, brings those so bright eyes back around to Steve. "Say, think you could give me a hand? Could use some old jock strength here."

Steve lets the jab roll past him, he's heard worse from the kids. He just agrees - because who is Steve Harrington if not ever helpful? - and steps into the cramped storage closet. It takes some maneuvering to make sure the poor thing doesn't fall apart in his arms, but he gets the box up off the ground. Nothing too strenuous, but Eddie is quick to direct Steve on which shelf to place the box. One more strain against the old cardboard gets them both in a panicked frenzy, but their combined push gets the box settled.

Now they're cramped in a tight storage closet shoulder to shoulder, and Steve is hyperaware of the presence. Eddie doesn't seem like that bad of a guy, he's willing to give it a shot, but he's afraid his charm might not work the same-

Eddie lightly slaps Steve's arm, drawing his attention and dear lord his eyes look so much brighter now- "Not that I'm not grateful for the aid, Mister Strongman, but only satisfaction brings a curious cat back." He leans against the opposite shelving of the closet easily, not very eager to leave the tiny space, it seems. "What brings you into the den of us freaks?"

Eddie looks so confident, speaks every word with an air of comfort and ease, that it makes the last of Steve's anxiety leave him in a huff of light laughter. He just draws in a breath, suddenly very curious to see where this goes, and starts up the charm.

"You tell me, Munson," he responds lightly. Tilts his head so he's looking up at Eddie through his eyelashes, pulls the face Nancy used to call stupid and begs that it isn't anymore. The smile is easy, though. It's so easy to smile around a presence like this.

Yet Eddie's comfort immediately wavers, and he looks surprised. "Uh..." he chuckles out nervously, "what's that supposed to mean, Harrington?"

Oh, so Munson plays hard to get? He can work with that. So much more familiar in this game, Steve just saunters the last few inches to face Eddie with only a breath's space between them. Keeps just enough distance, though, to make them both crave the closeness, leaning against the shelf beside Eddie to look down on him. "C'mon, Eddie... you know why I'm here."

And may the corpses of Upside Down monsters be his witness, Eddie "The Freak" Munson damn near blushes at the tone and proximity. Bingo.

"I- uh-" Eddie clears his throat. "'Fraid I don't recall," he mutters. There's a little bit of tension in his shoulders, hidden in the motion as Eddie leans further into the little space between them, staring Steve right in the eyes as he says, "Care to enlighten me?"

Steve is more than happy to remind him, especially if it gets the last of that tension out of him. It doesn't look right on Eddie. The line's been cast, the lovely fish caught, and now it's time to reel it in. "Well, got word lately of a new... development in Hawkins High." Steve meets Eddie's eyes and loses himself in them a little. "Figured I'd come by to talk to the source."

To Steve, it's the smoothest pickup line this side of the midwest.

But Eddie's entire demeanor sours in an instant. His shoulders tense, his eyebrow furrows so much that glorious light is gone, and he leans forward not by want, but by attack. "Alright, listen here Harrington, I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt for those kids, but I swear if you don't pick your next words carefully-"

"Woah woah woah, hey wait!" Steve immediately backs up to give Eddie space - not much considering they're still in the damn closet, Steve walks right into the opposite shelving rack with a loud clatter - the tension in the air taking an instant 180. "I didn't- What did they- What're you talking about, I didn't mean any harm!!"

Eddie's still eyeing him warily, but he's not leaving despite the open door. That's a start. "What did you mean then, your highness?" he spits, and it sends a crack straight through Steve's heart.

One that shines light on the ignorant hope resting all on that damn...

"Did... did you not want to talk to me?" Steve asks quietly.

The volume seems to wear Eddie down a little too, as the light comes back to his eyes and the tension loosens. "Where'd you get that idea?" he asks, stern but lacking in power.

Suddenly this whole attempt - finding the note, following it, saving Eddie from the box, helping him, daring to take the leap - feels so fucking stupid that Steve can't believe he went through with it.

But Eddie's looking at him like he genuinely wants to know. Not just to get Steve away, but to know what's got him so out of sorts. Like he's bothering to care.

So Steve fumbles for the words with Eddie waiting patiently, his defenses falling with each failed sentence as Steve's too open heart shows him everything. In the end, Steve gives up, reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out the note. Looks away from Eddie as he holds it out for him to take. Feels his treacherous heart stutter at the brush of their hands as Eddie takes it. Can't bear to turn around, his face too flushed and his heart too worn as he hears the note crinkle, at Eddie's tiny gasp as everything clicks.

"Steve..." Eddie whispers, pleads, and Steve is oh so weak to such a sound. He looks up and comes face to face with an expression just as hopeful, as daring, as Steve has felt this entire interaction.

Eddie's a smart guy, it seems. He knows. But still he dares to ask. "You... thought I wrote this?"

Steve clears his throat, can't look away as he waves at the note held almost reverently in Eddie's hand. "It was 4pm when I showed up, wasn't it?" Jokes, feels the sincerity choke him a little. Eddie laughs like he gets it, looks back down at the note.

"I'm almost insulted then, Steve." Something happens to his face then that crushes all of the leftover tension in the closet. Brings back the right one with a teasing glance back at him, Steve's heart stuttering again. "This little thing-" he waves the note, "-was written by a complete amateur."

It's the same game, same rules, but he's playing with a teammate now and it feels so much sweeter. "Oh yeah?" Steve tempts. Doesn't try looking a certain way, not The King or The Hair. Just Steve. "Think you could do better?"

"Mhm, certainly," Eddie drawls. He looks back down at the note, steps off the shelf but doesn't dare step closer. "Shouldn't expect much, it's just an invitation... but to encourage an appearance, one should entice the recipient with the truth." He takes a slow, single step forward. To Steve it feels like crossing the world just to get them closer. "I'll give the girl this, she got all this right. But it just scratches the surface, doesn't it?"

Finally, Eddie looks up, and his eyes are black holes that Steve never wants to fight and his smile one that Steve would blind himself on if it meant it was the last thing he ever saw.

It's a universal truth that Steve Harrington falls hard. But the way Eddie's looking at him makes him hope like a fool that Eddie fell first.

"Because based on what I've seen..." Eddie takes another step closer, enough for their feet to rest beside each other, their knees almost touching, "Steve Harrington isn't just considerate, or athletic.

"He's brave. Smart. Loyal. Selfless. Seems like he'll throw himself into danger if it meant he's saving a life." Eddie takes that last step forward, leans fully into Steve's space with an open expression that is at once confident-scared-hopeful-real. Steve wouldn't look away if his life depended on it, because dying under Eddie's touch, Eddie's words, Eddie's gaze, would be the kindest death he could ever have.

"He's kind, cares so much it's a wonder his heart has room for the blood that keeps such a perfect guy alive." Eddie's almost whispering now. The shelving biting into their every limb is second to the tension pushing them together. "And while handsome is true, I'd have rather used something like... gorgeous."

That's when Eddie's eyes drift down to watch the shiver those words send through Steve catch right on his lip. "Sounds much more fitting, don't you think, Stevie?" Eddie looks back up to meet Steve's, and it's the most exposed Eddie's ever seemed, the most seen Steve's ever felt.

Steve can't breathe, can barely move his head in fear of being scalded by the heat of his face. "Yeah..." he gasps out. Swallows, his voice shaking as he forces it to move. "S-something like that..."

Steve Harrington is stuttering. He couldn't be ashamed if he tried, because what else could a weak man do to survive this?

The last of Eddie's confidence slips then, like he's just as weak. "Tell me I'm wrong," he whispers, pleads. "Tell me all the wishing I've done all this time was for nothing."

Steve doesn't have to. All he has to do is take that final leap, grabbing Eddie's waist. It's the answer to the begging left unsaid.

Waits to catch Eddie as he finally, finally closes that last tiny space.

Eddie kisses Steve with the emotion of a hundred years of waiting, the ferocity of fearing it going away, but the care of never daring to let it go now. Steve kisses Eddie back with the desperation of a lonely man given a hand, the strength behind a promise of protection, and the love hidden away in his poor heart finally allowed to burst.

He's lost in the feeling - Eddie's hands in his hair, Eddie's body pushing them closer, Eddie's lips and tongue on his own, Eddie's sweet gasps of air between their mutual desperation. It's a beautiful push and pull that Steve never wants to win.

A hand goes to Eddie's jaw, holds it reverently, tracing the bone and skin and motion. Another goes down to the side of Steve's neck, a light pressure, feeling the pulse and air and swallow.

They don't dare leave each other's lips, can't move away from the tight hold trying to connect every inch of them together, barely leaves room to breathe. Eddie wants to bite, Steve wants to see, but the thought of leaving is impossible to them, so they don't.

Until there's a sudden knock at the door of the band hall that breaks the haze. Steve pulls away to huff in anger, glaring at the wall they're hidden behind to whomever is behind it. Eddie shakes his head at the motion, laughs quietly, pulling Steve's attention back like a moth to flame.

"Steve?" calls out a tentative female voice. If Steve wasn't so drunk on Eddie's everything, he'd feel guilt over the poor girl finally showing up.

Eddie, however, just grins like this is another stage. Pulls away - with much agony from them both - from Steve just enough to look out the door. Steve can hear the girl gasp in shock when he's visible.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Eddie calls out. They're still close enough for the sound to vibrate under Steve's hands through Eddie's entire being. "Haven't seen him!"

The girl mumbles out a profuse apology and promptly exits herself. Such a shame, that people don't want to be around Eddie. What a blessing, that that leaves him all for Steve.

Eddie barely has time to close the closet door enough to keep them hidden more before Steve breaks and surges forward again. Catches Eddie's mouth while he's mid laugh, Steve mid smile. Nearly splits his lip with the force, but Eddie soothes it with his tongue before it can sting.

"Still breaking hearts, huh Steve?" Eddie whispers against his lips. Steve backs away, for the sound of Eddie's words is far sweeter than the taste of them, and the sight of Eddie's eyes far warmer than them both.

"'S long as it's not this one," Steve whispers back. Kisses Eddie again right, if a bit chaste. "Wanna know it instead, if his owner will let me?" Can't help but beg even under Eddie's full attention.

But Eddie just takes it in stride. Grabs the hand on his face and pulls it down to rest over his heart. "It is a little broken already, I'm afraid." His expression falls, just a smidge, but Steve sees it like clouds over the sun. "Sorry for assuming the worst earlier. I'm still scared I'm gonna wake up..."

Steve just does his best to hold Eddie's hand back. "You dream of me?" he can't help but ask.

Eddie looks at him with a look of pure longing. "Can't dream of anything else."

Steve holds him tighter, everywhere. Hands, body, sight. Mind and soul and heart. "Would you let me heal you?"

The clouds pass and Eddie holds him back, bonking their foreheads together - "If you dare, rearrange me so you may fit between the pieces..." - before going back to his lips.

'I wouldn't want to be anywhere else...'

Steve barely knows Eddie, but he wants to try. Eddie barely knows Steve, and he wants to show him everything. Robin and the kids are going to go crazy with this, but Steve's willing to brace for the aftermath.

So long as it means this secret admirer will stay by him for their lives to come.

[dawnatdaybreak]

EDEN 4164616D Lyric... process??

hello :) I wrote the lyrics for EDEN 4164616D on MACHINA MORI and a few other people are doing little lyric analysis/writing process things and I was like hey! I could do that! if you have your own analysis of these lyrics that might differ from how I wrote them initially: do not let my "official" interpretation make yours any less valid! feel free to share your analysis before you read this (or after!) if you want, I like to see what people think of my writing! but the main thing is that whatever EDEN made you feel, my intended meaning should not take that away from you

there are a few things I might keep a little secret for now because I might still be working on some lore that will be revealed later ;) but I'll talk about the main writing process and ideas I wanted to convey with this song in and of itself and you can dig into the lore later once it's done!

Giving content warnings for: Biblical imagery, talk of mortality and death. Analysis is all below the cut!

First of all, the little disjointed "a-a-a-a-ah" at the start was an intentional idea from me! I wanted it to sound kind of like a startup sound or like Rei was initializing her vocals for the first time. The background "ah"s later on were entirely Dav-P's doing though I cant take any credit for those! I can suggest you give them a careful listen though :)

The entire song is written to be directly from the perspective of EDEN's Rei, and I had something of a narrative in mind for it. It's a story as much as it's a song, and I put a lot of parallels in some of the verses between each other that I had a lot of fun with. I love writing I love words I love music I love this song!! I really am so glad I got to write it.

undefined Adam electric amalgam sparks intertwine in this vessel of steel sculpted in your image what am I?

This first section doesn't have a whole lot to dig into, it's mostly setting up for something later on and giving the impression of EDEN's Rei at initialization and how she feels (or rather, doesn't.) The use of the phrases "this vessel" and "sculpted" in place of the more human terms she will use for herself later in the song is very intentional! "Undefined Adam" is a very early lead in to the biblical imagery I used occasionally throughout the song, and also sets up the very basic premise of how Rei views herself and the world she is being born into: she is to humanity as Adam is to God, a new being made in the image of man as man was made in the image of God.

I cannot be one of a kind show me everything I want to feel the wind on my face the sea against my skin if you'd call it that

This section is largely also here to establish Rei's feelings, but she has a few more of them to dig into now! She is capable of want and what she wants is to feel, even if her wanting that shows she already has the capacity for it. She has this desire to experience the things that humans wax poetic about, the sea breeze and the waves on your skin. "If you'd call it that" refers directly to the mention of skin- Rei is a machine made of metal, so it's hard to really say if skin is what the surface of her body should be called. She's humanizing herself to an extent here, but she's also backtracking, putting that distinct separation between her body and a human body even though her initial instinct is to call them the same.

hello world teach me how to fly make me feel alive I don't know what am I? trapped in endless time

Hello, world! I was honestly worried that line would be a bit of a low hanging fruit and everyone was going to use it, but I couldn't resist it. And I'm glad I did put it in after! I'm pretty pleased with the second use of it but that's getting a bit ahead of myself.

This section is largely about Rei "waking up" more, coming to terms a bit more with her feelings and circumstances. She wants to learn what it means to be a person, but not necessarily "human"- there's still a big divide between her and humanity that should become clearer as the song progresses. "Teach me how to fly" is largely metaphorical here, but there might be something fun that comes of that in the lore later if you want to stay tuned for it ;) "Trapped in endless time" refers to the immortality of machines. Rei does not think her time on Earth will ever end, and while she knows that separates her from humanity she isn't really sure what that makes her.

hollow and heartless emptiness I can't fix somehow I find you reflect in me oh make me in your image divine light

"Hollow and heartless, emptiness I can't fix" is meant to show how Rei views herself here as empty and lacking in a heart in both a literal and figurative sense. She views herself as incapable of doing anything about this because she lacks the power over herself that her creators have over her. "Somehow I find, you reflect in me" is in reference to a common trope I may have borrowed for this, in which an android/machine's creators won't treat them with any sort of kindness or love no matter how human their creation is meant to be. EDEN Rei's creators view her as a means to an end and nothing more- her heartlessness is reflected in them. "Make me in your image" and its variations will be a recurring phrase, once again intending to draw on the biblical imagery of humans being made in the image of God. "Divine light" further refers to this- Rei views humanity and all of its facets as divine and unreachable to her without outside intervention.

the way I see you I want to be seen too strip away my inhumanity oh make me in your image heart and mind

This entire section is meant to establish how Rei wants to be seen as a person and granted the respect humans have for each other. She is made so similar to a human, but she is still not owed the respect being human commands, so she wants to be more similar to her creators. There is still a separation between her and them, hence, "make me in your image, heart and mind".

I cannot forget how she cried the stars in her eyes I want to know how did she catch the divine? is her dream lost to time? should I make it mine?

This is yuri by the way. The "she" referred to here is largely a secret for now, but she is someone Rei fell in love with, and she is also a machine. "How did she catch the divine?" may imply that this other machine actually grasped the human emotions Rei has been chasing... but "is her dream lost to time?" implies there wasn't a happy ending to this story. The main takeaway from this for tying into the rest of the song is this: Rei has loved someone, and that someone is now out of her reach.

hello world or is this goodbye? did I do this right? I don’t know why am I running out of time?

Hello, world! I actually wrote this section before the other hello world section, and "hello world, or is this goodbye?" is probably one of my favourite sets of lines I wrote for this song. This is meant to be a somewhat direct parallel to the earlier section- where before Rei was "trapped in endless time", she is running out now. She isn't sure how much time she has left or if she has any at all, and she doesn't know whether she's used any of her time existing effectively. There's meant to be just a bit of fear or grief in the lyrics here: where before Rei's "I don't know" was in the context of not understanding the world around her and being inquisitive about it and her place in it, it's now in a context of not being sure she lived up to whatever expectations she found for herself, and not being sure she has enough time to change any of it.

burn with a new flame agonizing outbreak I don't want this but I'll never escape unmake me in your image I won't fight

"Burn with a new flame, agonizing outbreak" refers to the sudden and painful experience Rei is having with her own mortality, and is meant to imply anger or hatred towards the creators who made her feel this way. "I don't want this, but I'll never escape" as well as the "I won't fight" is here largely because despite everything she is feeling right now and her newly realized anger, Rei is not going to fight the fate she sees laid out in front of her. "Unmake me in your image" is to indicate that Rei knows she is about to be destroyed, and she's accepted this.

poetic irony everything denied me finally felt just a moment too late unmake me in your image why do I cry?

"Everything denied me, finally felt, just a moment too late" is another of my favourite lines I wrote for this, possibly one of my favourite lines I've written in general. "Everything denied me" is emotion, "just a moment too late" is indicating that it doesn't matter anymore. Despite her acceptance of her fate, Rei is hurting. She asks "why do I cry?" which is as much a question of why she is literally crying as it is a question of why it hurts so much to feel the things she has viewed this far as divine.

tell me how I'm meant to feel tell me if my heart is real make me what I wasn't meant to be tell me why, god, why? tell me why, god, who then am I? tell me why

This section includes the vocals that continue into the last two sections and is meant to kind of be the last few questions Rei has about her creation and destruction. She was built with the capacity to feel, but what was she supposed to do with that? If she is able to feel, does that mean she truly does have a heart? "Make me what I wasn't meant to be" is her final way of rebelling against her creators: she still wants to be human, to be divine, even after everything. The final questions are to do with her death. "Tell me why" is a demand for answers to everything. Why was she made? Why does she have to be unmade? "Who then am I?" is the question of who she is now, but also who she was supposed to be from the start.

pre-defined Adam electric amalgam fingers entwine in my body of steel you unmake me in your image  scrap and wire

We get to revisit the first section now! This is a direct parallel to how Rei felt at the start of the song, while also showing that she is being disassembled in this moment. "Pre-defined Adam" in comparison to the earlier "undefined Adam" is to show that Rei knows now that who she was supposed to be was decided for her. "Fingers entwine in my body of steel" is meant to evoke the idea that someone is actively taking her apart in these last moments, and also parallel the earlier mentions of her body as "this vessel". Rei has come to view her body as hers, as opposed to just a vessel as she did at the start. "Scrap and wire" is simply what Rei knows she will become after she is taken apart.

mourning my own fate artificial heartbreak why do I love if I'm made just to hate? you unmake me in your image I don't want to die

This is probably my favourite section from the whole song I'm very proud of it. "Mourning my own fate" is fairly straightforward: Rei is about to die and she has to mourn herself. "Artificial heartbreak" mostly just sounds cool but also has to do with that grief, and in part to do with how Rei still doesn't view herself as human but instead as something else. "Why do I love if I'm made just to hate?" seems to be a line people really liked but unfortunately I can't say much about what it means here... it might have something to do with the circumstances around EDEN Rei's creation though! The rest is mostly more of the same and also self explanatory. Despite everything she has been through to reach this point, in her final moments Rei views herself as alive, and she doesn't want her life to end.

The scream at the end was also my plan and is meant in part to parallel the "startup sound" at the beginning! It's also where Rei dies, being fully disassembled by her creators. Although, maybe her consciousness could have escaped somewhere...? Been uploaded, maybe...? ;)

so yeah that was long and some of it was probably a lot more in depth than it needed to be but that's my writing process and main ideas for EDEN 4164616D! I really am proud of how this came out as a song and as a narrative, and I hope if you were interested enough in it to read this far you'll also be interested enough to keep an eye out for something that may or may not be related to it that might crop up either shortly before or after the MV releases!

if you're at all curious about anything else I didn't talk about here feel free to send me an ask about it!! I love talking about my writing process and seeing what people liked and disliked about what I made (and talking about anything else too!) so I'd be happy to see what people are curious about :)

[respectthepetty]

I'm glad Yao Shun Yu's mom was rude to rich man president (Xia Shang Zhou), since rich man president's mom was rude to him in the series!

Anon, this is months late, but I was waiting to give you a fun fact about Shun Yu's mom -

She's the producer of ALL the VBL/Vidol shows, the executive producer of We Best Love 1 & 2 and My Tooth Your Love, and the screenwriter for Unknown.

Her name is Cai Fei Qiao and basically, she is fucking amazing! Also, she acted in (and I believe wrote the screenplays for) ALL of the VBL's series:

The mom in You Are Mine

The ghost in Stay by My Side

The Seventh Fairy (with Dong Yong) in VIP Only

The bumper car worker in Anti Reset

She worked on a 2013 show with Sam Lin, so when We Best Love came up, she personally asked him to join the series because she felt he could convey the emotional range needed for the show (drunk kiss, yes!), and she also played an instructor in that series.

You know the scene!

EDIT: @thisonelikesaliens informed me she played the aunt in My Tooth Your Love, which she produced (woman in black on the right).

And I'm sure she played a role in Unknown since she wrote the screenplay for it based on the novel (and did a damn good job of it), but I haven't been able to spot her . . . yet.

She is also working on a second set of VBL/Vidol series, so I'm sure we are going to see this man again since he has already been in two of her series.

She recently did an interview giving more details about the upcoming series, and someone on Reddit was kind enough to translate some bits, but here is the original Japanese interview for anyone interested.

So, everyone, thank Cai Fei Qiao for bringing us our favorite Taiwanese BLs!

[scoriarose]

She came up with a new activity

[greenerteacups]

What do you think as Hermione's career would be post battle of Hogwarts? To me her being minister for magic really doesn't make sense. She does not have patience or tact to wade through murky waters of politics 😭😭

So hard to say! The Trio are so, so young when we leave them, I find it almost impossible to project their futures farther than a few years out. The job that suited me at 17 would be radically unsuited to me now. That's why of all the Trio, Ron's ending strikes me as the most realistic — he jumps straight into the save-the-world business again, burns out, realizes he's actually Done The Fuck Enough, Thanks, and pivots into a low-stress career where he gets to see his family a lot. Feels accurate! The others are weirder to me because they do seem to just... pick a lane and stay there.

With Hermione, you could spin her a couple ways. You could say that she leans into her bookish side and does research or teaching, which is not my preference for a couple reasons (namely, I don't think Hermione would like academia as a profession; she finds her classwork interesting and enjoys intellectual validation, but she'd be stifled and wasted in a DPhil program, and she'd be infuriated by the administrative politicking of your average higher-ed faculty). You could say that she gets disaffected with politics and ends up as a barrister or a lobbyist of some kind, but if anything that requires more political finesse, because you don't actually have institutional power, you're just handling the people who make decisions and trying to persuade them of your goals. This is not Hermione's preferred method of influence. She's not even particularly good at persuasion, she just happens to be smart enough (and right often enough) that people take her ideas seriously.

Or you could say her brashness fades with the years into a softened flavor of tell-you-like-it-is honesty, which some politicians actually do successfully trade on; as we see in British politics today, you don't have to be all that charming or clever to get ahead, you just need to be really driven and well-connected (which Hermione completely is; she fought shoulder-to-shoulder with the first postwar Minister and her bestie, the Literal Messiah, runs the Auror Office.) But I don't know if Hermione especially wants to be Minister, after the war. She's just watched years of horrendous bureaucratic incompetence plunge the country into a violent civil conflict. She's had not one, but two Ministers of Magic try to bully or shame her friends into complicity with fascism. Her view of government is... likely extremely dark.

But Hermione also isn't the kind of person who sees her life as a quest for happiness. Babygirl has a savior complex that makes Harry look selfish. (She basically kills her parents — yeah, obliviating is a form of murder, #changemymind — "for their own good," and justifies every batshit, vindictive, mean-spirited move she ever pulls on the grounds that it "helps" one of her friends.) She is a mean, lean, dragon-slaying machine, and she needs a dragon. After Voldemort, the Ministry is the no. 1 threat to muggle-borns and non-wizarding Beings. As a war heroine with basically infinite political capital, I'd be surprised if she didn't try to do something there. That said, Hermione is so vivacious and dynamic that she could potentially grow in a hundred different directions; it's possible that all of this, while true of her at 18, becomes completely inaccurate by 22. That's why I'm not too fussed about any particular fanon interpretation.

[teufelme]

You ever just want to talk about Bertl,

[tethered-heartstrings]

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us? Weird Questions for Writers

I have been told it is a red flag and that i am very strange for writing in complete silence. no music, background noise, nothing. I struggle focusing otherwise. I have occasionally put on white noise but only to drown out other sounds, it is not my preference. just me, the tippy tap of my fingers on my keyboard, and occasionally a little mrrp or meow from my cat if she is in the room with me. I used to not think it was weird but the more people that tell me it is the more i am inclined to also find it strange lol

maybe that i keep my writing documents (often porn lol) on the same computer/screen as my school work, but my documents are well organized

[yukinyaminyato]

feeling kinda anxious abt going to class so i clipped my new pink walrus squishmallow to my tote bag to hopefully make me feel less nervous 🥹

[apoloniaspiegelgold]

Feeling very soft again thinking about how he just got back to work after being sick and the first thing he does is to come to my office and ask me to tell him all about what happened to me in the week that he couldn't be here. So I say something like "my supervisor had the audacity to criticise my paper despite saying that he hasn't even really read it yet" and I had been actually quite mad about that, but then he goes "Oh, but that's what you want, isn't it? Someone criticising your work, someone fighting back a bit?" And I stopped and felt my anger disappear instantly and I thought ... actually yeah, you're right, why are you right? Why was I even mad? Why do you know better what I want than I do?

[kittlyns]

Just got a check from the IRS that cured my depression

[prlssprfctn]

Every time another joke about Batman/Bruce Wayne passes by me, I can't help but imagine that the whole rumour about these two dating was originally (and probably accidentally) created by Bruce himself.

Just imagine, a teen Bruce, still only starting with his vigilante career, makes a crucial mistake - he pays with his own credit card in front of people, while being Batman. A stupid, absolutely instinctive mistake, but in his defence he wasn't sleeping normally for a week, and had an open wound in his stomach that day, so. Whoops.

And then someone asks Bruce Wayne about it, in front of a thousand cameras. And he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

Reporter: So, mister Wayne, recently citizens had reported that they saw Batman paying for the damage in the city... with your credit card. Care to explain details behind this?

Bruce, smiling stupidly: Oh, he is my ex. I sometimes sponsor him.

The crowd: (goes wild)

Alfred, starting at the interview back in the Batcave: ...We are never going to get rid of this, are we?

And guess what? They don't!

Bruce thinks that with time passing, with his love interests switching and new rumours spawning in the world, they might forget about it. He was young, he was stupid - he fucked up, alright?

But decades pass. He has a whole football team of kids. Everyone still ship Bruce and Batman.

And when this stupid video accidentally gets resurfaced on the internet again, his family goes insane. They start creating even more stupid rumours on galas.

Reporter: Mister Wayne... For years now, the crowds are speculating... Who is exactly your mother, and where is she now?

Damian, sighing pitifully: My father and my mother don't enjoy contacting each other, sadly. My mom says that their relationship was just a rebound; father desperately tries to forget Batman... Still, to this day.

Bruce, gripping the glass of champagne: ...

Talia, watching this interview with Ra's: Now, that's my son right there.

Dick: Oh, why I was screaming at Batman in the middle of the street a few days ago? Oh, this bastard- I mean, this respectable vigilante, he dared to get in the argument with Bruce. He can't really leave him alone, really! They are so insane about each other... So toxic, but so, uh, captivating... But you know, Bruce! He has such a fragile heart...

Gotham: Aw-w, poor mister Wayne!

Bruce, sighing: Jesus Christ.

Tim, shaking his head to the camera: I hate Red Robin, really. Did you know that his existence is just a direct offence to my father? Yeah, actually, Batman took this kid under his wing with another man - I am not going to tell who - to make dad jealous. This is disgusting!

Jason, who returned from the death by pretending that all this time he was under the child protection system after becoming an accidental witness of the second Robin's death: Oh, yeah, it was tough... Poor kid exploded in front of my eyes! Reporter: But, mister Todd-Wayne, what were you doing in that warehouse?

Jason, wiping fake tears: They were like my divorced parents, you know... Batman and Bruce. Batman really tried to mend things with dad back then, and wanted me to like him... We just wanted to spend some time together with him, and that Robin kid... God, it was terrible... Batman refuses to contact me now. I miss my second dad...

Bruce, back in the Batcave, watching as Batman's reputation goes lower and lower: ........................... Alfred: Well, master Bruce... Bruce: Not a word. Al. Please.

[hanasnx]

x gon' give it to ya.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: @fuckmyskywalker introduced me to the concept of talking to a pussy i think via an anakin smut post and it changed my life so i'd like to dedicate credit to the idea. WARNINGS: fem reader | sex in the suit | deadpool calls himself daddy ironically and talks to your pussy.

A deep groan reverberates from low in DEADPOOL's throat. "Baby, I can't believe how good you look right now, seriously never looked better." he praises, commending the space between your legs as she's stuffed full of every inch of his dick. Another inexplicable thing about his mutation—he grew.

"'Talking to my pussy again, Wade?" you scoff, amused and breathless as you rock back on him, tossing a glance at him over your shoulder. Your spine is in a deep arch over the bed, and the nine inch heels you're wearing are the only reason you're able to compete with his height bent over like this.

"She needs to know what a good job she's doing otherwise she'll get discouraged. Poor thing needs a lot of love." he refutes your judgement, however playful, lovingly stroking the flesh of your ass with his glove. "Give us some privacy, please. Jesus." he tsks, shaking his head at you while you bury your face in the mattress. If his dick wasn't yanking your brains out along with it, you might have more to say. He turns his attention back where your bodies conjoin. "Thank God I put zipper on this thing. Who knew a onesie would be such a hassle to take a piss in?" The sounds of the room are filled with him running his mouth and your cunt's wet responses when he pulls out and shoves back in. "Now look at us." A particularly moistured sound squirts out, and he laughs knowingly, like your hole's said something entertaining at a tea party. "Zipper makes it too easy, you know? We've gotta stop meeting like this, maybe next time we can just sit and talk—"

"Wade!" you giggle, banging your fist onto the mattress. "Just fuck me, already!"

"Don't worry about her, she's just jealous." he tells your cunt, "You and I have something special, don't we? 'Specially when Daddypool says to christen the suit." A wave of wetness wells up from his comment, and he gasps in pleasant surprise. "Oh, you like that, you dirty thing. Next time I crotch-shot a bad guy he'll smell you all over, is that what you want, you freak? C'mere, I'll give you something real to leak about." Big rough hands grip on your hips, slamming into you so hard your ass ripples from the effect, and your happy pussy gargles around the dick it chokes on.